#hello I’m sorry I’m late on this I moved and had a physical/mental breakdown over the weekend | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hanazou · 3 years

Note

hello,, I’ve been feeling down lately and a loved one of mine recently has passed away...

if you are comfortable with it may I request a scenario of Atsushi and Chuuya comforting their s/o who were grieving over a death of a loved one? ;0 thank you I love your blog 💖💖

𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

Books : Chuuya | Atsushi

Genre : Comfort, romance

Category : Headcanons, short scenario

Shelves : Hardback | Paperback

Warning : Description of grief

Note : I am deeply sorry for your loss. I can’t do emergency requests but I tried to get this one out as fast as I could. I could only do short scenarios of this so I added headcanons, I hope this is alright. Once again, my condolences and please stay strong.

Chuuya has to ask you a couple of worried questions before it strikes him what you’re dealing with.

He will be on the verge of panicking when he first hears the bad news, worse if you're the one that has to tell him what happened. He instantly undergoes flashbacks from experiencing something like this himself and he fears that your coping with the grief might harm you.

If you can’t afford to talk to him like you usually do, he understands.

He stands/sits next to you, arms crossed, occasionally glancing at you to see if there’s any change in your stance, expression, anything.

He avoids staring at you directly in concern that you'd become pressured by him.

He’s ready to catch you if your legs fail you

Holds the top of your head lightly yet firmly. If you don’t show signs of protesting, he’d slowly pull you closer to his neck.

Getting physically affectionate is his prime card to comfort you, but before anything, he takes off his gloves so he won’t dirty you.

His fingers move kind of unevenly and feel rough, but that’s how you can feel his desire to support you

If you can’t stop crying or on the verge to go on a complete mental breakdown, he immediately collides his body against yours as tight and strong as he could.

If your legs give up, he drops down with you in his arms instead of keeping you standing with his ability and he’ll clutch your face close when you both land on the floor.

If you won’t hug him first, he’ll pull you to him. He forces your face down his shoulder so you’d grieve as much as your heart can empty while his hand brushes your back up and down.

“Cry as long as you need,”

Words, as I’ve once said, isn’t his speciality, but he tries regardless. He wants to make sure that you know you aren’t alone, that you have him with you.

He doesn’t talk as much but his distressed expression stays as long as he’s with you.

“You can take it out on my shoulder, you know,” He hesitates a bit, unsure if he sounds too rough.

If you can’t stop crying, he pats your shoulder, only knowing how to say “There, there” since he thinks it’s better than saying nothing at all. Chuuya thinks you need to hear him being there.

Chuuya squeezes through his tight schedule to make time for you.

He negotiates as best as he could with Mori to give him as much time off as possible.

If it’s impossible to take a week off, he goes full rampage in his job with the thought of you in his head motivating him to finish everything as soon as possible, making a mess where he goes.

If someone gets in his way, Chuuya shouts, "I've got someone more important to see, you punk!" while blasting them away.

He always brings food and drink over and makes sure you eat. He spoon-feeds you if necessary. He isn’t the cleanest but him wiping your face clean makes up for that.

"Come on, babe, you gotta eat," Chuuya says. "They won't like seeing you grieving like this, so eat, yeah? For them?"

If the emotions exhaust you to sleep, he sits against the wall and pulls you to him so you’d sleep against his body, making sure his limbs are around you so you’d never feel the loss of pressure around your body.

If it's cold, he wraps you with a blanket and occasionally touches your fingers to know whether you're staying warm or not.

Since Chuuya’s goal is to make sure you don’t feel alone or abandoned as I’ve mentioned, he does everything to solidify his presence.

He calls often if he has to be away, he sends food delivery, leaves short sticky notes, and sends voice messages.

It’s noticeable he doesn’t know what to say and even more obvious that he wants to keep reaching out to you.

Chuuya tries to strike a light and brief conversation once in a while. He’s disturbed by your uncharacteristic silence, it scares him.

“Do you want some takoyaki?” He’d ask randomly. The anxiety on his face never wavers away.

He does any activity that comes to mind when he stays at your place, but regardless of what he does, he’s never more than three feet away from you.

Always, without fail, kisses you good morning and good night on the forehead regardless he stays at your place or not.

Or if you're not opposed to it, Chuuya wants to take you to his place. He may still have to go to work, but something doesn't feel right about leaving you alone for so long in a place he's not too familiar with. At least in his space, you're constantly reminded you're not alone and that you're there because you're never abandoned.

Like a strayed ship in a storming ocean, your emotions are the waves storming your damaged vassal of conscience to the point that even looking forward to sunray from the bleak sky of endless cloud sounds mythical, making speaking a heavy chore. You’ve been exhausting yourself to sleep, soaking everything with your tears until it no longer comes out. It’s frustrating, it’s turbulent, so active in making you passive. Your tears run out but not the multiple stabs around your heart. Your voice leaves you but not the intensity or the transparency of hurt on your face.

It feels impossible, fictional, but if it were, then you aren't supposed to have your heart cauterized. It's the reminder of the bitter truth you're grappling against accepting.

If they had to go, why not bring the pain with them? Why do they have to leave you fractured, incomplete, empty, by transcending away while you stay behind, only able to watch them shrink somewhere unreachable?

Why do pieces of you have to be chipped off your already fragile soul, leaving holes in your essence? Why leave many pieces behind, why leave you alone?

“Hey,” A voice zaps your mind back to your head.

You remove your face from your wrinkled, moist, and sweaty palms, everything in front of you foggy from the swelling of your eyes. You still wear your dark clothes, unable to find the heart to change into something new, something brighter, after the sudden tragedy strikes. It was not, and still not is, in your capability to even stand up to eat.

Chuuya’s oddly timid and soft-sounding voice for this week is what makes you feel something other than rocking instability.

Slightly opening your eyes to see him, his figure before you hurts your eyes from how colourful he is. His face appears like a messy mix of vibrant paint, his orange hair, blue eyes and fair skin, and dark clothes sticking out from the stale background behind him.

A pair of silver keys, ones that unlock your door, stand out from his black-gloved hand from beneath his tightened fist. He puts it in his pocket and takes your hands, forcing you to stand and steadies your arms when your knees wobble.

"Have you eaten the lunch I had delivered here?" He pats off the dust from your shoulders and arms, his vibrant face still paining your swollen eyes.

Your eyes roll to the untouched paper bag on the table. You figure Chuuya’s eyes follow because of the stifled sigh he holds in.

"Babe, come on…"

"I can't," is what you try to say, although with your dry throat, it comes out like scorched empty words. "I'm sorry, I know you picked it with great care and thoughts so I'd eat, but I just can't, not when—" You catch a coarse breath. "Not when I'm like this, I can't yet."

"Still don't want to talk about it?" His voice squeezes. "You can't keep it in forever, you know, and you really shouldn't."

With your blurry vision, you figure that his arms extend open. A weak ‘what?’ is all you can hoarsely ask.

“Saying nothing, skipping meals and not drinking.” He says sourly. “Let out your grieve like how it should be done. That's what they'd want too."

Your tears make a reappearance at either a bad or perfect timing, depends on how you tilt your head to see it. They prickle your eyes, some rushing down your face.

“Come here,” Chuuya says, perhaps frowning from the way his voice changed.

Your eyes close slowly before opening again, your puffed eyelids troubling you from keeping your eyes opened. “I don’t think I can,” You sound like an overworked opera singer. “If I hug you, I won’t be able to let go and I might suffocate you without meaning to.”

You think Chuuya makes a sound of annoyance until a force smashes your body forward, lunging your face against him. The brief faint glow of orange earlier helps you process that he used his ability on you to bring you to him. Now his arms trap you in him, your forehead strongly weighted on his shoulder.

“Then suffocate me,” His muffled voice says from behind your head, one of his hands taking your arm to hold his body. “I’m always here.”

Your hands stretch his shirt with your tight clasp as you feel yourself getting lost in the waves. The turbulence crashes out from within you as you incoherently cry on Chuuya’s stable body, him becoming your guaranteer in the midst of the rocking forces that threaten your balance. His rigid arms support your weight as you wail out, ensuring that the waves don’t sweep you away, somewhere unreachable from him. He secures you, letting you explore the storm’s rolling waves while still grounding you safe.

“I’m here,” The soft wind in the storm grazes your ear. “I promise.”

Atsushi is one of the most sympathetic and empathetic people you could ask for when it comes to comfort you through your grief.

He’s nowhere oblivious to someone who’s hurting. He recognizes what kind of pain you’re going through and it doesn’t take him too long to identify what you’re feeling and the intensity of it although he can’t process it into words.

Atsushi is so worried sick for you that he has trouble thinking straight and his breaths get faster.

He’s really anxious about you feeling left behind or abandoned.

He makes sure that you don’t doubt that your beloved one who has to leave earlier definitely loves you.

It breaks him if you think of things such as disappointing them, unable to fulfil their wishes, etc.

Atsushi can feel your hurt as if it’s his own, and because of his heightened emotional senses, he’s quick to jump in to support you. It’s instinctive.

He’s at first hesitant to touch you, let alone comfort you with his embrace, so he starts with generic sentences like “I’m so sorry” and “You can lean on me” while offering his empty shoulder

It’s challenging for him, but Atsushi is persistent to comfort you with his words before he touches you.

He insists on speaking before holding you around him.

Atsushi validates your feelings by putting his guesses of how you’re currently feeling into words. He’s not the best with words so he’ll struggle to pick his vocabulary, but the things he says are mostly true.

“I’m sorry you have to feel like your heart is becoming stiff,”

“If you feel like everything around you is empty, I’m still here,”

When he does get to the point where he feels that physical touch can help you, Atsushi is very tender.

He starts with wiping your tears away until your cheeks are drier and offers you tissues. He’ll help you blow your nose

He removes the hair sticking to your face and wipes your face until you’re dry

He hugs you like he's the one broken; putting his face on your shoulder, arms hanging from your neck. It's because that he fears that you might get as hopeless as him. He dreads for that for that happen so he holds you with the strongest Affirmation he can give.

"I'm with you, I'll always be," He keeps repeating while he hugs you.

Touches your fingers most of the time and squeezes your hand

Atsushi fights tooth and nail to get several days off to stay with you in your place. He’ll have a whole speech prepared so he can convince Fukuzawa and Kunikida

He’ll spend the morning bargaining with Fukuzawa in his office after giving Kunikida a 15 minute TED talk about how badly he can empathize with your loss and how he’s rock certain you need his company

He asks Kyouka to help him make your food that’s easy to digest for the stomach, like soup and porridge. You can best bet that she’s going to add some tofu to it.

“Kyouka-chan helped me make this fish soup,” Atsushi presents you the bento boxes, unwrapping the cloth. “Let’s eat, okay? You have to keep your stomach filled. I’ll help you.”

If he’s unable to spend the night at your place, Atsushi makes sure to arrive at 6 am sharp every day to check on you, and the earliest he’ll leave is around 8 o’clock

He cleans your place every day diligently and does an excellent job at it. Doing the dishes, cleaning the floor, making sure the sink is clean and ensures the bathroom floor isn’t slippery. He doesn’t want an untaken care living space to worsen your emotional state.

Despite always bringing fresh food, Atsushi makes sure to cook fresh batches of rice to eat with anything he delivers so if you miraculously want to eat something, you’ll have something to consume.

If he has to leave for a while, he surrounds you with plush toys. If you don't have any, he borrows Kyouka's bunny plushies collection and arranges them around you, your pillow, the corner of your bed, and on your blanket.

Atsushi never wants you to forget that your loved one loves you. He does everything in his power to remind you everyday that although they're gone, the love they have for you will eternally stay with you and that nothing can ever change that.

He hugs you while verbally reminding you of that.

His hugs always lasts a long while if you're not uncomfortable with it. He can stay long minutes in that position.

Or he sits/lays down next to you in silence, doing absolutely nothing. He's anxious about the quietness himself so his fingers are always near yours.

Words of affirmation randomly comes out. Sometimes he talks about his personal experience to encourage you that everything will be alright, sometimes he tells you the reasons to his belief why your loved one's love for you preserves through all.

He keeps his talks motivational and faithful for the future. Sometimes he'd quote the things Dazai had said to him, filtering out the nonsense if necessary, or the things he always told himself in hope for a brighter tomorrow.

A breathing doll has been haunting your room for a week. It blinks, it moves, it can be spoonfed, but nobody at a glance would argue that it lives. It’s a doll. Calling it an undead is more generous than calling it a doll because of the existing needs. A doll sits inanimately, breathes at the bare minimum, and is devoid of wants and needs.

It’s the perfect status to illustrate how corpse-like you’ve been living like for this week. Your stone-cold face, just as cold fingers, eyes that barely shift, dried mouth and chapped lips make it a challenge to have you described as something living. To even use the word ‘live’ to describe you is contradictory and to hear the word ‘live’ suffocates your throat and clamps your once functioning heart. The indescribable pain mutes you, paralyzes you, turning you doll-like.

A broken doll, you are, once full, once living and moving until the one you love had to bid life farewell first without warning.

One tireless and loyal white-haired boy frequents you every day, bearing food and water to make sure the living doll in your room doesn’t fade into the cold. Cobwebs would have formed between your arms and your bed if he didn’t clean you off the filth you don’t bathe away, your nerves have been too dormant for you to feel filthy.

A bright white figure shifts around in front of you like a poltergeist. You pay it no mind. This isn't the first or second time you're seeing things that aren't there, or rather, someone who isn't supposed to be here. Your cluelessness to cope with the grave reality seems to have driven your brain on autopilot, it seems that this time it decides to give you a hallucination so you'd have someone to cling to.

A sudden snap startles your eyes to open wider, albeit without focus. Something black was in front of you, it had five branches and moves so... humanly. Like it's real. You trace it back to the white hallucination in front of you and it takes you a while to realise that you aren't hallucinating. The white haired boy who has been frequenting your place is here again today.

"Atsushi..." His name falls emptily through your teeth.

Atsushi’s mouth opens and his lips move in accordance. His face wrinkles to the centre. The inconsistent pressure he applies around your cold hand before holding you as tight as now tells you of how fragile he knows you are.

His mouth opens again familiarly. You shift your eyes to him without any effort to listen through the incoherent sound.

When his lips move for the third time, you figure out he has been calling your name. You blink twice and his chest deflates with a long exhale.

“You’ll pull through,” His hold around your hand boldens as he grit his teeth. “They had to depart first but they did so while loving you. You're loved, they love you. You can use that to push on, their love for you lives on and so do your memories of them.”

He observes you with high intensity as if expecting you to speak. You notice the disappointment when all your eyes do is gaze hollowly through him. You think he breathes in a sob from the sudden squeak he makes.

Your eyes lazily roll to follow your hand Atsushi lifts to put against his face. “I’m with you, I'll always will be. You’re not alone, you’re not alone, you’re not alone.” He chants. “You’re never alone, you’re never alone.”

He brings your hand down against his chest. Something beats inside to hammer you the reminder that it will never stop thrumming. The warmth reminds your nerves of something. It feels contagious, bringing you recollecting something you used to feel often.

“I promise, I promise, I promise,” Atsushi hurriedly says, “I’ll always be here for you.”

Like a mantra, his words deliver the familiar sensation his chest makes you feel to your essence. After your slowed blink, you tilt down your head and tilt back up, repeating that movement until it’s fitted to be called a nod. Atsushi heaves a breath out and pulls your hand to get between his arm and side until your upper body drops against his.

“They watch over you, I promise,” His hand holds your head as you passively breathe on his shirt. "Anytime and anywhere, they're with you, and so am I.” He says airily. "You're never alone and never will be. They're with you and I'm staying forever, you'll never see your side empty, I promise they watch over you, I promise, I promise, I promise,"

Your head tilts to the side, giving more space to breathe. His solid body exudes more of the feeling you don’t realize you crave. It reaches your throat eventually, nourishing you with words you once lost.

"Thank you," You whisper.

A living doll you temporarily are but not forever, and most certainly, a loved human you are for as long as the memory of your beloved and Atsushi keep you close to them.

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birdship · 3 years

Text

Leave It In The Sun: Chapter One (a Disco Elysium fanfic)

Warnings: Full game spoilers, eventual spicy scenes, basically the level of adult content in the game itself.

General summary: A slow(ish) burn exploration of life at Precinct 41 after Harry and Kim wrap up the case and Kim makes the move to Jamrock. Mainly just about how Harry and Kim's relationship might develop, and a sort of character study of some of the employees of Precinct 41 in general.

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Chapter one summary: Two difficult weeks after leaving Martinaise, Harry finally reaches out to Kim. Chapter length: Approx. 4.3k words

The sun is only just setting over the streets of Jamrock, drenched in rain and neon. The city stops to catch its breath in the intermission between day and night.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: And so do you. You could’ve sworn the nearest payphone was, y’know, nearer than this. Maybe that bone-shattering gunshot wound also isn’t quite as far along in the healing process as you thought either.

PAIN THRESHOLD: Brilliant claws of pain rake down your thigh as you lean against the payphone and try to center yourself.

You glance at the phone resting in its cradle, with some trepidation. Phone calls are always a bit… difficult for you. Especially these days.

SUGGESTION: You can still change your mind.

VOLITION: No. You came here for a reason.

SUGGESTION: Or… you could always just call her instead.

VOLITION: *Focus.*

You take a deep breath. The late spring air is turning chilly in the slowly setting sun. The rain drizzles lazily as it has all day, showing no sign of stopping. A handful of people are still--or already--out wandering downtown Jamrock, laughing and talking and hurrying home and running errands and entirely focused on just about anything in the world *besides* a washed up middle-aged man having a minor anxiety attack and moderate-to-severe hip pain next to a public phone at 6:04pm in the rain.

INLAND EMPIRE: The loneliness knocks the wind out of you. You thought you were used to it by now. It’s worse outside, around people.

DRAMA: The threadbare costume you created for yourself in the privacy of your dark, trash-strewn apartment doesn’t seem quite as convincing with an audience.

VOLITION: Stop the goddamn pity party and pick up the phone already.

The receiver is light in your hand as you fumble for change and the crumpled slip of paper you’ve had in your jeans pocket for the last two weeks or so. You slowly, deliberately dial the phone number written on it, as if some part of you is afraid that your fingers might just automatically fall into the patterns of *her* number instead.

VOLITION: They might. But you’re done hurting yourself.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Well, maybe not entirely. Yet. But you’re done hurting yourself *with her* for sure.

INLAND EMPIRE: You still feel like you deserve that pain. But it’s wrong to keep using her as the knife you gut yourself with. She deserves better, even if you might not.

LOGIC: In any case, this isn’t about her. It’s about you, and it’s about--

“Hello?” Kim’s voice is muffled and tinny through the old, worn copper wiring. He sounds tired, but you guess that’s not particularly surprising. You’ve been pretty damn tired too.

“Kim, hey, it’s uh, it’s me,” you reply awkwardly.

“Harry? Do you need something?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: This is the first time you’ve called him since leaving Martinaise, despite carrying that little piece of paper around for the last two weeks. He’s thinking, why now?

“Yeah, no, I just happened to be downtown this evening,” you ramble, “and I thought--”

“You’re drunk,” he says. It is completely without judgment. A stated fact. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Harry Du Bois is drunk. “Where are you exactly? I’ll--”

“Wait, no!” you exclaim, a little too loudly. A nearby pigeon makes a mad dash in the opposite direction at the sound. “That’s not it! I swear I’m basically sober right now. Mostly.”

A long pause on the other end. “Alright,” he says plainly. “So what can I do for you?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Make no mistake, he’s picking his battles here and gingerly stepping *around* that “mostly.”

EMPATHY: He’s just relieved it’s even that much.

COMPOSURE: How embarrassing.

VOLITION: Just start over. Your first sentence was garbage, but you know you’re under no obligation to continue it, right?

You take a deep breath, then try again.

“Well, it’s really more about what *I* can do for *you*,” you say as smoothly as possible. “You know that big motor carriage exhibition in town? It just so happens I’ve got *two tickets* to it.”

Another long pause. “You mean the one that ends today?”

“Yes,” you confirm.

“And are you aware that it is currently around six o’clock in the evening?”

“Is it? I mean, yes. Yes it is,” you say confidently. “I am aware of the passage of time.”

“And you waited until now to do this?” he asks.

EMPATHY: He sounds more amused than annoyed, though you definitely detect a bit of both.

“Uh,” you falter. “Look, it’s open until 8:00, so do you want to fucking go or not?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: About half a kilometer away, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi is sitting in the kitchen of his new apartment, already in his pajamas and winding down for the evening. It’s a bit early for that, but he figures he should take the opportunity to rest before he tackles that mountain of backlogged cases he was promised upon making the move to precinct 41.

Two weeks ago, he said goodbye to the strangest man he’d ever met. A man he found himself inexplicably drawn to in the week they spent together, and whom he thought about every day since. Wondering if he would take the lifeline Kim tried to throw to him, or if that little slip of paper would just end up forgotten at the bottom of a vomit-soaked trash can in some shitty bar. Wondering if the dawning trauma of everything that happened in Martinaise and the restlessness from sitting at home recovering from its aftermath would combine to pull him down into a dark place beyond Kim’s reach for good. Wondering and wondering to fill the silence. And now finally the silence is broken, but whatever this cry for help is, it is not the one Kim ever expected to receive.

But he knows one thing for sure: it *is* a cry for help.

“Alright,” Kim says finally. He takes a sharp breath. “Sounds good.”

The walk to his apartment takes a bit longer than you expected. It’s not that far from the downtown payphone, but you still wasted a good 20 minutes on the journey.

ENDURANCE: You are expecting too much of yourself too soon.

INLAND EMPIRE: It’s always one or the other with you, isn’t it? Too much or not enough.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: Twenty minutes to walk a few blocks? Fucking pathetic. What kind of cop are you? Hell, what kind of *gym teacher* are you? Man up.

ENDURANCE: No. It’s a miracle that you’re still standing at all.

PERCEPTION: Beyond the apartment door, you can hear footsteps and soft humming.

You knock, and the door opens almost immediately.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Shit. You were hoping you’d have a few spare seconds to think of something really cool to say.

REACTION SPEED: C’mon, say something fun and upbeat to prove you’re not a depressed sack of shit who’s been spending the past two weeks drinking alone in the dark.

DRAMA: Showtime!

“Howdy, pardner,” you hear yourself say.

SAVOIR FAIRE: Finger guns! For god’s sake, don’t forget the finger guns. Without them, you just look like a goddamn lunatic.

You do the finger guns.

Kim does not seem particularly impressed as he slowly looks from your outstretched gun fingers to the twisted grimace that now wracks your face.

“Please, holster those things before coming inside,” he says humorlessly.

You blow the pretend, metaphorical smoke from each of your hot weapons before stuffing your hands in your pockets. As you do this, he watches with an appraising look.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He’s wondering if this is *regular* weird or *drunken breakdown* weird. However, he is intimately familiar with your brand of stupid bullshit at this point and it doesn’t take long for him to place it in the former category.

“We should hit the road soon,” you comment as you peek curiously into his apartment.

“Hit the road,” Kim repeats with mild amusement, “in what?”

LOGIC: Oh. Right. The Kineema is property of Precinct 57. Not Kim Kitsuragi personally.

“Shit, yeah,” you concede. “But hey, if we call a taxi now--”

LOGIC: You’ll arrive just in time to immediately turn around and go home.

HALF LIGHT: You fucked up. You’re a fuck-up. Great job, idiot.

VOLITION: Try not drinking and blacking out all day next time.

LOGIC: Yes, but then…

“Fuck,” you inhale. “Fuckady-fuck-fuck. Shit. Goddammit.”

Kim waits patiently for you to catch up. You’re almost there.

“I should’ve called earlier, sorry,” you apologize. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

LOGIC: What is wrong with you is that you drank all last night, slept off a hangover most of the day today, and woke up in a daze about 45 minutes ago. But what’s done is done. No point in bringing that up now, right?

“Nor do I,” says the lieutenant with a small smile. “But whatever it is, I am no longer surprised by it, I assure you.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you repeat, leaning on the door frame pathetically, a congealed ooze of mental illness and embarrassment. “Sorry for bothering you in the first place. You’re always so nice to me, even when I’m a pain in the ass.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Which is to say *constantly.*

Kim says nothing. Just sighs almost imperceptibly.

EMPATHY: Your self deprecation is frustrating for him, and he does not know how to respond to it constructively and compassionately.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He *does* think you’re a pain in the ass sometimes, but a pain worth dealing with.

INLAND EMPIRE: For reasons beyond your understanding.

“Why did you agree to go in the first place?” you sigh. “You’ve got a brain that actually works, you knew it wasn’t gonna happen. If you’re trying to make fun of me, then, well…”

You pause.

“That’s just fine, I guess. Good job, carry on.”

He adjusts his glasses and looks away. “I appreciated the intention,” he says finally, in a measured voice. “And since I hadn’t heard from you the past couple weeks…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: ...He was afraid you wouldn’t bother trying again.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’ve been kind of busy. You know how it goes after cases like that.”

“I do,” he says. He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “you’re welcome to come in if you like.”

You hobble into Kim’s sparse kitchen and collapse on a dining room chair. It creaks ominously under the velocity of the assault.

“I’m glad we have an opportunity to catch up,” he says politely, pulling up the other chair and gazing at your pained expression from across the table. “Your injury is healing well, I assume?”

EMPATHY: It is obvious that he does not in fact assume this at all.

You shrug, still trying to get a hold of yourself and push back the ache swirling at the edges of your mind.

He watches you struggle for a moment, then gently says, “it will take time to heal, but it *will* heal.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: *So please be patient and kind to yourself,* is the silent plea left unsaid. It hangs in the air pitifully. You both know it’s there.

“Time hasn’t exactly been a good salve for me in general,” you mumble.

He’s silent for a while. Opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

“Harry,” he says finally. “What happened in Martinaise is not your burden to carry alone.”

“I thought you didn’t like *personal issues*, lieutenant,” you say.

“I don’t,” he says with a frown, “but this…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: This is about me too, he thinks. As much as he hates to admit it. He doesn’t particularly like his *own* personal issues either. But the past two weeks were hard for him, and you didn’t make them any easier.

EMPATHY: He was worried about you, and--although he will never admit it to himself, let alone you--there’s a part of him that selfishly hoped you were worried about him too. At least a little.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He’s used to this line of work, and so are you despite the holes in your memory, but it never gets any easier to deal with some things.

EMPATHY: There was so much death that day. It haunts you. And now as you sit in Kim’s kitchen, the alcohol slowly filtering from your blood and leaving behind the dregs of a headache, you realize it still haunts him too. You both added perforations you never wanted to make.

ENDURANCE: It’s too much. Your head swims and your entire body aches in the throes of repressed grief fighting its way to the surface of a sea of quickly evaporating Commodore Red.

INLAND EMPIRE: Warning! Trauma containment center has been breached! Evacuate the area immediately!

HALF LIGHT: You’re going to cry, aren’t you? You’re going to fucking cry. Right here in his kitchen. Why can’t you keep your shit together for more than five minutes straight?

You are entirely unable to keep the tears from rolling silently down your cheeks, unbidden.

INLAND EMPIRE: You don’t have it in you to really cry properly, like a normal fucking person. Not anymore. Something has disconnected the wire from your “press here to begin sobbing during your emotional breakdown” button, and you’re not sure what or when.

ENDURANCE: But human beings *cry.* And despite everything inside you that’s broken and rotting, you *are* a human being. You can’t not be.

Kim’s standing next to you now, his hand resting comfortingly on your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything.

EMPATHY: That’s the point of this whole shoulder-touching business in the first place--your disconcertingly unhinged behavior has left him at a loss for words, yet compelled to offer *something.*

This goes on for the longest five minutes or so the world has ever seen. But finally, you’ve wrung it all out of yourself and the tears stop almost as abruptly as they began. His hand gives your shoulder a squeeze, then he sits back down in the chair opposite you, avoiding your eyes. He rummages in his pocket for something, then hands you a blue handkerchief.

“Where the hell do you keep all these?” you mumble as you reach for it. “Fuckin’... infinite handkerchiefs around here.”

“What can I say? I like to be prepared,” he says.

“For drunk idiots who throw up all over crime scenes and have mental breakdowns in your home?”

“Usually to clean my glasses,” he says flatly. “But at this point, I suppose it *is* fair to say that it’s also for your various crises as well.”

“Well, thank God one of us is prepared,” you say. “What would I do without you, Kim?”

He hesitates, a strange wistful expression tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. What *did* you do the past two weeks?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t… That’s none of my concern,” he says quickly.

AUTHORITY: Who the hell does he think he is? You’re not a child who needs to be minded. You’re a grown-ass man who can sit alone in his apartment and get wasted if he fucking wants to. Assert yourself!

“Honestly? Drink, mostly,” you say with a self-conscious chuckle.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He just stares at you with the bleakest expression you’ve ever seen cross his face.

EMPATHY: He’s so tired. So frustrated. So disappointed.

INLAND EMPIRE: Oh God! He’s *disappointed* in you? This is terrible. Anything but that, please!

“I thought I was doing better,” you say quietly. “Guess not.”

“You were,” Kim says kindly.

INLAND EMPIRE: Tequila Sunset hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it still will. Maybe it’s inevitable. Maybe when you took up that mantle, it was like some sort of alcoholic event horizon. Tequila Sunset is the only way it was ever going to end. What other force in the universe could begin to exert as much gravitational pull over you?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: From the void we came, to the void we must return.

“Listen,” Kim tells you, “this is not surprising. It’s got to be harder now that you’re back in Jamrock.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: It’s *easy,* baby. All your old favorite haunts are here. You know all the cheapest bars, the sketchiest parts of town with the purest amphetamines… You can’t remember the names of half of them anymore, but the muscles in your legs can trace the steps there perfectly. That shit’s burned into your body forever.

“Yeah.” You swallow hard. “Anyway, what about you? How’s Jamrock treating you?”

EMPATHY: The darkness clouding his expression lightens a bit.

“Good so far,” he says. “I’ve actually only been here for a few days. G.R.I.H. wrap-up took longer than I expected.” He pauses and looks out the window. “But I’m glad to be here now.”

“Really,” you say with a laugh. “In this shithole?”

“It has its perks,” he says. “I’m looking forward to beginning work at Precinct 41.”

“You’re not working solo, are you?”

“For right now, yes I am,” he replies. “I’m fine with that. I’ve done it before.”

INLAND EMPIRE: The idea of sharing a workplace with him and yet not being at his side when he needs you… it makes you feel cold, lonely, somehow.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: You have a duty to Jean. Jean is your partner.

SUGGESTION: Fuck it, just say it. You know what you want to say. Say it and get it over with.

“You should work with me,” you blurt out. “We were such a good team in Martinaise. We could keep those good times rolling!”

“I’m flattered, but,” he says, turning his head. “Satellite-Officer Vicquemare…”

“Doesn’t give a shit about me,” you say. “Fuck him.”

EMPATHY: That’s not exactly true. You know it’s not.

INLAND EMPIRE: But the truth is complicated. It’s easier to just boil it down to *fuck that guy.*

LOGIC: Jean is bad for you, and you’re bad for him. Or, you used to be. And has anything really changed? Are you really any different? Maybe it was just the change of scenery that fooled you into thinking otherwise.

INLAND EMPIRE: Same old Jamrock. Same old coworkers. Same old bad habits. Same old *you.*

“I’m not so sure about that,” Kim says delicately.

“Forget about him,” you push, suddenly more serious about this than you intended to be. “I can arrange this shit with Captain Pryce, and I can deal with Jean.”

“I… uh,” he coughs. “I don’t know what to say.”

DRAMA: You’re in control of this show now. Pull an honest answer out of him.

You point at him and narrow your eyes. “I know what you should say: what you *feel* in your *heart*!” You pound one fist against your chest over your heart to drive home the point, then wince.

PAIN THRESHOLD: Please don’t do that.

You break the dramatic pose and lean back in your chair again with a shrug. “Or just tell me to fuck off. None of this wishy-washy noncommittal shit, though.”

He’s silent for a long time, watching and listening to the rain as it picks up outside. Then finally he gives you an apologetic smile and speaks.

“Harry,” he says kindly. “Fuck off.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Translation: maybe. But not now.

EMPATHY: He’s not angry, he’s deflecting. This is by far the nicest way you’ve ever been told to fuck off. Don’t take it too hard.

“Alright, alright,” you say. “Forget I said anything.”

You spend a while just making smalltalk at Kim’s kitchen table. None of it means anything, but it’s nice. It’s a nice, good, human thing to do, sitting and chatting with him. Makes your “regular well-adjusted person” costume fit a little better. The rain begins to let up a little in the fading sunset.

“You know, we could do something else if you like,” he says brightly. “Here in Jamrock, I mean.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Yeah. Lots of stuff to do in Jamrock. Like speed and hard liquor. Or crying in the bathroom of a dive bar because you’re too fucked up on speed and liquor.

SUGGESTION: He probably wouldn’t go for that.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: There’s got to be somewhere else to go. Something else to do with him. Think. What do you want to do with him?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Oh buddy, are you sure you’re ready to open that can of worms?

The lieutenant watches you as you rub your temples in an effort to massage the awkward thoughts out of your terrible brain. Then he says, “you know what, don’t worry about it. It’s fine, we can just stay here.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say. “Sounds good.”

“I’m going out on the balcony for a cigarette,” he informs you. “You can--”

“I’ll come with you,” you interrupt.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He pauses, wondering how many you might’ve had already. Then again cigarettes are, shockingly, by far the *least* detrimental of your *many* vices.

The two of you step out onto the lieutenant’s rather small balcony. It’s still raining very lightly, but this is probably as good as the weather is going to get tonight. Good enough. There’s really not quite enough space for two adult men to comfortably lounge around out here, though. You try to make yourself as small as possible as you fumble in your pockets for a cigarette and lighter.

PERCEPTION: You hear the soft click of a lighter and smell smoke on the gentle evening breeze drifting over from your left.

“Fuck,” you grumble. “I forgot my light--”

You realize Kim is holding out his own lighter wordlessly, still gazing out at the city sprawling out below.

“Thanks,” you say.

He nods. He pockets the lighter again once you’re done with it, then leans on the railing and exhales smoke with a sigh.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Outwardly, he is silent and pensive. He almost seems anxious in a way. But in truth, he likes this. He’s enjoying standing out here in the rain and the dark and smoking his nightly cigarette by your side once more, just like that first night in Martinaise.

You rest your arms on the railing as well and try to map his sightline. Your arm presses against his in the cramped space, but he does not react.

“Pretty bitchin’ view here,” you comment. “Comparatively.”

“Mhm,” hums the lieutenant. “By Jamrock standards, quite bitchin’.”

PERCEPTION: His hand dangles loosely over the edge of the railing. It’s a bit smaller than yours and much thinner, bonier. Sharp and angled like a marble sculpture.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: A work of art. Just like the rest of him.

SUGGESTION: Wonder what that hand would feel like in yours…?

“Everything alright, detective?” Kim asks, smoke escaping from his lips as he speaks. You realize that you’ve been staring at his hand for longer than is generally considered acceptable by polite society.

“Just spacing out a little I guess,” you mumble, averting your gaze.

“Par for the course with you,” the lieutenant chuckles.

VOLITION: Don’t make this too weird. Don’t think about that cigarette dangling loosely from his beautiful hands, or how soft his lips must be, or how nice it would be to just give up all pretense and embarrass yourself and hug him tightly right here on the balcony. Whatever you do, don’t think of any of those things.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Shit.

“Well, it’s getting late,” you say, stubbing out your half-finished cigarette in the nearby ashtray. “I should probably go.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. We’ve got work in the morning after all.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: You do?

VOLITION: Just play it cool.

“Yes,” you say, nodding stoically. “Tomorrow is Monday. I am aware of this, and that is why I said that in the first place, and not for any other reason.”

SAVOIR FAIRE: Nailed it.

“Tomorrow is Tuesday,” Kim says flatly, his face expressionless.

“I know that!” you say defensively. “I was just testing you. Come on, Kim, you don’t think I’m really that stupid, do you?”

He starts to say something, then thinks better of it and instead takes a long drag of his cigarette before trying again. “No, detective. I don’t think that.” Then he puts it out on the bottom of his boot and drops it in the ashtray.

The two of you head back into the apartment as the rain starts up again. You pull on your tarpaulin cloak in preparation for the long walk back home. But as you reach the front door, the lieutenant stops you.

“You know, you could just stay here if that would be easier,” he says abruptly, looking tense. “It’s late, and it’s raining, and…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: ...And the route from here to your home features at least a dozen bars along the way.

EMPATHY: He’s worried you might not be able to resist the siren song of their garish neon signs and blaring dance music spilling out onto the streets like a red carpet unfurling.

“And your injury,” he adds quickly. “It was causing you some pain earlier, wasn’t it?”

HALF LIGHT: You don’t need his *pity.*

INLAND EMPIRE: Maybe you *do.* He knows you too well already.

EMPATHY: And, for whatever reason, cares about you a little too much. A terrible decision on his part, really.

“Yeah, good point. Plus your place is closer anyway,” you reply. “Thanks. Sorry to impose.”

He gives you a little nod. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Soon, you’re settled in on Kim’s couch under a small pile of blankets that still smell like artificial flowers, cloying and too sweet, freshly laundered.

He says good night and disappears into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. It’s strange somehow, lying here in his living room alone in the dark. Like you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be. Like sneaking into a museum after it closes.

PERCEPTION: In the hazy twilight of impending sleep, you notice a calendar on the wall across from you. You can just barely make it out in the dim light, and you realize something.

“Son of a bitch,” you shout, “tomorrow *is* Monday!”

Just before you retreat into the blanket nest you could swear you hear a muffled apology from the next room.

#disco elysium #fanfic #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #harry/kim

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

Text

Ravadhi (Part 9)

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationship: Female Human x Male Half-Orc Additional Tags: Exophilia, Half-Orc, Monster Boyfriend, Interspecies Romance,Angst, Slow Burn Content Warning: Domestic Violence, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Alcoholism, Drug Abuse Words: 4148

Holly finds out what her mother left for her in the deposit boxes. Afterward, she and Ravadhi settle into a comfortable routine until it's suddenly shattered. Please reblog and leave feedback!

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Holly arrived at the bank only ten minutes after leaving, which was not at all enough time to mentally prepare her for what she was about to find in the deposit boxes, left for her by her dead mother.

She waited in the line anxiously, her fist clenched around the keys that Tonri had given her and her chest tight.

“I can help the next guest,” The teller called. Holly knew him distantly from school, he was a Ratfolk man name was Auro. The two of them hadn’t been friends or really even spoke to each other, but like everyone at school, he knew who she and her dad was, and speculated along with everyone else. Despite that, he hadn’t ever bullied her or ignored her existence out of guilt.

“Hello, what can I help you with today?” He asked as she approached

“Hi, I inherited the keys to safety deposit boxes--” She checked the paperwork she’d received from Tonri. “F152, F153, F154, and F155.”

“Okay, I’ll just need the keys, a photo ID, the death certificate of the decedent, and inheritance letter?”

“Uh, yes, right here.”

She handed the documents to Auro, who took them and scanned them briefly, stopping on the name and glancing up uncomfortably. It was a well known fact that Holly’s mother had disappeared when she was young, but she guessed the news that she was dead hadn’t made the gossip rounds yet.

Auro cleared his throat. “Of course, right this way.” He left his desk and led Holly to a private room. “Wait here a moment and the boxes will be brought to you,” He said.

“Okay, thanks.”

She waited tensely for about five minutes. Then, Auro returned with the four boxes, setting them on the table in front of Holly. He also left a large bank bag on the table.

“Would you like privacy?” Auro asked.

“Yes, please,” Holly replied in a small voice.

He nodded and smile sympathetically, then left and closed the door.

Feeling tears prick her eyes, she sat in front of the four boxes, steeling herself to look inside. She picked the one on the right and pulled it toward her. With shaking hands, she turned the key and slowly opened the lid.

The first thing she saw were the pictures. Hundred of them. Pictures of her, of Holly as a baby, of the two of them smiling and happy and together.

Holly cried softly. She thought all the pictures had been destroyed. She spend a long time looking at the photographs of her and her mother. As she shuffled through them, and envelope fell out from the pile. She picked it up and examined it, and on the front, in her mother’s handwriting, was the word, “Holly.”

Sniffling and attempting to stem the flow of her tears, she carefully slit open the envelope and took out the contents. It was a letter. It was dated seven months before Holly’s mother disappeared.

My baby girl, I’m so, so sorry. If you’re reading this, it means that son of a bitch actually killed me and my attempt to escape with you has failed. I’m sorry. I tried. I tried so hard, but he was always one step ahead of me, no matter what I did. You once asked me, when you were very little, why I was with your father if he made me so sad. I couldn’t answer you then, because you were too young to understand. I was hoping to tell you this story in person one day when we were free of him, but it looks like that day will never come. Abusive relationships never start out that way, you know. Your father started out sweet and kind and affectionate, and I was fooled. By God, was I fooled. He spent the first year of our relationship waiting on me hand and foot, doing anything I asked, lavishing me with gifts and attention. I was so struck by his attentiveness and loving nature that I fell for him very quickly. Looking back, I realize it was too quickly. I didn’t realize that his attention was manipulation, or that a pattern of dependence was beginning to develop. The change was so slow that I didn’t even see it. It started with comments, off-handed observations. “Your mom was kind of rude to me today and your brother doesn’t like me. We shouldn’t go over there as much. Your friends talk about you behind your back. You should dump them and get better friends.” He began to drive a wedge between me and all of my relationships, until he was the only one left. He’d convinced me that my family hated me, that my friends were jealous of me. I started cutting ties with people who I loved dearly, and when no one was left, all I had was him. Which is exactly what he wanted. Then there were sudden negative criticisms about my appearance or how I cooked or cleaned. I was gaining too much weight and wasn’t as pretty as I had been when we first started dating. I was spending too much time at school or work and not enough time with him. He began questioning where I went, how much money I spent, who I was with, why I was out so long. Whenever I protested, he simply said he was worried about me and that he didn’t want anything bad to happen to me, that I was careless, even reckless sometimes, and that I could get myself in trouble. I started questioning myself and actively avoiding things that would upset him. I thought he got angry with me was because he loved me. I didn’t realize he was trying to control me. Before we got married, he had been pressuring me to leave school, saying that it was too expensive and he couldn’t afford it. I told him I could apply for grants and scholarships, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it. His temper was getting shorter and shorter by the day, and before I knew it, it seemed like he was always angry. He started drinking not long after we were engaged. But I loved him, and I figured it was just stress because of money. It was easy to dismiss the emotional and psychological abuse as stress or concern, but now I know it was never any of those things. The physical abuse started shortly after we got married. By then, I wasn’t speaking to my family or friends anymore and we had moved to Willowridge for his work, so I was completely isolated. We had another argument about school, and it was the first time he laid a hand on me. He slapped me so hard that he knocked me to the floor, and I was shocked. Looking back now, it’s almost comically obvious that the relationship was heading in that direction, but at the time, I was terrified and so very confused. I was a smart person; smart people didn’t get into abusive relationships, it wasn’t possible. And now that I had alienated all of the people who could have helped me, I felt powerless. My mother died, and I wanted to go to her funeral and patch things up with my family, but your father convinced me that my family didn’t want me there. They hadn’t called me, after all. There had been no invitation to attend. So I didn’t go. Then my father died, and shortly afterward, my brother took his own life. Suddenly, I was without family and it was now too late to reconnect with them. I dropped out of college due to a mental breakdown, which was what your father wanted. It was then that the abuse became extreme. He would beat me for any small thing. I had no money, no friends, no resources, and I was now living in a town of which I wasn’t familiar. I felt trapped, but I also felt like it was my fault for falling for it, so perhaps it was what I deserved. I developed an eating disorder, lost a lot of weight, stopped leaving the house, and fell into a deep depression. I always felt anxious and sick. I didn’t even realize I was pregnant with you until I went into labor. You were a month early, and so tiny. I hadn’t been to the doctor since before our wedding and the eating disorder made my period stop for months at a time, so I had no reason to believe I could have been pregnant. When you were born, everything changed. I may not have been able to get out for myself, but for you, I would move mountains. I made a deal with your father; you know what it was. He wouldn’t let me work, so I had to scrounge and save any way I could. I was the weirdo who took all the coins from the “take a penny, leave a penny” tray. I dived into wishing fountains and scooped up handfuls of quarters. I’d lie to your father and say I lost the receipt when I went to buy groceries and couldn’t remember what the total was. It always earned me a beating, but it was worth it if I could manage to squirrel away even five dollars. I even sold my wedding and engagement rings. I expected to tell him I had lost them and get a beating, but he never asked about them. Someone who controlled every aspect of my life for years didn’t care that the proof of our marriage was missing. Fitting, I suppose. I’m not sure how much I’ve managed to save; I’ve never had the chance to count it. I’ve also put away all of my jewelry, collectables, and any small thing I thought might be valuable sentimental or otherwise. I hope beyond hope that you’re free from him as you read this, but if you’re not, I hope I’ve saved enough to give you a chance to get away and live a better life. If there’s only enough for you to buy a bus ticket and get out of this godforsaken town, it’ll have been worth it. I love you, Holly. I love you so much. If any good thing came out of that miserable bastard, it was you. You were a surprise, but once I saw your little face and your tiny hands gripped my finger, I’d have done anything to keep you safe. I’m sorry I fell short. If you hate me, I understand. But please, never doubt that I loved you. I only wish I could have been a better mother and protected you, and I hope you’re not too disappointed in me. Forgive me. Forgive me. Mommy

There were tear stains on the paper, old ones from when it was written, and new ones as Holly read it. Holly held the letter to her chest and wept bitterly.

“I don’t hate you,” Holly sobbed. “I don’t.”

It took several minutes to compose herself. When she’d sniffled to a stop, she turned her attention to the other boxes. In the first, she found jewelry, coins, stock certificates, and the proof of purchase on the house. In the second, there were trinkets she’d saved from Holly’s childhood, like her footprint, her hospital bracelet, and the blanket in which she’d been wrapped in. In the third was a single item: a bank account card.

Holly took all of the items in the boxes and stepped out of the room, walking back up to the teller’s desk.

“There was this account card in the box,” She told Auro. “Do I have access to this?”

“Yes,” Auro said. “Your name is on the account.”

“Oh,” Holly said, surprised. “Can I check the balance?”

“Of course,” Auro said, entering the number into the computer. His hands stilled and he stared at the screen.

“Well?”

“Right,” He said, clearing his throat. “At present, you have $53,640.35 available in your account.”

“Fifty-three…” Holly trailed off. “That’s… mine?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Auro said. “You can use it whenever you like. I can give you a checkbook before you leave, and have a debit card mailed to you within the week.”

“Yes, please,” She replied faintly.

She rode home in a numb fog. When she arrived, Ravadhi and Sarah were sitting on the front porch as if waiting.

“Are you okay?” Ravadhi asked, immediately pulling her into a hug. You accepted it gladly. As soon as he wrapped her up in his arms, she started sobbing again, unable to stop, and started to collapse, her legs crumpling underneath her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” He said softly, moving to sit her down on the porch. Sarah sat on your other side and rubbed her arm.

“What happened?” Sarah asked.

“She left me some things,” Holly managed to gulp out, pulling some of the things from her bag to show Sarah

“Are these you when you were little?” Sarah said. “I’ve never seen pictures of you as a kid.”

“Dad got rid of them all,” Holly replied, shuffling through them to show her. “Or, I thought he had. Mom managed to save some.”

“You were really small,” Sarah said wonderingly. “Even smaller than me.”

“Mom said I was a month premature. I didn’t know that before,” Holly whispered.

“You’re mom said?” Ravadhi asked.

“Oh, she wrote me a letter,” Holly replied, pulling it from her pocket. She began to read the letter out loud to Sarah and Ravadhi. As private and emotionally charged as the letter was, Ravadhi and Sarah were the only two people in the world who Holly felt she could share it with, and because she could, she did. Not only that, she knew they would understand it in a way that no one else would.

“Do you hate her, like she said?” Sarah asked.

“No,” Holly told Sarah. “No, I couldn’t hate her if I wanted to. I wish she had been your mom, Sarah, she was such a good mom. The best.”

“Dad tricked her,” Sarah said, looking up at Holly sympathetically.

Holly nodded. “Yeah.”

“He didn’t trick my mom,” Sarah said bitterly. “All he had to do was pay for her drugs and vodka.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” Holly said. Sarah shrugged.

“So you own our house?” Sarah asked, changing the subject. “Are you going to kick mom out?”

“No,” Holly said. “It doesn’t matter what my feelings are for your mom, I will always make sure you have a home to go to, no matter what. But I think it’s best if she doesn’t know I own it, so maybe keep it under your hat.”

Sarah nodded knowingly.

Holly sighed heavily, wiped her face, and stood up abruptly. “Well, I am absolutely starving. Do you guys want breakfast?”

That night, Holly lay in bed, unable to quiet her mind. She had decided to keep the news about the money to herself until she knew what she wanted to do with it. There were a million possibilities bouncing around in her head, and she couldn’t pin one down. She could fix up the house for Sarah, put it away for Sarah’s college, put a down-payment on her own house, go back to school, anything. But deep down, Holly was worried.

Ravadhi had said at the beginning that she was to stay with him until she got back on her feet, but now they were dating. Would he want her to to find her own place since, she had the money to do it? She liked living with Ravadhi. It was the healthiest environment she’d ever lived in and she didn’t want to have to start all over again on her own. Was that co-dependent? Maybe, but healthy co-dependence was better than depressed, anxious solitude, as far as she was concerned. She didn’t want to leave, and she didn’t think he would just kick her out. But, as her mother’s letter had taught her, you could never be truly certain of a person’s motives or intentions. Ravadhi had been nothing but kind and caring toward her, but… people can change.

What if she could get custody of Sarah? That would be amazing. If she could prove Diane was an unfit mother, would they even let Holly get custody? She knew that they wouldn’t let Sarah live with a convicted felon, though, so if she could get custody, the matter of continuing to live with Ravadhi in his house would decide itself. As much as she cared for Ravadhi, Sarah was her first priority.

What if she lost the custody case and they put Sarah in some kind of group home? Ravadhi’s tale of being in a group terrified her and she’d never subject Sarah to it. Was it best to leave her in a neglectful environment where at least Holly knew she could take care of herself and be safe? Or try for custody and run the risk of losing her in the system?

Maybe she could ask Sarah. She had a good head on her shoulders and could make good decisions for herself. A lifetime of neglect from her own parents as well as having to take care of her beaten and bloodied sister on a regular basis had aged her prematurely, so she was used to it. Unfortunately.

There had been another thing that had been weighing heavily on her lately as well, even before learning about her inheritance: she and Ravadhi had been officially dating for about a month, but they had both cared about each other longer than that. Would… he be expecting sex? Even if he did, she didn’t think he would be the type to pressure her into it, especially given his history.

Eventually, she fell asleep, wondering if she should ask him about it. A few days later, when they were alone with each other and just sitting down to dinner, she broached the topic.

“Ravadhi?” She piped up shyly. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, anything,” He said, picking up his fork and getting ready to tuck in to his pork stirfry and rice.

“Do… do you want to have sex with me?” She asked.

He immediately began to choke on the first bite of his food, and Holly rushed to get him some water in alarm.

When he was able to speak again, he asked, “Before I answer, is that an inquiry or a request?”

“An inquiry,” She replied.

“Okay,” He said, taking a deep breath and bracing his hands on the table. “Okay.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Holly said, wincing.

“No, no, it’s okay,” He replied, clearing his throat and taking another sip of water. “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to ask. That’s really important to me, that you feel safe and comfortable.” He knitted his fingers and took a second before answering, pondering the question over in his head.

“The short answer is: yes, I do, because I care about you in both a emotional and a physical way, and part of that is wanting to be intimate and sexual. The long answer is: yes, I do, but.”

“But?”

“Yes, I do, but… I know that it scares you and that you’re not ready. Yes, but I never want to do anything to hurt you or make you feel unsafe. Yes, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes until you feel the time is right, even if that never comes. I’m here for you because I love you, not because I want to have sex with you. Your happiness and well-being is more important to me than that.”

Holly blinked and her mouth fell open. She stared at Ravadhi in silent shock.

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“You said you loved me.”

His cheeks darkened. “Oh. I… well… yeah. I do. Love you, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t or don’t want to say it.”

Holly’s heart raced and she felt confused. “Give me some time?”

He nodded. “Yeah, absolutely.”

She nodded in return, relieved. “Thanks. And… I appreciate you being cool with everything. It may not seem like a big deal to you, but it means a lot to me.”

He smiled fondly at her and continued eating.

The school semester came to an end, and Ravadhi passed all his exams, despite working two jobs and having taken Holly in during the month when he needed to study the most. Now that school was over for the summer, he took some more time to work on the house, which he hadn’t been able to do for a long time. Holly was happy to help him, and it became a new bonding activity for them both. Sarah slept over often since it was summer break, and the three of them were happy.

It was becoming easier for her to be physically affectionate with him, holding his hand and giving him hugs and kisses more casually, which was a huge step for her. He never brought up sex or being more intimate, and Holly appreciated it.

Ravadhi still had the plumbing and overnight security job, but now that school was out, he was able to take more shifts. Holly would stay up and text him until at least his lunch break at eleven P.M. to help him stay awake.

On a warm Thursday evening as the sun was going down, Holly sat on the back porch overlooking the closed-in backyard and watched some videos on her phone while texting Ravadhi back and forth. He was bored, like he always was during his shifts at the power plant. He worked alone at the front lobby and watched the cameras, which Holly was sure was nothing short of riveting. At least he was allowed to listen to music.

>What have you got playing? She asked.

>Sevendust. It’s my go-to band. Very effective at keeping me awake.

>I bet. Do you listen to any female fronted metal bands? I think you’d really like Epica and Otep. Epica has got a great opera vibe. Oh, and Sister Sin is a really good hard rock band. Great vocalist.

>I haven’t heard those bands. They sound awesome.

>I’ll make you a playlist.

>Nice. What are you up to?

>Enjoying the nice evening. I was going to clean up the kitchen before I went to bed, but I was tired. I’ll do it tomorrow after work.

>Going on rounds. I’ll text you back in a minute.

Holly switched back over to watching true crime videos on YouTube. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, suddenly the sun was completely down. She looked at her phone and realize she must have fallen asleep: two hours had gone by. She went over to messages and texted Ravadhi. He hadn’t texted back yet, which was weird.

>Sorry, I fell asleep. Find anything?

Holly decided to go inside and actually clean the kitchen. By the time she was done, Ravadhi still hadn’t texted back.

>Everything okay?

Ten minutes passed and there was no response. Holly began to feel uneasy. With a pit in her stomach, she dialed the power plant’s main line. Ravadhi had to answer that phone, it was part of his job. The phone rang and rang and rang. Ravadhi never picked up.

Holly’s breath stalled in her chest with panic and she called the sheriff’s department.

“Sheriff’s department,” Holly heard.

“Hi, um, look, my boyfriend is at work and he’s not answering the phone, which is part of his job, and I’m worried something may have happened to him,” Holly said in a rush.

“I’m sure he’s fine, ma’am,” The deputy said dismissively. “He’s probably in the bathroom or something. I’m not sure this warrants a welfare visit.”

“I’m telling you, something is wrong,” Holly insisted. “I haven’t heard from him in hours. That’s not something that happens.”

“You’re probably overreacting,” He said. “Just calm down--”

“Who am I speaking to?” Holly asked, getting angry.

“Deputy Reynolds.”

“Well, Deputy Reynolds, my name is Holly Stevenson. Do you know that name?”

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. “Yes, ma’am, I know who you are.”

“Then you know you owe me. You owe me.”

The deputy didn’t respond.

“The least, the very least, you can do is make sure the person who saved my life is okay. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” The deputy replied. “I’ll send an officer right away.”

“You do that,” Holly said. “And I expect a call when you get there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” The deputy said.

Holly hung up the phone and waited anxiously, biting her nails and pacing. A full thirty tense minutes later, she saw red and blue lights outside. She rushed to the door and threw it open. The sheriff himself stepped out of the car.

“What happened?” Holly asked.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Orc #Half-Orc #Slow Burn #Monster Boyfriend

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some-cookie-crumbz · 3 years

Note

Hello 👋🏼, sorry if I’m bothering u but ever since the recent chapters of BNHA I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the Todoroki family. Not many of my friends are into this anime and I just couldn’t stop myself from sharing this with you because I need to let this out.

[SPOILER ALERT 🚨!!! IF U DONT READ THE MANGA THEN U CAN JUST IGNORE THIS]

First of all:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!

(I’m still screaming as I write because the backstories RUINED me.)

Poor Touya having this horrible obsession over heroics and having his father acknowledge him but ever since his quirk started reacting against his body the whole family got negatively affected by it.

Rei and Enji wanted to stop at two kids but with Touya’s sudden disadvantage and the latter’s craving for power, Natsuo and later on Shouto was born (the youngest getting titled as the perfect heir from the moment he was born). I got torn seeing Touya’s eyes succumb to absolute madness at the birth of his younger brothers.

What scared me the most was how when it was just Touya and Fuyumi, the two hardly interacted despite being only a year apart in age. Touya claimed that ‘girls just don’t get it’ this small foreshadowing was later brought to light in the most recent chapter where he once again rejects Fuyumi’s company in favour of ranting to only Natsuo and where he disregards his own mother— another ‘girl’ that doesn’t understand his obsession passion for surpassing All Might and someone who plays along to the acts of those stronger than them. Touya saw his mother as a weak person who had no choice but to marry for the sake of her family and have custom children. Little Touya firmly believed his very existence depended on getting acknowledged my his father and defeating All Might but it sadly didn’t come true😭😭

Also..... LOOK AT THE BABIES!!!! They’re all so CUTE!!!

Chubby Fuyumi!!!

Natsuo with a running nose

And Baby Shouto with a meme like face since the day he was born🤣🤣🤣🤣

So ADORABLE!

And another thing. FUYUMI WAS EVEN YOUNGER THAN I THOUGHT TO HAVE STARTED ACTING LIKE A SECOND MOTHER TO HER BROTHERS!! Look at the way she defended Natsuo when Touya went on a rampage and tried to attack Touya! And during moments when Enji and Rei fought the two most notable heroes were Shouto and Fuyumi; the former fighting on the frontlines to face his father while the latter stood behind to once again care for her remaining family that though weren’t involved in the fight, they still needed emotional support to get through it.😭

I AM SO SORRY TO BE GETTING TO THIS SO LATE ANON BUT I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY!!!

TW: Spoilers, Brief Mention of Child Abuse (Physical, Emotional and Mental), General Fandom Wank

So, like, SO MUCH HAPPENED in those chapters and I ABSOLUTELY LOVE ALMOST ALL OF IT! There’s obviously all the things you mentioned above that were just amazing to see and learn! I know that a majority of the fandom has been absolutely livid about the reveals involving Touya being drastically different than what fandom thought they were all this time, but I think it honestly highlights how smart Horikoshi’s writing really is.

In Shoto, we see the effects of physical and mental abuse on a child, and how easily he could have ended up going down a troubling road much like Touya. Shoto’s saving grace is facing off against Deku in the Sports Festival, giving him an outside perspective and makes him realize that he can choose to be better, but that doesn’t just magically fix all of Shoto’s problems. Shoto still struggles with his feelings towards his Father and how he is perceived by simply being Endeavor’s son. We see that in the Provisional License Arc, where Shoto is so thoroughly rattled by Inasa. It’s even further pushed through how Shoto struggles with his feelings about Endeavor trying to better and whether or not he should forgive him. I feel like Shoto’s arc is incredibly strong and that his struggles are very realistic, which is why people love him so much. This whole concept is another thing I could rant about but I’m going to leave it here.

Meanwhile, with Touya, we see the effects of mental and emotional abuse on a child and how it can completely destroy them. I think people that act like Horokoshi “down played” and “ret-conned” Endeavor as a character to make him more sympathetic/ redeemable or that he’s simply writing Touya as “always being a bad seed” are missing the mark. This is, admittedly, something you see a lot when it comes to victims of abuse in the real world as well; the idea that if you weren’t physically or sexually abused on top of emotional or mental abuse, your abuse is somehow less “valid.” Now I’ve seen more voices speaking out against this mentality - which is relieving and positive - but it’s still a problem. The way Touya was abused is no less valid or scarring to himself as a person as what Shoto has been through was. Touya and Enji clearly had a deep bond as father and son. Hell, the fact that Enji is sobbing and saying he “can’t fight his own son” in regards to Touya, but clearly had less issue training Shoto until he got ill or passed out says a lot.

Touya was put on an incredibly high pedestal by Enji’s constant praise and attention. He was the apple of his father’s eye until the limitations of his Quirk were discovered. Enji had filled his head with promises and goals for what his future would be, essentially selling him what turned out to be a lie. We see Rei herself tell Enji that Touya “knows you expect something out of the kids.” Touya’s whole life up until that point was being told of all the great he would someday accomplish, and equating that to being deserving of his Father’s love, attention and affection.

And then he couldn’t live up to that expectation. And then his parents had two more kids following that revelation. The idea that Touya doesn’t realize that Natsuo and Shoto were meant to be his replacements - unbroken models that “deserved” Enji’s love - is clearly not missed by him. It’s evident in the way he looks at Natsuo after he’s born. He sees this as a sign that he is no longer deserving - no longer worthy - of love or support from the parent he absolutely adores.

We see this mostly from Enji and Rei’s perspectives, so we know the reasons they did it, but it’s clear they didn’t stop to think about the way this would be interpreted by Touya himself. This whole matter is only worsened by the fact that Enji refuses to make sacrifices for the sake of his oldest son. He pushes Touya to live a life outside of Pro Heroics while Enji himself refuses to do the same, thus setting a positive example and showing solidarity with his son. He instead pushes him away and distances himself, loses himself in focusing on Natuso and, once his Quirk turns out to not be what he wants, Shoto. Touya continues to push himself despite his limits in a desperate bid for Enji to look at him the way he used to; with pride and love.

What caused the fire that “killed” Touya? His anguish over being neglected and abandoned - left unloved - by his father yet again. It’s clear that Touya’s mental health is in need of some real focus that he has never gotten - due to both his parents negligence as well as the fact that mental health is highly stigmatized in Japanese society - and pairing that with the emotional and mental abuse he suffered at Enji’s hands broke him.

So many people are claiming Horikoshi is trying to make Enji “more redeemable”, but how do you get that? Enji abused Rei, his own wife, physically and emotionally and mentally until she had a psychotic breakdown, hurt their youngest child, and then robbed her the right to mother her children further by having her locked up in a psych ward for the next decade or so; built their oldest son, Touya, up only to then emotionally and mentally abuse him to the point he damn near killed himself in a frantic bid to garner Enji’s support only to return years later completely unhinged and looking to murder his entire family out of spite; neglected Fuyumi and Natsuo to the care of each other and hired help; alienated Shoto, his youngest son, from his siblings for his entire formative years, physically and mentally and emotionally abused him, groomed him to accomplish a task he never wanted, put him through such extensive physical training that Shoto would get sick or pass out.

Enji was a shitty father. He has a long ass road to continue walking if he ever wants redemption. The fact he didn't physically hit Touya doesn’t mean that Enji didn’t abuse his son and it doesn’t make Touya any less of a victim.

* End TodoFam Rant*

On a slightly lighter note, I also like all the information with Hawks’ past and all the parallels we’re seeing develop!

I’ve rambled briefly about this in other places the Huwumi discord but I want to expound upon this a bit more here.

I feel like Touya/ Dabi and Keigo/ Hawks are meant to be parallels to one another.

Back to back, we had proper name claims by these two characters. We had Dabi reveal his true identity as Todoroki Touya and then we have Hawks choosing to abandon his hero name to instead step up to fight as Takami Keigo.

I feel like “Dabi” was always a mask, of sorts. Dabi is typically pretty calm, cool, composed with the occasional bites of snark and cruelty. Meanwhile, we see Touya emoting and moving in a manner more akin to himself as a child, dancing about in manic delight over revealing his true identity and intentions. The pair of them are two drastically different people when you stop and look at it. “Dabi” was the mask he wore to gain ground to enact his revenge, and now that he is there? Now Touya can burn everything tethered to it down to ground.

Meanwhile, we have "Hawks” as he was forced to become as per the Hero Public Safety Commission. We had it revealed quite a while back that Hawks was a man of many faces, jumping from laid-back and chill to serious and focused quite frequently. “Hawks” is the presentation for the public and the Commission, groomed to be the perfect little canary in the mine that was Pro Heroics. The reveal of his true heritage, however, is not the killing blow Touya wanted it to be. Instead, it allows Keigo, the one who wanted to be a Hero to help people, the chance to truly dedicate himself to that. In being freed from the cage of “Hawks”, he is given the change to really soar as Keigo.

Now, I feel that “Dabi” and “Hawks” are most certainly parts of Touya and Keigo as well, respectively. Even though those titles were masks, they were masks made from parts of the men who wear them. I think what we’ll see going forward is the true elements of those masks bleeding back into the whole, and seeing the truest forms of each character.

For better or for worse.

#crumbles grumbles #half baked headcanons #Wow I haven't busted that tag out in fuckin forever #Might have to do more headcanon posts about BNHA #If any of yall wanna read me ramble about that stuff?#BNHA Spoilers

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makeste · 4 years

Note

I’ve just realised it’s been over a year since you last listed your top 10 characters! Has anything changed since then?

a lot has changed! actually, every single ranking has changed from last time except for one (which you can probably guess, lol).

1. Bakugou (previous rank: 1)

yes, believe it or not, Bakugou is still my favorite. I’ll understand if you all need a moment to recuperate from the shock of this.

2. Deku (previous rank: 4)

hi, so. I really love Deku a lot. I think he is a great character and there’s a lot of subtlety and complexity to him that he doesn’t always get credit for. he is loving and kind, but he’s not a pushover. he has moments of deer-in-headlights anxiety when he’s in the spotlight or talking to celebrities (or girls), but then he’ll go and launch into a five-hour speech if someone mentions a topic he’s interested in. he’s very much aware of the huge burden that’s been placed on his shoulders, and is struggling to figure out how to become his own person (which is fucking hard, you guys; how many sixteen-year-olds do you know who have a solid, firm idea of who they are as a person and what it is about themselves that makes them unique individuals?) while still living up to All Might’s legacy. he’s smart and determined and capable of extraordinary things, but second-guesses himself and has a tendency to overthink everything he does. he is interesting!! and he doesn’t always get credit for being interesting! but he is! anyways Deku ilu.

3. Aizawa (previous rank: 2)

still the best. still so tired. the manga is tripling down lately on highlighting how awesome he is. childhood angst and guilt and trauma?? yes. kicking lots of ass?? hell yes. being outrageously sexy with his floating wavy hair and glowy red eyes and spending almost this entire arc in Eraser Mode while Horikoshi hopes to god no one remembers how he made it a Whole Thing after USJ that Aizawa supposedly couldn’t hold his quirk for long periods like that anymore?? oh, you bet. who is even gonna complain about it. you?? I sure am not. and last but not least, being the greatest dad in the world who’s willing to stab god in the face in order to stay alive to protect his children and continue to watch them grow?? fam. you goddamn know that is a YES WITH CAPITAL LETTERS. how can one character honestly be so great. how can he even contain it. he’s so powerful.

4. Todoroki (previous rank: 5/6)

Ochako slid all the way off my top ten list and I feel so bad about it. but she hasn’t had the spotlight for a long time, and meanwhile Shouto has had what feels like ARC AFTER ARC of being awesome and doing awesome things like becoming Bakugou’s Undisputed Best Friend, having the longest and purest canon romantic relationship in the series (I am of course talking about him/soba), and playing a key role in one of the most beautifully executed family arcs I have ever seen, with his conflicted feelings about his father that are so layered that THEIR LAYERS HAVE LAYERS. and meanwhile his quirk kicks as much ass as ever. remember that one time Shouto almost burned Tetsutetsu alive. remember that other time he fucking annihilated Ending (“GIVE ME BACK MY BROTHER”)?! and meanwhile he remains the goodest and purest child in the entire series, making sure Mt. Lady’s heart is okay, and offering his two friends internships without a second’s hesitation because THAT’S WHAT FRIENDS DO. it’s just what they do you guys.

5. Hawks (previous rank: n/a! welcome to the top ten kiddo.)

OH NO I LOVE A MURDERER WHAT A STUNNING INDICTMENT OF ME. send me off to jail. anyway so I have always liked Hawks, but the latest arc has sent him skyrocketing up through the ranks of my heart. not because of the murder thing, but... okay well but actually, it is because of the murder thing though. NOT BECAUSE I’M HAPPY HE KILLED A GUY WE ALL LOVED, jesus, but because of how well Horikoshi portrayed his struggle over it. he didn’t want to do it!! but he ended up having to in the end, and he paid one hell of a heavy price for it. and listen, but if you give me a character who is smart, who is compassionate, and who is one of the most mentally and physically capable characters we’ve seen in the series and yet simultaneously does not have even the slightest ounce of regard or self-preservation for his own mental health? a character who is tired, who is willing to make sacrifices up to and including the ultimate sacrifice for what he believes is the greater good? a character who is achingly alone and isolated in so much of what he has to go through, who doesn’t dare drop his guard ever, who’s not able or willing to share his burdens with anyone else? if you give me a character like that, and then ask me not to love him, it’s like. I am very sorry but I truly have no say in it at this point. he’s adopted. I’m sorry it’s the law.

6. Tomura (previous rank: n/a)

OH NO I LOVE TWO MURDERERS WHAT EVEN IS WRONG WITH ME. hahaha. so in between the time of now and when I last did a character ranking, Tomura had a flashback! and it was very traumatic! he was little and sweet and his dad was a dick and there was a lot of blood and gore and a dog died!! and then AFO was all “HELLO IT’S ME COME TO SWOOP IN AND ADOPT YOU AND ENCOURAGE YOU TO KILL STUFF AND ALSO HERE ARE YOUR DEAD FAMILY’S SEVERED BODY PARTS TO ADORN YOURSELF WITH SO YOU NEVER STOP FEELING MISERABLE.” and everyone sitting there reading was all, “well I’ll just come out and say it, I can sort of understand why he became a murderer now,” and we all agreed that yes, it did indeed make a great deal of sense, when you put it that way. anyway, so obviously you can’t not feel empathy toward the kid after all that, even if he is going around killing A WHOLE LOT MORE people now, and has basically gone batshit insane actually. I remain steadfast in my conviction that Tomura is not the actual final villain -- AFO is. and call me crazy, but in spite of everything, I still think this kid has a shot at redemption. it won’t be pretty, and it’ll be a long, long path, and he might not ever fully make it all the way, but he’s someone who’s been manipulated and used as a puppet his entire life, and I want him to have the chance to finally break free from that. hopefully he’ll get it.

7. Mirko (previous rank: n/a)

so previously this section just said “MIRKO!!!!!”, which I honestly think sums it up pretty well. I honestly can’t think of any other character who has come along and just slapped me straight across the face with their sheer awesomeness as much as her, though. every time she’s onscreen/on the page my face is just a huge grin the entire time. she is fearless. like, she’s the type of person who actually does laugh in the face of danger -- like that’s not just an expression, she will LITERALLY LAUGH. she is Peter Pan with a dagger to his throat, smiling and saying “to die would be an awfully big adventure.” she is someone who’s found her purpose in life and is thriving. Mirko has no time for your existential angst; she’s too busy kicking ass every minute of every hour of every day. I love her so, so much. thank you so much Horikoshi for being obsessed with her and making her the biggest badass in the whole series.

8. All Might (previous rank: 3)

I still adore him! he just has had next to nothing to do for what seems like forever, so the other characters who are still getting steady development are kind of just sneaking past him one by one. but he is still the absolute best. he cares so much. so, so, so, so much. he’s not always the most natural when it comes to being a teacher or a mentor, and he stumbles and makes mistakes, but he loves his kids. he cares about them so fiercely. and that’s far and away the most important thing, and it’s not even close. and he’s also just so endlessly self-sacrificing and constantly putting everyone else before himself, and it’s insane. he’s someone who is just constantly thinking, “how can I do more, how can I help more, what else can I do to try and make the world better” even as he stumbles along with half a lung, and struggles with his feelings of inadequacy and helplessness and feeling like it’s just still not enough. I want to give All Might the biggest hug in the world and tell him that it’s all right, that he did good, that the kids are going to be all right. when Aizawa told him “you being alive is enough” I almost had a breakdown tbh. anyway if I keep going I’m gonna talk myself into moving him back up the list and then I’ll have to rearrange this whole thing lol so suffice it to say, fuck yeah All Might.

9. Momo (previous rank: 7)

when is Momo gonna do more stuff, Horikoshi?? huh??! he does realize that whenever she does stuff it’s always amazing?? so why is she not just constantly doing amazing, awesome stuff all the time?? I don’t know, and frankly I’ve had just about enough of this. let Momo do stuff 2020. but I won’t talk about this anymore for now because I haven’t ready any chapter 278 spoilers and I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

(ETA: I HAVE READ CHAPTER 278 NOW AND ALL I CAN SAY IS YESSSSS!!! MOMO!!!! also I swear to god I genuinely had not seen any spoilers when I was writing this post lol, it was a total coincidence. I’m glad the “let Momo do stuff 2020″ campaign was so immediately successful though.)

10. Kaminari (previous rank: 8)

last but not least, my five-and-a-half-year-old traitor son, Kaminari Denki. he is just such a shining beam of light and life and goodness and chaos. there is this amazingly buoyant energy whenever he’s on the page that just fills me with love for him. I constantly just want to ruffle his hair, just, all the damn time. he is everybody’s friend, he loves them all so much, and he fearlessly calls Bakugou “Kacchan” heedless of the repercussions (OF WHICH THERE WERE NONE!!), and he sincerely tells Jirou that he’s in awe of her musical talents, and he wrecked his fingers learning to play guitar for her but he was happy to do it, and he was afraid to fight in the big ALL THE VILLAINS VS ALL THE HEROES battle because DUH!?! but he still did it anyway because he had to protect his friends. and his quirk and its side effects are constantly used for comic relief and not taken seriously at all (even though it’s actually insanely powerful holy shit), but he doesn’t care because he’s happy to make his friends happy. he’ll willingly be the butt of the joke if it means he gets to see them laugh. he just has such a big heart, and in all seriousness, if you think he’s the traitor I just don’t even know what to say to you.

so that’s it! Tokoyami, Ochako, Shinsou, Iida, and Sero would probably be the next five, with Endeavor, Toga, Mina, Jirou, and Mirio rounding out the top twenty. maybe not in that exact order but it’s close enough. really there are only like three characters in the series I actually truly dislike, so I’m honestly glad “top ten” is the general standard otherwise I’d be here all night running through them all lol.

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jawritter · 5 years

Text

Happy Birthday, Dean...

**Warnings** Some language maybe? Angst. That’s pretty much it. This one is pretty light.

A/N: Just a little drabble that I threw together for Dean’s Birthday! Hope you enjoy it! All mistakes are mine! Please don’t copy my stuff!!

Word Count: 1504

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Read, kinda, mentions of Sam x Reader

If anyone wants to be added to my tag list let me know!!!

To say you and Dean didn't like each other was an understatement.

You'd been with the Winchesters for five years now. Ever since your uncle Bobby had passed away, and you didn't have anywhere to go. They had taken you in, and from that moment on you and Dean had become worst enemies. You where certain that if it were not for Sam, Dean would have kicked you to the curb a long time ago. You weren't a hunter, well not exactly, you preferred research. You'd been raised in the life, and for that reason, coupled with the fact that you where Bobby Singer's niece, every evil thing and it's mother.. creature... whatever... knew your name. So you, like the Winchesters and every other hunter/hunter family, had one giant target painted on your back.

Lucky you.

You weren't a fighter.

Not that you couldn't, you just didn't care to. The pain involved wasn't exactly your forte, and you didn't go out looking for a fight even though you did know how to defend yourself. You made yourself useful to the boys and other hunters by becoming a female version of Bobby.

Well, without the overuse of alcohol, and the horrible taste in classic country music, not to mention a lot cleaner to say the least.

You answered phones for hunters. You did the research for more than just the Winchesters. Dean didn't really like that either, though you didn't know why. Even though you had contact via email, phone, text, and sometimes video chat you never talked to any of them in person, so you couldn't see or understand the danger. Every hunter out there knew you lived and worked with the Winchesters. So nothing in its right mind, living, dead, or the undead, dared to lay a finger on you.

You traveled with them all over the place. Staying in abandoned houses, shitty hotel rooms, and whatever else you could find. Sometimes it was just the back of the Impala. That was until they found out about being legacies, and The Bunker. Things did seem to improve after that. You all had a little more space. Definitely more personal space. That helped in and of its self. Dean though, for some reason, still seemed to hate you no matter where you were staying. You couldn't remember ever doing anything to the handsome hunter. You weren't stupid, or suicidal. You never challenged him in any way. You just didn’t get it.

After you moved into The Bunker you did classes online, and even snuck around and took some clinical work it took to get your RN. Until Dean caught you anyway and flipped his lid, screaming at you that something or someone could have found you working at that hospital late at night while you did your Clinicals, and killed you. You thought you would be helping becoming an RN, something you always wanted to do, but he insisted you where needed behind a book or a computer screen. That they had Cass to handle the healing, and they didn't need you, or your input concerning the matter of their physical health.

That was the last time you spoke directly to the elder Winchester. That night you cried yourself to sleep, and when you got up, you swore you'd never let him, or any other man, do that to you again. So you buried yourself in research and work, only speaking to Dean when it was required.

Sam, on the other hand, he was your best friend. Always had been since the moment you meet him. He seemed to get you, the two of you just click. Like two little nerds, happy to do whatever it was that you were doing together. You never got into a fight. You watched movies together. You did everything together.

When he met Eileen the two of you clicked right away as well. You knew Dean couldn't figure that out because he was always swearing that you and Sam were sleeping together even though you didn't see each other that way.

Tonight was not much different from any other night, the boys were out on another case, hunting a Wendigo from what you could guess, that’s what it looked like in the evidence pile that Sam had emailed you. They were close to wrapping it up last time Sam had texted you, but you didn't expect them back till sometime early that next morning. So that meant another night alone in The Bunker. Which honestly you were used to by now, and it sort of was the safest place in the word when you took all the warding and things like that into consideration.

You wondered your way back to your room down the hallway, a cup of coffee in hand, and the intent to watch Netflix until you finally got tired enough to fall asleep.

Settling down with your laptop you typing in your password. Your time and date popped up on your screen saver. Jan. 23, 2020. 11:34 p.m.

The date stopped you for a moment. It was Dean's birthday in less than 30 minutes time. He'd made it to 41 years old... That was something in the life you lived. Most men didn't live until they were 35, much less over 40. Bobby and Rufus were almost the only exception to the rule you'd ever meet in person. Here he was though, if he survived the next 30 minutes he would officially be 41 years old...

Sitting there in the darkness, the only light that was going was the laptop, and the dim old bedside lamp, you caught yourself thinking. That was something you didn't like to do.

Think.

It caused way too many emotions and things that you didn't want to feel. Like the fine line between love and hate you knowingly walked with Dean. Yes, you were technically enemies, and yes, you couldn't stand each other most of the time, but sitting here in the dark, thinking the words that just rolled across your mind, "If he survived the next 30 minutes,” made your heart feel like it weighed 200lbs in your chest.

The thought of Sam having to call you, and tell you that Dean was gone was almost unbearable. A single tear rolled down your face before you could even bother to wipe it away. Shit... Maybe you didn't hate Dean after all...

Was it really possible that you actually loved Dean... That you were terrified of his rejection, so you chose rather too act as his enemy because it was easier?

It crossed your mind that this hunting life was finally starting to get to you, but you shoved that aside for later. Right now the most important thing you had to face was the fact that like it or not, you were in love with Dean; and it took you imagining his death to really see it. You had it shoved so far down you believed your own lie.

Picking up the phone before you could stop yourself, you dialed Dean's phone number. It was now midnight. If he made it through this hunt, and Chuck wasn't being a total Jackass, then he'd made it to 41, but you realized something.

Being a hunter meant that there was a strong possibility that you didn't have the next five minutes, and you had worked yourself up so much that you had to hear his voice just once to settle your pounding heart and know that he was okay.

It rang and rang. The more the phone rang, the more afraid you got that you were right. That your fear was right. He hadn't survived the hunt.

Then just when you were about to give up hope and have a whole nervous breakdown, you heard the voice that made your heart standstill in your chest for at least three beats.

"Hello...."

He sounded uncertain, which you guess was normal, you had never called him before... Ever...

Normally you just made contact through Sam. You preferred to act like Dean didn't exist to you, so you ignored him.

"Y/N? Hello? Is everything okay?"

His voice more desperate now, which made you feel even worse for the way you'd been treating him. He was worried because you never called him, now he thinks something is wrong.

"H...Hey Dean," you stuttered, knowing if you didn't say something if he survived the speeding trip here he'd kill you when he saw you where unharmed.

"Is everything okay Y/N?" he asked, a little calmer now that you answered him.

"Yeah, uh, I just uh, I just was worried about you guys. I haven't heard anything since Sam's text."

Here you were lying to him again, mentally slapping yourself. Why did you keep doing this?

"Oh... Uh... Everything went fine, we're about an hour from home now. Y/N, you do know this my phone not Sam's, right?" he asked.

You couldn't understand his tone, it was, strange, soft, hopeful?

"Oh... I'm sorry Dean... Guess I got the wrong Winchester," you mumble, trying to keep your voice even.

You hang up the phone before he could question your odd behavior anymore. Looking at the disconnected call you whisper what you called him for in the first place. What you didn't have the guts to say.

"Happy Birthday, Dean...."

_________________________________________

Pt. 2 here!!!

30 Minutes til Midnight

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erika-youknowtheangel · 4 years

Text

Why hello there, it’s been a while huh?

//Hi Tumblr! Do you remember me? I’m still around. I haven’t been caught up on Night Vale recently so I’ve been avoiding spoilers. Sorry for the random really long hiatus!

The holidays are here, and being that it’s been such a shit year for everyone, I think it’s time to let go of some things in time for the new year. That being said, it’s 1am, and I can’t sleep. I’ve been thinking, and I’ve been doing really well lately, despite... not doing well. Confusing right? Yeah I know lol.

I just want to document, and especially for those wondering where I went. I can talk about it now and feel okay. I also want to make this more public, in case someone else has gone through it, or currently going through it.

Thank you to those of you still in my life who have supported me, and those of you who had but we lost touch. I haven’t forgotten about you. Thank you.

TW: Toxic relationship, thoughts of suicide, non-consent (kinda?)

I recently found myself practicing magic- something I never really thought would help me. But here we are! And recently, I did a letting go spell. And honestly, it really helped a lot. And I think I’d like to create a new era of this blog too, to signify that I am moving forward.

I moved states about 4 years ago now. Things played out pretty ugly for a while. I uprooted my entire life, because I wanted to, but I mainly did for someone who was very special to me. Don’t do that, kids, lol.

Do I regret it? No. I really don’t. Would I do it again if I knew what would play out? I genuinely cannot tell you.

Things were great here, at first. I thought I got everything I’ve ever wanted. Someone who loved me. Friendly faces around me. No more parental scare tactics. A job I really liked. But in return, I gave everything I already had, which wasn’t much to begin with, to this person.

I am not a perfect person at all. And I do take some of the blame for the times I was super unreasonable. But at least I apologized, and was an open book about how I felt. Unfortunately, they gaslit me and everyone around me, saying that I was super manipulative and abusive. Of course, nobody wants to take the abusers side. So I lost a lot of “friends”. There was a time I did not know what was real. Did I truly say those things? Did I manipulate them in some way? Was I really just not listening?

Those who were THERE, know that this wasn’t at all the case. Who wouldn’t chose a side, for there was not ONE person to blame, but the both of us. They helped me so much in my recovery. I am so SO grateful to them, and hope they know that them staying and helping me self-reflect and work on myself means the absolute world to me. My only regret is not letting them in more before then, since I was so caught up in this one person to care about anyone else, myself included. I was naive to think that all of my mental breakdowns happening so often were because I was on my own for the first time with no life skills, but also because of depression. I see now that it was because of a toxic person I let too far into my life.

I think what hurt me the most, is that I just felt used for the sex. Sex isn’t at all important to me in a relationship. I mainly just want to cuddle. But like, sure whatever. However.... I really don’t want to say I was raped, because it does not feel like the right word for it. I DID say yes. But at the same time, I didn’t exactly want to most of the time. I felt pressured. They talked me into it quite a lot. It mainly just felt like a chore after a while, and then they would cry and scold me that “my heart wasn’t in it”. And “Did I even like them anymore like that”. Though, that last one stung, because they always wanted me to play a character. Like they didn’t actually like me anymore. It made me view sex in a whole different light. And I’m not going to lie, I still have no idea if it was a good or bad thing. I haven’t really said this part before. But, I can finally acknowledge it without triggering this spiral of thoughts.

Honestly, ever since they cut me out completely I haven’t had nearly as many mental breakdowns since that first year. I also got a dog, who has helped me SO MUCH through this process. I honestly don’t think I would have made it through the pain of losing myself if it weren’t for her. She reminded me to take care of myself. Feed her, feed myself. Take her potty, take a walk outside. She has been with me for a little over 3 years now.

This pretty much brings me to how absent I was on this blog mainly. Ever since that relationship, I’ve been learning on how to take care of myself. It’s been a LONG while since I could do the things I loved without thinking of them. I just recently started painting again. I haven’t been drawing as much as I used to. Cosplay basically went out the window. I’m taking back MY OWN character that this person wanted so bad. In fact, I have plans for him I just haven’t gotten to yet.

For the new year, the past is the past. I’m thankful it wasn’t ever physical. But I am still to this day working through some of the things. I still cannot hear a certain car horn without going into a panic. I will never be able to call someone a certain pet/nickname, and I am trying to reclaim another one I liked. I never got closure. And through working on it myself and seeking therapy and talking about it, I was able to be okay with that. Still sucks, but you gotta do what you gotta do I guess.

And if this person, just so happens to come across this for whatever reason- I will never. NEVER forgive you for what you put me through. But I also want to thank you for at least showing me who my true friends were and are.

I’d like to be an ask blog again. I’d like to have the energy to draw, and cosplay and craft. I will never stop improving. I can always be better.

And that’s what I plan to do.

For those of you who have actually read this all the way through, thank you. It’s nice to be heard. It’s nice to have gotten this out in the open.

My inbox is always open if you need to talk. :)

#personal #ooc #updates from the mun

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wonderlustlucas · 4 years

Text

lost - pjy x jw

⇢ prompt “Just a little lost.” ⇢ pairing park jinyoung x jackson wang ⇢ word count 1.3k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings none ⇢ summary “How about a cute night conversation fluff between Jackson and Jinyoung? Just something fluffy and cute I guess? :))”—request

No matter how comfortable he may be, sprawled out on his stomach with his face nestled in the space between two pillows, Jinyoung cannot ignore the incessant vibration of his cell phone against the wood of his bedside table. Leaning up on his elbows, disoriented and blindly reaching for the nuisance of a device, he distantly curses himself for never purchasing an alarm clock on Amazon so he could power his phone off for bed. Not that he finds himself receiving calls every night just as he’s fallen asleep, but still.

Bringing the phone closer to his face, Jinyoung grimaces at the harsh light and squints hard to read the caller ID. Just as he’s done so, it feels as if his heart comes to a careening stop, limbs suddenly heavy with unease he doesn’t quite understand. Then, his heart rate picks up in a panicked frenzy and he taps the green icon without a second thought.

“Hello?”

“Oh, shit. You answered,” Jackson answers. While hearing his voice, rasped and groggy, somewhat calms Jinyoung’s nerves, such a reply has him frowning.

“Of course I answered,” Jinyoung snaps, tone laced with annoyance. He quickly mutters an apology. “That’s what friends are for, no?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Jackson hums. Then, a long pause that leaves Jinyoung forgetting to breath. “I’m sorry for calling so late. I just needed someone to talk to and you were the only person I thought of.” Jinyoung finds this hard to believe. Not only is GOT7 family, but Jackson has a handful of friends who care deeply about him. Nevertheless, he finds himself smiling at the revelation, rolling onto his back and switching the call to speaker mode. “It’s no problem,” Jinyoung assures, “I was only playing Valorant.” He lies.

I miss you, is what he almost says.

Jackson laughs, though it sounds a little tired. “You sure about that? Sounds like I woke you up.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jinyoung grumbles with a roll of his eyes, “why did you call, anyway?”

Again, a long pause. Jinyoung’s starting to get worried he is going to be told something he isn’t prepared to hear. “I don’t know, honestly,” Jackson admits, quiet enough that Jinyoung has to strain to hear him. “I guess I knew you would actually understand what I’m feeling.”

“And what are you feeling?” He asks, voice shaky.

“Just a little lost, I suppose,” Jackson sighs, and Jinyoung finds his brows furrowing in confusion. Jackson? Lost? Always confident and taking up new opportunities with gratitude and elation, Jackson is the last person he expected to feel such a way. “Overwhelmed, too. This business is so competitive these days, y’know? Here and in Seoul, we continuously have to get better, do this, do that, follow the current trend while also trying to figure out what the next will be. I feel so greedy. We’ve been so successful and I don’t want to ever lose what we have. But then it gets so tiring, and I realize I’m not happy like I used to be, just going whichever direction I’m being pushed. And I start to forget what my purpose even is, anymore.”

Jinyoung has to pause and really mull over what Jackson has just told him. Sure, the seven of them have spent countless nights discussing such stresses and hidden fears, but never has he received a phone call from one of his bandmates at almost two in the morning. Especially not Jackson.

“Jackson,” he begins, struggling to find the right words somewhere in between actual good advice and bullshit he doesn’t need to hear, “it’s okay to feel greedy when this is our job. By nature, it’s a competitive occupation, and as long as it doesn’t get to your head, sometimes you need to have that greed, and even a little arrogance, if you want to keep that success.”

Jinyoung pauses incase his friend wants to speak. At the silence, he takes it as his cue to continue.

“But you can’t let it take your happiness away. Humans are kind of like computers, we work and work and work, and then we overwork, we refuse to backdown from competition, and then we break. We’re like computers in a lot of ways, but we can’t multitask like they do. No matter what, Jackson, you have to work with what makes you happy. You’re not going to find your purpose again until your happy.”

“What the fuck? Are you a philosopher or some shit?” Jackson laughs, but Jinyoung doesn’t miss his sniffle or the choked sound of his words.

He shrugs, trying to fight a smile. “No. I remember learning about how our brains are like computers in psychology, though.”

“Sounds like an excuse a philosopher would say,” Jackson snorts, followed by a loud huff. “Hey, thank you for that. Are… Are you happy? Have you lived by that same advice?”

Jinyoung purses his lips, closes his eyes and hopes he can find the words to how he truly feels. Is he happy? With his career? Himself? Friends? Family? Love life? Well, maybe not that last one, but that is not something he can necessarily explain to Jackson, of all people.

“Yes,” he decides, “of course there’s stuff that makes my life difficult, y’know. Like JYP. But I love making music, I love performing, I love acting, I love our fans, and I love you guys. I once felt like you right now, though. But then I realized there’s no point in caring about what other people think of you, good or bad. It all depends on how you feel, how you work, and what you want to do.”

Jackson makes a noise of understanding. “You’re a real wise one, you know that?”

Jinyoung chuckles, rolling onto his side and staring at the screen of his phone, trying to picture what Jackson is doing right now and almost wishing he had FaceTimed, instead. Is he in bed, too? Has he been crying a lot recently? Sleeping well, or are the bags beneath his eyes puffy and blue? These are all questions he can ask tomorrow, he decides, realizing with a sag of his shoulders just how much he misses his friend. Friend.

“I’ve been told that once or twice, actually.” “Oh? What enlightening advice have you given before?”

“Told them how they should keep in touch more often rather than calling mid-breakdown in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jackson grumbles, chuckling nevertheless. “I’ll keep that in mind, though. You sure I wouldn’t be a bother?”

“No! Of course not,” Jinyoung fires back a little too quickly, “I’m home by seven every day and have nothing to do, I’d appreciate the company.” Cringing, he prays the underlying nervousness in his voice isn’t noticeable, oblivious to how this has Jackson feeling warm and fuzzy all over. “Well, alright,” Jackson says, then, much softer, “thank you, Jinyoung.”

“Don’t thank me, I wish you called me sooner,” Jinyoung replies, “you take care of yourself now, Mr. Wang. Text me tomorrow. Or call. I’ll always be here for you.”

For the umpteenth time in the five minutes of their call, silence, albeit comfortable, settles over the pair. Longing, he would call it. Content, Jackson would. “Well, then, I’m off to bed. Goodnight, Jinyoung. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, Jackson.” Jinyoung hums, deep in thought. When Jackson hangs up, he finds himself staring sadly at the lock screen of his phone before finally moving to plug it back into its charger on the table. Puzzled, maybe a little at the call and maybe a little at the way he feels, Jinyoung settles back into bed and stares absently at the ceiling. As he said, he has always been on top of every aspect of his life—physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, and everything in between. This, however, has left him doubting everything he’s tried convincing himself of the past few years.

Thirteen hundred miles away, Jackson’s mind feels clearer than it had half an hour ago. The problem, however, is the tradeoff: his heart feels much heavier than it did before, and for reasons he isn’t ready to figure out.

He’ll deal with that tomorrow.

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angst-king · 3 years

Text

Stuck in this Static void pt 5

((TW: mention of abuse, suicidal behavior, depressed behavior, and violence)) Walking into the ER’s waiting room, she sets him down in a chair. As he’d done in the car, he curls up still shaking but now his fingers are digging into his cold, clammy skin. At the front desk Fuyumi urgently asked. “Can I get some help please?!” There were a small group of nurses who looked to her, about three of them. “What can I help you with ma’am?” One of the youngest nurses at the desk asked in return. “M-My brother he tried to drown himself in the bathtub, he’s bleeding and he’s still got suicidal thoughts.” The nurse furrows her brows. “Did you pull him out?” “n-no he came out himself and told me” Coming out from behind the large desk area, the nurse goes over to Shouto. Stethoscope around her neck which she untangles as she gets down to the boy. “Hi there, what's your name?” She spoke gently as if she were talking to a toddler, Shouto looked at her and quietly replied. “Sh-shouto….T-t-Todoroki” “Alright Shouto, well you can call me Itsuki...now can you sit up a little I need to listen to your chest okay.” Shouto hesitantly sat up which had him coughing, finally a bit more water came up but then he gagged. He’d coughed enough to make himself feel nauseous. Itsuki noticed this and quickly grabbed one of the trash bins nearby and placed it under shouto’s chin. Then she looked at the women at the front desk. “Hey can one of you get a doctor over here like now!” For being so small she could command a room even at 4’8. Her voice boomed with authority which had the other nurses up and paging a doctor.

Her attention was back on Shouto as she heard more liquid come up but it’s not just water. Vomit gushing from his shaking gaping lips, Fuyumi is right next to him rubbing his back. Itsuki couldn’t do much at this time but asked Fuyumi questions. “How old is Shouto?” “he’s gonna be 14 on the other side of the year.” “Does he have any medical conditions, or any diagnosis of anything?” “No nothing he’s physically healthy but...I don’t know about mentally any more.” The way Fuyumi’s last sentence came out made Itsuki frown with sympathy. It was when the vomiting stopped, it had only lasted a minute, but Shouto felt weak on his feet. Moving the trash can Fuyumi sat shouto back down, she could feel his entire body shaking in her hold. The doctor comes over “Alright what’s going on here?” Itsuki looked at the doctor and explained that Shouto had suicidal behavior and thoughts that he’d tried to drown himself. Looking at Fuyumi he asked “and who are you to this young man?” “I’m his older sister” “okay that’s what I thought, let's get him to bed. Jima can you grab a wheelchair?”Itsuki nods to the doctor and hustles off to grab a wheelchair to put shouto in and wheel him off to a bed and give him a proper check.

When the chair is placed beside Shouto, he’s asked if he himself can get in. He nods and stands on shaky feet just barely making it to sit down. He’s wheeled off to one of the beds where the nurse points out the coloration in Shouto’s lips. “I don’t like that blue color in his lips, doctor.” “Alright we’ll see if we can fix that, I wanna see his oxygen levels and vitals in general. He may have coughed up the water but it can still cause side effects to his lungs.” All this talk was making Fuyumi anxious, what was gonna happen to her little brother. Would they focus on the fact that this was a suicide attempt, would they put him on anti depressances? Would they question them about their home life? Is it safe enough to tell them about their father’s horrible behavior? What would they do, could they even do anything about that? All these thoughts began to have Fuyumi shaking. Fear gripping her, chilling her saliva and making her feel as if she were drowning in her own cold abyss of perturbation.

“Ma’am...Ma’am!” She’s pulled from her spiraling thoughts and she sees that they’re in a hospital bay behind the curtain. Shouto’s been lifted onto a bed and the nurse is looking at her concernedly. “O-oh s-sorry, did you need something?”Itsuki sighed in relief before replying. “No you just looked to be spacing out, I never got your name by the way.” Fuyumi blushes at the kind woman and she says to her. “Oh sorry, my name is Fuyumi Todoroki.” Then the doctor speaks. “His breathing is better than I’d thought it’d be, which is great, though Itsuki these lacerations are a bit deep, the bleeding has stopped but these need suturing. Could you grab the suture kit please while I check to see if shouto has any mobility?” Itsuki nods at her doctor’s request, going to fetch the suture kit leaving Fuyumi and Shouto with the doctor. “Shouto I have a question for you.” He states while he places IV lines into shouto’s other arm. Looking up at him acknowledging the man and giving him his full attention. “Shouto are you still feeling suicidal? If so can you explain why?”

Shouto frowned, he had to think before answering and he still stammered through his words. “Y-yeah I-I do. I-I um….”He then looks at Fuyumi and she recognizes this look, she knows that Shouto is scared to tell people and keeps those things a secret. She gave him a nod so he continued. “I have a-a rough h-home life. F-father b-beats and sc-screams at me….T-tonight he t-told me to d-die.” The doctor looked horrified, Fuyumi confirms this. “He’s always hurting Shouto, gas lights him into a depressive and suicidal condition. He’s hit him so hard he threw up to the point of being dehydrated. He wants Shouto to be his business successor and wants him to be perfectly like him.” The doctor couldn’t help but give a sad look to them.

“How long has this been going on?” “the feelings or what our father does?” “your father’s behavior.” Fuyumi answered this one “It started even before Shouto was born, he tried it with one of our late siblings...his name is Touya, he died sometime ago.” “Alright” The nurse returns with the suture kit, grabbing a syringe and filling it with a numbing agent. “Alright Shouto we’re gonna numb your arm up a bit okay then we’ll get started” The doctor warns before sticking the needle into Shouto’s arm, he didn’t wince as if he couldn’t feel it. Shouto felt numb physically and emotionally. Fuyumi was a little saddened by her little brother’s lack of reaction.

Shouto’s arm was bandaged up in no time and the doctor told them that he’d like for Shouto to stay here for a little while. Fuyumi was old enough to admit her sibling through the paperwork so they didn’t have to call Enji which was a big relief. Now came the part Fuyumi dreaded, the doctor came over to her quietly while Shouto was resting, they’d put him on a nebulizer to treat any potential lung infections. She’d been lulled into tired silence by the machine until she was approached by the doctor. “Hello Fuyumi, I need to talk to you about something.” He says, alerting the girl who’s eyes darted towards him. She sits up fully from her slouched position in the guest chair. “Yes, what is it?” “I think Shouto needs to be admitted into a psychiatric unit. You’ve said he’d been gas lit several times into such thoughts and behaviors, sure medication could work but. His home is not a safe environment for him to try medications.” Fuyumi sighed “not again” she muttered as she’d remembered her mother being admitted to a psychiatric hospital due to Enji’s behavior towards her. Shuddering at the memory she’s interrupted by the curious doctor who hears her. “Again?” He repeats making Fuyumi blush from knowing he’d heard her. She had to tell him, so she did, not in the most vivid detail but answered him with an explanation. Explaining that Rei had been admitted to a psych ward when Shouto was younger because she’d had a mental breakdown from Enji’s abuse and poured scalding water on Shouto’s eye.

The doctor seemed to understand and knew of the concerns yet he held patience and replied back. “Well he’s gonna need to take a few tests and that will decide on whether he needs to be admitted so it's not definite but. It's a better option.” “So when will the test be done?” “Well it can be as soon as tomorrow, or sometime during the week or so.” Fuyumi looks down into her lap with a small nod of acknowledgement of the reality she’d be facing. Her little brother potentially being placed in a psychiatric ward. It worried her yet, she also knew that he’d be away from their abusive father.

This would give her time to try and figure out living situations. Shouto didn’t have any friends and lacked good social skills due to his upbringing. So he couldn’t stay with someone for the time being even if he weren’t to be admitted to a mental hospital. Still she didn’t know if she could support shouto, or if she could even get him away from Enji permanently. She’d need adult help and most likely a lawyer but. Fear came in, what if Enji had the power to bribe those deterring them from helping Fuyumi setting her back further to keep shouto under his rule. She needed to figure out something. It didn't matter if Shouto would be admitted or not, she had to do something for her little brother. “I’ll leave you to rest, miss, you seem to be tired and it's almost 3 am and you’ve had a long night.” The doctor says politely bowing and giving Fuyumi the time to thank him before he leaves.

The next day, Shouto didn’t wake up till sometime in the afternoon and boy did he hurt. His body was aching, and he still had a slight cough yet he couldn’t care any less. He just curled up wanting to go back to sleep but right as he was about to shut his eyes to block the bright light of the hospital and the sunshine. The doctor knocks on the door, not only startling shouto and making him grumble but. Waking up Fuyumi who had fallen asleep in the small chair. Letting himself in the doctor smiles seeing his patient and sibling are awake. “Hello there Shouto, nice to see you’re awake. I’m gonna check your vitals, then we’ll talk about the important stuff.” Shouto just sighed with a dull tired look on his face. His breathing and oxygen are checked, his heart was great, everything was great except for the fatigue and emotional numbness.

Putting his stethoscope back around his neck, the doctor took a seat in the spare seat opposite Fuyumi. “Alright Shouto, lets talk.” Nodding the doctor started his talk. “You’re going to be psychologically tested to see how we can treat this. Whether you just need medication or you need to be admitted to a psych ward, you need to be honest while answering okay.” Shouto nods remaining silent, “You’ll be taking a test or two soon, a nurse will come in and will help you if need be but all answers will be on you.” When the doctor had finished, Shouto then asked. “Can I go back to sleep now?” Huffing the doctor shakes his head. “Sorry kiddo, you have to eat something. Can’t let you starve yourself.” Shouto frowns as the doctor gets up but he knows that it's for his own good.

Eating was a challenge, he didn’t have the motivation or strength, or even the appetite, but. He tried and got some of it down by the time the nurse came in the tests and a pencil. The test wasn’t long and took no time yet it was still a draining process, then adding them having to take blood from him afterwards he really wanted to sleep now. Some of the questions stayed on his mind and whether he answered correctly or not. ‘Are you still considering suicide?’ Well Shouto hated living, sure he wanted to be happy for once in his lap but, he felt that he could only be happy if he were dead. ‘Do you starve yourself?’ Well he didn’t starve himself more like the rigorous beatings made him sick enough to not want to eat. Or he didn’t have the motivation to feed himself. ‘Do you cut?’ Yes he does, he had for a while now and it was his only way of feeling something, it let him cry which meant expressing emotions that felt forbidden when he wasn’t cutting. Then one last question rang through his head ‘Would you like to get help?’ Well that would depend, would his father have to consent to this? Could he willingly get help himself? Would he get away from Enji? He didn’t like feeling suicidal, or feeling empty inside, he wanted to feel normal but he never got to feel that so. How could he tell what normal was? Maybe they’d help him figure that out? Would they shove pills down his throat? Would the strap him down to a bed or put him in a straight jacket or even a padded room? Were those types of places real or were those just movie’s over dramatic depictions of a psych ward?

These thoughts surprisingly put Shouto to sleep, or those were the drugs.

Meanwhile Fuyumi was with Natsuo, she’d stopped by to tell him what happened and maybe get some advice? “So let me get this straight, father gaslights Shouto to the point of him trying to commit suicide, he stopped himself and asked for you to take him to the hospital. They’re saying that his best option would be to be admitted to a psychiatric facility so we can figure out how to get him away from father?” Natsuo reiterated taking in the information. Fuyumi nods “I-I just I don’t know if it really is a good idea, and I don’t know if either of us could financially support shouto on our own. We’re adults but we’re not as stable as our father is and most adults but. I think him going to the ward will give us some time to figure something out.”

Natsuo rubs his temples, “I couldn’t agree more, I mean we’re both in school and so is shouto, not that it would be the worst thing to try and take him but. It's sudden and we need time.” he hated to hear about what happened to Shouto, it reminded him of their mother but this time he didn’t want things to get any worse with Shouto and. From how much better their mother has been doing, they both knew the doctor’s suggestion would be the best option for their little brother. “I’ll come with you next time to see shouto, when are you going back?” Fuyumi thought for a moment before answering. “Most likely tonight” “Okay then call me and I’ll meet you there.” With that promise Fuyumi grabbed her bag and slipped on her shoes but right before she left Natsuo called out. “Hey, I love you and...good luck with him okay” Fuyumi gave a small smile to her brother “I love you too” She waved him goodbye and left the dorm complex.

Time went by and Fuyumi found herself calling Natsuo to tell him it was time to meet up at the hospital. She soon stood in the parking lot, the street lights were turning on as the sun was setting. She smiles a little as she sees Natsuo walking towards her after hopping off of the bus. “Hey there, you ready?” He asked, Fuyumi nods “yeah, let's go in.” she says and leads him inside, she strolls towards the elevator till they’ve reached the ICU. She follows the placards till she reaches Shouto’s room. Knocking softly there isn’t an answer but she opens the door anyway.

Opening the door, Shouto is laying in bed, he’d seemed to have eaten a small dinner not long before the siblings had arrived. “Shouto?” Fuyumi’s voice calls out softly, heterochromic eyes flutter open with slight bags underneath them. Despite him resting most of the time, his eyes still held a tired look to them. “Hm?” He hummed quietly, walking further into the room Natsuo announced his presence. “Hello Shouto” Recognizing his voice, Shouto looked at them both seeing Natsuo he frowned. “Y-you dragged Nats into this Fuyumi?” Fuyumi knew what he meant but shook her head. “No Shouto, I didn’t drag him. I needed him to know so he could help us, help me, and help you.” Natsuo came over to his youngest sibling’s bedside, then brought him into a hug. Shouto tensed and flinched in Natsuo’s hold until he spoke. “Shh, I’m sorry about him and what he’d made you do and how you’ve been feeling...I’m here because I want to be able to help you get better. I know you may not want to go to the psych ward but. We’ve talked it over and it's the best option for you.” Shouto nods his head “I-I know it is….I thought about it actually” Natsuo stands up letting him go so as to not squeeze the life out of him. Both the older ones seemed curious and asked for Shouto to elaborate. So he shared his thoughts, he knew he’d be better off in a hospital, he’d get away from his father and he hated these feelings even when he indulged himself in them.

Shouto’s explanation pleased them, it made them happy that Shouto wanted to get better and was willing to do it. During this conversation the doctor came in as did another person. A woman who was sharply dressed like the man next to her. “Hello guys ah, another family member. Are you his brother?” Natsuo faces the man and shakes hands with him as he introduces himself. “Yes I’m Todoroki Natsuo” “nice to meet you, I have another person for you all to meet.” He gestures to the woman who’s holding a clipboard of paper and a pen in her chest pocket. She smiles sweetly to them all “hello I’m doctor Fumiya, I’m a pediatric psychologist.” She looked down to her patient in the hospital bed and approached him. “You must be Todoroki Shouto, yes?” The half and half colored male nods “Well I’m here to go over your test results with you and your siblings.” With a nod of approval the woman starts.

“You seem to obviously have depression but this seems to be chronic, seeing as you’ve stated that you’ve been having these feelings for so long. You do have anxiety which is traumatic induced. You don’t exactly have an eating disorder, it's more of the depression and anxiety making it hard and I’m going to guess that you’ve been beaten to the point of vomiting?” Hearing Dr Fumiya’s prediction, Shouto had to sadly confirm it. “Okay and with all of those things in consideration you’ve also stated that you’ve still considered suicide…. But you said you’re willing to get help. Is that still true?” “Still having thoughts of suicide or willing to get help?” “both.” “Yes to both of them” "Now how willing would you be to be admitted to a psych ward?"

Shouto shrugged, his tone held exhaustion but also a small hint of desperation which could faintly be detected when he said "I'm just so tired of this life, and if I could be helped then I'll try it I guess." With that Dr Fumiya wrote down some things before replying. “That’s good, first we’re going to admit you to a ward where you will be given medications and such to try to see what will work for you. You will have a doctor who you will talk to as well as a therapist but it won't be everyday seeing as they obviously have other patients. You will also have group therapy and other types of ways to develop better coping mechanisms and life skills.”

With this information Natsuo asked “Now from what I’ve heard about psych wards, there are certain things Shouto can’t take with him right?” “yes most of the rules apply to just about all psychwards. Though certain things can be gained or permitted if he’s under super vision. Like. He can’t have drawn strings in his clothes or have shoe laces. No razor shavers, no staples, anything that he could hurt himself with. He also can’t take his phone in with him and he may have 1-1 supervision, so someone may come in and check on him or be with him outside the door while he’s showering or in the bathroom. His door will never be locked and will most likely be open through the day time and unlocked during the night time.” She continued to explain more things and general rules most psychwards have.

It was a little overwhelming but what did they expect? They were young adults who were admitting their abused, depressed and suicidal little brother to a mental health hospital. “So when will he be going and where?” “Well there’s one not too far from here and he can go as soon as tomorrow afternoon actually or as soon as the doctor is willing to release you here. Though his release date from the psych ward will be unknown for a while it depends on how cooperative you are, how well you’re handling things and as well as if it's safe for you to go back considering your living situations.” “O-oh so it all has its determining factors? How much should I pack for him?” Questioned Fuyumi “I’d say pack two weeks worth of clothes, they all have laundry days and schedules so he’ll be able to wash his clothes.” “Oh that's great” Natsuo joined, then Fuyumi’s phone rang, she looked to see who it was before frowning. It was Enji.

“What is it sis?” Asked Natsuo, he leaned over and saw who was calling and paled. “Shit, I take it you didn’t tell him?” “Right, and I don’t know what to tell him.” Then Dr Fumiya suggested, “let me talk to him, I’ll see what I can do.” hesitantly Fuyumi hands the woman her phone, she soon leaves the room. Sitting anxiously, Shouto's room is silently waiting for the psychologist to come back. They’re watching the door which soon opens after a minute and she hands the phone back to the eldest todoroki in the room. “He will be here soon, so doctor I suggest you alert security right away to keep an eye out for him.” The doctor nods and leaves the room after confirming Enji’s name, Fuyumi twiddled his thumbs a little thinking about what she was gonna do. She still lived with her father but that was to keep shouto as safe as she could. “Hey, you can probably live in one of the safety lots for people who escape abusive partners or family.” Suggested the psychologist, fuyumi listened with a quizzical look on her face. “You just explain your situation to them and they’ll let you stay. Though if you feel scared going to pack you and your brother’s bags you could always ask them to have an officer or two escort you to protect you.” With this option displayed to her, Fuyumi knew it would be safer for her to live in a safe home and be escorted by officers than try and go alone. “Alright thank you Dr Fumiya” Shouto then spoke up “Fuyumi….I-I don’t want him to c-come here” everyone could hear the anxiety in his voice and then they saw him. Shouto was shaking like the previous night he’d come into Fuyumi’s room.

Eyes melting with sympathy and warmth for the teen who’s eyes welled with tears and fear. “Oh shouto sweetie” She cooed gently standing up, she goes over to him and pulls him so he’s facing into her midsection, Fuyumi is gently rubbing his back as he cries. “Shhh we’re not gonna let him near you, I promise.” Shouto’s still trembling body relaxes a little, still his hands lightly grip her sweatshirt he sobs. Natsuo added himself to the group and came to comfort his little brother, gently running his fingers through his hair. “We promise you shouto, you’re gonna be safe.”

It took a minute for the teen to calm down enough to let go of his older siblings just in time the doctor came back. “Alright I’d told them about your father, and if he somehow gets in, don't hesitate to hit the emergency call button that’s on the side of shouto’s bed and on the wall next to the door” Advised the doctor who smiles at the sigh of relief of the small family. “See shouto we’re safe, the doctor has taken precaution and knows not to let him in.” Shouto just started to play with his fingers as a way to distract himself. “Well guys if you’ll excuse me I will be taking my leave to check on other patients, have a nice night.” “Thank you so much Dr Fumiya” Just as she leaves the nurse comes in to take Shouto’s blood, which Shouto willingly gives. Not like he has much of a choice though.

Fuyumi had been there for a while and hadn’t eaten much so she’d gotten out of her chair to get something to eat. “Hey boys I’m gonna get something from the vending machine, you guys want anything?” “hm could you see if they have any instant ramen?” Fuyumi giggles at Natsuo’s request but she nods “Will do lil bro, you want anything Shou?” “u-um c-can I have milk please...strawberry?” “sure thing, I’ll be back.” She leaves the room and searches for the vending machines around the hall.

It wasn’t a long walk to find some vending machines in a small room, she found the instant ramen one and got Natsuo the spicy ramen he liked, she got herself the shrimp ramen. Next, getting a carton of milk, it took some figuring out since it ate her dollar but as she waited for her milk to be dispensed she heard a loud scream from down the hall. It made her jump but she still kept a hold on her food.

Then a crash came and she had a horrible feeling that made her run to see what was going on. ‘What’s going on, where is it coming from’ the white haired woman thought then she saw it. The door to Shouto’s room was open and one nurse was shaking on the floor while the other was protecting shouto. And right in the center of it all was him, Todoroki Enji. The red head was yelling and trying to get to shouto with force but the small woman who Fuyumi could tell was Itsuki from the night before. She wasn’t backing down, her stance was defensive but ready to throw a punch at any moment. Eyes widened as she watched Itsuki, she then noticed why her stance was defensive, she was holding a needle full of something in her back hand as she warned Enji. “Look Mr Todoroki either calm down or I won't hesitate to inject you with this!” She says in a serious but calm manor, Enji on the other hand growled at her with a sneer on his face, “Oh and was it, probably just saline, not enough to put me out even if it was a sedative.” He shoved her but, her stance allowed for her to easily maintain her balance, “Leave now sir.” Her voice is low “Why the hell should I, you’ve got my stupid son here? I want him back!” “you’re a threat to his safety and you’re abusive to those around you. I won't let you take him” Itsuki doesn’t notice Fuyumi but seeing the other nurse who had some sort of head injury Fuyumi quickly dropped her food and ran with adrenaline down to get more staff members and hopeful security.

She didn’t want to leave Itsuki to be the only barrier between Enji and Shouto but. What else could Fuyumi do! She can hear more of Enji’s yelling, more things crashing and clattering to the cold chemical tile floor. She flinches even as she’s doors and doors down. Getting to the front desk she frantically yells “please help! One of your nurses is injured and my father somehow got up here and he shouldn’t be. Please the only one protecting my brother is a nurse!” Crash! Then another scream but this sounded lower in pitch. “Shouto!” Fuyumi cried and almost ran back but grabbed someone who held her as staff members arose and went to help. It is the doctor looking after Shouto. “Hey hey he’s gonna be okay, Itsuki can take care of this I promise.” Fear paralyzed her into remaining still the doctor lets her go and it isn’t long before security shows up rushing past them to deal with the situation.

Natsuo came down the hall and security came down not long after them. He sees Fuyumi’s worried look, and becomes concerned. “Hey Fuyumi what’s going on? You okay, why aren’t you with shouto?” Fuyumi explained what had happened and as she spoke she began to shake a little. Tears raining down as she’d remembered her promise to shouto. “W-we broke our pro-promise Nats.” At first Natsuo couldn’t remember but one look of seeing Enji being dragged away in restraints by security frowned and hugged her. “I know Fuyu, I’m sorry, he won't be mad at us though. Knowing Shouto he’ll be scared but not mad, if we can get to him now he should be okay.” “o-okay, let's see if we can go th-then.” She says as Natsuo holds onto her hand protectively after letting her out of his loving hold.

Hurrying down the hall they get to shouto’s room which is a mess with shattered medical supplies and Itsuki is right there calming a disquieted Shouto who was pale, otherwise unharmed thankfully. Sighing in relief Fuyumi came over and bowed to the nurse with lots of admiration and vederanation. “Thank you so much Ms Itsuki, I’m sorry you had to deal with our father though.” Huffing a little, the small nurse shrugged her shoulders. “I did what I had to do, but it's okay, it's not your fault that man is so horrible he doesn’t deserve to be called a father.” Fuyumi then looked at Shouto “I’m sorry he tried to get to you Shouto, are you okay?” Talking through shaking lips Shouto replies “H-he didn’t hurt me...ju-just sc-scared.” Fuyumi smiles a little, kissing his forehead gently. “I’m also S=sorry I dropped your food running to get help.” Shouto and Natsuo rolled their eyes “hey don’t apologize, it was the sleeze bag’s fault. I’ll go get it this time, you stay with Shou okay.” Natsuo offered with a small chuckle before looking at Itsuki who went back to checking Shouto over. “Ms Itsuki, would you like me to get you anything...kinda a way of thanking you for protecting our little brother.” Itsuki peers over at the tall white haired teen who’s giving her a genuine smile. “Dear I’m just glad you all are safe, that is enough thanks for me..” Her voice trails a little as she focuses her mind once more. Natsuo just nods, he heads to the vending machine area and gets the milk, ramen, and a bottle of water for Itsuki. Even if she hadn’t asked for anything, he couldn’t not repay her back.

When everyone was given their respective things. Sitting down they had time to each other again in silence. At this point silence meant peace no heart ache but silence also meant suffering and they knew that Shouto would be going to the psych ward soon. Hoping to rid of his suffering whether for good or temporarily enough to find time to find even better help in a healthier. All they could do was try.

#my psych academia #bnha fanfiction #bnha psychward tododeku #depressed todoroki #suicidal todoroki shouto

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nomnomsik · 5 years

Text

To Catch a Dream - 15

It’s difficult for Yoongi, who’s completely infatuated with you, to quietly remain your college friend. With a slow appearance of unusual tendencies in him, he realizes what he needs to do to attain his dream. However, jealousy and possession are universal in everyone.

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Thank you to @kimseokmomjins who stayed up late at night and read this chapter together with me!

Trigger warning: yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, profanity, yelling, manipulation, panic attack, mental breakdown, drugging, physical abuse. Please do not read if you are sensitive to these topics.

Perfect stillness.

On the pleasant Sunday afternoon, the apartment which was usually filled with its couple moving around now lay silent. With the sun setting off in the horizon, warm light filled into the living room with the sky’s blue tone forming a gradient of warm pink and orange. The white apartment complexes outside became a tint of warm yellow from the rays of the sun. Yet, the air was calm and chilly and smelled cold. The whole room was alive and lit in beautiful warm tones that danced off the walls.

You rocked your body back and forth in your chair as you sat, legs crossed in the bedroom, with a phone next to your ear. As you waited for the person on the other line to pick up, you brought your left hand up to your face, inspecting your trimly cut nails and slender fingers.

“Hello?”

Thank goodness. You relaxed, bringing your hand down and smiling to no one as you replied back calmly.

“Hello, Jimin.”

The floors of the bedroom creaked as you put more pressure into your left foot, humming as you waited for a response on the other line. The wind blew the curtains near the window, waving them and bringing in a tingly chill.

Maybe I should bring a blanket so no one gets a cold...

“I never expected you’d be the one to call me.” Jimin laughed from the other line, causing you to furrow your eyes. It had been a while since you had given Jimin a call even though you had asked Yoongi for his number so many years ago back in college. Jimin picked up with a crisp voice that you had missed after your ears had been swamped with screaming for the past few days.

“And why’s that?” You questioned almost defensively, offended why he couldn’t fathom you giving him a call. Jimin laughed at your intense and wary position as it carried into your end.

“Yoongi’s the one who always picked up any phone calls I sent.”

An irritating feeling grew in your stomach as you forced out a laugh. One side of your mouth twitched as you dug your heel even more, the floor groaning in pain. You shook your head in reluctance before continuing.

“Oh really? Well, he won’t be doing that anymore.”

Your voice trailed off as the clock in the room ticked, taking the place of your voice. Chirping birds from outside the apartment echoed in the spacious sleeping space, with one of its members taking a much-needed rest. Sounds of movement came from Jimin’s side before he spoke again.

Jimin bit his tongue, wanting to question why, but holding off, your voice filled with tension as if it was a secret to never ask. Instead, he shifted the topic.

“So, y/n, how’s life so far? I haven’t had a long conversation with you in what feels like forever after your incident in the hospital.”

“Right.” You agreed, trying not to remember those terrible memories that sent an eerie chill down your spine. “Well, I moved into a new apartment. I can send you the dets later about it. How about you?”

“Me? Oh…” Jimin took several seconds to think before coming to a good enough answer. “Well, Jungkook and I, we’re… Our relationship has gotten better, I guess.”

You gave an interesting hum as your eyes traveled back down to the floor before you quickly snapped your head up. A slight noise of irritation came from your mouth as your eyes caught your battered hands, red and sore.

“That’s good…” You muttered, placing your hand on your lap, your eyes trailing up to the ceiling. “I don’t want any more surprise kisses if I’m being honest.”

You could hear Jimin vocally sigh before agreeing. “Yeah… I’m sorry about that, y/n. I hope you can forgive me.” You shrugged internally, twirling your hair through your finger.

“Ah, it’s whatever. I don’t remember it that well. Besides, we don’t have any tension when we talk to each other. I feel perfectly the same as if I were in college again.”

Jimin hummed, something squeaking from his line. “You’re right. I actually didn’t think about it either, even though we met again at the event dinner.”

You hummed in agreement, the call falling into a comfortable silence. It was brief before Jimin jumped. “Ah, y/n! I was going to ask you something about this before but I forgot. When are you getting married? I’m asking because… oh whatever, I want an invitation...for champagne”

A laugh erupted from your chest as you buckled over. “I think… Yoongi would be absolutely livid. He’d get you kicked out on the spot. Might even kill you.” The two of you laughed together, your voices seeming to unify together. “Also… I don’t think I’d ever want to marry him. He’s absolutely crazy. Fucking psychopath.”

“Psychopath?” Jimin questioned. “You can’t be serious, y/n.” Jimin laughed from the other line. “Your parents letting you marry a psychopath? That sounds shady. Your parents would kick your ass if they hear you say that about your groom to be.” He mocked you, emphasizing the ‘groom’, a sudden urge in your body to kick him the next time you see him.

“Ah, I’ll deal with that when it comes.” You let out a loud sigh, your feet stamping on the floor as you sat seated in the uncomfortable chair. “Also, I meant, Yoongi’s behavior changed once I started listening to him.”

“Y/n…” Jimin’s voice shifted as it was filled with a hint of sadness. “Are you alright? Is he hurting you?”

“I’m fine.”

“B-but...Jungkook and I… We saw your neck that day in the city”

Jimin knew. Nobody wants to talk about their issues, their traumatic memories. But he cared. He would do anything to help you just like how you inspired him in to be outgoing, almost ruthless for the goals you wanted. His dreams… his dreams once seemed unattainable and yet, he’s never been this closer. He wanted to see you, to wipe those tears that were certainly on the brink of streaming down your delicate face.

“Hey y/n... I’ll always hear you out.” He whispered as if his fingers were caressing your skin to reassure him, to bring comfort back into your eyes.

"You don't have to act tough…" Jimin's voice came in small, filled with a sort of empathy as if he understood. You scoffed to yourself, how could he ever understand? Jimin? The man who got whatever he wanted because his life was easy. The man who could get what he wanted because his parents didn’t care. Even though you needed his words, you couldn’t help the boiling rage inside of you. "You're acting so nonchalantly but… you were scared right?"

A long silence overcame the phone call as both sides filled with silence, with only the quiet hum of breathing...

“Y/n, you can always talk to me. Y/n? Hello?”

“I’m alright, Jimin.” You grit out as you tightly held onto your phone, trying to contain the bitterness that laced your voice, the irritation at the contrast of both of your lives.

“No, y/n. Please. I’m right here.” Jimin insisted, your temper only increasing.

“Long story short, he tricked me a lot and well, let’s just say he had a field day stabbing syringes in me filled with who knows what. Happy? Now stop asking about it.”

“Y/n, please. I’m trying to help. Can’t you trust me?” Jimin’s voice cracked through the receiver, your anger slowly subsiding as your stomach fell. There was something about his sincerity, his concerns that seemed to touch your heart. When was the last time someone cared? When was the last time someone asked about your opinion? What if you didn’t want to get married? What if you too, wanted a career? But, nobody bothered to ask. You were merely a piece of a collection, a part of a display, set to watch from the glass confinement out at the rest of the world.

Taking a deep breath, your hand trembled as you confessed to Jimin. “I found a way to de-stress, to maintain peace of mind.”

Jimin perked up at a part of your truth, his lips curling up to a smile on the other line, glad you were able to trust him. However, his happiness slowly subsided, confusion taking over.

“How do you destress?”

“Revenge.”

Jimin remained silent for a second, an unsettling feeling filling the call before he forced himself to reply back.

“Revenge?” His mind denied the thoughts that swarmed in his head, but... He needed to make sure. “Did you… Did you hit him?”

The line went cold, pure, heavy silence, filled the line as Jimin nervously darted his eyes. Biting his lip, he waited anxiously on the other side, his face going cold.

“Yeah.”

It was one word. A single word that shook Jimin’s body as he felt fear ride his body.

“He deserved it.”

Jimin was speechless, his mouth hanging open as he took several to recover, sputtering over his words. Incoherent thoughts filled his brain as he failed to process the information. You? You being physical? It was unrealistic.

“Did you not see those bruises and bloody scabs all over my body?”

Jimin gulped loudly, whispering in uneasiness.

“I did… But…” That doesn’t make you any different than him if you do that.

“Don’t worry so much, Jimin.” You spoke, laced with a cheerful tone that seemed odd to him. “My parents won’t let him do things to me anymore. He knows I’d tell them.”

Then why didn’t you already?

“Right. I trust you have everything under control.” He lied, feeling drained from the emotional rollercoaster. “I’ll talk to you later, okay y/n? Stay safe.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

As you brought the phone down, you tossed it onto the bed before standing up from the chair and squatting down, coming closer to the floor.

“So pretty..” You smiled, poking Yoongi’s cheek as he lay on the floor right in front of the chair where you sat in. His hair, bent and beaten, darted out in several directions from the times you dug your heels into him as he lay unconscious. Completely passed out, his eyes shut and his breathing steady, you couldn't help the satisfaction of watching him in such a weak and vulnerable moment. On his skin, red marks blossomed from recent altercations that happened a few hours before.

“Doesn’t feel good now does it?” You mocked, smirking before standing up and walking out of the room, locking the door like he had done so many times.

From chores to lounging around in the living room, your days were always uneventful, only waiting for Yoongi to come back home. Before your outburst a few hours ago, days were much more peaceful, with Yoongi slowly returning back to his college self, loving, caring, and an uneasy normalness that fueled your bitterness towards his frightening actions.

Yet it changed today.

Yoongi came walking through the door, slipping off his shoes as he entered the living room, where you lay relaxed. The only problem was the mask on his face. That accursed black surgical mask that tormented you in your dreams, that alerted you of incoming doom, and most importantly, needles being stabbed into your skin.

You trembled in fear, as memories, terrible memories flooded your mind. His punishments, always will that blasted mask, engraving in your mind it's terror. A sick sense of familiarity hit you, seeing Yoongi wear the piece of cloth across his face. You remembered the threats that spilled from his listless, muffled voice as he held a syringe in hand.

Today, something overcame you. Something violent took over; a rush of adrenaline, a rush of anger, pain, and resentment took over your body as you flipped out. You lashed out at him, surprising him at the heat of the moment, tackling him until the back of his head hit the wooden floors. Pain shot through Yoongi’s body as he struggled to bring his hands up to cradle his head, trying to do something to ease the tremor in his skull.

You hit him. You hit him so hard in the face, your dominant hand extending back at your nails grazed the skin of his face, his head recoiling to the side as he groaned. As you took deep breaths, Yoongi’s eyes were red and watery as they locked with your yours, his heart breaking.

You remembered how sore your throat was after he had passed out. With no recollection of what you said, you couldn’t feel guilty. Yoongi, utterly confused, but a slight hint of comprehension to your actions only whimpered.

“I only love you, p-please stop,” Yoongi whispered into the cloth, sniffling as he had stared up at you. Your eyes could barely recognize him as Yoongi. To you, he was the enemy, someone who hurt you too many times, someone who would only hurt you, someone you should never trust again.

With a sick smile, you scrunched your eyes almost in elation from finally overpowering your offender.

“Love hurts, baby.”

#yandere bts #yandere yoongi #yandere suga #to catch a dream #yandere yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfiction #bts yoongi #bts suga

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bensboynton · 5 years

Text

Good Enough b.h; Part 4

hey hey hello!! sorry this took so long i’ve just been working on a lot of requests recently.

let me know what you think happens next!!!!!

word count: 3.4k

warnings: swearing as always, angsty, unedited, mentions of cheating, mentions of self-esteem issues, drunkenness, lots of mentions of alcohol

recap

“So it’s settled!” Lucy spoke giddily, clapping her hands in excitement, “Girls night!”

You couldn’t help but feel the same giddiness, after all, it was practically radiating off her. Tonight would be good! A nice, calm night in with your favorite girl in the world and nothing could mess that up.

Or so you thought.

You were in a slump.

It’s to be expected for you to be upset after a bad breakup, but you felt like pure, unadulterated dog shit every single second of your life. The only things that motivated you to get out of bed was filming, your cast-mates, and Lucy.

Ever since that one day at lunch, you and Lucy have been having at least one girl’s night a week, but usually it’s more than that.

And by “girls night” you mean playing a game where you drink as much alcohol as you can in a before you black out. Because as bad as it is, alcohol helps ease the sharp ache in your chest.

The sharp ache that shouldn’t even be there in the first place. Because he hurt you and made you upset more times than you could possibly count, you should be glad he was gone. But you weren’t. He should be the one that was hurting. But he wasn’t.

It probably isn’t helpful seeing all the pictures of him with new girls and people on instagram tagging you in pictures of the two of you together. It hurts to breathe, sometimes.

It’s crazy how you can pour you life and soul into someone for two years, and have it all go away in a second. Now he’s gone and he moved on, and you’re just… stuck.

And the worst part is you can’t help but blame yourself! You always blame how you dress, or act, or talk. And you just turn all the pain on yourself because you’re too in love with the person who actually hurt you to blame them. You’ll just lie in your bed all night, replaying everything in your head and thinking about just how bad you fucked up.

When Y/BF/N left, you had spent days being mad at yourself for overreacting. You had let yourself become a shell and allow yourself to believe you deserved it. And you still believed that, but you wouldn’t tell anyone about it.

But nonetheless, your friendship with Lucy was prospering due to the excessive amount of alcohol you now drink together, and you had these girl nights down to muscle memory. It was a lot of fun, a good way to unwind after a long day. And today was definitely one of the longest day of your life.

You got barely any sleep and had a 10 hour filming day. You were over everything. Especially people. You just wanted to cozy up in your bed with some wine and shitty snacks.

You’ve slept more in the past few weeks then you had in most of your life. You were emotionally tired, and you tried to make up for it for going to bed early and sleeping in late. But you were just… not present.

It’s been a few weeks since the breakup, and you’ve been trying to put up a front to get people to stop worrying, responding “I’m okay, I promise” when someone asks. You weren’t not okay, but you weren’t perfect either.

You felt like you could obliterate a tank physically, but mentally, one wrong word and you’d be sent headfirst into a painful nervous breakdown. And the fact that you were the reason that Rami had to redo the same take twenty seven times today. Twenty seven!

You were so out of it, you couldn’t remember your line or you’d literally forget you were filming halfway through. He was frustrated but he’s too nice to slap the shit out of you and tell you to get it together, like he should’ve done.

You had immediately collapsed on your bed as soon as you wrapped for the day, not even saying bye to the other guys. You took a thirty minute nap before you were awoken by your phone ringing rather loudly right in your ear. She must’ve recieved your text about how shitty your day was.

“Do you want me to bring rosé, white, or red?” Lucy asked enthusiastically into the phone, and before you said anything, she answered her own question. “Actually, I’ll bring all three. Plus the bottle of Bacardi I have leftover from my birthday. I’ll see you in 10. Hang in there babe. Mwah.”

Lucy hung up the phone, and you threw it back down onto the covers while leaning back against the headboard of the bed in your trailer. You already had a headache and you hadn’t had a drip of alcohol today, and your neck was slightly stiff due to the uncomfortable angle it was at while you had taken a nap.

Your mind drifted to filming, before your heart dipped lower in your chest as you suddenly seemed to remember the existence of Ben.

Ben.

And speak of the devil, a notification pops up on your phone screen. “benhardy just posted a photo.”

You had barely seen Ben all day, much less talked to him, and you weren’t really sure where you two stood. You loved being around him and spending time with him, but you were stuck. Literally. You had no idea what to do, or say, and Ben is really annoyingly good at sending mixed signals. He’s impossible to read.

The picture he posted was an old photo from a magazine cover shoot he did the year before. It was in black and white, and made your heart do a flip. You groaned at the effect that he had on you just by posting a dumb picture.

You had gone out to get coffee with him a few times since the incident, been on dinner duty with him (dinner duty is a term coined by Joe; it’s when two people are in charge of picking up the food the cast had ordered that night), but lately, you’ve both been oddly silent to each other.

You found yourself feeling normal when you were with Ben. The emptiness went away, it was like Ben filled your chest with a chocolatey warmth and that scared you. Because you didn’t want history to repeat itself.

You had been through enough pain and breakups to last you your entire life, you were sure of it. You had joked with Lucy that you’d adopt a baby and build a cottage in the forest and just become entirely self-sufficient. It was like a little fantasy of yours. Not having to rely on anything(or anyone) to live.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to pursue anything with Ben, or if he even felt anything other than friendship towards you. And you were so confused. You thought about texting him, before deciding against it and busying yourself with preparing for your girls night with Lucy.

For someone who you don’t see a lot during the day, you sure think about Ben a ton. And by “a ton” you mean all the damn time. It was frustrating, to say the least. You were thinking of him right fucking now!

Getting coffee? You’re thinking of Ben. Shooting a scene? Thinking of Ben. Writing songs? Thinking of Ben. Singing? You guessed it, thinking of Ben! It made you want to put your headphones in and play a song as loud as you could to try and push him out of your brain.

After the breakup, you couldn’t write a word for any song onto paper. But when you’re with Ben? You could write an entire concept album on the exact shade of green that his eyes were. And that annoyed you, but also confused you as to what exactly you were feeling.

You threw a package of pizza rolls into the microwave, grabbing some nail polish and face masks out of your small storage compartment near your bed. You doubted that you and Lucy would actually be sober long enough to use them, but it was worth a try.

Before you knew it, an enthusiastic knock was heard at the door, and it made your heart soar. You opened up to see your platinum-blonde haired best friend with a huge duffle bag full of clothes, alcohol, movies, and snacks. She was wearing a matching silk light pink pajama set, the exact same as yours, except blue. “Ready to get wasted babe?”

You laughed at Lucy’s comment and pulled her into a tight hug before ushering her into the trailer, locking the door behind you. She immediately started unpacking her bags and grabbed two glasses from the top cabinet and poured you both a completely full glass of wine.

You grabbed the pizza rolls and your wine glass and migrated over to your bed, setting the rolls down after downing three large gulps of wine. You and Lucy just made small talk about your day’s, Lucy asking you about filming that day.

“Okay, I want to make a toast.” Lucy murmured, clearing her throat dramatically before holding up her glass.

“To girls nights, and to… I don’t know, actually,” Lucy paused and bit her lip, “to really shitty wine, I guess.”

“Amen,” you agreed, lightly tapping Lucy’s glass with yours before downing another large portion of the wine.

When Lucy said you two were getting wasted, she wasn’t kidding. You had both finished two bottles of wines, and done a few shots of the old vodka Lucy had brought from home.

And you couldn’t see straight.

The room was slightly tilted and spinning, and your eyes felt incredibly heavy. You tried to go and grab a bag of snacks from the counter, but you almost fell over so you decided to stay seated on your bed. You and Lucy were starting to spew nonsense that made zero sense, but had you both crying in laughter.

You had also prank called Joe, but you failed miserably. He actually found your drunkenness quite humorous. You also took an instagram picture of you two drinking a glass of wine, and you captioned it “girlk nighy.” (You were a shit speller when you were sober, so being drunk really didn’t help)

The comments were quickly taken over with people laughing about your drunken state, and also telling you to be safe. Joe and Gwil both commented asking why they weren’t invited to the party, and right before you shut your phone off, you got another notification.

Ben liked the photo, but didn’t comment. It made your stomach flip, although that definitely could’ve been the alcohol. You wanted to scream and put your head through the wall, because someone liking your stupid instagram post shouldn’t make you feel like you’re gonna throw up.

Lucy decided that she wanted to watch Pretty Woman, so she put it on and dimmed the lights in the trailer, getting lost in the story. You had started crying almost as soon as Vivian met Edward, because you knew the rest of the story.

And you wished you had someone like that to love.

Lucy had put a video of you in tears on her instagram story, tagging you before returning to the movie. About halfway through, though, you both seemed to have passed out. The last thing you remember is a conversation between Edward Lewis and Vivian Ward lulling you to sleep.

You woke up a few hours later, the TV had turned itself off and you were still drunk.

Like, really, really drunk.

And your thoughts were irrational, but all you could think about was Ben. Lucy was laying next to you in your bed, dead asleep, but you just wished it was Ben who was there next to you, just like he did after the breakup. You wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in his arms and go to sleep. But you couldn’t.

You searched through your bed, trying to find your phone. After finally finding it hidden, Lucy’s body unfortunately laying on top of it, you opened the calling app and hesitated. Should you call Ben? You eventually decided that you didn’t have anyone else to talk to, so you did.

You dialed Ben’s number and crossed your fingers in front of you like a first grader, hoping that he’d still be awake at 4 am.

“At the tone, please record your message. If you are finished recording, please hang up or-”

You hung up the phone quickly, swearing under your breath. You dialed the phone number in again, listening to it’s painfully slow ringing. The anticipation was building up so much in your chest you could’ve burst.

“Y/N? Hello? Are you okay?” you heard a tired, yet confused British voice say. All the air in your lungs disappeared for a moment.

“Bennie!” you slurred, rolling over in bed and giggling like a schoolgirl at the sound of his voice. Ben chuckled tiredly at the nickname, clearly confused about what was going on.

“Are you okay?” Ben asked again. You almost said yes, as saying you were fine had become a habit of yours.

“Actually… I’m not really? I don’t even know what I’m saying right now.” Your words were a jumbled mess, and you heard Ben take a sharp inhale on the other end of the line.

“I hope you’re done drinking now?” You nodded quickly. Forgetting that he couldn’t see you, you then told him that yes, the alcohol was put away.

“I’ve just been thinking. A lot. Like, a lot.” You started to ramble, eliciting a tired chuckle from the blonde boy.

“Yes, that happens to be a common thing that humans do.” You wanted to punch him in the throat for being so sarcastic, yet smooth even at four in the fucking morning.

You could already tell you were going to regret saying anything to him, but your sober thoughts turned into drunk words way too fast and next thing you knew, you were spilling your heart out to Ben on the phone.

“You know? I’ve been fucked over a lot! A ton. So much. So so much,” you hiccuped lightly as you twisted a strand of hair around your finger, “and they all start and end the same way. I fall in love, he says he loves me, blah blah blah, we have sex in a car once or twice, a few months pass, and bam, he leaves me. And it’s always me who gets hurt. Why is it always me? What did I ever do to deserve that?”

Ben was eerily silent on the other end of the line, but to stop an awkward silence, you kept going.

“And everyone keeps asking me if I’m doing okay, if they need to go ‘beat him up for me’ and I always say I’m okay. Everytime. And I’m sick of it! I’m sick of pretending that he didn’t rip my heart out of my chest. Because he did, and I can’t sleep because every time I close my eyes I see him! And I can’t eat because it reminds me of all the times we’d go out to eat at 3am because we were bored. And I can’t drive because it reminds me of all the road trips we used to take to Venice to visit his cousin.”

There were tears streaming down your face, your words beginning to get jumbled. And you knew what was about to happen, but you didn’t have the mental capacity or willpower to try and stop it.

“And now, I see you every day and I think about that day you carried me back to my trailer, or when you held me so tight you were the only thing keeping me from shattering into a thousand pieces. And then we go out to pick up dinner for the band, or you smile at me or you laugh at something I said and I feel my heart soar. And I can forget about him. When I talk to you, the pain goes away for a second. Suddenly, he’s not at the forefront of my mind. You are. And I hate that! I hate dependency. I hate being someone who needs to rely on other people for happiness because I’m a lot to handle! I have so much baggage.”

Your words got caught in your throat for a second between the hollow sobs that were echoing in your trailer.

“I’m a lot easier to deal with when I’m happy. Always have been. And no one wants to deal with me when I’m sad or sick or in a shitty mood. They always leave me. And I hate that I like you so much, I hate that I adore being around you. Because I don’t want you to hurt me the same way he did. ‘Cause there’s definitely something wrong with me! Has to be! Three of my boyfriends have cheated on me. Three. I just wish I knew what I was doing wrong so I could stop. I don’t want to get hurt again.”

Still, silence on the other end of the line. The noiseless environment was so quiet it was loud in your eardrums. You felt like you were going to burst into a fiery, red-hot mess of tears and anger and anxiety. You were about to combust.

“You don’t care. Silly of me to think anyone cares, really,” you paused for a moment, tears silently rolling down your cheeks, “see you around, Bennie.”

You swore you heard him try to say something, but you passed it off as your ears ringing from the massive amounts of poison(wine) running through your veins.

And with that, you ended the call and fell back on your bed, laying your head close to Lucy. And darkness consumed you, pushing you into a sleep so deep you were almost unconscious.

—

“Holy shit,” Lucy groaned loudly, “I’ve never been this hungover in my entire life.”

“You and me both.” You responded glumly. You had vague memories of the night before, but nothing much. The last thing you remember is passing out halfway through Pretty Woman. Your head felt like you had just awoken from a coma, you could barely open your eyes.

And your throat hurt so bad, you could’ve swore you woke up with strep throat.

You drowsily grabbed your phone from it’s spot next to you on the bed, and your eyes opened wide at the notifications on your lock screen.

You had seven missed calls from Ben, and 7 text messages.

ben: can we talk

ben: call me back

ben: answer my calls

ben: y/n

ben: y/n please call me back

ben: hello?

ben: please answer

You closed out of the texts and were about to call him back when an urgent knock rattled through your trailer. You raised an eyebrow at Lucy as you walked over to the door. She shrugged, so you expected to see a PA or something, but to your surprise, a certain blonde British man was on your doorstep.

Ben.

You both made eye contact and, for a few moments, just looked at each other. Ben opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out at first. He looked distressed, and Ben was never distressed. The look on his face was unsettling. “The call… did you mean it?” he asked suddenly. You wracked your brain for a few moments, trying to figure out what he meant by “the call.”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What call?” you wondered aloud.

“T-The call. You called me last night. Did you mean it?” Ben seemed panicky, his eyes desperately searching yours for something. Jesus, did you do this to him?

What the fuck did you say on that phone call?

“I’m sorry Ben. I don’t remember I was so drunk but…” you trailed off, biting your lip gently, “I probably didn’t mean it. Whatever I said. I’m an emotional drunk.”

Ben’s eyes dropped to his shoes and suddenly the cool air around you seemed to turn stale.

“What did I say? Was I mean? I’m sorry I just… don’t remember.” You were speaking to him with a slight desperation in your voice.You hoped you hadn’t hurt him.

“You don’t know what you said?” Ben asked in slight disbelief. You shook your head side-to-side, causing Ben to just shake his head and kick his shoe into the step he was standing below on your doorstep.

“Never mind. See you around.” He spoke quickly, all emotion and warmth leaving his voice immediately. And with that, he swiftly left you standing on your own doorstep, confused and slightly worried. You could’ve sworn you heard his voice crack in sadness, but you couldn’t be too sure.

Like you said, you’re always fucking things up.

taglist(strike through means tag won’t work): @sweetheartben @benhardyseyes @ziggyspurplehaze @mrsmazzello @orchideax @ellalisaa @valeriecarolinaw @rexorangecouny @hardzzellos

if you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask and i’ll add you! <3

#ben hardy #ben hardy headcanon #ben hardy fic #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #queen #borhap #borhap cast #borhap boys #borhap guys #borhap blurb #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody movie #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy blurb #ben hardy oneshot

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soulofatiny · 5 years

Text

No fear, I’m here... Ch.7: exposed

warning(s): none...for now

word count: 2.9k

a|n: i’m so sorry this took longer than i had expected to write. i hope you’ll enjoy! happy reading <3

tag: @dearmingi , i’m not sure if you still wanted to be tagged but here it is!

Ch.8

masterlist

∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘

Set opened his eyes alertly and carried his body off the top bunk, careful not to wake you from your current slumber on the bottom bunk. The phase two facility always required nap time around midday to assist in promoting brain activity. Set always snuck out during this timeframe once he cautiously inspected the facility’s format and came to the conclusion that security was the lowest during this time.

Now was his chance.

Before he exited out of the door, he looked back one last time at your sleeping figure. The sight of you sleeping so peacefully soothed his heart, taking notice of the blanket that was threatening to fall off of your body and onto the floor.

“Just wait a little longer. I’ll get us out of here,” Set whispered tenderly as he covered you with the blanket once more, then attentively made his way out of his shared bedroom with you.

Set quietly paced through the cold and empty hallways. His heart was pounding against his chest from the pure fear of getting caught one day. Unlike the others who were selected for ZG’s special program, Set lacked deeply in the physical spectrum, making his travel a lot more difficult. He felt a familiar tickle in his throat and he silently begged that it will remain in its place until he at least exited the building. He suppressed the irritation as much as he could and picked up his pace once he saw the double doors that led him outdoors, keeping his steps as noiseless as he could. The cool metal slammed against his palms when he pushed the doors open and as soon as the doors shut behind him, Set erupted into a harsh coughing fit.

‘Made it in time…’ he thought to himself as the cough began to cease.

“You made it.”

Set jolted slightly, startled at the voice but was relieved when he turned to see who it was, Wu. The title translated as the Chinese number five, the 5th one that had arrived in the phase two facility out of ten.

“Are you okay? Your coughing sounds worse,” Wu stated, tone lingered with worry.

“I’m- fine,” Set cleared his throat once more, still feeling the prickling tingles in his windpipe.

“Does Professor know?”

Set shook his head.

“How about…Nana…your sister? Does she know?”

“No, and she’ll never know about this,” Set urgently declared, more to himself than to Wu. He knows that Wu wouldn’t be able to tell her anything regardless since no one besides your assigned family member were allowed to speak to each other.

Wu looked down at his feet awkwardly, unable to find the right words but Set broke the silence instead, “Come on. We should go to the fence, I’m sure Seonghwa is waiting.” Wu nodded in agreement and followed Set to the fence that was more like a gated barrier that kept all of the residents locked in place. There were numerous spots where the trees were large enough to keep them hidden from the security cameras. It took Set roughly two years to find these spots, cautious to make sure he wouldn’t get caught. As they walked, they saw a figure that was standing under one of the hidden areas on the other side of the barricade, close enough for them to converse. Once the figure laid his eyes on them, he smiled and waved, “I thought you two wouldn’t make it tonight.”

“Hey Seonghwa, we were fine. I just had to wait for Set,” Wu replied cheekily.

“Set…have you found out about anything else?”

Set nodded slowly and cleared his throat, feeling the familiar tickle again, “Initiation day is nearing. I’ve gone through Professor’s documents while she wasn’t looking…” he fell into silence, incapable of announcing the despairing date as Wu and Seonghwa stared at him, palms clammy due to nerves.

“Initiation d-day is on…October 24th,” he finally announced with a stern look on his face. The two boys’ eyes grew wide upon hearing such a statement.

“T-That’s only one week from now, Set! There’s no way initiation day is that soon!” Wu exclaimed as he shook Set’s shoulders, hoping what he had just heard was simply a mistake but Set only adverted his eyes, indicating that it was true.

“Wu…it’s been three years since the 10th one arrived. The date was clearly written on Professor’s documents. It’s time.”

“Set, Wu… how’s the rest of the residents? Have they fallen into ZG’s psychiatric manipulation? Are there more like you two? How many can we save?” Seonghwa asked a little hesitantly, afraid to actually hear his answer.

“I’ve made sure that Nana still practiced her independent thinking without Professor noticing… so I’m pretty sure that she won’t be manipulated during initiation. As for the rest of them… I think it’s too late…”

The atmosphere instantly became tense and far too heavy. Seonghwa grasped the fence tightly, “Okay…how about you Wu?”

“I’ve tried b-but my assigned family member...” Wu’s voice cracked, “I-It’s too late…” he finally answered as he covered his burning eyes with his arm.

“I see…” Seonghwa sighed, “We were too late…”

Set placed his arm on Wu’s shoulder, trying to provide some sort of comfort during this heavy conversation.

Seonghwa let out a shaky sigh once more and extended his hand as far as he could through the spaces of the fence, as looked at the two boys with a determined look, “I’ll get you both out of there. Nana too. We may have been too late…but we can still save three lives.”

The two boys mirrored Seonghwa and reached for his hand. Seonghwa grasped their hands and met their eyes with resolve, “We recently gained two new members and they know a lot about ZG’s organization. With them and including Hongjoong, we will do everything we can to get you all out of there.”

“Thank you, Seong–“

“Brother, where are you? Professor is looking for us!”

The three boys were startled upon hearing your voice that was at a decent distance but was gradually nearing by.

“Brother! Are you out here?” you called out again and waited to hear a response but was only faced with silence.

You continued to look around and saw two figures standing with another on the other side of the fence. There was no way that an outsider would be near this place since Professor told you before that it was isolated. You rubbed your eyes in disbelief and then looked once more with more focus but only two figures were standing there.

‘I guess it was my imagination,’ you murmured and made your way over to the two figures alertly to see if one of them was Set and you were surprised to find that one of them was, indeed, your brother.

“Brother…” you called out again, a little more timidly this time since you weren’t used to others being so near.

Your brother and the boy turned to you and Set smiled, “Nana, what’s wrong? Why are you out here?”

“Nap time is over. Professor is looking for us…” you answered as you hid behind Set, who chuckled at your action.

“It’s fine, Nana. This is Wu. We were just out here for some fresh air. Say hi.”

You peeked over Set’s shoulder and made eye contact with Wu who was giving you a friendly smile. You finally moved to your brother’s side and bowed your head slightly, “Hello…”

“Hi Nana~ Don’t worry, I was just leaving. Let’s make our little meeting our little secret from Professor~” Wu answered as he placed his hand on top of your hand gently, and then walked back towards the facility.

“Come on, Nana. We should go back too,” your brother suggested and you nodded as you both also headed towards the building.

Seonghwa, who was hiding behind one of the trees, let out a relieved breath, “So that’s Nana.. how cute,” he smiled at the sight of you admiring the sky and then shifted his expression more serious and determination in his eyes, “I promise we’ll get you guys out of there.”

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

“How is she doing?”

“She seems to be doing better. I’m...really glad she was able to release some of her emotions.” “Me too… it must’ve been suffocating.”

“Well the sooner we get her out of ZG, the better.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa were currently sitting at the boss’ office, sharing updates upon your well-being. Ever since your mental breakdown, Seonghwa had definitely taken notice on how you were distancing yourself from him. He autonomously let out an extensive sigh, exposing the great stress he felt with how he could help break down your walls completely. When he saw you cry on that one stormy day, he felt as if his heart was physically getting ripped out of his chest. Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows upon the memory, feeling his chest tighten. He simply wanted to take your pain away. All of it.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong called, causing the older boy to take his thoughts elsewhere, “Seonghwa…don’t worry. I don’t intend on dragging this out any longer. It’s time we make our move next.”

Roughly two weeks had passed since you unveiled your vulnerable state to Seonghwa and although you tried your best to remain unchanged, his deep voice kept echoing within your mind.

“I’ll never leave you behind.”

His tone was so clear and vivid. It strangely provided warmth and comfort whenever you felt your anxiousness approaching within you. However, all of your ease disappears whenever you encounter Seonghwa as you, for some reason, couldn’t bear to completely face him. Whether if it was the sheer embarrassment of exposing such vulnerability to him or your usual habit of always expecting the worst...you didn’t know. But instead of pondering upon your feelings, you exerted your main focus on the mission you’ve been assigned by your boss but it’s been gradually getting more difficult to do so. Each phone call you make with your boss about the members, it felt as if thorns were prickling your throat when the words left your mouth. You gazed at the members from the sideline of the training room. Although they occasionally fool around, they all work hard. Even Yeosang, who lacks in the areas of combat, works hard by using his intelligence to improve the team. Or even Hongjoong, their just leader. Although he doesn’t always train with the rest of the members, you know he’s always working on something to advance their organization.

“What can I do to stop all of this...” you unknowingly whispered, your thoughts free from your mind.

“Stop what?”

You looked towards the direction of the voice, completely aware of who it was.

It was Yunho.

He joined you on the benches, sitting next to you. You greeted him, and then took your gaze back at the members.

“So, stop what?” he asked again as he gazed with you.

“It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does matter if it’s something that’s bothering you.”

You looked at Yunho, a little stunned, “What?”

You couldn’t tell but his heart began beating a little faster the second he accidentally let the words slip out of his mouth.

“N-Nothing, I didn’t say anything.” He replied trying to remain nonchalant to hide his flustered thoughts.

“But you just said it does matter if it’s something that’s bothering m–”

“No. I didn’t,” Yunho replied, a little more defensive.

“But you said–”

“You’re just imagining things! God, you talk too much...”

Yunho covered his mouth as the words fell out of his mouth. He silently cursed at himself for not being able to say what he truly wants to say, ‘Don’t worry about anything by yourself’ or even ‘I’m always here to help’. However, instead of saying the wishful lines, he always said the exact opposite of what he truly wanted to say and he despised himself for it.

“Excuse me?” you looked at him, eyebrow slightly raised.

Yunho panicked and proceeded to say the words that didn’t match with his genuine feelings, “I said you talk too much, Gremlin. What about it?”

“Last time I checked you’re the one who came over here and interrupted my peaceful time,” you stood up abruptly, feeling your body heat up in annoyance and turned to walk away.

Yunho extended his hand to stop you but the memory of you yanking your hand back when he did it in the past flashed through his mind, and he slowly put his hand back to his side.

“Shit...” he cursed at himself for making you angry yet once again and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration with himself.

“Well, that was rough~”

Yunho sighed, not even having to look behind him to know who it was, “I’m sorry I keep pissing your sister off.”

Yeosang sat next to Yunho, replacing where you were sitting earlier as he chuckled, “Is it really that hard to say ‘Hey, I know you probably think I hate you but I actually care about you and I want you to rely on me more’?”

“T-That’s not what I wanted to say,” Yunho could feel his cheeks heat up, frustration and now embarrassment building inside him.

“Oh yeah?” Yeosang nudged Yunho’s arm and continued teasing, “Then was it, ‘I didn’t think I would fall for you but I actually did and don’t know what to do with my feelings’?”

“What?” Yunho stared at him astonished, “Feelings for who? The only feelings I have for her is pure dislike. Remember? I don’t want her here. I never did and I never will.”

The words were harsh but both Yeosang and Yunho himself knew that it was far from the truth. Yunho could feel his friend stared at him in amusement and he deeply wished he could simply shrink away from this situation so he stood up a little hastily to make his escape.

“I just remembered I have something to do.”

“Oh? Suddenly?” Yeosang asked, completely satisfied with the flustered state Yunho was in.

Yunho walked away and gave him a small wave, avoiding to look at him.

“Hey, Yunho! Thanks for at least trying to make her feel better even though you ultimately failed!”

Yunho tripped over his own feet upon hearing Yeosang’s words but finally managed to exit out of the basement with some dignity still left within him although the red hue completely overtook his complexion.

“No…No there’s no way,” he mumbled to himself in disbelief.

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

You stormed out of the basement, anger completely rid from your mind. Deep down, you knew that Yunho only approached you to help despite both of you always clashing in the end. As you were walking down the hallway, you saw Hongjoong walking from the opposite direction.

“Ah, y/n! I was about to call everyone for a meeting. You can go ahead and go to the assembly room. We’ll be there soon.”

A meeting? Was Jongho spending too much money on food again? Or maybe he wanted to talk about Wooyoung’s sleeping habits? You truly couldn’t read the expression on the leader’s face so you simply nodded in agreement as you both parted ways. Upon reaching the assembly room, you knocked three times. A habit that you have formed each time you’ve entered your boss’ office. Shuffling footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door as the door clicks open. Your heart paused for a moment when Seonghwa’s face was revealed as the door opened and if your attentive self was correct, you noticed his eyes widening slightly before clearing his throat and asking you to come in. You mumbled a small thank you and complied, taking a seat on one of the chairs that surrounded an oval table. Certainly, a professional assembly room. Seonghwa closed the door and took a seat that was two spaces from yours, keeping a safe distance.

“You know you didn’t have to knock. You can enter assembly rooms freely.”

“I know…it’s just a ha–”

Your voice was cut off when the door opened once more, revealing Hongjoong and the rest of the members with some chattering as they walked in one by one. You silently thanked the timing for clearing the awkward atmosphere as they each took a seat, except for Hongjoong who remained standing at the very edge of the table.

Yeosang sat next to you, “I can tell this meeting is going to be a serious one.”

You looked at him questionably, “How can you tell?”

“Just from the look on his face,” he whispered.

“Let’s begin,” the leader announced. The room was immediately filled with silence and earned everyone’s attention. Could everyone truly tell that this was going to be a “serious” meeting?

“I’ll cut to the chase,” the leader continued, tone unwaveringly directive, “Y/n.”

You stiffened at the mention of your name as the members including Yeosang turned to face you.

“I know about the secret mission that ZG had assigned to you.”

∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘

-e|n: should i release shorter chapters but more often or release longer chapters but not as often??? please let me know! also please anticipate the next chapter. there’s going to be some drama ahead...

#ateez #no fear im here #atzwriters #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez fanfic #soulofatiny masterlist #ateez x reader

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ourloveisforthelovely · 6 years

Text

Regrets 10

A/n: no warnings

Link to Chapter 9

Words: 2, 027

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader

____

(A few months later...)

You woke up with a groan. Attempting to stretch you looked down at your still pregnant stomach.

“Yep, still pregnant.”

You mumbled before sitting up. Looking over to Gabriel's side of the bed you couldn't help but sighing. Whether you wanted to admit it or not your relationship was Gabriel was suffering! You were convinced that he would bail on you after the baby was born if it wasn't his. He was being too good of a man to say it but you could see the betrayal in his golden eyes. Gabriel had spent a lot of the time telling you that everything that had happened wasn't your fault and he didn't blame you for it. Did you believe him, no! After he would say that Gabriel would look away with hurt eyes.

The physical aspect of your relationship was still hot as ever! Gabriel couldn't keep his hands off of you! Anytime that you wanted him, he would drop whatever he was doing for you. Many of times leaving Cas looking after you two awkwardly.

Getting out of bed, you slowly pulled on a long sundress and examined your reflection. You weren't big by any means. The baby moved against your hand as you stroked your tummy. You couldn't help but smiling. Even though there was a good chance that the baby was Loki's you were still in love with the child to be. Maybe you could convince yourself that the baby was Gabriel's? Maybe everything would be okay after all?

Meanwhile,

Gabriel stood looking over some notes that Sam had made about tracking down Loki.

“I hope you are right, Samshine. I don't like being away from her right now.”

Dean frowned.

“Do you want the creep dead before the kid gets here or not?”

“Shut up, Dean.”

Gabriel snapped. Dean shrugged. He wanted to tell Gabriel that he liked him batter as a goofy trickster however, he understood why Gabriel wasn't cheerful and happy. Living with the knowledge that your girl was knocked up with another man's kid had to be rough. One thing Dean had to respect Gabriel for is the fact that he was going to raise the kid regardless.

“Gabe, we'll get it taken care of.”

Dean replied calmly. Gabriel looked up.

“Oh yeah! I'm going to make him suffer more than he needs to.”

“Y/n is coming. Stop.”

Cas replied. Gabriel turned as you approached.

“Hey sugar, how are you feeling?”

You smiled as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I'm fine. Are you still leaving this morning?”

Gabriel nodded sadly.

“Yeah, we got some information.”

You looked down. Asking Gabriel to stay home with you would be selfish. You knew that he wanted nothing more than to kill Loki and make him suffer for everything.

“I'll be back before you know it so you can have your way with me as much as you want.”

You couldn't help but laughing at that.

“I read in a baby book that sex can make induce labor.”

Gabriel blinked a few times ignoring the grossed out expression on Dean and Cas' faces.

“Well when I get home we are doing it.”

You stood on your tiptoes pressing a soft kiss to the archangel's lips. He leaned his forehead against yours with a sigh.

“I don't want you to worry.”

You closed your eyes fighting any urge you had to have an emotional breakdown. Gabriel didn't need your emotions. He didn't need to be worrying about you when he was going after Loki. If you were in the back of Gabriel's mind pestering him, he could get hurt.

“Everything will be fine.”

You whispered hoping that Gabriel believed you. Gabriel's hands gently locked on the sides of your face.

“Loki just hopes that he can get rid of me. You know how annoying I can be. I'm not going anywhere.”

Dean snorted.

“He's right, Y/n. We've been trying to get rid of him for years. Looks like we won't ever get rid of him now.”

Gabriel smirked.

“See what I mean?”

The following week passed relatively slow. You have heard from Gabriel a few times but nothing like you wanted.

“Sit down, would you?”

Rowena asked looking up from her spell book. Your mother had been getting cross with your less than cheerful nature.

“You are moody.”

She said. You stopped your pacing and turned to look at her with a perplexed expression.

“Well I am sorry, your highness! I just have a lot on me right now!”

Rowena blinked.

“We all have a lot on us, my dear.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Lets see here, I think I win! I'm pregnant with a trickster or archangel's baby. Who the father is, I have no clue! Gabriel is out after Loki and I don't know what is about to happen to us!”

Rowena sighed.

“You and the baby will be just fine! I am not going to let anything happen to either of you. If the trickster and archangel die, we will be just fine.”

“Shut up, mother!”

You growled. Turning and walking to the window trying to breath, a pain in your lower back that had been going on and off all day began to get worse. Rowena stood back up the moment you bent over.

“Y/n?”

You held up a hand.

“Nothing. Just....oh fuck.”

Rowena raced over.

“You're in labor! Bloody hell! Get that archangel here!”

A few hours later...

Gabriel sat beside Cas watching Sleipnir talk with a couple of his guards.

“It would be so easy to take him out right now.”

Gabriel stated. Cas turned looking at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Gabriel, you need to go with the plan.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes,

“Cas, I don't know if you know me or not but I am not a go with the plan kind of guy.”

Cas was quiet for a few moments. He wasn't about to agree with his brother. Gabriel was never a go with the plan kind of guy. From the early days in heaven, Gabriel did what he wanted.

“Gabriel, go with the plan for Y/n and your child.”

Gabriel expression softened a bit before turning dark.

“The kid will be here soon.”

Cas nodded.

“It will be. Are you prepared for the outcome?”

Gabriel laughed bitterly.

“How am I a supposed to be ready for that outcome? I keep trying to barging with myself and nothing is working. For Y/n, I am trying not to be some bitter asshole. I know we talked about this before but it ISN'T WORKING CASTIEL!”

Cas jumped when Gabriel yelled the last part. Gabriel quickly looked ahead trying to control his trembling.

“I can't tell you how to feel and if I could I wouldn't.”

Gabriel nodded before running a hand through his hair.

“I know you wouldn't. I guess we will just have to see how it goes.”

The phone ringing pulled the two from their conversation. Cas took the cellphone out of his pocket before muttering a quick hello. Gabriel didn't pay much attention until he heard the urgency in Cas' voice.

“What are you talking about? We haven't heard anything! We'll be right there!”

Gabriel turned looking at him with a frown.

“What was that....”

“Y/n had the baby?”

Gabriel's mouth dropped.

“Why are fucking sitting here? Better yet why are just now hearing about this? Y/n, didn't get a hold of me?!”

Cas held a hand up knowing that telling Gabriel to calm down would work about as well as telling Dean not to stab someone without having coffee.

“Sam has a theory....it was the child.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“Fucking damn it! It is Loki's and is already causing me grief!”

Cas rolled his eyes.

“Lets just get to her.”

Meanwhile,

You sat in the bed looking down at your baby girl with a smile. From all of the bad that had occurred during the past few months this was the shinning moment. Her sweet face was the most beautiful thing that you had ever seen. Her golden eyes shinned up at you instantly capturing your heart.

“She's darling!”

Rowena said with a smile. Your mother's face had an expression that you had never seen before. She looked completely at peace and there wasn't a trace of the cold witch there.

“Thank Mom...for everything. If you wasn't here...I would have never been able to do this.”

You were completely honest about that too! If it was for Rowena, delivering the baby you wouldn't have known what to do! Gabriel didn't come when you practically shouted at him and neither did Cas. Of course, Gabriel would have been useless but it would have been nice to have your child's father there.

“You did all of the work. We make a good team. If this whole mess with Gabriel and the Winchesters don't work out, we could make it just fine.”

You eyes darkened as you looked up at Rowena.

“Why wouldn't it work out?”

Rowena shrugged.

“I am worried that once he find out that the child's father is Loki, Gabriel will live up to his reputation. Its a valid concern, love.”

You pressed your lips together.

“He'll prove us wrong. I know he will.”

Rowena sighed. She didn't have the heart to tell you that she didn't have the least bit of faith in the archangel. Sure, he was good roll in the sack but as a father and protector....eh.

“Well it doesn't hurt to have a plan.”

Before you could respond, Gabriel and Cas appeared in the room. Rowena looked up at Gabriel with an annoyed expression

“Just a wee bit late!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes before saying “out”. He snapped his fingers making Rowena vanish from the room. He looked back to you with a sympathetic expression.

“Sugar, you didn't call.”

You nodded wildly.

“I was praying to you like mad....cursing your name there toward the end.”

Gabriel smirked.

“Glad that I didn't hear that.”

He quickly walked over and was mentally preparing himself for looking at Loki's child in your arms.

“She's perfect, Gabriel.”

Gabriel smiled.

“A girl...we are in for it.”

He slowly reached down taking the baby into his arms. You watched him hoping for some kind of miracle as Cas wondered over. Gabriel's expression was unreadable as he looked down at the baby.

The moment the baby's eyes opened and shinned bright gold; both Gabriel and Cas' mouth dropped.

“She's mine.”

Gabriel managed to get out. You looked as shocked as Gabriel did! All of the months of inner turmoil was thankfully wasted! Loki had no claim in your life whatsoever now!

Gabriel sat down beside you not letting go of his daughter. He wasn't able to say a word as he memorized every feature on her little face. It was you that spoke first.

“But how is that possible? Cas, I thought that I would die.”

Cas, looking totally confused, looked up.

“I don't....I don't know how to explain. There are just too many anomalies to list....”

Gabriel looked up finally.

“It doesn't matter. Everything is fine now.”

Cas pressed his lips together knowing that everything in fact wasn't fine. Loki would still come after the child. There would be no way that the trickster would believe that child wasn't his. He wouldn't believe it until he was dead. There was also the fact of what would happen when the other angels and archangel's found out.

For now, however, Cas couldn't bring those subjects up. He would let the two of you enjoy your one moment of peace. You both deserved that! Cas would tell Gabriel, Sam and Dean at the same time and they would come to some sort of conclusion and deal with the problem.

______

@payformycollegepls

@victoriasagittariablack

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@sherala007

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

@everyjourneylove

@authoressskr

#Gabriel #gabriel x reader #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Cas #rowena macleod #Supernatural Fan Fiction #reader insert #Supernatural reader insert #gabriel fanfiction

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withlovekth · 8 years

Text

Don’t Say a Word (Part One)

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Pairing: Yoongi/Yoonji (Suga) x Reader Genre: Fluff, Smut (future chapter) Contains: crossdressing, drug mention Word Count: 3.2k

Author’s Note: This all literally stemmed from the extras of the BTS Run episode where Yoongi pulled out a gun on Jimin... I actually got a little impatient so I decided to post this without actually writing out the full story. I was planning on making this a oneshot but oops. There’s going to be multiple parts (probably not a lot though tbh). (((Btw I love Yoongi in that all black outfit from that Eat Jin vid like what an amazing concept hello.)))

A couple years have passed ever since you’ve last saw your best friend, not knowing your high school graduation ceremony was going to be the day he would have suddenly disappeared from your life without a trace. You only have yourself to blame. Maybe if you had asked him about his plans for his future or if you stopped being so caught up in focusing on your music auditions for the band you had so desperately wanted to join after high school, maybe he’d still be around. Maybe you’d know where he was planning to go and what he was planning to do. Maybe he would have still been in your life.

But being mysterious was just always a part of Yoongi’s personality. He always kept to himself, but whenever he opened up, it was always to you and you alone. You knew he would never tell you the complete story, he had no obligation to. What he wanted to keep confidential was entirely up to Yoongi, and you were understanding of that. But sometimes, you wish you had try to pry information out of him to understand him on an even deeper level. Ever since high school, you would always find yourself wondering what would have happened if you ever tried to push the boundaries a little more. Would Yoongi push you away or would he have taken it as a sign of affection?

That’s all in the past now. The Yoongi you once knew is now nowhere to be found, but lives through your memories. You can’t go a day without thinking about him. He’s the first to come to your mind in the morning and the last before you fall asleep. He’s the one you think about when you get a solo and want to tell someone about your great news and he’s the one you want to call out to when you’re afraid and alone. You didn’t know it back then, and you sure definitely know it now, but he was your everything.

He was always there for you no matter what. He was there for you when you got your first period in the middle of gym class during your freshmen year. He walked closely behind you to the bathroom so no one saw your blood stained sweatpants. He was there for you when you were completely head-over-heels over some guy in your English class during sophomore year, taking each other's first kisses as practice at a real relationship. He was there for you when you had your heart broken by your first boyfriend at the beginning of junior year. He was your shoulder to cry on. He was always there for you, but you consciously didn’t do the same for him, especially at a time when he needed you the most.

Weeks before graduation, you were busy with practicing the piece you were going to audition with to become a percussionist in the symphonic band you had been dreaming about joining ever since your parents took you to see them live as a child. You were too focused on yourself and ignored everyone and everything around you, including Yoongi. Yoongi was a little stressed, just as any senior would be before graduation, and he would reach out to you, but you intentionally pushed him aside so you could worry about yourself. You were going to apologize to him after everything was over and hope he would understand.

The week of graduation, you and a couple of your peers, who were also auditioning for other bands, would stay late after school to work with your band director to practice everything you needed to know. It was a Wednesday night, the night before your graduation. You and the other senior band kids, decided to break into the music building after hours, when there was no chance that there would be anyone on campus, just to continue practicing. That night, a concerned Yoongi texted you. You explained to him you were still at school, which made him worry about your mental and physical health. He decided to surprise you by sneaking onto campus to bring you food, but he caught you at the worst possible time. You were having a breakdown over not being able to play two specific measures with a thirty-second note mallet run. At this point, you were beyond exhaustion and frustration. You can’t remember what you said to him, it was all a blur, but in the heat of the moment, it was probably something bad enough to make Yoongi yell at you in rage for the first time ever in your four year long friendship. You’ve done a lot of terrible things throughout the years, but Yoongi was always patient with you and would never raise his voice at you. After that scene, Yoongi left in a hurry and you had no idea what to do. Everyone realized that they were all probably pushing themselves too hard, so you all decided to go home.

The next day at graduation, Yoongi went on as if everything was fine, like the night before had never happened. As you were leaving campus, he approached you and gave you one of his cute, gummy smiles before hugging you and kissing you on the forehead to say goodbye. Maybe you should have seen that as a sign something was going to happen considering he was the mysterious, unpredictable Yoongi.

You didn’t see him at school the day after graduation, where all the graduated students were going around saying their goodbyes and signing each other's yearbooks. You tried to call him, but his number had been disconnected and all of his social media had been deleted. Many people came up to you to ask about Yoongi, but you had no idea what to say. One too many people had teased you about being a good best friend for not knowing what happened to him. At the end of the day, you found yourself all alone in a bathroom stall, sick to your stomach, spewing out all your anxiety, regrets, and mixed emotions into a porcelain bowl.

With Yoongi constantly on your mind, you found it hard to concentrate during rehearsals. When you first got accepted into the symphony five years ago, you were overjoyed. Everything you were working hard for had paid off and your dream had become a reality, but that high died down fast when your guilt began to consume you. Was it really worth losing the most important person in your life to live out your fantasy? Every rehearsal felt like a punishment, but you never stopped reminding yourself you were here to play and that every practice will lead up to an amazing performance, because this was your career. This is what you lived for. This was the path you chose.

The rehearsal today was no different from the others. It always ended with your palms sweaty from unconsciously gripping tightly to your mallet sticks, body hot from the stage lights, and uncertainty about whether or not your nose was going to start leaking blood. You tried to convince yourself that the conditions on the stage were just harsh on you, but your guilty conscious was probably another factor that contributed to your poor physical state.

You went through the motions of putting your music and equipment away, always mindlessly pushing and rolling the large instruments back into their rooms. Everyone who has been in this band with you all knew to move out of your way while you pack up. If they were new, they’re either told to be careful or learn the hard way.

You were pushing the large concert bass drum with your head in the clouds when suddenly you rammed into something. You stopped in your tracks and peaked around the drum to find you had hit someone. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” You walked over to the other side to help the oddly quiet girl pick up some papers that you had knocked from her person.

The girl had a short, black bob hair cut with a front fringe that stopped below her eyebrows. She was wearing a medical mask and avoided eye contact with you as she frantically picked up the scattered papers.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You reach out to help her up.

She shook her head and took your hand. Her grip felt too familiar and you froze with her hand in yours, accidentally staring at her for too long. It was apparent you were trying to analyze her. She continued to focus on the floor, to not make eye contact. You instantly let go once she got up. You handed her some of papers you picked up. Her height threw you off. She was very slender and stood maybe around 5’9”, about a head taller than you.

“Thank you,” she whispered in a low tone and nodded her head at you before turning around and quickly walking off. It seemed like she was trying to get away from you, but you easily brushed it off as her probably being mortified about the little incident.

You finally finished putting everything away. You said goodbye to your fellow percussionists and made your way out of the building. Out in the front, you notice the girl from earlier standing under a street light. She spotted you and began to briskly walk towards you. Seeing this suspicious stranger approach you should have made you feel like running away, but her aura was too familiar and you were curious about what business she had with you.

She stopped in front of you. This time you were able to get a better look at her. She was wearing a high waisted skirt that ended at the middle of her thin thighs with a striped, mockneck sweater loosely tucked into the waistband. She was also wearing black over the knee socks and a pair of the all black Puma Creepers which made her even taller. Her outfit was super cute, which made you believe she was probably super cute under the medical mask as well. She tilted her head to the side while finally looking into your eyes with an intimidating stare, her eyelashes fluttered with every blink. Her eyeliner as sharp as her glare, you swore she could probably cut you with them.

You felt your heart race. You weren’t so sure if it was because you were anxious about the unknown outcome of this encounter or if it was because you were totally swooning at this cute girl staring you down.

She suddenly reached her hand out to you. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for a possible slap across the face for hitting her first. Instead, she brushed the hair away from your face and kissed your forehead. You stared at her in shock, your face turning red. You were in a daze, unsure of what to do or what to say, until you started to make out her facial features. You felt your eyes well up with tears as you cover your mouth in disbelief.

“Now, is that how you respond to seeing your best friend after five years?” That familiar voice, you longed to hear again, escaped from a pair of dark red lips that formed into a gummy smile.

You grabbed Yoongi by the wrist and pulled him into the tightest hug while trying hard not to let your tears fall. “You idiot.” That was all you could mutter while trying to stop your voice from sounding shaky.

He stroked your hair with one hand while holding you against him with the other. “I really shouldn’t be doing this right now,” he carefully whispered, making sure anyone passing by couldn’t hear. “But after you literally bumped into me earlier, I couldn’t help but want to see you again.”

Too much was going through your head at one time and all you could do was hysterically cry into his chest. “Where did you go? Why did you leave me?” You managed to ask in between sobs.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Why has Yoongi suddenly come back into your life? What was he even doing throughout all these years?

“I can’t answer that right now,” he stepped back so he could look you in the eyes. He pulled his medical mask up to cover his face. “Do you have a place where we can talk in private?”

You nodded your head and wiped the tears from your face. “My apartment.” He held onto your hand to comfort you as you lead him to your apartment complex, which was about a twenty minute walk from the concert hall. The two of you walked in silence until you got into your apartment. You let Yoongi walk in before you so you could close the door behind you. You locked the door.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi immediately apologized before you could even turn around to face him.

You froze, your hand still on the lock. “What happened to you after graduation?” You didn’t want to turn around, you were afraid to look at him.

“We moved away that night.”

You spun around with anger building up inside you. “And you couldn’t tell me? You couldn’t give me a new number or anything?” You tried to keep yourself from yelling at him. Now wasn’t the time to be getting angry.

He had this pained smile on his face. His gaze drifted away from you. “I didn’t think you’d care.” His eyes became bloodshot.

“What the fuck, Yoongi, we’re best friends for crying out loud.” You felt your eyes start to sting. You didn’t want to cry again, but you were ready to explode at any second.

“You were so focused on your auditions, you wouldn’t give me the time of day… Congratulations on getting accepted by the way. You earned it.” He tucked his hair behind his ear and apprehensively waited for your response.

You threw your arms around him, holding him close against you. “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way… I never stopped caring…” You paused to sigh. “And I never stopped thinking about you… Even throughout all these years,” you confessed. You stepped back from him to watch him wipe a tear that slid down his cheek.

“I’m glad…” He took off the medical mask, which was wet with tears. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand in embarrassment.

The two of you began to laugh. You laughed over how easy it was to explain your feelings and over how stupid you were for living with regret for five years when it all could have been prevented. You felt as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Your Yoongi is now back to you and you couldn’t be any more happy. The both of you sat down at a small table, where you usually ate your meals alone, to catch up over cups of instant coffee.

“I know what you’re probably thinking,” Yoongi paused to take a sip of his coffee. He made a slightly disgusted face, sticking his tongue out at how bitter it was. He reached over the table for the container of sugar and began dumping small tea spoons of it into his cup. Without looking up at you he continued, “You’re probably wondering: Why does Yoongi look like a girl? Right?”

You took a sip from your cup, trying to hide the fact you were actually dying to know why. You put your cup down and tucked your hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t thinking too much about it,” you said, trying to be sly.

He mocked your attitude and gesture, tucking his hair behind his ear as well. “I guess you don’t need to know then…”

You dropped the act and reached out for his hand across the table in defeat. “Please tell me. I need to know.”

His shifted in his seat. “I’m actually under cover right now,” he confessed without missing a beat, as if he rehearsed it in his head over and over again. “I’ve been undercover for about a year.”

You were at a loss for words. You tilted your head at him while making the most confused face possible.

“When my family moved away, I joined the police academy. I ended up getting transferred out here about a year ago, after they had made me a detective after four years of police experience.”

“You’ve been back for a long time and you’ve never dropped by to say hi or anything?” You were genuinely hurt.

“I didn’t want to get you involved…”

“Isn’t it too late for that? I mean, you just straight up told me what you’re doing.” You side-eyed him while mindlessly stirring your coffee.

“Right.” He slowly sipped his coffee, trying to buy some time so he could think of what to say next. “It’s not like I didn’t want to see you. I’ve watch all of your performances ever since I got back. Your skills have excelled tremendously since we’ve graduated.” He smiled warmly at you.

You were flattered. You tried to keep a straight face, but forcing yourself from holding back a smile probably just made you look even weirder. “So why are you undercover as a girl? And what are you undercover for?” You changed the subject to draw the attention away from yourself. After thinking about what you had just asked, you paused to give him a suspicious look. “You’re not wearing a wire right now, are you?”

“No,” he rapidly shook his head and put his hands out infront of him in defense. “I came by the concert hall on my own time, but I wore my disguise just in case I get recognized.”

“So why a girl?” You can’t stop focusing on that detail not because you thought it was weird or wrong, but because you couldn’t help but swoon over the fact he’s actually really cute as a girl.

“I’m undercover to investigate one of your flutists. She goes to the private university in the city and she’s apparently the biggest drug lord on campus. Supposedly her boyfriend supplies the drugs and is tied to a bigger organization. We’re trying to get to him so we can get to the leader of this even larger network.”

You slowly nodded your head, taking in all this information. “But a girl?”

He gives you another intimidating look, “Because her boyfriend won’t let men around her.”

“And they choose you because?”

“Because there aren’t too many women in the bureau. Besides, they’re all off doing other work.” He covered his face with the back of his hand again, dropping his tough look. He always did that whenever he was shy or embarrassed. “Everyone else thought I was fitting for this position.” He mumbled under his breath then timidly raised his lipstick stained mug back to his lips.

“They’re not wrong,” you gave him a smug look and winked at him, causing him to spit out his coffee, his face red with embarrassment.

“Y/N!” He snapped while grabbing napkins to wipe up the coffee he sprayed all over the table. “Don’t tease me.”

You gave him a cheesy grin and sighed, “God, I missed you.”

“Don’t you dare say a word about any of this,” he pouted while threatening you. “My life and career is on the line.”

“I promise.”

#yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut

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