#i thought about the times not being able to find my car easily triggered panic attacks and meltdowns

[fayeandknight]

I don't post much of Forte working because it's mostly mundane errands and grocery shopping. But he really has matured in a dependable and clever Service Dog.

Coming into the big grocery, which I tend to avoid because it's daunting, someone with a small dog in their cart was exiting. Small dog starts barking and Forte looked at me and then smoothly backed up with me to let them pass.

Leaving the store I realized that I've not done any find the car training with the rental as this is only our second day with it. I asked him to find it anyway because I couldn't remember where I'd parked. He was slower going, but he did in fact lead me directly to the rental.

And I'm so grateful to him. He really is such a special dog.

[angelofbloodlust]

Bunny (Billy Loomis x Reader)

A/N: Long time, no see, y’all 😳 sorry for my disappearance, I’ve been going through quite a lot but I’m happy to be back! I apologize if this story isn’t the best, it’s been a long time since I’ve written something like this and I’m still trying to get back in my groove- but if this ends up being well-received I’d be happy to try writing a part 2! <3 hope u guys enjoy!!

—————————————————

Your eyes scan over the backyard of the tan house sat in front of you once more, zoning in heavily on the blackened windows as your boots take hesitant steps forward towards the home of your fellow peer that you’ve been watching for weeks now. Shallow breaths escape you as your chest begins to pound, a flurry of both panicked and thrilled emotions swarming your stomach as your hand tightens on the butcher knife in your hold.

You were finally about to experience your first kill, after taking so many precautions and endless planning. You figured now would be the perfect time with the other murders that has had Woodsboro in chaos, the police department has already got themselves absorbed in solving the murders of Casey and Steve, if you manage to get through this unscathed you could easily let the other nutjob take the blame and get to work on your next plan.

But, that’s easier said than done.

You suck in a breath through your nostrils as you cautiously approach the cracked window ahead of you, the one you’ve witnessed be pushed open by the student’s mother each night before bed, just like clockwork. Though of course, you ensured that neither of her parents would be home that night, and you were glad they were dumb enough to trust their daughter enough to be able to defend herself with a psychopath on the loose.

Your teeth remain clenched as you slowly lift yourself up and climb through the window after pushing it open, being careful to not let your costume get caught and allowing your jaw to relax once you step from the marble of the countertops down to the wooden plank flooring below. Anxiousness to get upstairs and cut the girl’s head off stabs at you as your eyes find the stairs from your view out of the kitchen, though you force yourself to keep your pace as you take light steps on your path towards your goal, and feel relief at the fact none of the floorboards have creaked so far. Annoyance swiftly follows after as you notice the stairs aren’t carpeted, internally grumbling a couple curses while readying yourself to have to take your backup plan in case you accidentally make a noise and wake the girl up.

You make your way up slowly, begging in your mind for each step not to creak, and as you’ve made walked up all but 2 steps, you can’t help but feel a smug grin curl over your lips underneath your mask as you relish in the fact that everything’s gone so smoothly.

And immediately you regret that thought, once you and the short brunette standing in front of the bathroom door both freeze up in shock from the sight of the other.

“Shit, you’re not supposed to be awake!” You groan out, scowling at yourself once you process that you accidentally said that out loud.

Your body tenses as your words seem to have triggered the girl out of her state of shock, a blood-curling wail slipping from her lips at the sight of the knife in your hand before she runs to attempt scampering back into her bedroom to hide from you, sobs and screams pouring from her as you growl under your breath while bolting up the last couple steps and over the carpet towards her.

“Stop yelling!” You whine in panic from her loudness, before narrowing your eyes at your sudden idiocy with the situation. Why the fuck would she listen to you?!

A frustrated huff leaves you as she manages to slam the door on you, leaving you to violently push and slam on the now locked door while spilling out any indecent word your brain can think of in the moment. How could this have gone any worse? Your plan was all for nothing now!

Anxiety twirls in your gut as you look between the door and the stairs, having to make a quick decision as you’re sure the cops have been called by now and won’t take long to arrive. You exhale out, before making the final call to abandon the plan and speed back down the stairs, hopping over anything in your way as you head into the kitchen and back out the window.

Brief relief hits you as the soles of your shoes meet the grass again, taking a swift glance behind you while running for the patch of woods ahead of you. Your exhale out is interrupted as you suddenly collide into something, which you thought was a tree for a split second until the object ahead of you slips out a grunt once they stumble back slightly.

You look back forward in surprise, shock waving you as your vision is taken up by the same white and black mask morphed into a scream that you previously slipped on after making the discovery the other killer had worn it. A squeak leaves your lips as the man in front of you takes a rough grip on your upper arms, shifting around to face your towards the woods and push you forward as he gives a huff out.

“Go, I’m not gonna let you get us caught.” He hisses out, balling the back of your costume into his fist to ensure you keep moving as he leads you further way from the house while you struggle to wrap your head around what’s happening.

“H-How did you know I was-”

“We were in the area prepping, and we could hear that bitch’s scream from a mile away.” He huffs in response.

“Oh..” You mumble, embarrassment now filling your cheeks as he continues to guide you like you’re a disobedient child, wanting to pull from his grip but feeling unsure of how he might react. “...Did you say we?” You question suddenly as you shift your head to look back to him.

“Yes. No more questions, I think I have a right to be the one questioning you instead. Who the fuck are you?” He asks in a strict tone, and despite his mask covering his expression, you could somehow feel the rage radiating off of him at your presence.

You narrow your hidden eyes, “Why would I tell you that?? I don’t even know who you are!”

“I said no more questions.”

“I think it’s a pretty reasonable one if you’re gonna only ask questions I don’t wanna answer!”

“Fine, if that’s how you want to be then we can both remain anonymous. How about this, instead?” He hums, “Did you even kill her? I don’t see any blood on you.”

“..No.. She locked the door on me before I could grab her, I wanted to kill her in her sleep but she was awake once I got inside.” You admit in a sheepish mumble.

He scoffs, “A door stopped you?” You scowl as he chuckles in amusement at your actions. “I suppose that’s reasonable, you are pretty small. Wouldn’t expect you to be able to be able to break it down.” He teases, causing you to grumble out as you wiggle from his grip and turn to face him.

“Hey, it was my first time, and I was panicking! Take it easy on me.” You demand with a pout.

He crosses his arms as he looks down to you, “Tsk, you tried to do it all on your own? No wonder you failed.”

“I spent months planning it, I thought I would’ve done well..” Your voice cracks through your sentence, leaving you to attempt sighing away your urge to cry while you turn back to keep walking, your eyes sticking down to watch your steps while the man with you gives an exhale as he follows at your side.

“Alright, alright, I’ll quit being so harsh. But it takes someone naturally skilled to be able to do it on their own, you know? You think you have everything you need, but even the littlest thing that doesn’t go to plan can fuck it all up. Maybe for you, you just need a bit of teaching to make sure you’re ready for anything.” He shrugs.

“Are you.. offering to help me?” You question gently through the mix of shock and confusion in your chest as to why this stranger is willing to take you under his wing, tilting your head slightly up to him.

“Maybe. But you need to prove that you’re serious about this.”

You begin to question him on how you can prove it, before stopping at the beginning of your sentence once the two of you cross through the patch of woods and up to a parked car on the lone street in front of you. An unsure sensation fills your gut as he makes you stay back while he walks over to the driver’s side window, and you begin to question to yourself if this might really be a safe decision to go with the psychopaths that you were about to frame.. But at the same time, this might be your real chance to be able to finally learn the proper ways of murder.

Soon enough, he walks back over to you and gestures to your mask. “To go any further with this, I need to see your face if you’re going to see ours. It’s only fair.” He requests you in a calm tone, and you hesitate as you frown as you pick up sudden worried thoughts. What if he just wanted to be able to rat you out and let you take blame for everything?

“Hey, you know you haven’t really proved your loyalty to me, either.. What if-”

You freeze as his hand reaches up for his own mask, watching him pull it off to reveal his cold, yet neutral expression as the guy you recognize to be Billy Loomis from your school stands in front of you. Your face reddens at the sight, you know him enough about him to have a thorough crush on him, though you suppose you didn’t know him quite enough to have realized that part of the reason you had been so drawn to him was the fact you were more alike than you had known.

“I’m risking everything for this. Do you know how much this could fuck up everything with us letting you in?” He sighs, and you watch as his lips form in a displeased pout. “The last thing I want is you getting caught doing this dumb shit, and if you’re going to steal our costume you at least need to not act like a moron while you’re in it.” He huffs with narrowed eyes.

“God- fuck, whatever. If you guys end up killing me, I have nothing to lose.” You grumble as you pull off your mask, holding your own pout while he takes up a smirk while looking you over.

“Just as cute as I expected you to be, bunny.” He purrs out in a playful tone, which causes you to give him a questioning expression through your heated cheeks at the nickname.

“Bunny?”

“You’re small, cute and quick. Like a bunny.” He grins.

“I will actually deck you if you call me that again.” You hiss out while he starts to lead you towards the car.

“No, you won’t. I could tell you liked it.” He chimes in a proud tone, laughing out once you reach to smack his arm with your face on fire.

“Shut your mouth, Loomis! You’re so annoying!” You whine as your voice pitches up with your embarrassment.

“Get your ass in the car, Y/N.” He snorts out as he nudges you towards the backseat.

“..You know my name?”

“You’re in my Physics class. I recognize you.” He chuckles gently, flashing you a brief smile before slipping into the passenger’s seat.

“Oh.” You hum, feeling content as you feel joy at the fact that he recognizes you, holding your own smile as you get into the back of the car before pausing once Stu Macher shoots you a grin from the driver’s seat.

“Hey, Y/N! Billy says you wanna join us, that true?” He asks through his classic happy tone, starting up the car while you manage to get yourself to nod as you confirm to yourself that the man you had only ever expected to be the class clown to be Billy’s partner in crime, though you weren’t entirely sure why you were caught off guard with the insane amount of loyalty Stu’s always shown to Billy over the years you’ve watched them be friends.

“Yeah.. Uh, sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see you. Didn’t think you were this kinda guy.” You snicker.

He gives an unbothered shrug, “Well, people always have their secrets, don’t they?” He chuckles, causing you to quirk an eyebrow once he flashes a grin over to Billy and laughing out once he smacks his shoulder in a manner to tell him to shut up. Stu smiles back at you again through the rear-view mirror, “It’s nice to have ya join us, though. I’m sure it’ll be real fun for the three of us.” He purrs, and you can’t help but get an unsettling feeling from the tinge of malice in his smirk, which you couldn’t tell if it was meant to be towards you.

You could only hope not.

[deepdarkdelights]

10 Days (Jungkook x Reader)(10 Seconds Pt 2)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Yandere, Stalking, Obsession, Non-Consensual touching (This becomes intense, if this is triggering for you please do not read), Kidnapping, Hard Manipulation, Mentions of past abuse/torture, Brainwashing, Blood

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview: There he was, the monster that you knew had been hiding behind that sweet face. Jungkook had several personas, the domineering kidnapper, the dotting boyfriend, and the whiny child. This was the one you had been waiting to see, the one that had violently slammed your head into the hood of your car that night. The one that had drugged you and zip tied you in the back of his car. He was always there, just sitting beneath the surface waiting to come and get you.

Read Part One Here Read Part Three Here 

You had never felt more hopeless in your entire life. It felt like your energy had been completely drained from your body. His parents still stood by the door, talking amicably with their son. His mother practically had stars in her eyes as she was nestled close into her husband’s hold. Nothing scared you more than the thought of being in her place one day. Chills of disgust rolled down your spine as you imagined yourself and Jungkook together like that. His arm curled around your shoulder as you came home to your son, hanging for dear life onto a terrified girl, her eyes wide and brimming with tears begging for help. Is that what your life would be like? Would you too fall victim to your captor like she had? Would the cycle continue and for how long had it been happening in Jungkook’s family?

Your heart thudded in your chest as your eyes zeroed in on the door behind his parents. Could you make a run for it? Could you get away from him if you tried now? Or would that be your death sentence? You were undoubtedly outnumbered, but his parents were on the older side and it would be much harder for them to run after you. It was just Jungkook you had to worry about, his mother seemed harmless and his father was too caught up in his wife. Maybe you could do it, when would you ever find a chance like this again? They hadn’t even locked the door! 

Your grip on Jungkook’s shirt began to loosen as your gaze was pinned to the door that was lightly swinging open with the breeze. You could do it.

“(Y/N).” Never mind, you couldn’t do it. 

“Baby, I need you to listen to me. I know you’re anxious right now but I need you to be a good girl, okay?” Jungkook asked, turning around to cradle your face. 

You nodded your head in compliance as his hand slipped away from your face to cradle your own. He tangled your fingers together and slowly led you over to his parents. His mother had a huge grin on her face and she seemed genuinely excited, vibrating with joy as you approached. Jungkook nudged you in front of him and rested his hands on your shoulders, his grip tense like he was warning you to behave. His father fixed you with a stern look, your body shuddering at the familiarity. He was so much like his son that it was scary. It really did seem like there wasn’t a way out of this and your heart shattered at the thought. You were going to be stuck with a family of people who were deluded, they actually believed that this was okay. 

“Hello dear, it’s so nice to meet you.” She said with her best attempt at a comforting smile. It was strange to think she had once been in your place when she seemed so satisfied with her life. Fuck, she had even given birth to her kidnappers son. Would that be expected of you? Were you supposed to help continue this sick cycle? At the rate that things were going, you weren’t sure how long you could hold Jungkook off. He was clingy and becoming more handsy the longer you two spent together. Carrying his child may become a reality faster than you had anticipated.

You felt Jungkook’s fingers tense as he dug into your shoulders a little harder, you still hadn’t answered his mother.

“It’s-It’s nice to meet you.” You choked out with a smile that looked more like a grimace. You were not convincing whatsoever and that was reflected in the harsh stare of her husband.

Your heart continued to pound violently in your chest, what were you supposed to do? It felt like the walls in the room were slowly closing in on you. Once again, you were reminded that there was no escape. You were like a songbird trapped in a gilded cage and you desperately wanted to stretch your wings and break free from your prison. You could feel the panic attack coming, this hadn’t been the first one since Jungkook had taken you and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Your chest was tightening and it was becoming difficult to breathe as your heart hammered harder than before. There were a million thoughts racing in your head all at once as crisp tears began to roll down your cheeks. You clasped your hands together in an attempt to stop their trembling as your gaze zeroed in on the creaking hinges of the screen door. You were losing it. It became harder to keep a grip on reality as you felt the wave of anxiety come crashing down over you.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” Mrs. Jeon asked, her voice brimming with worry as she approached you. She gently grabbed your hands and pulled you away from her son who whined in irritation. Her dainty hands carefully smoothed your hair back as she tried to meet your gaze.

Of course you weren’t fucking alright. Any sane person would be able to see that from a mile away. You had been locked up for only God knows how long with one person who could change moods so fast it would give you whiplash. Her caring question only made everything worse, you were expected to say that everything was okay, that you were happy with her son and delighted to meet his parents. You were supposed to be the dotting girlfriend when you were so obviously the distraught victim.

How could someone with such a gentle, caring, motherly touch horrify you so much?

With a choked sob you pushed her off of you and made a sprint for the door. Within seconds you were flying through the door frame, your bare feet slapping against the wood of the porch and flying through the stretch of grass that spread over the empty field surrounding the house. It was windy and the sky was clear, the pale moonlight shining down on you as you desperately ran. You could hear Jungkook behind you screaming your name. His voice was a blend between being distraught and riddled with anger.

If he caught you, would he kill you?

His footsteps were loud and fast, he was sprinting as hard as he could to catch up with you but you were far too desperate to let him catch you so easily and so quickly. Before you knew it, you were in the forest. The trees were tall and thick, covered in moss. You weren’t thinking at this point, in fact you were just blindly running hoping to God that just maybe you would be able to out maneuver him.

You had never really tried to escape Jungkook, well you had never been able to actually try. Hell, this was the first time you were even near the front door. You couldn’t let him catch you as you would never find another chance to run away from him again. Not to mention, moments before his parents had entered the lake house, he had warned you that he was not above punishing you. You didn’t want to even think about what his punishments would entail for you.

Your legs were burning under the strain of running. After being bed bound for most of your time with your captor, you had barely done anything that was remotely as active as this. You were sure your feet were bleeding, they felt numb and slippery. The adrenaline pumping through your veins masked your pain as you pushed yourself harder. It was dark and hard to see, numerous branches had already snagged your clothing and whacked you. You really were at a disadvantage, weren’t you?

At this point, you had no doubt Jungkook would catch you. He was stronger and faster than you, you were completely outmatched in terms of endurance. You pumped your legs faster and harder, running down a slope of rocks and leaves that almost sent you tumbling. With a wheeze, you whipped around another tree and crouched down behind it and the large rocks that surrounded it. If you couldn’t outrun him, maybe you could hide from him.

You heard him come to a halt moments later as he heard your steps cease. You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your deep panting breaths. You could make out his head and shoulders from where you hid, he was spinning on his heels as he scanned the area around him. It was dark as the trees covered the light of the moon. Hopefully, this would make it harder for him to find you.

“(Y/N)?!” He called, his chest rising and falling rapidly with quick breaths. “Baby, I’m not playing around. You better come out right now if you know what’s good for you.”

He was fuming, it was so obvious. You could vaguely make out his tense jaw and the bulging veins in his neck. His head continued to swivel from side to side as he tried to find you in the dark.

“If you come out right now, your punishment won’t be that bad.” He spoke again, pacing back and forth as he continued to search for you. “You really disappointed me, I thought you were my good girl again. I’ve been so good to you but you keep testing me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as panicked tears sprung forth. For someone who claimed to be in love with you, he was so good at making you cry. Your nails dug into the bark of the tree as you pressed your forehead to its trunk. He was going to find you, you never stood a chance.

“First, you take my affection for granted. Then, you question my love for you and accuse me of mistreating you. And then you throw my mother away from you like trash. We were doing so well but you just had to stop behaving.” He said with a distressed sigh as his footsteps grew nearer. Your body stilled like a deer in headlights, this was so familiar. And all at once, you were taken back to that night.

His light footsteps, the darkness, and the fear.

“All I want is to love you and take care of you, but you don’t see it that way do you?” He questioned, his voice became louder and closer. “I told you before, baby. You and I were meant to be together, from the moment I saw you I knew you were mine.”

His words were beginning to sound fuzzy as your ears rang. You had worked yourself up so much it seemed like even your own body couldn’t take it anymore. You felt sick and lethargic, and you knew it would only be a matter of seconds before he found you. Because no matter what, he would always find you.

A pair of hands latched onto your shoulders and yanked you out of your hiding spot. Game over. Jungkook turned you around violently and pinned you to the tree trunk. His eyes were so dark you couldn’t discern his iris from his pupil. He was good at making you cry, and you were good at pissing him off.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” He yelled, shaking you by the shoulders. “I let go of you for ten seconds and you run away?!”

Your eyes snapped shut as he screamed as you, his grip tight and bruising.

“Open your eyes, right now.” He growled, his voice low and stern. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He continued.

Out of fear, you opened them and met his dark gaze with your own. His jaw was clenched tight as he looked at you, he was doing his very best to show you how displeased he was. It was still jarring how easy it was for him to slip between the roles of a love sick puppy and an enraged kidnapper.

“We are going home,” He said, his voice steady and deep. “You are going to apologize to my mother and father for your behavior and wait in your room for me. You are not eating tonight, not after the way you acted. Am I clear?”

You nodded so fast it looked like your head would snap right off of your neck.

“I said, am I clear?” He repeated, staring down at you.

“Yes.” You replied, your voice soft with fear but loud enough for him not to ask you to repeat yourself.

He released a soft sigh as a barely there smile graced his lips. He loved your compliance.

“You know I don’t like scaring you, baby.” He cooed, the anger slowly dissipating as he pulled you into his embrace. “But I have to when you act like this, and you know I’m going to have to punish you.”

And with that, the dam broke. Ugly sobs broke free from your chest as the tears came flooding back. You were such a mess, such a crybaby that couldn’t do anything right. You could only hope that your tears would save you from whatever pain he had in store for you.

“Jungkook, please!” You sobbed. “I was - I was scared!”

“I know baby, I know.” He hummed, smoothing your hair as he cradled you to his chest. He lowered his palms to your thighs and scooped you up, carrying you much like a parent would an infant.

“You had a stressful day, didn’t you? But still, I’m really mad at you babygirl and crying won’t solve anything.” He said, he sounded like a parent scolding their child. And much like a child, you clung to him as you wailed. In response he softly hushed you, rubbing your back as he began the walk back to the lake house.

“I’m sorry!” You croaked, burying your face in the juncture of his shoulder and neck as your tears stained his hoodie. And you were sorry, because now there was the high probability he would hurt you for your actions. Maybe if you had waited then you could have found a better way to escape him without getting hurt. But you were panicked, your body thinking for you instead of your brain.

“Such a good little girl,” He sighed, rubbing circles into your back. “Apologizing without me having to tell you. If you keep being my good girl, then we won’t have to fight anymore.”

You nodded your head rapidly, spurring light laughs from his throat. If behaving bought you time and saved your life, then you would do it. Just until you could find a way out of this, if there was a way out of this.

“Are you - are you gonna hurt me?” You sniffled, your eyes clenched shut as you hid yourself from his gaze.

“Baby, I promised you I would never hurt you again. That night…that was a one time thing. You know that, right? You know I would never hurt you?” He asked, his voice worried at the prospect that you thought he would hurt you again.

Your silence was enough of an answer.

“Oh no, my poor baby.” He gasped, squeezing you tighter to him. “So that’s why you’ve been acting this way, huh? I was too rough with you, you must still be so confused. I haven’t been very attentive, have I? Don’t worry, sweet girl. We’ll sort this out tonight.”

For the rest of the journey back there was a heavy silence between the two of you. It was accompanied by Jungkook’s soft touches and light kisses in the dark. Your little stunt seemed to only make him more affectionate than he was before, had he deluded himself into thinking this was all his fault? That he hadn’t given you enough attention and that was why you ran from him? Of course, in his mind you would never leave because you didn’t want him. Only because you didn’t have enough of him. The more time you spent with Jungkook, the more you realized how unstable he was. You were never sure what he was thinking, and that was scary. Never knowing what someone was going to do, that uncertainty was fear inducing.

It wasn’t long before the two of you had returned to the porch of the house, the door was still open but the screen door was shut allowing you to see into the hallway that led to the kitchen. You could make out the back of Jungkook’s father and the sweet voice of his mother, singing while the clanking of pots and pans followed. If this were under different circumstances, you would find it sweet.

Jungkook still held you, his chest pressed tightly to your own. His large hands cradled the back of your thighs, you could feel his thumbs lightly swiping the expanse of flesh. He dropped his head into the crook of your neck and took a deep breath before planting a soft kiss to the smooth column of your throat. It took everything in you to hold back the shudder that wanted to shake your body.

“You remember what I asked you to do for me babygirl?” He murmured, pulling back to look you in your eyes. The anger that had previously clouded them was no longer there, his soft gaze had returned once more. You gave him a quick nod and he smiled, carrying you back into your prison. His steps echoed down the hallway causing the singing to cease and his father to turn in his chair. Once more, he fixed you with that stern look that scared you shitless. Although this time it was far more intense and utterly annoyed.

“Go ahead.” Jungkook whispered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. Already, this was completely humiliating. Not only did you have to apologize for trying to escape your kidnapper, but you had to do it while he cradled you like a child.

With your eyes trained to the floor, you began. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused. It won’t happen again.”

Mrs. Jeon smiled again, her hands clasped together as she cooed at the sight of her son holding his “girlfriend” as she liked to say. “It’s alright sweetie, trust me, I’ve been there.” she giggled.

Her words were meant to comfort you, instead they deeply disturbed you. The way she so casually referred to her kidnapping was disgusting. She talked about it like it was something normal that everyone went through, like it wasn’t a horrific crime. She was brainwashed, so many years of being with her captor had turned her into a compliant doll. She was everything you feared and everything you desperately hoped to avoid. But once she was like you. How many times had she tried to run before she realized it was impossible to get away from him. How many nights had she spent crying over the life she had lost, missing her parents, her friends, and her family? When did she realize that her life was over? There was no saving her, and soon there would be no saving you.

“(Y/N),” Mr. Jeon spoke, his voice threatening. “Don’t do it again.”

You could tell that his words had a double meaning: Don’t run away again and don’t touch my wife like that again. You gave him a swift nod as your grip on Jungkook tightened. At that moment, he was the most familiar thing to you. And you could tell he was enjoying it.

“Son, we need to have a talk.” He continued, fixing his stern gaze onto Jungkook who stiffened in response.

With that, Jungkook swiftly turned and began to carry you away from the kitchen. He moved quickly as he squeezed you to him tighter than before. He seemed nervous, like he knew what his father wanted to talk about. You had never seen Jungkook look nervous. Angry, distressed, remorseful, but never nervous. He threw the door to your bedroom open and gently set you down on your frilly comforter. His hands came up to cradle your face once more before he leaned down and softly pecked your lips, a soft sigh breaking free from his chest.

“I need you to stay right here, okay? I’ll be back soon, we have some things to discuss.” He reminded you, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before standing and exiting your room, the door shutting behind him and the lock twisting shut.

Your heart hammered in your chest, what did his father want to talk to him about? What would Jungkook discuss with you? How bad was your “punishment” going to be? There were so many unknowns spinning around in your head. You really were a mess, weren’t you? You had always thought that you could take care of yourself, and your kidnapping had proven that to be false. You had devolved into this different person you didn’t know. Before, you never cried as much as you did now. Before, you didn’t cower in anyone’s presence. In such a small amount of time, you had already become a shadow of your former self. At the rate you were going, it wouldn’t be long until you were empty and broken.

You were jolted from your thoughts when the screaming started. It was Jungkook’s voice, deeper and louder than you had ever heard it before. You couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but whatever his father wanted to tell him had set him off. You shuffled back into the bad, wrapping the comforter around you to provide you some feeling of safety. An angry Jungkook is an unpredictable Jungkook. The low, sweet voice of his mother was trying to cool him down but that was far from working. You could hear him snap at her, Mr. Jeon’s voice rising over all of them in a clear and loud yell. Silence followed. Whatever they were talking about, it wasn’t good.

A loud crash shattered the silence that had heavily hung in the still air. Your body jumped in response and tensed in preparation for more noise to follow, but there was none. A beat of silence passed before you heard the tell tale steps of Jungkook’s boots stomping down the hallway. In seconds the door to your bedroom was flung open and slammed shut behind him so hard the frame shook.

Jungkook’s body was shaking in rage as he paced the open space at the foot of the bed. He was so caught up in his anger it seemed like he didn’t even notice you were there anymore. That was of course, until he did. His head snapped up and his stare met yours, without a word he cleared the footboard of the bed and pinned you to the mattress. On impact, your eyes snapped shut. His hands gripped your thighs and yanked you closer to him, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he buried his face in your shoulder. He was softly mumbling to himself as he nuzzled the fabric of your sweatshirt, the lightest of tears staining your top. He was crying?

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He choked out, his body shaking as he held you close to him. “Just because Dad did it that way doesn’t mean I have to.”

You were frozen beneath him, unsure of what to do. Jungkook was clinging to you like a toddler to their parent, babbling nonsense as he tried his hardest to stop crying. Each time you thought you knew him, he proved you wrong. Jungkook chose several personas in your presence, the domineering kidnapper, the dotting boyfriend, and the whiny child. You were scared of him because you could never tell which version of him you were going to get.

“He said I might be wrong, that maybe you aren’t mine. But he’s wrong, I know it! We’re meant for each other, I love you and no one can take you away from me. Not even him. He told me I need to be harsher with you, I need to hurt you so you understand.”

So that was how he did it. Jungkook’s father trained his mother with pain. He hurt her and would only stop in exchange for her obedience. No wonder she seemed so compliant, so in love with him. He had trained her like a dog, she associated him with pain and love simultaneously.

Jungkook pulled back from you, resting his weight on his forearms to take in your face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were red from crying. He really did look pitiful, if anything he looked like you since you spent most of your captivity in anxiety and bouts of intense crying. He slowly raised his hand to your face and lightly stroked the flesh of your cheek. If you didn’t know any better, he would look like a man that was in love with you. But you did know better, he was just a boy in a man’s body who had been raised to think this was normal. And for a moment, you genuinely felt bad for him. For a moment, you thought you understood him.

“I won’t have to hurt you if you listen to me. I still have to punish you, but if you’re good then I don’t have to hurt you.” He whispered, sniffing sharply as he leaned back to wipe the tears from his face.

Your legs were still tensed around his waist as he dragged you up to his chest, pressing the two of you so close together that you could feel his heart beating. He scooted backwards off the bed and carried you back to the bathroom. This was beginning to feel like your first day with him all over again. He set you gently onto the counter and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before kneeling down on the cold tile. His fingers delicately lifted your right foot to allow him to inspect the damage you had inflicted. His face contorted with wince as he looked at your foot, silently lifting the other one to inspect it as well.

“I hate seeing you like this, in pain.” He sighed, his fingers gently stroking the delicate bones of your ankle as he looked up at you from in between your legs. Your face flushed at the sight causing you to tilt your head back against the mirror behind you. Anything was better than the position you were in right now. Jungkook cooed at the light blush that dusted your cheeks as he began to work on the wounds that littered the once smooth skin of your feet, always stopping when you would flinch or cry out from the pain. Sometimes, he could be considerate. But you didn’t want to think positively of him and you most definitely didn’t want to feel sorry for him. You didn’t want to feel anything for him. You found yourself having to remember that he was a monster, even if it wasn’t his fault he was still a monster.

A soft kiss pressed to the inside of your ankle forced you to look at him once more, a sweet smile graced his lips. The one that made him look like an innocent bunny.

“All done.” He smiled, rising up in between your legs to trap you to the counter. Jungkook always found a way to remind you of your inability to escape him, the amount of times he had pinned you today was outstanding and concerning. You really were fucked.

The sweet smile slowly slipped from his lips as his eyes flicked down to your lips. His eyes were dark again, half lidded in a daze as he looked at you. You weren’t stupid, you knew what he wanted. He swallowed harshly and leaned closer to you, cupping one side of your face as he softly stroked your bottom lip with his thumb. You could feel his hands trembling as he took in a shaky breath. He acted like you were a drug that he could never get enough of, each hit he got sending him into a deeper addiction that he craved. And God, did he want you. He wanted all of you, everything you had to offer, and more. He took another breath and leaned in, attempting to kiss you. You quickly turned your head away from him, his soft lips connecting with the smooth skin of your cheek. Instead of getting mad, he pressed another kiss to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and gently peppered butterfly kisses to the curve of your jaw. In a panic, you jerked away from his touch only to press yourself tightly to the mirror behind you.

“I think,” He began, stopping to clear his throat. “I think I know what your punishment is going to be.”

Your heart jerked in response as his hands gripped the tops of your thighs. You had hoped maybe it wouldn’t come to this, that he had been bluffing this whole time. But if his father was so keen on punishment in his household, it only made sense he would want his son to follow in his footsteps. He had done it first, and he knew what “worked.”

“You can’t say no to me, baby. For ten days, you have to do what I want. Just for ten days.” He said, his tone gentle but you knew this wasn’t a request; it was a demand. You quickly shook your head from side to side, grasping his wrists and attempting to pull them off of you so that you could curl into yourself.

“Baby, baby! Listen to me!” He cried, catching your hands with his own while trying to meet your eyes. “You either do this for me, or I’ll have to hurt you. You know I don’t want to do that, but if I have to do it then I will. If my dad sees that you're non compliant, that you’re not being my good girl, he will try and get rid of you.”

You stilled at his words. So that’s why he had been crying so hard earlier. His father had given him an ultimatum. Jungkook had to hurt you if you misbehaved to “train” you, as his father had put it. If he didn’t see your compliance, then he would get rid of you. He would kill you for trying to free yourself.

“Jungkook…I can’t. I can’t do that. I just want to go home.” You replied, your voice weakening into a whimper as the tears rushed forth once more.

“I know this is hard for you baby, I know you need more time but I can’t keep waiting. Not with them here. Soon enough you’ll realize you are home, all you’ll need is me.” He whispered to you. And just like that all of your sympathy for him flew right out the window. At the end of the day, Jeon Jungkook was selfish. He took his father’s warning as a way to get what he wanted: you no longer being able to deny him. Jungkook is a monster, the perfect example of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Those big, brown, doe eyes of his were concealing a dark force that was restless inside of him. That sweet smile of his hid the fangs and wrath harbored in him. He was something from your nightmares, hidden by a boyish face and a deceiving innocence. You never hated anyone as much as you hated Jeon Jungkook.

“Tonight counts as day one, you only have nine more days to go sweetheart.” He smiled, rubbing the tops of your thighs is what would have been a comforting manner if you didn’t detest his touch so much.

“Come on, you’re sleeping in my bed tonight.” He informed you, scooping your body up once more as to not have you walk on your injured feet. Not only did you have no choice but to listen to him, but now you had lost your mobility for the time being. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, stopping yourself from snapping at him. Time had proven before that you could break, and if you broke this time it could have deadly consequences.

Would it be better to let yourself die? Would you rather live a life of captivity over the freedom that the dark embrace of death had to offer? No. You were many things, but unafraid of death was not one of them. If you were, then you would have forced Jungkook’s hand or his father’s a long time ago.

Jungkook set you down on the covers of his bed, rifling through his drawers to find something for you to wear to bed. He came back to you with a large white T-shirt in hand, something you had seen him wear many times. There was no doubt in your body that he was thrilled with this situation. Not only did he have you in his bed, but he would have you in his clothes. Jungkook sat down beside you once more, silently helping you out of your clothes. You still flinched from his touch, but tried your best not to say anything. The less you struggled, the faster you would be clothed and less vulnerable. To Jungkook’s credit, he tried his best not to openly ogle your semi naked form. His gaze still lingered, his eyes still looked you over, but he clothed you and that was that.

Once he had finished, he leaned back into the bed and kicked his boots off. He turned to look at you for another moment, taking in your body covered by his sheets. He swallowed harshly before turning away from you and opening the drawer of his nightstand. Once he faced you again you noticed the glinting metal in his hand. Handcuffs. Part of you shuddered at the thought that he kept those by his bed, the other part of you tried your best not to freak the fuck out.

“I can’t trust that you won’t try and leave while I’m sleeping.” He explained. “I don’t want to have to do this, but I need to.”

“I won’t leave.” Lie. “It’s going to be hard for me to sleep handcuffed to the bed, I learned my lesson. I won’t run.” You had tried your best to seem like you weren’t denying him, the word “no” had never passed your lips.

“It’s okay, I won’t cuff you to the headboard.” He answered, slapping the cuff to your right wrist and the other cuff to his as well. What the fuck. He leaned away from you to turn the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. For a moment, you couldn’t see. But you could feel him. Jungkook peeled the sheets back and slid underneath them behind you, slinging his cuffed arm over your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

Motherfucker.

“Jungkook-”

“Go to sleep, baby.” He cut you off, tensing his arm in warning as he rested his chin on the top of your head. You barely slept that night.

You woke up by being blasted from the light filtering through the window. He had left the curtains open last night. And not to mention, you were extremely uncomfortable. You were hot as hell having Jungkook wrapped around you like a giant koala, your wrist was chaffed from the metal cuffs, you had a headache from the bright light, and something was pressing hard into your lower back. You huffed in annoyance, trying to shift away from the man behind you only to still when a groan shook his chest.

Oh. Something hard was pressed to your lower back.

You shivered in disgust, rolling awkwardly to unwind his arm from around you so that you could get away from his…situation.

A sharp knock on the door made you jump while simultaneously waking up your captor. “Jungkook? (Y/N)? I made breakfast! Come out before it’s cold!”

Jungkook groaned again, slinging his arm over his eyes at the sound of his mother’s voice. He took a deep breath before sitting up and retrieving the key to the cuffs, swiftly unlocking it and separating the two of you. You hastily stood up, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could. Jungkook still remained in his bed, eyeing you as he titled his head back. You felt shivers run down your spine from the look he was giving you. You had no doubt you knew exactly what he was thinking about.

“Jungkook!” Mrs. Jeon yelled again from the other side of the door, her swift knocks returning once more. Her impatience knew no bounds as she finally gave up and swung the door open. It was quite a sight to see, such a small woman looking so angry. Jungkook actually looked scared for a moment.

“Jungkook, I said breakfast is ready and getting cold! Don’t ignore your mother!” She scolded him, waving a spatula around as she yelled at him. This sight was just too normal, it was so strange to think that you were kidnapped. Never in a million years did you ever think you would see your captor’s mother yelling at him like he was still a child.

Jungkook sighed, trying his best not to lash out at his mother lest his father hear their exchange. “You waited all of ten seconds, mom.”

“That doesn’t matter! I shouldn’t have to wait!” She replied before taking a hold of your elbow and tugging you towards the hallway. “Now, are you coming or will you make your mother wait longer?”

“I’ll uh, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” He answered awkwardly.

“Fine, suit yourself.” She huffed before dragging you out of the bedroom and walking you in the direction of the kitchen. But not before you saw Jungkook mouth, “behave” with that stern look returning to his face. Right, it was day two.

“It’s time for some girl talk!” She beamed, ushering you into a seat where a plate of food awaited. “So, tell me. How did you and my son meet?”

She couldn’t be serious. This had to be some twisted joke, right? The look on her face spoke volumes, she was genuinely curious with a smile so similar to her sons spreading over her face. You wanted so badly to scream in her face that he fucking kidnapped you, that you barely knew him when the two of you were in the same classes. You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. No matter how badly you wanted to scream and cry, you couldn’t. The threat of Jungkook’s father was still near, if you didn’t behave he had no qualms about “getting rid” of you.

“Uh, we met in high school.” You answered, poking at your food and refusing to make eye contact with her.

“High school sweethearts! How cute, that’s just like me and my husband!” She gushed. She was just as deluded as the rest of them.

Your silence caused her lips to turn downward, the smile slipping off of her face. A look of understanding crossed over her eyes as she gently reached across the table to cradle your hand in her own.

“I understand how hard it is at first.” She said, your head snapped up to look at her. This was the first time she didn’t seem bubbly and in love. “I ran too, you know. It’s overwhelming, becoming a part of their world and learning that way they love. My husband was strict with me, but he had to be for the sake of our relationship.”

And just like that, your hope died again. She thought she was in love with him, that he did all he did because they were meant to be together. She was like you once, and she had lost the fight. Your eyes dropped to her hands that held your own. To your horror, you noticed the deep scars littering her wrists and palms. On the inside of her wrist was the most prominent scar, a large J carved into her skin. If her hands were that scarred, what was she hiding underneath her shirt and pants? Was her whole body subjected to the torture that her husband called love? He had conditioned her with pain, he had made her into what he wanted her to be.

“Baby?” Jungkook called, walking into the kitchen with a worried look on his face as he took in your stiff posture and disturbed expression. He came to your side immediately and settled his arm on the back of your chair, his eyes scanning over you to make sure you were okay.

“Are you feeling sick, sweetheart?” He asked, pressing his lips to your forehead making his mother smile at the display of affection.

You shook your head and stopped yourself from flinching away. After all, you couldn’t say no to him.

The days began to pass quicker after the incident with Jungkook’s mother. You had learned his parents would be staying in the guest house to give the two of you space while also keeping an eye on you. You could feel yourself spiraling in the aftermath of everything that had happened. The only thing that was keeping you from lashing out again was the hard glare Jungkook’s father constantly had trained on you. Not to mention, your compliance was the only thing preventing Jungkook from hurting you the same way his father had his mother.

Each day proved to be more straining than the day before. Jungkook would push for more from you, he would start with small things and gradually work his way up to what he really wanted. And it was exhausting. You never stood a chance against him. He was a monster that had disguised himself so skillfully that even you didn’t see what he was doing when this started.

Day 3: You weren’t allowed to sleep in “your” room anymore. His excuse was that his dad wouldn’t approve of leaving you alone. But you knew that was a lie, he just wanted to have you to himself for as long as he could. He took your privacy from you, the one thing you had been allowed to have.

Day 4: You spent the day together watching movies. You weren’t allowed to leave his hold the entire time. You weren’t allowed to deny his touch no matter how much you wanted to jump out of his arms and make a run for it for the second time. He held you the entire day and it felt so suffocating.

Day 5: You weren’t allowed to see his mom anymore. You were only allowed to talk to him, you could only spend time with him. You felt like you were going crazy being with just him again. Sure, his mother was completely brainwashed but still she was someone that wasn’t him.

Day 6: You weren’t allowed to dress yourself anymore. You hadn’t objected, but you did try and tell him that you could do it yourself, that you were an adult. But of course, you weren’t allowed to deny him. If you did, then he could hurt you. If you did, his father could kill you. What other choice did you have? How could you fight back when there was nothing protecting you except your captor’s empty promises? You hated the feeling of his hands on your body, skimming over your exposed flesh as he would change your clothes.

Day 7: You couldn’t deny his affection no matter how much you wanted to. You had found yourself pressed into the couch cushions, one of his hands woven through your hair as the other stroked your waist, his lips locked tightly to your own.

“Kiss me back.” He had whined into your mouth, harsh pants of air bursting over your lips. And reluctantly you did, because what else were you going to do? You had no other choice, there was no escape. Not while both of his parents were here. You had foolishly hoped that you could last ten days with him. That your punishment would end and you could regain what little freedoms he had given you before.

Day 8: You couldn’t sleep, not while he was doing what he was behind you. You had kept your eyes clenched tightly shut but you could still hear what he was doing, you could feel his breaths hitting the back of your neck as soft moans burst from his throat. His one hand gripping your hip tightly as he worked himself up, moaning your name desperately as you pretended to sleep.

You were disgusted, but you knew it would be better to pretend you were unaware than to snap at him.

Day 9: That night, he told you he wanted to bathe you. He wanted to cross the one hard line you gave him, and you were breaking ever so slowly. You didn’t flinch when he stripped you of your clothes or when he cradled your bare body to his chest, settling you into the tub. His eyes were hooded in lust, his gaze and hands straying as he washed you. This was what he wanted, full dependence and utter compliance. All you could do was close your eyes and pretend he was someone else, that you were anywhere but there.

Day 10: He wanted you. That was his “final” punishment. He had you laid out in the center of his bed, his hands running over every part of you he could touch while his lips marred the column of your throat. He was breathing heavily, raising himself up to kiss you as he reached down to pull your shirt up, only disconnecting from you to rip the fabric from your torso. He let out a deep groan, even though it was nothing he hadn’t already seen the night before. He frantically gripped the waistband of your pants and yanked them off to reveal more of your skin.

“My pretty, good, little girl.” He cooed, stroking your hips before his fingers curled into the fabric of your underwear, attempting to pull them away.

A sudden clarity overcame you and you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. Your hands snapped down to his wrists and held them tight, trying your hardest to fix him with a glare you didn’t know you were capable of.

“No.” You bit out, your nails sinking into the skin of his wrists.

“No?” He laughed, that dark look returning to his handsome face. “Don’t you remember, baby? You can’t say no.”

There he was, the monster that you knew had been hiding behind that sweet face. Jungkook had several personas, the domineering kidnapper, the dotting boyfriend, and the whiny child. This was the one you had been waiting to see, the one that had violently slammed your head into the hood of your car that night. The one that had drugged you and zip tied you in the back of his car. He was always there, just sitting beneath the surface waiting to come and get you.

But you were tired, so fucking tired of being scared all the time. You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, fixing him with the darkest glare you could manage. This wouldn’t go his way, no matter how much he thought he was winning, no matter how he played you like a Puppeteer controlling his helpless marionette. And with conviction you bit out that one word you had agreed not to say.

“No.”

[ruby-xanthia]

Negan’s Ping Pong Kitten

Negan x (Female) Reader

WARNING!: This is a dark fic that includes Smut, Non-Con, DDLG, Abuse, etc. Do NOT Read if you’re easily triggered by those topics.

This fic is a scenario where you are captured by two Saviors and brought to The Sanctuary. Negan was playing Ping Pong when his men brought you to him, and he offers you a chance to win your freedom if you beat him in a match. But if you lose, you have to give him an.. awfully special favor in return...

“Let go of me, you asshole!” You shouted as one of the men dragged you out of the van. The daylight burned into your eyes as you were dragged before this huge, unseen building.

The other man slammed the car door shut, walking out towards you.

“You best be quiet hun, trust me right now is not the time you want to throw a fit.” He warned.

You gave him a dirty look, continuing to kick and struggle your way out as you entered the building.

This place was huge and empty, for the most part.

Checking your surroundings, you noticed in the distance what appeared to be three men who were.. playing ping pong? Not being given enough time to think, you were then dragged towards them.

“And that, my friends, is how you properly fuckin’ win!” You heard as two men walked away from the table.

The men threw you onto the ground behind the man who appeared to have just won the match. He must have heard you fall, because he turned around to face you.

The man wore a black leather jacket with this red scarf wrapped around his neck. His right hand was covered with a leather glove, and he wore large black combat boots.

“Now what do we have here?” He stared down at you. You twitched your arms, your head lifting up to face him.

“She was out scavenging, possibly for another group.” One of the men answered.

“Well then what seemed to be the problem with that, David?” He asked. “She was on our turf, sir.” David replied.

As they spoke, the man kept observing you.

“Alright, let her go; I’ll take care of her.” David nodded, releasing their grip off of you. They were about to walk away, but the man stopped them.

“Hold on, where do you two dimwits think you’re heading off to?” They paused. “W-We’re sorry, s-s-sir.” They both apologized, kneeling down to him.

“As you were.” They then stood up and made their way out.

The man then crouched down to look you straight in the eyes. “Hey doll, you got a name?”

You stared with absolute anger, refusing to say a word.

“No response?” He asked, holding his hand to his ear.

“Well, the name’s Negan.”

“Now you can sit and mope on the fuckin’ floor here, or you can win your freedom in a match of ping pong.”

Your eyebrow raised at him.

“And if I lose?” You asked suspiciously, as you stood up to face him. He was a lot taller than you expected.

“Then you’re stuck here, but obviously with a consequence..” He smirked.

“What might that be..?” You asked, your suspicion growing.

“Well..” He leaned in ever so close to you, “You’ll have to find out...” His eyes shifted downwards, hinting at something.. not ideal or flattering in the slightest.

You instantly spit in his face, shocked and full of rage by his offer. 

Negan started to chuckle as he wiped his face off with his glove. His facial expression suddenly changed.

“Well, I guess fuck ping pong then!!” He laughed as he grabbed you roughly by the shirt, dragging you up many flights of stairs. You struggled and pushed for freedom of his grasp.

The door opened with a loud slam as he threw you on the ground. You both appeared to be in a bedroom, you assumed it was his.

Without thinking, you stood up ready to fucking strangle him, only instantly stopping in your tracks to the sight of Negan holding a baseball bat. “This is Lucille, isn’t she fuckin’ awesome?” He laughed as he stroked her barbed-wire softly with his fingers.

He held Lucille up to your leg, her barbed-wire poking your inner thigh,

“Shirt off, now.” He ordered.

“Let me go!” You shouted back.

You only received a cheeky grin in return.

“You already missed your chance with that one, sweetheart.”

You wept, giving in and slowly removing your shirt. This was too revealing for you.

Negan began to inch closer to you. You kept your guard, backing away from him each step. Eventually, your back was pressed against the wall.

His eyes stared into yours for what seemed like an eternity.

Placing Lucille softly on the table next to you both, he turned back to you. His hand was gripped onto your throat; with that same damn grin on his face, he traced his tongue across his teeth.

“What are you gonna do to me..?” You asked him with a shaky voice, his hand reaching for his belt.

Tears began to fall from your eyes as you heard it begin to unbuckle.

No this cannot be happening right now, there’s no fucking way.. this has to be a dream, so wake the fuck up Y/N!! Wake up!!!

You snapped back into reality as shirtless Negan grasped you by the waist, pulling your body against his. The mountain in his boxer-briefs hugged onto your crotch. You could strongly smell his cologne mixed with cigarettes and liquor.

“Please stop..” You whimpered, hating how warm you felt in his arms.

“Not happenin’ babe.” His fingers eagerly traveled down, tracing the inside of your waistband. The feeling of his hands so close to your crotch made you shiver.

Negan pushed you roughly onto the bed. Your first instinct was to cover your face in shame as he pulled your pants off. Your face turned completely red as the goosebumps began to form on your skin. Your body was revealed; all for his hungry eyes to see.

“Well, would you look at that! You look absolutely fuckin’ gorgeous like this, y’know that sugar?”

All you could manage to do was sob into your hands.

“You don’t gotta cry sweetheart, the fun has just begun!” He laughed.

Negan took his leather jacket off, placing it around a chair. He then gently made his way on top of you; your faces just inches away from each other.

“Come to think of it, I haven't gotten your name doll..” He explained softly, stroking your chin in a gentle manner.

You hated the fact that him being more gentle calmed you..

“I at least want to know who this fine and lovely lady is that I'm fuckin’ on this fine and lovely day.” Negan told you as he continued to stroke on your neck.

“If I tell you will you l-let me go..?” He shook his head. You should have known.

You let out a shaky sigh.

“My name is.. Y/N...”

Negan smirked at you. “Y/N? Well that’s fucking fitting.” He adjusted himself. “Well then, Y/N baby, what’s my name..?”

“Your name is Negan; I already knew that.” You scoffed. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly.

“Nope. Not to you cupcake. What is my name..?”

“What the fuck else would be your name?!” You snapped.

Negan turned his head, and everything switched. Immediate regret sank in.

“I..I mean... I-I’m sorry.. I“ He cut you off, shoving two of his fingers down your throat to shut you the fuck up.

Beginning to choke up, the tears falling heavier down your cheeks.

“You best shut the fuck up, doll. You’re only making this worse for yourself..”

“There is always more.” He growled in your ear.

It was then you felt his twitchy hand wandering up your waist.

The way his hot breath touched your skin, the way you hated feeling this vulnerable. You knew what was coming next; all you wanted was for him to just get it over with already.

Negan lips crashed on yours. He kissed you in a rough, messy manner. All you could taste in that moment was him.

His hand traveled up to your chest, as he slid his fingers under your bra. You felt warm but absolutely torn as he fondled you, treating you so provocatively.

“Why are you so god damn tense, sweetheart? Could you just fuckin’ relax a little? Daddy’s not gonna hurt you unless you give him a reason to.” Negan chuckled.

Why is this happening to me...? What did I do wrong..?

All of a sudden, it didn’t seem to matter much anymore.

Negan’s hand was in your underwear.

It began to feel too hard to breathe.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, It’s like a jacuzzi down here! Daddy loves how much of an eager little girl you are for him..”

“N-Negan-..” You tried to speak, but of course, he cut you off.

“Relax darling.. Daddy’s gonna make you feel so fucking good. By the time he’s done with you, you won’t be able to run away from him anymore.”

“Hell, you won't even want to!” Negan laughed.

“J-Just get it over with..” You cried to him.

“Oh, baby! I’m gonna take my sweet fuckin’ time with you!”

His two fingers shoved inside of you, your body reacting with a long harsh twitch.

Negan let out the biggest laugh. “I fuckin’ knew it! When I saw you I thought ‘well shit.. here’s a lady who ain’t gettin’ much’.”

“or.. maybe just not as rough as she wants it...?” He chuckled as he began to move his fingers deep, forcefully rubbing your walls with every push.

Breathing growing heavier, you bit your tongue in panic. The moans began to escape you uncontrollably.

"You better keep that shit up. Daddy wants to hear it all.”

You felt as if you were just lit on fire. Absolutely unbearable. Every inch of you felt shameful. You began to sweat uncontrollably.

“O-oh god N-Negan.. no... please stop...”

“Oh god Negan yes, please keep going!”

Your eyelids closed as you lifted your arms above you, in hope of being able to cover your face from this horrible scene; only to have Negan’s grip forcing your wrists above you.

“Nope, that’s not allowed. Daddy wants to see the look on your fuckin’ face when you make a big, dirty mess on him.”

“Open your eyes and fuckin’ look at me, doll.”

Your eyelids opened. Slightly shivering in terror, the sensation of his touch was growing to be too much for you to handle. Knowing soon, your body would betray your heart. Negan knew this; he could just sense it.

“Now.. you’re gonna cum for Daddy right...?” He asked, his voice eager.

You truly didn’t want to answer him. Everything was just too much for you. You could barely even think straight.

WHAM! Negan smacked you right in the face, forcefully grabbing you by the jaw.

“You speak when you’re spoken to!” He roughly demanded.

The pain began to settle in your cheek, as you tried to gather up an answer. 

Your head nodded, but by Negan’s facial expression you could tell that wasn’t enough for him.

“..m..mhm...” You managed to moan to him in desperation.

His eyes lit up at the sight of how dirty he truly made you feel.

You felt weak for giving in; for letting him control you like this. As if he owned you or had the authority to speak to you that way. But, of course, with the world being shit you had no choice. There’s nobody to save you, nobody in charge except for him.

Negan; and only Negan.

At that moment your climax had reached. You tensed up in Negan’s arms, as he continued to laugh at you.

“For someone who truly doesn’t want it, this very much shows fuckin’ otherwise.” He let out a slight chuckle.

He slowly pulled his fingers out, shoving them in your mouth.

“..Oh yeah you like the fuckin’ taste of yourself, baby?” He moaned in your ear. The sudden urge to gag came rushing over you.

No words came out. Negan had just stolen you with his very two fingers. You were in terror for what came next, all you could think about is how much you wanted out.

What scared you more is the fact that you somehow enjoyed being sexually tortured by this man.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, forcing you to sit up on the bed. Your legs felt numb.

“Hey sweetheart, Daddy’s gonna need you to take off every-single-fuckin’-thing keeping him from seeing those pretty little tits and that pretty little cunt.” He demanded.

You obeyed. Crying almost endlessly as you prepared yourself, revealing your body to him.

He stared at you, unable to look away.

“Oh, baby, you seriously look irresistible!”

“I’m gonna need you to give me a little bit of a twirl, doll.”

You twirled for him.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous. Come here you.” He growled with excitement.

His hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back onto the bed.

He then placed your hand on his crotch.

“Rub it.” He commanded. Rubbing him the way he wanted, you could feel how rock solid he was.

You felt strange comfort from his fingers rubbing the tears off your face. Your heart was beating out of your chest, unable to recognize your true feelings.

Suddenly Negan grabbed you off the bed with him.

“On your knees, babygirl.” He ordered.

Legs shaking uncontrollably, you obeyed.

“Take them off.” He pointed to his boxers.

All you could feel at this point was defeat; but even then you still tried to sway him.

“I-It’s okay Negan I understand.. I-“ Negan immediately cut you off, pulling you roughly by the back of your neck to face him.

“If you understood you would be listening to me darling... Do you really wanna piss me the fuck off..?” He growled, menacingly.

“Take. Them. Off.” He demanded, pushing you back onto the ground.

You did not in the slightest want to see what was in front of you. Your fingers wrapped around the waistband of his boxers as you slowly pulled them down.

You immediately covered your face, in little hope of avoiding what was about to happen.

Negan caressed your cheek, forcing you to face him anyway.

“Daddy feels a fuckin’ tooth scrape him and you’re fuckin’ dead, doll.” He threatened, yet in such a soft tone of voice.

Truth was, a big part of you would rather be dead than have to suffer from this.

He grabbed you by the back of the head, shoving his man shaft deeply inside of your mouth with a grunt.

You began to slightly suffocate as he continued to push your face closer to his pelvic bone.

“Y/N; darlin’.. I think I almost came right there...” Negan groaned, but let out a slight laugh.

He began to thrust, suffocating you with every push inwards. His shaft slid deeper and deeper inside your throat with every thrust, moving faster than the last.

“Just want to make sure, are you asking me to stop?”

You couldn’t reply because his massive dick was down your fucking throat, of course you wanted him to stop.

At least you thought you did, but even then you couldn’t protest.

“No? Alright sugar.” Negan grunted, thrusting even faster.

All you could feel was his cock twitching in the roof of your mouth.

“Just to let you know, Daddy’s about to come. So when he does, you better swallow all of his milk. Not one drop is to be on this very floor; do you fuckin’ hear me sweetie?”

You tried to nod.

“That’s a good girl..”

And with one grunt and a painful push, Negan’s semen filled your mouth. The tears wouldn’t stop. You tried to swallow all of him, but there was just too much.

As Negan pulled out with his stuff leaking down your bottom lip, eventually dripping down your chin. He stared down at you, and that’s when you knew this was it.

He kneeled down to face you on your knees, using his finger to scoop up his leftover junk on the floor. You both stared at it on his finger for a few seconds, until he shoved it down your throat aggressively.

“I told you Y/N..”

Your eyes met his, your gaze sorrowful with pure regret.

“I fuckin’ told you.”

“You know what's gotta happen now, doll.” He sighed.

No god please no.

Negan lifted you up off the ground, with a slam onto the bed. He quickly climbed over you, making absolutely sure to assert his dominance over you more than he had previously in that very moment.

His belt was in his other hand. He grasped your wrists, wrapping them tightly and trapping them above the headboard.

You were stuck as his fingers began to rub your clit in a rough fashion. He gripped onto your waist firmly.

There was no going back now.

“Tell Daddy how much you want his cock; how much you want him.” He groaned in your ear.

You slightly moaned in response, not being able to answer him.

His hand pinched on your thigh, his fingernails piercing your skin. You yelped in pain.

“How fucking much baby..” His teeth gritted.

“S-so.. m-much… I-I…. I want you..” You cried to him.

He chuckled at your misery as he stole you right then and there, filling you to the brim as he entered inside of you with one hard thrust.

You moaned in agony as you felt every inch of him become one with you. It was then you had given in. This was Negan claiming you.

Negan owned you; from then on and for the rest of your days in this sorrowful world.

“You repeat after me; you are mine.”

“..I-I am y-yours..”

“You belong to me.”

“…I b-belong to you..”

“You obey me.”

“..I o-obey you…”

Weakness overcame you as Negan took enjoyment in completely and utterly gutting your insides with his massive cock, over and over again.

The feeling was quite painful but absolutely euphoric at the same time.

This man hurt you, but you wanted him to do it. You didn’t want him to stop. Have you gone mad?

His hands gripped you tight, his nails indenting your bare skin.

“..N-N-Negan…”

BAM! A hard slap right to your ass.

“What the fuck is my name, Y/N?”

“D-Daddy!..” You cried.

Negan gave you the biggest smirk you’ve seen from him yet.

“That’s fucking right, princess! You’re such a dirty little girl..” He groaned as he pushed himself on you even move, moving faster and faster.

You gripped the sheets tightly, trying not to fall apart as he continued to impale you. Every thrust turned you into a fucking mess.

“Oh yeah.. You fuckin’ like that, sugar..?” He asked, his hand aggressively grasping your throat as he continued to move faster than ever.

You could feel your orgasm reaching near, as he continued to thrust aggressively.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for Daddy right fuckin’ now.” Negan growled.

You moaned in response.

With one hard and forceful thrust, you let out.

Screaming as Negan’s cock pulsed inside you, filling your womb to the absolute brim with his seed.

Everything began to burn. Negan had absolutely torn you to shreds with all the strength he had.

He slowly pulled himself out of you and placed himself onto you possessively.

The tears began to fall down, but you let a smile.

“Well doll,” Negan stared down at you, laying there still on the bed as he began to dress himself.

“Looks to me like you are gonna make one hell of a wife.” He chuckled.

——————————————————————————

This is my first ever posted fanfic so please let me know how I did, I would love your criticism! <3

I hope all you JDM/Negan sluts enjoyed this one.. ;)

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 9 ~The Mediation~

Previously in Light Vs Dark ...

Tears streamed down her face as he grabbed his phone and keys and made his way out. He couldn't get out of the cottage fast enough. His heart hammered, his ears started to ring, his lungs squeezing out the last air. He'd hurt her. He'd seen the bruises with his eyes, and now she's crying because of him. He needed to get out fast to clear his head.

She followed him closely behind. "Please tell me where you're going, Jamie. At least give me that," she pleaded.

He couldn't stand to see her tears anymore or hear the plea in her voice. He was doing what's right for her because he loved her too much. He wasn't even sure where he was going or if anyone would be safe in his presence. All he could think of was how frightened his sister had looked at him and the bruises he'd inflicted in Claire's arms. He needed to get as far away as possible, away from the people he loved.

He got into his car, slammed the door, and started the engine.

Claire banged on his window, her face wet with tears. "Don't do this, Jamie. We can fix this together. Please don't go. I'm begging you."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

The sun blazed through the windows, but instead of feeling delighted with the promise of a beautiful day, Claire felt hollow.

Earlier, moving on autopilot, she'd numbly climbed out of bed, showered and gathered all the will and strength she could summon and prepared to face the day. Though a part of her would rather curl into a ball under the duvet until Jamie returns, she made a Herculean effort to stay positive for sanity's sake. It should have given her comfort knowing Jamie was safe after Willie had informed her he'd been spotted at three in the morning at Lallybroch's driveway in his car and was now resting in his childhood home. But her eyes would prickle with tears every time she stood still and stared into space. So Claire kept herself busy, feeding Jamie's pets, letting them out of the house, doing a bit of laundry and setting up her work station for the day on the dining table. Currently, there were things that needed attending to, like her own work, and anytime soon, Willie would be arriving.

She was just about to open her laptop when there was a knock on the kitchen's back door.

She knew it was Willie. "Door's open," she croaked.

Willie walked in and stopped. A line formed between his brows, reminding her so much of Jamie she felt the beginning of tears welling up. "Hey, how are ye?" he asked.

With more enthusiasm than she had in her, she gave him a small smile. "I'm hanging in there. How's Jamie?"

"He's asleep ...last time I heard from ma."

"How about you? You look like you didn't get much rest either."

"Knackered," he replied, shoving his hands into his jeans' pocket. "The bloody git sent us on a merry chase. And now he gets to sleep the whole day while I'm left to pick up the slack at work."

Claire knew Willie was trying to make light of things. Needing to move, she stood and made her way to the kitchen, having the sudden urge to keep her hands busy. It would have been easier if she'd asked Willie to take her to Lallybroch. But there had been a reason for her decision to stay put. She needed to remind herself, there's a probability her presence could make Jamie's condition worsened after having seen his reaction to her bruise last night. Even if in the light of day, nothing seemed good enough excuse to be separated from him.

"Would you like something to drink? Coffee or tea?" she offered. "I could use a strong cuppa."

"Coffee would be grand."

Conscious of Willie watching, she went through the motion of taking out cups and switching on the coffee machine. When she opened the fridge to retrieve some milk, she accidentally nudged one of Jamie's magnets on the door, sending a post-it note to slip down. Automatically bending down, she picked up the piece of paper from the floor.

As she turned it the other way round and read it, a cross between a sob and a laugh broke passed through her mouth. It was a note Jamie had written to her just the other day.

Gone to work. Bought some croissants, and they're in the bread bin just in case Adso gets his grubby paws on it first. Can't wait to see you later. Missing you already. Love you. X

"Oh, damn it." Claire leaned over the countertop, pressing the note with one hand on her chest. "I-I can't do this."

Willie came up behind her and touched her elbow, gently turning her to face him. "Ye cannae do exactly what, Claire?" he asked, a look of concern etching his face.

"Pretend Jamie is fine." She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, she let out a lungful of air. "When we first met, he was in a good place. And I have this strong feeling that I am making his condition more frequent and worse."

"No, Claire ...dinnae speak like that."

She glanced down at Jamie's note, and when she felt prickles behind her eyelids, she slipped the piece of paper in her jean's pocket and shook her head. "How can Jamie and I be together if I'm the one triggering his nightmares and anxiety? Before I came along, his episodes were a rare occurrence. And now here I am making that classic mistake of attempting to fix a man." Her breathing suddenly became laboured, like she'd raced ten miles. "I wish I could be by his side. I know it's selfish wanting to be with him right now when I'm the reason for his distress. But I do. On the other hand, logic tells me, it's probably a good thing all those memories he hasn't dealt with are finally coming to the surface, so at least we have something to work on. I just wish there was a less unpleasant way for Jamie to handle all of these." She glanced out the window, unseeing the beautiful view in the sun.

When the silence dragged on for too long, Claire turned to face Willie and was surprised to see him smiling. "Cannae ye see it yet, Claire? Ye are not making Jamie's condition worse. In fact, ye have been helping him heal all this time."

She frowned. She was confused. "What do you mean? I don't understand."

Willie took the portafilter and began filling it with coffee for her. "Ye said it yersel'. The suppressed memories are coming to the surface." He shrugged as he worked the coffee machine. "Meaning, after all these years, Jamie can finally confront them head-on, deal with it and lay it to rest once and for all. Isn't that what his dreams are trying to tell him? He's forgone dealing with grief and issues that it had nowhere to go to except present itself as this monstrous nightmare and panic attacks. And then ye came along, and somehow, ye've extracted more out from him than all his therapists put together."

A nervous laugh gurgled from her throat. "I might have been able to do that, but at what cost? Jamie could've hurt himself last night." She'd worried at the speed he'd taken off, thinking if anything grievous had resulted from it, she would have been so utterly devastated, she'd blamed herself. "He needs professional help, Willie. It can't go on like this."

"He does," he agreed, pressing the button on the coffee machine. "But Jamie needs you too, more than ever ...even if he believes he's a danger to ye."

"But he didn't hurt me."

He pushed the stop button on the coffee machine. "May I see the bruise?"

"Of course." She rolled up her sweatshirt sleeves. "I told him I bruise easily. I have an iron deficiency which I'm taking supplements for."

Willie studied the markings on her arms. "They're not that bad."

"No, they're not. I tried to convince him, but he won't listen. I only need to pinch my skin, and I bruise. It's a symptom of being anaemic."

Willie sighed. "Jamie won't be easily convinced, though. Weel ...at least not until he's calmed down."

"He used to have a therapist. Why isn't he seeing one now?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. "I know he's against taking pills for his condition, but surely talking to a professional would help him a lot."

"He has nothing against seeing a therapist ..." he replied matter-of-factly as he handed her the coffee. "...just a particular one."

"Oh!" She took the cup from Willie and watched him make another one for himself. "May I know why?"

"Her name is Geneva Dunsany. She's the only available therapist in Broch Mordha. She took over Jamie's former therapist after he left for England." He paused to look at her. "Ye see ...a few years back, my da remortgage Lallybroch and then when the recession came, our family was hit hard financially and had trouble paying the bank. To cut a long story short, Jenny, our meddling sister, knew Geneva was infatuated with Jamie. Since Geneva comes from a well-off family, Jenny thought by playing matchmaker, she would solve everyone's problems single-handedly. Ever since then, my sister has been trying to get them together. So when she heard Jamie's therapist left for England, she encouraged Geneva to take the job even though she already had one in another town. Jamie is quite perceptive, though and knew what our wee sister was up to. Hence he refused to see Geneva."

"That's a bit sneaky."

"Ye can say that again. Geneva might have a wee crush on Jamie, but I dinnae think she's aware of Jenny's meddling, even though they're friends. Jenny thinks she's doing Jamie a favour by finding him a lass who lives here and can help him with his condition. Jen is practical like that."

"I've met her, actually. The therapist that is. We were introduced ...just before I went back to London," she explained, thinking back to the day when she first met Jenny and Geneva. And she's beautiful too, she thought grudgingly. Although Jamie had never given Claire reason to feel jealous before, every muscle in her body had gone rigid, hearing Willie's account on Jamie's would-be therapist. Jealousy continued to roll in like a lick of a flame as the image of Jamie pouring his heart out to a beautiful woman burned hot in her guts. The sudden urgent need to see him made her want to sprint out of the cottage at full speed, but a dose of decorum kept her rooted on the spot. "So, Jamie wasn't interested, huh? Not even the teeny, tiniest bit?" she squeaked, annoyed at the sudden change in her voice.

She thought she saw a muscle twitched along Willie's jaw, but she must have imagined it. Looking like he was sucking the inside of his cheek, he shook his head. "No. Never. And ye have nought to worry about, Claire. Jamie only has eyes for ye."

She swallowed the bitter taste of doubt. "Not worried," she lied, sipping her coffee. But in the true sense of the word, she already felt loads better after the enlightening conversation with Willie. It had taken the edge off her worry over Jamie's condition, even though she still couldn't erase the thought of Jenny pushing Jamie towards Geneva.

"Maybe ye should attend a therapy session with Jamie ...at least initially," he suggested, eyeing her closely as if trying to read her thoughts. "That way, it would put Jamie at ease, and Geneva would realise he's taken already."

Claire slowly placed her cup on the countertop. "Why do I get the feeling this meddling thing is inherent in your family?" she asked, feigning disapproval.

Willie put his own cup down. "Not inherent, Claire. I have my own selfish motive. Ye're the best friend of my Annalise, and I wouldn't be helping my cause if she finds out I've done nought to help ye." When Claire gasped, he grinned. "Kidding aside, even if Annalise wasn't my girlfriend, I want ye to know, I really like you for my brother."

Claire could barely see through the tears she hadn't been aware that was building up. "You sound so sure."

Willie placed his hand over hers and squeezed it. "Are ye sure about my brother?"

"With all my heart," she whispered.

"That's all I need to know."

..........

Jamie slowly opened his eyes and took in the familiar surroundings of his old room. His heart throbbed when he realised the last time he'd slept here had been on New Year's eve, with Claire tucked snuggly on the crook of his arm. Bracing himself up on his elbows, he heard his mother talking to Jenny and his da downstairs. They were probably in the kitchen discussing his state.

He rubbed his face with one hand, feeling the beginning of a day-old stubble, exhaustion washing over him in waves. A mixture of self-loathing and guilt rose within as he replayed the incident from the night before. He couldn't decide what pained him the most, the bruises he'd inflicted on Claire or the fact he'd left her in tears standing in his driveway.

When he'd taken off from his cottage, his heart had been heavy and thoughts dark, not having had any clue what he wanted to do or where to go, only determinedly pushing himself to get as far away from Claire as possible. A few hours later, he'd found himself parked outside his childhood home after Willie and Murtagh had woken him up in his car. So far, he'd only talked to his older brother Willie, and he hoped it would be enough to keep the rest of his family's questions at bay.

Sitting up, he realised he was still in his clothes. He searched for his phone and found it on the nightstand. Swiping the screen, he saw he had a few missed calls from clients and a voice message from Claire. Willie must have switched his phone to silence.

I should call her, he thought. It wouldn't be that difficult. Her voice would soothe him, and her lack of judgement would make him feel like he's on solid ground. He could show his worst, and he knew she'd still be there, smiling and soothing him with words, just like last night. Every hour that passed without seeing her or hearing from her put him a little more off centre, and he could see how too reliant he was becoming on those breaths of fresh air that sprung from her. He shook his head. She was too precious to be with someone who had this nonstop ugliness embedded in the insides of his head. It would only be a matter of time before he dragged her into his hell. He couldn't do that to her.

He was about to tap on Claire's voice message when he was alerted by a double knock on the door.

"Jamie, are ye awake, son?" It was his father.

"Come in," he answered, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

The door opened, and he saw his mother walk in first with a mug of tea. "My darling boy," she smiled, placing the hot brew on the bedside table. "I thought ye could use a bit of something warm in yer belly. How are ye feeling?" She stooped down and kissed him on the forehead.

Jamie scooted back to the headboard to make space for his mother while his father took the chair. "Exhausted," he said honestly. Although he'd slept all morning, it hadn't been a restful sleep.

His father, Brian, cleared his throat. "So ... what's going on with ye, lad?" he asked, cutting to the chase as usual.

Ellen sent her husband a warning glare before refocusing her attention back to Jamie. "Whenever ye're ready, darling," she reassured him, patting his thigh. "Willie vaguely told us what happened, and Jenny is beside herself thinking she triggered yer panic attack yesterday. And Claire ...ye never told us she's here. She's worried sick about ye."

Jamie sighed. "What's there to tell." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "It wasnae Jenny's fault. It's just the same old, same old. The only difference this time is, I made a stupid mistake getting Claire involved with me. And I'm hurting her in the process."

Ellen briefly looked at her husband. "I find that hard to believe, Jamie. Ye're such a gentle soul, ye could never ever hurt a fly even if it's bugging ye to bits. Did ye two have a fight? Did Claire say ye were hurting her?" she asked Jamie gently.

"No. I just know I am."

"Oh, darling ..."

"So that's it ..." Brian raised his hands in the air before letting them drop to his sides. "Ye're giving in to this condition ye've fought hard against all yer life when the chance for happiness finally present itsel' to ye because ye THINK ye are hurting Claire. Is that what ye're trying to tell us? Because believe ye me, we didnae raise a violent or abusive son. So enlighten us ...where in heaven's name is this all coming from?"

"Brian!"

"It's a futile fight," Jamie blurted before taking a deep breath. "Trust me ... I'd like to have what ye both have. But at what cost? Look at the state of me. Is this the kind of man Claire deserves? She's willing to turn her life upside down for me, and for what? Only to find out later she'd saddled herself with a mentally ill man. So perhaps it's for the best she lucked out early before its too late for either of us."

His mother moved closer to his side and took his hand. "So let me get this straight. Ye're staying away from Claire because ye like her a lot, and ye're afraid to hurt her." Pain clenched tight on his vocal cords, incapacitating him to answer, but she interpreted his silence as a yes. Even though it's far more complex than that. "Oh, sweet lord, how youth is so wasted on the young," she clucked.

"Aye, perhaps." He rubbed a hand behind his neck. "But trust me, I ken fine what the problem is."

"Oh, is that so?"

His father's sarcasm wasn't lost on him, but he ignored it in favour of the pressure sinking into his chest. "I ken I hold back a lot from everyone, and I ken too that's wrong. When things get too much, I keep my mouth shut. And I dinnae realised at first that suffering in silence damages, instead of helping. Though it's easier said than done, I'm working on it. All I ever wanted was no' to be a burden or be the cause of anyone's pain. Claire deserves more."

Ellen sighed. "Jamie ...Jamie ... ye're never a burden. Ye're a delight, and we're so proud of ye. Ye need to understand, ever since ye were a wee bairn, ye've always needed a purpose, like fixing everyone's problem because it gave ye satisfaction to see ye've righted someone's world. Whenever someone was hurting, ye're always the first to reach out." Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I thought it was endearing at first until it began to take over yer life. The trauma you've gone through only amplified yer true nature to a point it wasnae healthy anymore. And the guilt that came with it when ye can do nought and thought you've failed ...almost destroyed ye every time." She shifted on the bed. "Jamie ...ye have to stop denying yersel' a chance for happiness because ye're afraid of hurting or failing someone. Pain is part of life. It's inevitable. Though it's good of ye to think of others first, sometimes, it's also good to let others carry that burden for ye and help ye. Running away because ye're afraid of hurting someone is no' gonnae to do anyone any good. Ye'll only end up hurting yersel'. And when that happens, who's going to help ye?"

His mother's logic made sense, but the chatter in his brain continued to hold its ground. "Claire's been through a lot, ma."

"And so have ye, son," Brian interjected, firmly.

"But what if I make things worse for both of us?"

"Oh my sweet boy, what if ye end up happy together?" Ellen smiled. "I ken a crystal ball would come in handy right now, but because we dinnae have one, the only way to find out is to take the risk and hope for the best. Just like what Claire is doing."

Jamie shut his eyes for a while and pictured them together. Every fibre in his body was screaming to get in his car and drive back to Broch Mordha and start making it up to Claire. But his mother was right ...he needed help. He didn't want to put Claire through all that misery again, so he decided right there and then he would start attending therapy afresh. It was the way forth, and he'd held off attending therapy for too long, which might have worsened his condition. But first things first. He needed to be in the right headspace to start doing anything.

"Fine, I'll call the clinic later for an appointment but do ye mind if I rest some more. I'm still feeling a bit off."

The chair scraped the wooden floor as Brian stood up. "Aye, of course. Ye look worn to a frazzle."

Ellen reached out and pulled Jamie into her arms and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be downstairs if ye need anything." She got up and ruffled his hair as if he was still a wee boy. "And I've made leek and tattie soup in case ye're hungry."

"Thanks, ma."

His parents were just about to walk out when Jenny strode in. "Hey."

Jamie rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "Jenny, can we talk later? I'd like to be alone for a bit."

Brian and Ellen gave his sister a warning look as they left the room, but she just shrugged. "I promise this willnae take long. Please, Jamie?"

Jamie waved a hand. "Fine. What is it?"

He watched his sister retrieve something from her jeans' pocket. "Mrs Fitz from the Airbnb gave me this. One of her clients staying over her place left an Oxford Mail newspaper a couple of weeks ago. As she was browsing through it, she came across Claire's name." She handed him a newspaper clipping. "Looks like yer wee girlfriend is an heiress."

"What? Let me see that."

Jamie skimmed through the short article about some property in Fox Lane, Boars Hill in Oxford. It said it was formerly part of the Berkeley Castle Estate. The original part of the house had been designed by the celebrated architect Sir Ernest George for Lord Berkeley, a family ancestor from her mother side. The house had apparently garnered loads of interest among the local rich after being recently vacated by a local MP. It mentioned the original owners' name as Henry and Julia Beauchamp, deceased, and the heiress as Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.

Was this the South Lodge property Claire had been talking about she'd inherited from her parents? He hadn't really given it much thought ever since she'd casually mentioned it. This was a far cry from the cabin in the woods he'd envisioned.

"Three million pounds for a house!" Jenny broke through his reflection. "Doesn't it make ye wonder what else she inherited?"

Jamie looked at the paper again. That's what the house is worth? Ach, Christ! Even the Oxford gossip found its way to Broch Mordha. He knew Claire would be mortified if the news of her assets became everyone's favourite topic of conversation.

Folding the note, he handed it back to his sister. He saw Claire a little differently now. All that money in the world and all she only ever wanted was a place to belong to. Suddenly he felt awful for leaving her last night. He shook his head at his sister. "Not a word about this to any of yer mates!" he warned her. "Or else ..."

Jenny's eyes widened. "What do ye take me for?"

"A babble merchant," he ribbed, unsmiling. "Now, let me be."

"Ye're no' angry at me still, are ye?"

"No," he sighed. "I'm just exhausted."

"Can I do anything for ye?"

He puffed out a breath. Jenny was looking at him earnestly, and he knew she only wanted to reach out. "Aye, in fact, ye can. Ye can arrange that appointment with the therapist for me."

She smiled, seemingly happy to please. "Right on it. If ye need anything else ..."

"Aye, aye, I'll let ye know."

Jenny left, and somehow, he felt a little less heavy in the heart than he did when he woke up earlier. Grabbing his phone, he tapped play on Claire's voice message.

"Hey, it's me. Just letting you know how much I miss you. I felt a little sad earlier, so I wandered into a cafe in the village centre after Willie left. They had this upbeat music playing in the background. It's an old song. Probably from the eighties or nineties, I'm not quite sure. It's pretty cheesy, but it brought a smile to my face. And now I can't get the music out of my head. Maybe if you listen to it too, it will bring a smile to your face. It's from Rick Astley, Never Gonna Give You Up." There was a pause before she spoke again. "Right, I'll let you rest. Willie told me that's what you've been doing. I'm going to take Rollo out for a walk now and try to get some work done. I'll text and send you a voice message later. I love you."

Ah, Sassenach! He swiped the screen to phone her, but his phone beeped and died. Ah, shite! He wanted to go and see her now but stopped. He had to take steps to make himself better first. He needed to put in the hours to help himself. She deserved the extra time he would put in because she's not getting half-arsed from him again. But for now ...

He scrambled out of bed and opened the bedroom door.

"Ma!" he called out.

"What is it, dear?"

"Do ye still have all yer old music from yer university days?"

"Anything in particular?"

He cringed inwardly. Ah, fuck! "Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley?"

He thought he heard females sniggering downstairs.

Dear Readers,

Thank you so much for your patience with the previous chapter and, mostly, the feedback and beautiful comments. I hope this latest update felt a lot lighter to read. I'll keep this short as I'm drained today; nevertheless, I wish you a great weekend.

Looking forward to reading what you think of this update. Take care always, and keep those love vibes rolling. Much love. X

[secretobsessionstuff]

I was just thinking about how sweet madix & riley, and alexi & micahs friendship. and it had me thinking....maybe would you write something where madix & riley are both laid up in bed with the stomach flu, riley being worse off. madix tries his best to comfort an emotional and sick riley, but it’s hard when he feels so bad himself. cue a quick phone call to alexi & micah to ask if they would mind bringing them a few supplies and perhaps some help. absolutely no pressure of course! <3

Ahh thank you so much for the lovely request! I’m really happy with this one :) 

-----------------------------

Madix does not consider himself a sympathetic puker. That’s why when Riley threw up into the bucket for the third time that night, Madix knew it wasn’t empathy that made his own stomach turn.

Riley shivered and spat into the bucket, feeling horrendous and entirely sick of this stomach bug. No pun intended because he was in no mood to be making jokes. All day, his head had been either buried in a bucket or hovering over the toilet. Currently, he preferred the bucket because it allowed him to sit on the couch. It was nice to be able to lean against Madix and have his shoulders rubbed.

Swallowing a sudden wave of nausea, Madix handed Riley a cloth to wipe his mouth. Riley reached for it, but stopped mid-way. His throat bobbed as his face got even paler. The boy still had one more retch in him. Madix, seeing this, brought the bucket back to his lap. He turned his head to the side so as to not trigger his own belly anymore.

With nothing left in his stomach to throw up, Riley dry heaved. His whole body quivered against Madix from the force of it. He might also have been shaking from the sobs that racked his frame. “Madix…make it stop,” he begged, with snot and tears running down his face.

“Oh love, I’m sorry.” Under normal circumstances, Madix might have said that he would gladly take the pain for himself, but he guessed it would be redundant at this point.

Along with the sadness, Madix also guessed that Riley was getting frustrated with this virus. He hadn’t been able to eat anything all day without it coming back up. Then again, they didn’t have much food in the house that wouldn’t unsettle his stomach. They were running low on supplies, and Madix was running low on energy.

He started to suspect that perhaps Riley wasn’t the only victim of this illness when the same nausea hit his system. This was earlier that day when he was trying to get Riley to eat something, meanwhile the food that he put in his own stomach was sitting uneasily. The nausea kicked in then, and he stupidly decided not to upset his stomach anymore by drinking water. No one had been nagging at him to stay hydrated, but now he wished there could be. Riley was much too upset and sick to tell – not that Madix could blame him. Still, he had to tell Riley something, before he threw up right then and there. That would absolutely not make the situation better.

Riley groaned and took the cloth to wipe his mouth. He was indeed frustrated. “I still feel nauseous…” he mumbled while hugging his stomach. “I hate this.”

“Believe me,” Madix said without making eye contact, “I know how you feel.”

“What do you mean?”

Madix rubbed the back of his neck. “I uh…don’t feel so hot either.”

Riley’s eyes grew wide. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. Normally he could deal with Madix being sick if he was already sick himself. But the human brain is a clusterfuck of an organ, and sometimes it cannot be expected to act predictably. Sometimes your brain tells you that everything sucks, and that crying is the only solution, and that Madix being sick is the worst possible thing to happen right now. Who was going to take care of us?? How would we deal with a sick Madix while we’re sick?? Because apparently Riley’s brain thought of itself and Riley as two separate entities.

“Are you going to throw up?” Riley asked with an unsteady voice.

Madix immediately regretted telling Riley how he felt. He watched his boyfriend’s eyes grow ten sizes, and watched his chest heave frantically. He guessed the combination of having a fever and feeling terrible made the perfect recipe for panic.

Before Madix could lie about needing to throw up, Riley gagged into his hand. The emotions and nausea became too much, and his stomach was back at it again. Luckily Madix shoved the bucket under his chin just in time to catch the bitter yellow bile that spilled past his lips.

Without thinking about it, Madix stood up from the couch after handing over the bucket. Seeing the thick bile come from his boyfriend’s mouth was too much for his own stomach to handle. Saliva was quickly coating his tongue. “Ry, I have to…” he mumbled with a hand over his mouth. “…I’ll be right back.”

Madix felt bad for leaving Riley in the middle of vomiting, but he desperately needed to do the same. His legs led him to the bathroom where he fell to his knees in front of the toilet. The remnants of his lunch rushed up his throat and splattered into the bowl. A wet belch interrupted the stream, but was soon followed by another wave of vomit. Madix squeezed his eyes shut involuntarily, wetting his eyelashes with tears. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the rim.

His stomach gurgled loudly. He felt like the organ was getting revenge for being forced to wait so long. He wrapped his arms around his aching belly and moaned. It was hell, and now he knew how Riley truly felt. Madix couldn’t help but despair at the thought of going through the same things Riley had all morning. And he would need to do it alone.

In his hazy feverish state, Madix had a thought. The fact that his fried mind was able to come up with a thought was shocking, but there it was.

His phone! Where was his phone? He needed to make a call.

But first he needed to gag over the toilet bowl for another few minutes. For now, it seemed like his stomach just wanted to be an asshole and make him think that he was going to puke. The threat of puking never disappeared, but soon Madix got tired of waiting. And fuck, he could hear Riley calling to him from the living room. Riley’s voice sounded thick from having just brought up another sludge of bile.

Madix wanted to go to him, to rub his back and tell him that everything was going to be okay. But if Riley felt anything like how Madix was feeling, he didn’t think that anything would ever be okay. And guess what? What if Madix wanted someone to rub his back? He wanted someone to tell him that everything would be okay.  

That’s when he remembered the call that he was going to make. The phone was in his pocket, but even that felt too far for him to reach. Slowly, Madix propped his back up against the tub and called Micah. He put it on speaker so that he didn’t have to hold the phone to his ear.

Micah answered on the first ring, but could only hear heavy breathing on the other end. “Madix? Are you there?

Madix finally got the energy to respond. He was weak. “Can you…come over?”

“Madix? I can’t hear you very well. You sound all echo-ish.” Micah’s voice was so loud as it reverberated in the bathroom. “Are you okay?”

“No ‘m really sick. Riley too.” Madix felt sweat dripping down his forehead. “Please come over.” He hoped that Micah could understand his messy speech.

There was ruffling on Micah’s end before, “oh okay, okay. Just hang tight. We’ll be right there.”

“Wait…Bring stuff.”

“Bring stuff?”

“We’re…dehy…” he was going to say ‘dehydrated’ but there were some technical difficulties in his brain. The hardware was overheating. He found a solution. “…thirsty.”

                                                      …

With some deductive skills, Micah had a pretty good guess for what was ailing his friends. The echo of the phone call easily told him that Madix was in a bathroom. Dehydration plus camping out in a bathroom were not hard puzzle pieces to fit together.

He and Alexi stopped by the store for Gatorade, soup, and anything else needed to fight a stomach virus. While Alexi debated over which flavour of sport drink to get, Micah rushed him along. “Just pick one! Madix sounded horrible on the phone.”

“What if they don’t like the yellow kind?”

“Oh my god, let’s just go!”

“Fine…” Alexi muttered under his breath, “but if they hate it, it’s your fault.”

Micah accepted full responsibility if they didn’t like the drink, and raced for the checkout. They threw the bags into the car and off they went to help their friends once again.

Upon entering, they immediately found Riley sleeping on the couch with the bucket on the floor. It was still full of bile because clearly neither of the sick boys had the energy to clean it.

While Alexi placed the groceries in the kitchen and began to open the drinks, Micah crouched by Riley’s head. His skin was deathly pale. Micah woke him up with a light shake.

Riley jumped a little as he awoke from his restless sleep. He rubbed his eyes, not understanding what he was seeing. He could swear that Micah was in his house for some reason. And he was right. “Micah?”

“Hey Ry. How are you feeling?”

Riley looked around and spotted Alexi as well. His brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“Madix called us,” Alexi answered while carrying over a bottle of Gatorade. “Can you sit up and take a sip of this for me?”

Riley did sit up and accepted the bottle. His mouth was insanely dry, but that’s not what he cared about in that moment. “Oh my god Madix. Go help him!” He looked worriedly between the two boys who just showed up. “I know he’s been throwing up in the bathroom, but I just – I couldn’t… I –”

“Shh, slow down,” Micah said softly. “It’s not your fault. I’ll go check on him right now.” As he left, Micah heard Riley ask if they brought any other colour of Gatorade. Yellow wasn’t his favourite.

Micah was scared that he was going to find Madix passed out in a puddle of his own vomit. That was not the case. He found Madix drenched in sweat, not passed out but barely lucid. Madix didn’t even react when Micah came into the bathroom. His head was resting on the toilet seat and it looked like he was fighting another wave of nausea. The bowl was full of half-digested stomach contents. Madix whimpered quietly to himself.

Micah slowly sat down, and immediately put his hand on Madix’s damp back. “Oh Maddy, look at you.” The heat from his back was astounding.

Madix did not open his eyes, but his shoulders lost a bit of their tension. “Micah?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Micah’s chest ached when the boy reached out his hand to hold onto him. He was usually only very touchy with Alexi, but Madix looked like he needed it to survive. Micah scooted closer and brushed a hand over Madix’s cheek. Of course, he found it burning. Normally, Micah would feel very awkward touching a friend’s face but there was something about Madix’s desperation that made it okay. The way Madix leaned entirely into the touch made Micah forget about any apprehensions.

Madix squinted from the bright light. He hadn’t realized how long his eyes had been closed for. He also hadn’t realized how much he needed the presence of someone else. It was like drowning in dark water. No one around to pull him from the waves that kept pushing him under. No one to pierce the thick darkness where he found himself.

Then suddenly a lifeline.

A choked sob came from Madix. “I feel horrible, Micah. I can’t stop throwing up.”

“I know, I know.” Micah rubbed his back harder. He tried to hold back his own emotions. He had never seen Madix this vulnerable.

“I – I couldn’t…. st-stay with Riley.” Tears streaked down Madix’s face as he cried and struggled to catch his breath. “It hurts…my belly.”

Micah didn’t say anything. He just continued to let Madix know he was there. He wanted to let Madix be completely selfish for once in his life, God knows he deserves it.

If Madix were lucid enough to hear what he was saying, he would have told himself to stop making such a big deal about a little stomach-ache. The good news was that he wasn’t lucid enough, and this provided him with the outlet he needed. Somehow, his head found Micah’s shoulder and he rested it there while he feverishly rambled.

Micah let this go one for as long as he could, but he had to stop it eventually. Madix was hiccupping and crying, and generally working himself up to the point of making himself sick all over again. When the hiccupping turned into empty heaves, Micah spoke. “Okay, hon, you have to let yourself breathe. Can you breathe with me?”

And Micah took a long inhale, making sure that Madix did the same. Through sniffles and hiccups, he copied the rise and fall of Micah’s chest. “That’s it, Mads. Again.”

The two of them took another deep breath in, and Madix’s breathing slowly became less shaky. Micah smiled at the progress. “That’s it, Madix. Everything is going to be okay.”

[feralnumberfive]

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 3 of Season 1

“Extra Ordinary”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it's funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ 

1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ First off I’d like to say that this is one of my favorite episodes of this season. It’s just soooo good

☂ The second comic book in the window features the Televator from the actual comics, so that has to be canon in the show! Also at the time that that second comic came out, Five had already left since we don’t see him on the cover

☂ It’d be cool if they actually printed Vanya’s book for fans to read

☂ Well Diego isn’t wrong when he called Hazel and Cha Cha animals because of their masks

☂ Honestly I feel Vanya’s struggle with chair placement. I’ve fortunately had the luck of playing in all three clarinet chair placements, but 1st chair is challenging. I personally found each placement very fun to play, especially 3rd, and I hope Vanya does too! (why am I talking like she’s real)

☂ Hazel talks about people living ordinary lives, but didn’t he live like that too at one point? How does The Commission recruit people? If they get ordinary people, do they wipe their memories of their previous lives?

☂ “Let’s see’em get out from behind their desks, get their hands dirty for once.” Well Hazel, Five does indeed do this even though he only had a desk job for a day. Still, he got to experience both worlds

☂ My mind is blanking on this, but how did Five get that cut on his arm? Was it from a bullet wound at Gimbel’s? 

☂ Five must have a high pain tolerance to stitch his own wound but his bandaid probably wouldn’t stick due to the wet blood he slapped it over. Five sweetie you need a cotton pad and gauze for that one

☂ Wait, you’re telling me that The Umbrella Academy boys’ top uniform consists of a tank top, a white dress shirt, a tie, a sweater vest, and then the blazer? Someone asked Reginald what he wanted for the uniforms and he just said “Yes.”

☂ Five: *puts hands in pockets only to immediately take them out*

☂ Aidan almost sounds like he has an accent when he says “I'm done funding your drug habit.” 

☂ Five’s so soft talking to his wife

☂ No Leonard, your bread and butter is being a creep

☂ Also, he thinks wood carving is embarrassing? If someone came up to me and showed me something they carved out of wood I would be so jealous cause it’s such a neat form of art

☂ Leonard saying that he carved wood, and in that case wooden figures, when he was a kid is a slight foreshadow of all of his tampering with his Umbrella Academy figures. He can make wooden figures but he’s also destroyed a handful of the Hargreeves figures 

☂ “Never really did like The Beatles.” Well sir you’ve made me dislike you even more

☂ Vanya asking Allison if her siblings wanted her at the family meeting bugs me a bit. I absolutely get that she was literally left out of anything and everything that had to do with her siblings when she was younger, but Allison just asked her to come back home for a family meeting. Allison wouldn't have walked around looking for Vanya only to tell her that they were having a family meeting and that she wasn’t actually invited. Allison is including her in on a family meeting but Vanya is just in a bit of disbelief that she’s being included

☂ Ah yes, the only PTSD flashback for Five we see in the show! He looks so scared when he snaps out of it. I believe it was somehow triggered by the kids (I could be wrong) but do you think Five sometimes panics when he looks at himself in the mirror now since his body is the same age it was when he got stuck? Also it’s very subtle but when Luther opens the door, Five slightly jerks/flinches back. I wish we would see more of this in the show since it’s one of his major traumas

☂ “Does it matter? It’s Klaus.” Ouch! Well Five I hope you know that your siblings are somewhat thinking the same thing since they believe that you’ve lost your mind and are practically an old man crying “Apocalypse!” 

☂ Five does an ever so slight huff and smirk when Luther tells him that the meeting at the Academy is important. He finds it a little funny but so frustrating in his mind that Luther doesn’t know what’s truly important

☂ Also I love that Aidan has to turn to the side so that he can keep it together after Klaus talks about his chocolate pudding waxing. Either that or he’s portraying Five as being frustrated and in disbelief. Also this is the first time I’ve noticed that he says “Ay, ay ay...” 

☂ “We’re all you have. And you know it.” Oh Luther, you’re failing to see that that’s why he’s acting like this right now. He’s all frantic and crazed about trying to stop the apocalypse so that he can protect and save all that he has

☂ Five certainly is mad at Luther during his mini lecture. He’s clenching his jaw tightly and when he first speaks he hisses out the words through gritted teeth. He even called Luther by his number. He’s very impatient at this point and doesn’t care for Luther’s act of attempting to be a leader

☂ This is their first, and certainly not last, time watching Klaus go by in front of them doing something he shouldn’t be doing

☂ “You haven’t been home in a long time, Vanya.” Sir you were also just on the moon for four years. Yeah Vanya was away for a long time but Grace easily could have changed too during the four years you were gone

☂ How sweet, even though Five hasn’t really been home they want to include him in on the family vote :]

☂ I’ve noticed that in S1 that David really mumbles his lines. A lot

☂ I wish we got more flashbacks of the younger Umbrellas

☂ Diego my beloved mama’s boy ♥️

☂ It’s confusing as to which country TUA takes place in, but it’s really not supposed to be a specific one. It’s portrayed as being in North America, but you can see behind Cha Cha when she gets out of the car at the Academy the flag of the RAF, which Canada would have at a monument since it’s a Commonwealth country. At the same time though Delores came from Gimbels, which was a department store chain across the U.S

☂ The light above Five’s portrait is slightly crooked, which probably means no one has really been paying attention to it

☂ It makes me nervous that Klaus wipes bubbles onto his face. It looks like he got some in his eyes

☂ Ugh I love the whole scene of Hazel and Cha Cha walking around the Academy with “We’re Through” playing

☂ Diego: *has knives but instead chooses to punch and hit Hazel to try to make him let go of Allison”

☂ A rope-a-dope is a boxing tactic of pretending to be trapped against the ropes, goading an opponent to throw tiring ineffective punches. Diego sweetie Hazel wasn’t even trying to get you off of him all he was doing was choking Allison. The only person who got tired was probably you

☂ What’s the point in Diego yelling “Luther, go!” if he’s already going 💀

☂ Luther was there immediately when Hazel attacked Vanya. That means that Luther heard Vanya and was going to go get her to safety

☂ I will never stop signing my praise for the entirety of the “Sinnerman” fight scene(s). It gives me chills every single time. Easily one of the best scenes in all of the show

☂ Klaus must really have his music blasting if he can’t hear the gun shots right next to him

☂ I’ve always wondered if Allison actually registered in her mind that “The boy” is Five when Cha Cha says that’s who they’re looking for. Either she does realize that’s Five, is simply just angry that those two are looking for a boy, or registers in her mind that it’s Five through his superhero codename even though Cha Cha’s not referring to him in that way

☂ Diego is full on just standing in the background watching Allison get beat up by Cha Cha 🕴

☂ I love Diego’s little hand flap when he gets hit in the hand fighting Cha Cha

☂ Okay so I make everything about Five, but the whole Cha Cha fight scene with Allison and then Diego kind of scares me. Cha Cha and Hazel are both amazing assassins (they’re both probably right below Five) and neither Allison nor Diego could stop her by themselves. Could you imagine Five fighting one of his siblings? Especially with his spatial jumps? We already got a glimpse of his true combat skills when he fights Lila in S2. What a scary little old man

☂ “Vanya, get out of here!” Again, wanting to make sure that Vanya is safe and gets away. He even tried to go look for her

☂ Something I don’t really get about the Hazel and Luther fight is why doesn’t Luther just overpower him? Luther has super strength and on top of that he has giant muscles due to the gorilla DNA. Shouldn’t he be able to beat Hazel to a pulp? Maybe we have to consider that Hazel might have been altered by The Commission to be stronger and more durable, but they haven’t mentioned that in the show

☂ “Ah, you gotta cut down on that fast food, soldier.” What are you talking about Diego he literally just got off the moon two days ago aflksjfdk

☂ So Luther was too injured to jump out of the way of the chandelier but was able to push it up off of himself? 🤔

☂ I personally think that Luther’s body design adaptation for the show is really cool and that they gave him the perfect amount of bulk without making him look ridiculous

☂ This has been pointed out before, but cross-stitch foreshadowing, baby 

☂ Again, Diego my beloved mama’s boy ♥️

☂ Well at least Diego thought about Vanya dying before thinking about his siblings dying because of her. The latter is ironic!

☂ The clock above Luther’s mirror reads approximately 1:30 am. Hazel and Cha Cha didn’t want to wait until morning

☂ I wonder how different it would be if Five was present at the Academy when Hazel and Cha Cha attacked. He probably would have surrendered himself to them, but it's fun to entertain the idea that he would go apeshit if he knew that they were harming his family in order to find him

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

[howlingsaturn]

the wounds that keep on bleeding (2.2k)

i need a scene where tk comforts carlos and since im not sure the show will deliver, i decided to write one. trigger warning for mentions of domestic violence. i do not go into detail but please stay safe everyone. <3

 ao3 link if you wanna say hi.

darling, only you can ease my mind

help me leave these lonely thoughts behind

when they pull me under,

and I can feel my sanity start to unwind

darling, only you can ease my mind

— Ease My Mind, Ben Platt

Carlos normally prides himself on being a positive and optimistic guy. He's able to find hope and happiness even in the darkest of times and if his friends and family are struggling, he's always just around the corner, ready to offer company and encouraging words. It's not like it's a hardship for him, he's always looked out for other people, it's part of who he is.

But there are days, as rare as they might be, where Carlos doesn't know what's up or down, right or wrong. There are days where he too will drown in sadness or repressed anger, where the world is so dark, he fears he'll never find his way back to the light. The thing is, he's always dealt with these days on his own, he knows the protocol. But now there's someone else, someone who is so closely tied to his life and emotions that Carlos has no way of hiding himself away until the storm passes.

But he tries. He tries because the possibility that he'll sweep TK up in his hurricane of emotions without meaning to, that he'll pull him down right with him, is outright terrifying. And it's not that he thinks TK is weak and won't be able to handle it but because Carlos feels so strongly, so wholly, so all-consumingly. He knows of the weight that it carries, how much strength it costs, and it wouldn't be the first time someone ran away from him because of it. He didn't blame them and he wouldn't blame TK if he decided that it was too much but Carlos has become selfish where TK is concerned. Carlos knows, with shocking clarity, that a world without TK in his life is not one he wants to be a part of. 

It was only a matter of time before the hurricane hit. It's not like Carlos didn't expect things to go bad one day, he just didn't think it was going to be as terrible as it ended up being. They got the call halfway into his shift and it had shaken him up so badly, his body hadn't stopped trembling even after he had sat down on his desk hours later. His boss had taken one look at him and sent him home with 11 hours left of his shift. Carlos didn't even argue, simply packed his stuff, dragged his heavy feet outside to his car and drove himself home on autopilot.  

And so when Carlos arrives at his place in the early morning hours to find TK fast asleep on the left side of his bed, something in him crumbles; quiet and slow, like leaves falling from a tree. He stands there on the threshold, staring at TK's sleeping form like it's the only thing holding him together, and doesn't have the strength to take the last couple of steps to warmth and comfort. He feels his shoulders droop, his body growing heavy with exhaustion and he turns around, heading back into the darkness he came from. 

He sits down on the couch, his elbows resting on his thighs and his head pillowed on the palms of his hands, and wills his racing thoughts to calm. He feels his heart beat frantically in his chest as if it's trying to claw its way out and Carlos feels a coldness seep into his skin that he knows will linger even long after this day has ended. It's always like that and still, it doesn't make it easier. The pain in his heart continues to grow, leaving his chest a gaping wound, and Carlos feels himself slipping into a deep, dark hole. 

It's not until someone calls out to him, his name spoken in a hushed voice, that Carlos' mind stops drifting and returns to the here and now. He looks up with great difficulty, his head like stone on his neck and squints his eyes to see in the dark. TK's figure comes into view then, blurry at first but as he steps into the cone of light provided by the small lamp on the living room table, Carlos is granted a pair of beautiful green eyes and feels a little bit of sanity return to his frantic mind. 

"What are you doing up?" he asks, looking away quickly, and as his voice cracks slightly, he clears his throat. "You should go back to bed."

TK stands in front of him, his eyes a little foggy from sleep and frowns, reaching out a tentative hand to brush his fingers against Carlos' wrist. 

"No use with you being down here, is there?" he says and Carlos' throat closes up with emotions he can't grasp. He wants to reach out for TK and pull him close but he also wants to leave and hide himself away where no one would find him. 

"Are you okay?" TK asks, worry etched into his voice and Carlos tenses with a new wave of anxiety. 

"I'm fine," he blurts out far too quickly and judging by how TK's frown deepens, he knows he's been caught in his lie. "Go back to sleep, you've got a shift in a couple of hours." 

TK considers him for a few seconds but then he merely shrugs. "I don't sleep well without you anyway so I'd rather stay right here with you." 

Carlos doesn't respond, blindly staring at a grey spot on the floor and wondering if TK is going to let it go and go back to bad. As he watches TK shift from one foot to the other, he knows that's not going to happen. 

"Do you mind if I?" TK asks after a few minutes of silence, stepping right into Carlos' space and he's so close all of a sudden that Carlos can't help but look up. TK's gaze is indecipherable but he raises his hand in question, leaving Carlos to stare at him confusedly. He smiles a little then and if Carlos wasn't so out of his mind he would've sworn he saw his cheeks turn pink. TK puts his palm against Carlos' chest, pushing a little, and Carlos' body goes easily. TK plants himself on Carlos' lap then, winding an arm around Carlos' shoulder and as he presses close to get himself comfortable, something in Carlos' chest flutters. He closes his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath in and TK watches him silently as he calms himself. When Carlos opens his eyes again TK is still looking at him. 

"Hi," he says sweetly and reaches out a hand, letting his fingers dance across Carlos' face. 

"Hi," Carlos breathes back, eyes roaming across TK's face in both gratitude and shock. His arms have found their way around TK's back like they were meant to hold him, fingers restlessly tapping against the soft fabric of what Carlos knows to be one of his old hoodies. It's a little baggy across the shoulders and chest but TK doesn't seem to mind. They smell like you and they're comfortable, he had shrugged when Carlos had asked him about it and Carlos remembers the warm feeling that had settled in his gut upon seeing TK in his clothes for the first time. He really wishes he could have that feeling back but all he feels right now is emptiness. 

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong?" TK asks and there it is again, that ugly feeling of dread. His fingers flex instinctively but if his grip on TK's hip is painful, TK doesn't let it show. Carlos' anxiety must show on his face though because TK's thumb over his brow stills, his whole face etched in worry. 

"Babe." 

Carlos has to squeeze his eyes shut again, willing down the panic that bubbles in his gut but as TK presses gentle kisses to his forehead and cheek, his hands carefully framing Carlos' face, the panic settles again. He needs to tell him, he thinks, he needs to get it out before he drowns in it. 

"There was an emergency," he croaks out before he can change his mind but pictures start flooding his head and his throat closes up again. His eyes shoot open in fright but TK is right there to soothe him.

"You're okay," he says, "You're with me. Nothing's gonna happen to you, I promise." 

And something about these words makes Carlos' mind stop spinning. He looks at TK then, really looks at him, as if he's seeing him for the very first time and all of the anger, all the hopelessness and sadness dissipate into resentment.

"It's not about what happens to me," he confesses, "It's about what happens to others when I'm not there to prevent it." 

TK's heart aches at the empty look he finds in Carlos' eyes and so he holds him a little tighter and kisses his head more fiercely. Carlos breathes him in and the hand that still rests on TK's hip flexes with anxiety. He wills his troubling thoughts away and instead allows himself to take comfort in TK's gentle touches. TK is infinitely patient with him and after a few more moments of silence, Carlos begins to explain. He tells TK about the emergency and the woman who called, fearing for her life. He describes how she looked when he arrived, how scared she was of Carlos getting too close and then he talks about the husband, blinded by rage, and how he tried to hurt Carlos too. He's quick to soothe a worried TK whose eyes have begun scanning him for injuries before Carlos could even finish his explanation. Carlos thinks about ending the story here, with the happy ending, but something in him urges him to continue, to talk about how this woman will probably never fully recover from what she experienced. TK says he can't know that; this woman is a survivor, she can overcome anything. And Carlos wants to agree, argue that yes, she is a survivor, but she'll spend the rest of her life questioning everything that led up to that day. Carlos knows, he's seen it up close, and TK squeezes the hand he's grabbed sometime during Carlos' explanation in a quick attempt to offer comfort.

"My sister is the strongest person I know," Carlos whispers, his voice wavering with emotion, "but she's never been the same since." 

TK nods in understanding, his own head a whirlwind of thoughts. He tries to find the right words knowing this is not something he can fix, that anyone can fix. 

"What happened to your sister is not your fault," TK argues and Carlos is already shaking his head in disagreement, "It's not! And what happened to that woman isn't either. Carlos, you saved her life today. That's a good thing." 

"Then why do I feel like my heart is split in two?" His voice breaks and Carlos knows that it'll take him a while to find it again. 

TK huffs out a shuddering breath and takes Carlos' face back into his hands, tilting his head up with gentle firmness. 

"Because you're a good person, Carlos, the best one I know, and you try to save as many people as you can because that's the kind of man that you are. But you're human. You can only do so much." 

Carlos looks at him and the pain TK finds in his eyes is palpable. It's a little shocking to him, how Carlos can hold himself together right now. There are tears in his eyes but not a single one falls and TK wonders if maybe this is what Carlos needs, to let go of all these emotions and just let himself be, no matter how violent and ugly it would turn out to be. But Carlos is still looking at him like he doesn't believe a word TK just said and TK simply can't let that stand. 

"How do you not realise how important and special you are?" 

Carlos shakes his head again but TK is quick to interfere. He leans forward, softly resting their foreheads together. 

"I need you to listen carefully to what I'm about to say, okay? You're a hero, Carlos, to so many people out there but especially to me." 

Carlos looks at him with wide eyes and TK swallows down the tears that threaten to fall. 

"You saved me," TK whispers, "So please let me save you too." 

As TK carefully reaches into Carlos' open wound, his aching heart now laid openly in the palms of TK's hands and Carlos' eyes a mirror to his own vulnerability, TK realises the depth of his feelings and finds himself unable to keep them to himself. 

"I love you," he breathes into the space between them and as he spreads balm on Carlos' wound, Carlos slowly starts to heal. His heart skips a beat in TK's gentle hands and then another, and another, until it finally returns to its old rhythm. Carlos reaches for TK then, pulling him down so their lips can meet and TK pours every bit of the love he feels into that kiss. As Carlos takes it all in, tugging TK close until there's no more space left, he realises that he's not alone and that what he does, who he is, is enough. At least for someone. And perhaps that is all he can ask for in times as dark and terrifying as these.

[onlyhereforangst]

WWR 

Ok y’all if you thought 18x05 was long, you in for a trip. Get ready for lots of caps, lots of not PG-13, and lots of overanalysis. I hope this lives up to the hype since it took me forever and a day (literally almost every minute of the 20 minutes of scenes took practically an hour to breakdown, I have a problem I know). Anyways, let’s get sweaty under the cut because the day ain’t young no more 👇🏼

Their bickering in the car but Nick smiling the whole time is a huge married vibe but also he’s so happy she’s alive and will take any shit she gives him vibe and I’m here for it. Pluuuuus Ellie avoiding nicks question about the phone call 😭 he’s so freaking concerned for her (he’s been through his own version of PTSD), his voice drops all the teasing and he actually opens up a little bit - really wants to make sure she’s ok. He needs to be there for her and ugh poor Ellie, those walls are going back up after that hug- a momentary lapse in her usual self. She’s so far outside of her comfort zone talking about feelings and weaknesses and she immediately deflects. Nick respecting that deflection is also huge growth for him, knows it’s not ok to push through like a person like him would normally do and force her hand. He knows she needs space but also clearly ready to be that ear to listen or shoulder to cry on whenever she needs it.

His joke about notable mustaches only to be the butt of the joke about using the word notable later is hiiiiiilarious. 

Her comment about Zillow 😂 um excuse me ellie you looking for houses and to settle down 👀 but then(!!) Nick pushes her down the stairs first when shots start, getting her out of harm’s way and putting himself in danger like he always does my heart 😩 like he’s still on the stairs by the time she’s in a cell “safe.” And side note damn they are good shots, oof. 

The toilet bowl scene is easily one of my favorites. Nick freaking out over Ellie moving hers and him not being able to had me DYING. Like legit cackling over his worry she’s suddenly way stronger than him 🤣🤣 and then he gets SO pissed they took their car hahaha like so mad he hugs the damn wall in frustration. But then he claims he’ll rip out the bars of the window (you know, to make up for not being able to move his toilet and still prove he’s macho) and Ellie’s comment about superhuman strength & his agreement LOL. His anxiety level of being trapped and more so Ellie being trapped is getting to him already. He is reaching for any possible way to get them (read: her) out of there safely it doesn’t matter that the plan sounds outrageous. Cue him moving back to pissed and breaking the toilet with his damn foot like 🥵 we get you strong Nick but no need to show off. Hot damn. His “I really think we’re stuck in here” after that IDK why but had be laughing again. I’m pretty sure I said “no shit Sherlock” at my TV watching live because thank you Captain Obvious. 

Aaaaaand then when she pauses and finds the bomb bricks but goes so quiet oooooof he’s on high alert. You can practically hear his heart pounding and then he goes and starts panicking slightly when she doesn’t respond with our first use of a first name, “Ellie we have a wall between us, what is it?” But his tone is so frantic and his eyes are darting around putting the whole picture together and my heart aches for him. He’s starting to realize just how helpless he is to save her. The exact thing he likely swore he’d set out to never let happen again (Ellie in danger) after last episode, is happening again. And this time, it’s not like he can go hunt the guys down, he’s quite literally stuck. Helpless with no way out. Aaand here’s where Nick starts to lose his patience. Pissed at himself for not saving her before, not being able to save her now. Pissed at everything. He cannot comprehend how she is in this situation AGAIN and he can do nothing. But oh lord, he doesn’t even realize it’s about to get worse...

Him brooding over this crappy situation in a corner and being the cautious one is so unlike him (but also so telling as to how unnerved he is by her being in danger once again and not wanting to do anything to make it worse) and Ellie calls him on being “so careful, cowboy” and hot damn again she really does like a man in uniform doesn’t she??? 👀🔥 and she not picky on the type of uniform either 😏 but Nick immediately deflects because he’s not *quite* ready to talk feelings so let’s get down to business about counting bullets BUT the second Ellie starts to worry again he goes into hyperdrive protective and caring boyfriend partner. Without hesitation he tells her they’re going to figure it out because goddamnit he HAS to figure this out for her. He can’t fail, again. And he’s so so SO worried about her & her mental health right now and I sincerely love it. I know Ellie doesn’t want to have that conversation but I stan (I can’t believe I’m using that word, I’m not hip enough for that word) an empathetic boyfriend who supports their significant other when facing mental health issues (like PTSD in Ellie’s case) ❤️❤️❤️ Nick breaks my heart, he wants to be there for her- wants to be the one she feels comfortable enough to open up to and he just gets so dejected when she rejects his probing again (but I don’t blame her, it’s *hard* to open up about these difficult topics), his body language slumped over the bars and tone is just so defeated even if he tries to snap back into his usual Torres self (newsflash it ain’t working bruv because she’s not totally wrong in calling you hovery). Yet naturally he gets annoyed because he JUST CARES ELLIE DAMMIT LET HIM CARE. Like you go through this entire list of him trying to protect you from everything that could go wrong because HE CARES. HE WAS TERRIFIED HE LOST YOU ELLIE. HE TRULY THOUGHT HE’D NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN. NEVER TOUCH YOU AGAIN. NEVER TELL YOU HE LOVES YOU. HE CARES. AND HE CANT LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU AGAIN. HE LITERALLY WANTS TO SAVE YOU (his own words because god damn this show plays with my emotions 😭😭) FROM ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING BECAUSE HE COULDN’T SAVE YOU FROM GETTING KIDNAPPED AND HAVING TO FIGHT YOUR WAY OUT OF A PLANE RIGGED TO BLOW. Ok done with yelling for now but man this part gets me. The implications are so important even over trivial stuff. He felt helpless and Nick Torres cannot do helpless, so he tries do to everything else in his power to keep her away from any danger no matter how little it seems. Even hot coffee is too much for his precious babe and while he knows she’s not some delicate, fragile flower- he knows she can hold her own (& has called her a badass as proof), his heart can’t possibly take another explosion on an airstrip. Even if that airstrip is something like a burnt tongue. Ok I die now 😩😩😩

But let’s come back to living because this bullshit Nick “I always tell you what’s going on with me...you ask I tell you” exCUSE ME. Is this the same man who claimed he was being overprotective and that Ellie was like a sister to him?!???!! Yeah, I call bullSHIT that you tell Ellie what’s going on with you. (And Ellie calls BS too, btw buddy). 

But when Ellie finally decides to open a little I love it. I think she finally understood at least just a bit that he just, simply cares about her & her well-being. So she gives him a tiny taste of what she’s going through. And god Nick’s face when he understands the gravity of what she’s having to face mentally. Like I know he knew but I don’t think he knew just how bad. And you can just see that hatred towards his perceived failure turning inward once again as the mood shifts in these cells to somber. Plus Ellies last comment here with them *needing* to find a way out of there- girrrrrrrl poor baby girl 😭 she’s struggling so hard right now and trying so hard to not let it show and not let it get to her but you know she’s terrified. You know she’s desperately triggered. UGH Ellie 💔💔

We cut to Ellie desperately trying to figure out a solution to getting the fuck outta there and once again my heart aches for her triggered self. Nick seems desolate and frustrated, shutting down slowly as it seems less and less likely they’ll get out. Buuuuut then the GUM. Ahahahahahah Ellieeeeeee how do you know about that last piece of gum for “breath emergencies”??? AHHHH this man’s jeans are so damn tight (& yes trust me I would know, I observe) but like also you staring at a spot on said tight jeans that’s only maybe five inches from a different outline 👀👀👀 GIRL I FEEL YOUUUU. GET. IT. Plus she knows exactly what he calls it and I freaking love that. His excuse for why he has to save it is also hilarious 🤣 his breath emergency later hmmm doubt you wanted to save it to MacGyver something Nick sooooo you got another thing in mind?? 😏 and then LMAO it’s mushy because his pants are sweaty I’m rolllllling. Your pants too tight Nick? (this is not humanly possible btw) ALSO is this why later Ellie says she expected Nick to be more sweaty??? If it is and now rewatching I kind of feel like it is, omg what a great callback on her part 🤣🤣

Nick trying to coach her on the proper way of opening the cell door is hilarious because bitch which one of you was able to move their toilet Nick 👀😂 but oh damn now it’s when shit goes downhill fast. 

Nick not being able to see anything and his frantic questioning is amazing compared to Ellies absolute panic realizing she is once again facing down a bomb. I feel like her calming breaths are a coping technique Jack has been helping her with but man kill me now, Nick’s face?? When he realizes what he thought was helplessness earlier has just shot yo exponentially??? Oof with a capital O. This poor man needs a damn drink and yet all he can have is a club soda boy I *feel you* on that (side note #letsgetthisbabyoutmybellyasap). His woman has gone and gotten herself into another bomb encounter for the second time in a week. And he CANT DO A DAMN THING ABOUT IT. Can you imagine the absolute inner (and outer, give it a sec) freak out he’s having?? He wants to save her from hot coffee for Christ’s sake and now he can’t save her from a rigged bomb. Talk about a shitty situation. 

I just love the Torres Teachable Moment little discussion. Like Nick’s smirk gets me. I really don’t think he knew she had a name for it or realized that she caught on to what he was doing (trying to help her grow as an agent without being obvious or “degrading”). And then we move on to comparing arm length and I crack up 😂 “my arms are longer than yours” and “no they’re disproportionately short for your body” HAHAHA like what the hell have you guys been doing to know this?? Do you stand *that* close together with your arms down to know their lengths comparatively and how much do you stare at Nick, Ellie? Daaaaaaamn. From his gum to his arms to his body I see you 👀 I’m not hating tho I would too 😏 I think what I loved most about this whole jail scene (aside the ending obvs) is the quick flipping back and  forth from joking & teasing to dead serious & worried. Like they’re both trying so hard to keep it above board and light- trying desperately not to think of the implications of what’s happening but then (usually Nick) those intrusive thoughts sneak through and he can’t help but redirect them back to serious. It shows their inner warrings with themselves and just how hard this is for both of them. How much they want to appear strong and unflappable but they both know deep down the whole situation is eating away at them. And Nick bringing up her standing on a bomb only moments before he tells her he’s going to shoot the wall- OOF. Ellie’s genuine terror for him injuring himself and her then not being able to do a damn thing about it because she’s standing on a FREAKING BOMB is so painful to watch. Like she’s stuttering she can’t get it out fast enough, she needs to stop him, she can’t fathom him getting hurt while she’s helpless (uh, hello there theme of the episode how have you been). Nick’s facial expressions through this scene are also so telling. He goes from “this isn’t a big deal” to “oh shit she’s panicking” to “holy shit is she going to open up, is she really talking about this” to “fuck it’s my fault she had to go through that and it’s tearing me up inside every second” to “hooooooly fuck is she about to say what I think she’s about to say?? Is she about to confirm what I know deep inside but am too afraid to say aloud?? Is it true??” And ELLIE OH ELLIE. Reliving that *has* to be hard, has to. To finally bring it up after she’s been dodging it all damn day...you know the thought of him getting seriously injured had her more than rattled. And she cracks open those cement walls around her heart so briefly, the glimpse in it provides I think a turning point for Nick. Finally seeing that it’s not just him, she’s in deep too. Even if she can’t say it, can’t say she was fighting to see him again 😩💔 he knows. She says he only has one bullet left and to save it and they’ll figure some other way with tears in her eyes my HEART. But Nick gets it. Nick gets it because he’s been in the exact same situation. His eyes as they process the implication of her words and the fear for his life running through them 🥺 his simple “ok” is so unlike his normal self, you just know he’s once again doing anything and everything he can for. Even if that means standing down and not fighting for his way (the natural instinct for him). He knows what she needs is reassurance he won’t accidentally shoot himself. So he does it 😭 But him pacing (as a man of action suddenly faced with forced inaction) & Ellie begging for an inventory over and over (a woman of logics and data faced with PTSD) is so painful. You can tell they’re both struggling and neither wants to admit it but also they both need to do something - for Nick that becomes finally deciding to shoot a foothold in the wall and for Ellie that meant trying to go over their facts again and again but suddenly she’s once again terrified Nick is going to injure himself. The one man she fought to see again might hurt or even kill himself and she can’t do a damn thing because she’s standing on a bomb for fuck’s sake. Aaaaaaand cue the blow up. Cue Nick voicing his worst fears of Ellie accidentally triggering the bomb. Cue Ellie getting defensive because she’s so damn used to be babied and treated like she can’t take care of herself. Cue the “overprotective hovery man crap” line that had me rolling on the floor (tbt ROFL). Cue Ellie calling herself a girl but Nick calling her a woman like DAMN get me where it hurts Nick- that right there is a man who respects the living hell out of this fiiiiiiine representation of a woman in front of him 🔥. Cue Ellie saying because I’m “me” like um FUCK YES IT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE YOU AND HE’S TOO SCARED OF LOSING YOU ELLIE. Cue Nick finally losing his shit and getting reeeeeealllllllll like hallelujah do you hear the church bells?! Even Ellie knows to finally pause and listen. Nick never loses it on her, never. She knows this shift is serious and it’s happening. And omg his confession can I just have a moment of silence for the GROWTH.

Thank you, it needed commemorating. The same Nick who didn’t belong to a team is the Nick that is out here claiming he can’t sit idly by while the love of his life might get blown up again. He’s NOT OKAY WITH THAT AND NEITHER AM I. NOT AFTER THIS GODDAMN SCENE. His head bob accentuating just- how- important this is to him is so in character (thank you Wilmer) and theeeeeeen shoot me the way he has to fucking collect himself from almost crying. The emotion- there just aren’t words. Literally he has to look up to the sky and blink back those tears you know are threatening to fall at the thought of the woman who he still *technically* hasn’t told that he loves her could potentially die, again, for the second time in a week. So guess the hell what? He’s telling her (sort of). He’s telling her he would do anything, anything, put himself in danger’s way if it meant there was even the tiniest chance it would save her. Pardon the callback but- HE WOULD RISK HIS LIFE TO SAVE HERS. DON’T YOU REMEMBER ELLIE. YOU SAID I KNOW. DO YOU KNOW NOW. DO YOU. BECAUSE GOOD LORD CAN YOU MARRY THIS MAN ALREADY BEFORE I DIVORCE MY HUSBAND AND DO IT (jk love you honey 😘). But like damn, she knows it now. That look- she bites her lip and has tears in her own eyes at the realness she can feel even through a cement block wall. It’s a feeling she’s not used to. She isn’t used to being a person someone would literally risk death for. She doesn’t think she deserves it (sip on that like whiskey, mull it over, let it sink in & cry about it). Even if she knows she doesn’t need saving (and so does Nick), she finally realizes it isn’t about that. It isn’t about he feels like she can’t do it. It’s about the overwhelming pull that your life isn’t greater than the one you love. That love, real true love, is knowing you would do anything for that other person (and they the same) because the world would be worse off without them in it. And Nick will never be okay with a world without Ellie. Never. Their joint quiet after his confession is so powerful. There’s no claims of falsehood, there’s no trying to quip back at him, there’s no trying to stop him. It just settles into the room- into their hearts. They’ve crossed a line and it means so, so much. Nick can feel a weight lifted off his shoulders as he loads his gun and gets ready and Ellie can feel a weight settle on hers from the need to reciprocate. And not out of pity, it would be out of truth. But she knows it isn’t the right time. She knows she has to do it, and she will. She held back earlier when she couldn’t say she was fighting for Nick, but his outburst and confession gave her the courage in this scene. She finally has confirmation she means to him like he means to her. And she has to know, she has to know if he means it or if it was heat of the moment so when the dust settles she inquires, “what’s going on over there?” A pulse check. A way of asking without asking—did you mean that? And the shock of confirmation of her face as Nick, dead as a doornail serious says, “close calls make you live harder”….holy hell. That’s the moment it snaps for her, everything snaps into place—the agony he’s gone through not only this week, but the past couple years of close calls. He’s done beating around the bush, he’s living harder, he’s going all in, he’s getting what he wants. He refuses to let anything like a damn jail cell rigged to blow stand in his way. And she knows, she knows just how important she is to him. He might not have said those three words, but that phrase- that phrase was a direct window into Nick Torres’ soul. And by god I love it. 

But Nick pulling a prank on Ellie like that is also so Nick- the little shit. The genuine concern in her voice when she yells his name 😭 like dude, her worst fear, something causing ongoing trauma in her head right now is the ONE THING you decide to tease her with??? I should expect nothing less but damn that’s low 😂 her checking on his status update with Gibbs though feels like such a role reversal from earlier and it cracks me up, side note. 

When they’re getting ready to stand down the returning brother and Nick gets in position next to the wall but can’t even look ahead- he’s just staring at Ellie, oof. In that moment he’s brutally and painfully aware she can’t hide for cover. Not only can she not hide, he can’t cover her because he’s (locked in a cell but also) out of bullets. He’s once again near helpless and the woman he loves (and has now finally kind of told) is a sitting duck. Someone get this poor man a damn club soda, I repeat. 

And the little talk between the two parties- I love that Ellie takes point. Love that Nick lets her. Like damn that’s a supportive partner right there and I 👏🏼 AM 👏🏼 HERE 👏🏼 FOR 👏🏼 IT. He knows she can handle this shit and he will willingly let her. But nooooooowwwww weee gettinggggg to the goooooood paaaaaaart. 

Ok first, “good to see you” - this man has missed her face. Straight up dying to see her in the flesh. Just listening to her voice and not seeing the emotions written on her face is not enough. Seeing her alive, smiling at him, he needed it. But of course, let’s keep it light, act natural Nicholas. 

“I thought you’d be sweatier” - excUUUUSE ME ELLIE. Not only did you just call out his reference to his sweaty jeans earlier, you also WANT TO SEE HIM SWEATY DON’T YOU. THAT SMIRK SAYS YES DON’T LIE. And honestly, I don’t blame you shhhhh.

“The day is young” - can I get another excUUUUSE ME NICK. Words- they don’t- function. Because that knowing smile of hers- SHE’S OKAY WITH IT. GET YOUR MIND OUT THE GUTTER YOU TWO THERE’S A HOMICIDAL MAN UPSTAIRS. YOU’VE GOT TIME TO GET SWEATY TOGETHER TONIGHT YOU HEAR ME. THAT DAY IS YOUNG AND SO ARE YOU SO GET THOSE BRICKS AND THEN YOU CAN GET TO BANGING LATER. I just fucking can’t with their smirks. I can’t. This isn’t the normal banter, this is the fuck me banter and I’m okay with it. Because right after the I-wanna-get-in-your-sweaty-jeans banter we have Ellie putting her HAND ON HIS GD HIP AS HE PASSES ONLY TO MOVE UP TO BOTH SHOULDERS. AND THEEEEEEEN HOLY HELL SOMEONE LIGHT A MATCH BECAUSE THIS BITCH ABOUT TO EXPLODE FROM SEXUAL TENSION. Is it possible to rewatch this scene a thousand times in slo-mo and still not have watched it enough? Because that is me. That will always be me. How are they so in tandem, so in sync as they look up mere inches from each other- directly into the other’s eyes knowing exactly how serious this situation is and yet pausing to freaking gaze longingly (read: have eye sex) at each other. And I’m sorry Nick looks down at her lips like three times??? For a good while too?? Sir nothing you said required you to look there. nothing. And also there’s no way his hands aren’t on her I thiiiiiiink they’re on her upper arms (based on the last shot as he’s walking to get the bricks) but like hold her tight Nick please. Also while Ellie doesn’t look at his lips (in this scene) holy shit those are some come-hither eyes if I’ve ever seen them. “I’m sure” ABOUT YOU. SHE’S SURE ABOUT YOU NICK. SHE’S SURE SHE’S READY TO GET SWEATY WITH YOU NICK. Like literally, this girl had been leaning up against the cement wall for a looooong time before he has to pass her and now, NOW that Nick has to pass her- SHE STANDS UP TALL. TO GIVE HIM NO SPACE. WHILE SHE’S STANDING ON A BOMB. BITCH YOU WANTED IT. That was a damn power move Ellie and I am not mad about it. She so easily could have leaned back, given him a ton of space to get around, but nooooooo she stands right there, middle of the tight opening and says yes Nick come get 1mm from my face, touch me here, touch me there, touch me everywhere don’t care 👀 while you pass. I’m sure I’m okay with it because you’ve just eye fucked me and it’s exactly what I wanted. And I mean come oooooooon just the underlying emotion behind both of their words. Nick isn’t just asking if she won’t move her foot- it’s his way of asking if she’s ok and she looks SO much better, more relaxed now that he’s with her. The tense, anxiety-ridden Ellie that was asking for inventory or snapping about him being overprotective, is now at ease despite still standing on said bomb- all because Nick is right there with her and if that doesn’t make you 🥺😭 I don’t know what will. Like she can’t even take her eyes off of him even after rude brother interrupts this gold moment of theirs until Nick has already completely turned his head towards the dude. She’s just so relieved to see him standing there, so close to her, feeling his warmth underneath her hands again. 

Side note to prove my earlier point, when Nick casually reaches through to throw the bags of bricks through the door Ellie is leaning on the wall and THERE’S SO MUCH ROOM. HE COULD HAVE EASILY PASSED. 

Nick looks like he literally wants to murder the guy, enraged that he’s the one who put Ellie in this situation again. We would’ve seen swan!Nick if it wasn’t for Ellie choosing this moment to finally share her feelings. Because remember- she’d decided she was going to reciprocate but knew it wouldn’t come off the right way before. Now’s the time. Now when the immediate threat to their lives is gone (excluding bomb of course). Now when they’re alone, they’re together, and she can look him in the eye so he knows she’s serious. He can read the truth in her eyes rather than doubt her words said across a jail cell wall. 

“This isn’t about me, it’s about you” - well damn that got your attention didn’t it Nick??? So used to putting Ellie first, putting yourself second its weird to hear it come from someone else isn’t it? That someone is worried for your safety? That someone needs you living and breathing just as much as you need them doing the same? His eyes immediately change from Imma kill this man to did I just hear this woman right. 

“I’m not okay with you getting blown up either” - first off, the parallelism is what makes this absolute *chef’s kiss* because Nick has literally zero chance of being blown up if he runs after this dude. Shot? Yes. But blown up? No. Ellie has chosen these words precisely to call back to what Nick said earlier. To make sure he’s aware she understood the weight of his earlier confession and is making the same one. They are on equal footing- their feelings are not only reciprocated but just as strong as the other. She could’ve said anything else but choosing his exact words was so poignant in the moment. It’s like the difference between saying “I love you” & “I love you too” compared to “I love you” & “I really care about you.” And the way she says it with such confidence, she isn’t playing around, she didn’t even *have* to bring up their previous conversation, she’s got determination etched across her face with a ghost of a smile on her lips. She means this, and it’s dying to bust out of her. And so the shock to Nick’s system is quite frankly understandable. This is Ellie - someone who hours ago didn’t even want to tell him who she was trying to make a phone call to. Ellie who has walls the size of Mt. Everest erected around her heart. Ellie who could have brushed off his earlier comments said from the safety of a cement wall between them. But no. This Ellie is all-in, she’s ready to own up to her side. She’s ready to lay it on the line just like him. Equal footing. If Nick is ready to jump, then so is she. And he’s just so taken aback- glancing at her lips, blinking through the shock as he processes. Processes the weight of her words on their relationship. He knows he could laugh it off, make a joke about his superhuman strength not allowing him to get blown up, or he could man up and take them both forward. Ellie doesn’t even flinch under his stare, if anything she becomes more confident, more resolute in her words and her stance. Her eyes searching his for what his reaction will be and for a brief moment I swear there’s a tiny bit of worry, a tiny bit of unease that he wasn’t ready for her to repeat his words back to him. 

“Well, what are we gonna do about that?” Oh YOU HEARD. That smirrrrrrrrk Nicholas stop iiiiiit, Eleanor’s standing on a bomb you don’t need to light her on fire!! Because this is a challenge, a goddamn challenge. Staring straight into her soul saying, “oh you want me and I want you? How about we blow this popsicle stand and go get fucking sweaty ok? Because that’s what I want to do about that 👀🔥🔥🔥” and not only is the smirk sexy as hell but it’s also got this glint of elation. Like he could not be happier she said those words back to him. That he finally took Ziva’s advice, wasn’t a wuss and WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT IT PAID OFF. But his words also tell of a little nervousness. And not necessarily in a bad way, more as in a leaving it to her way. Putting her in the driver’s seat of this relationship knowing it’s where she’ll feel most comfortable. Given all she’s been through, like all of it not just the past week, he knows that she needs to be in control of how fast they move. And once again his chivalry and thoughtfulness of her is just- I cry. He doesn’t just assault her with what they should do next, he leaves it for her to decide. For her to weigh in on how far and how fast she wants to take them. And by the little shy smile Ellie gives him- she knows what he means. She knows her words have hit their mark and that he respects her enough to let her lead the way. And now she has to make her decision, a decision we DON’T GET TO SEE BUT I’M NOT BITTER IT’S FINE. But a decision nonetheless. 

I honestly go two ways on this- the most obvious of hell yes they kissed right then and there and started *something* and then the bitter realistic one of they were probably interrupted by Gibbs (who was literally outside like right then based on timing) but also may have just continued to stare into each other’s eyes- still slightly taken aback by everything they just shared and what it means for them. Still unsure of how they “work” as people who *love* each other, not just partners. Having that reality sink in as they continue to face off and wait for a rescuer. That reality sinking in could lead to obviously very good things (that we better see on our screen or I will fucking riot) or a slight nervous closing-off. Like not quite closed off closed off, but a tiny retreat when the gravity of the day falls down on both of them. I don’t think either will believe they only said what they did because of the situation/moment they were in, but it’s still a lot to deal with after all is said and done. I sincerely hope they unpack this in the coming episodes and give us some direction of what happened after that jail cell scene. 

I love the Torres told McGee about what happened today and I’m so curious about how much detail he told him lol but I also love that McGee has now received genuinely good advice from Torres twice now (the one about the reunion and now this). Just goes to show you the brotherly bond they have ❤️ but also that the advice was the same advice he literally lived out that day. Close calls make you live harder, almost as an affirmation to himself (Nick about what happened), but as something he knew McGee needed to hear too- they all do. 

And then this bullpen scene - one, how far of a time jump is this and whyyyyyyy won’t they telllll meeeeee. They hate me. Two, Ellie coming over so close just to hand off a file that he doesn’t even look at 👀 three, THEIR SMIRKS. WHAT DO THEY MEAN. Because Nick is holding back the world’s biggest smile as Ellie gets close to him and Ellie is just all nonchalantly checking him out with a brief eye-sex scene. Like damn this fine man doesn’t want me to blow up and I don’t want him to blow up either 🔥 Now does this mean they absolutely got together and did the nasty after they got out of that cell? Of course not. We can only dream, and write fics. This ending scene is very reminiscent of what NCIS loves to do with their power of open-ended persuasion at the end of an ep, see On Fire for example. The ending music and comments combined with the shot of Gibbs leaving in the elevator is literally there to try and persuade you that he killed Xavier. In this ep, the ending music and voiceover combined with their looks at each other is there to try and persuade you they totally got it oooooon. Not to say they didn’t, but I don’t trust NCIS one damn bit. 

All in all, cannot *wait* to see where they take ellick the rest of the season. Emily hyped this ep and man, she did NOT disappoint. Let’s see that shift that is going to ripple for the rest of the season now like Wilmer promised 🤞🏼

Oh and my only side note because this was insanely insanely long and if you’re still reading I’m proud of you for hanging in there with me & my screams into the void, send me an ask screaming back it’s ok I’ll love you for it—waaaas the whole team poking fun at Torres for using the word notable was downright hilarious. That and Gibbs trying to do everything himself, I can’t. Comedic gold. I love. I would go from dying of laughter to intense emotions so fast in this ep I got whiplash and for that, I am thankful to Gina. She always delivers 🔥

[chumpmagump]

24 things you've learned about your 24th year on this planet. 1. After having lots of trouble with love and loss, I've learned I will be ok. Remember you are growing into the woman you are are piece by piece.. reclaiming the person you were before the rest of them thought it was okay to take you away from yourself and you thought it was okay to let them. Many will come and go, but you dont have to lose a piece of yourself with them. Be strong, don't let them. 2. It is okay to love someone but not like them. It is okay to have compassion and empathy yet still hold your ground that you deserve better treatment. Compassion is not synonymous with lack of boundaries. 3. After talking to your therapist and doing some hardcore reflection you know you show traits of bipolar disorder or borderline personality. Your therapist thinks its bipolar, you're pretty sure its BPD.. this hurts because BPD is stigmatised to the shit house - you would almost rather have bipolar. You work in a hospital where BPD presentations are rampant and you diagnose them in your assessments a lot. Your coworkers like to say things like '' we got another borderline up in ED...'' as if its a massive inconvenience. You feel kind of weird being a 'quiet' borderline because you function quite well but know you have this fucked up secret that you keep from others for fear of judgement. Your behaviour isnt affecting your functioning enough to warrant a diagnosis. But that doesnt mean your experience isnt true. You're good at recognising when your triggered and where it originates from, and actively pull back more and more from impulsive decisions. You can sit with your emotion at times and you've stopped abusing phenergan and have been self harm clean for almost a year now? so yay for you regulating more of yourself! 4. You realise searching for validation only leads to experiences of invalidation. Stop doing it. 5. You're good at empathising to a point where you find it hard to be angry at others for long, you sometimes tolerate too much because you can reason with the persons reasoning for acting the way they are. You shouldnt mistake this for respect, because its not. You still need self-respect. 6. Making spontaneous choices has led to some new experiences, like changing jobs, moving towns, meeting new people. You've learned you've missed out a lot in your last 5 years of 20 hood because of fear of rejection/anxiety/ unsafe situation phobia. but now thats all you want to do, you fear staying static for too long more than you do change. You're ready for new exciting things. 7. Friendships matter way more than romance ever will. Build your friendships and you will always feel connected and OK no matter what the status of your dating life is. 8. Going for solitude car trips with your music blaring, singing meaningfully, on a road in the dark to no particular, with no particular deadline is your muse. You spend a lot of time in your thoughts and with yourself, and sometimes you imagine being in company when the loneliness hits. But funnily enough when company does finally arrive, you yearn for the space you had with yourself. Honour that time. 9. What you make of this life literally doesnt fucking matter. You will be born again. You will never get another chance to be in this body, with this family, with these friends, in this place, at this time though. Do whatever you can to enrich your experience and dont worry about if other people are having a better time. Concern yourself with your own experience. 10. You validate yourself. Stop asking your friends what you think you should do about a situation, dont feel the need to tell them every situaiton thats going on with you to hear their perspective. Listen to your own voice. You dont listen to her enough. 11. You dont actually have to put up with people being rude to you anymore, you can voice that things bother you. You're not quite there when it comes to friends you dont know too well.. or family you know blow up easily, but you're less of a people pleaser somewhat and i'm proud

of you for that effort.

12. You realise you need to stop seeking validation that others have hurt you. If it hurts it hurts. Simple as that. 13. Trust a person by their actions waaaaaaaaaaaay more than their words. And give a person 6 months. They tend to send their representative first for a while. 14. Sometimes you dream up people without knowing first who they are. Its ok to do this but don't be surprised when they dont fit the version you had of them in your head. Sometimes living in fantasy is far more intoxicating than what comes to fruition. Sometimes i wish i only knew some people for the period of time where they were warm to my heart.

15. Keep going to therapy, its doing amazing things and slowly but surely helping you change your procedurally learned patterns of behaviour including the desire and panic to want to fix social relationships that sometimes shouldnt be fixed. If someone did something shitty to you, and they are upset with YOU , for whatever reason- this does not mean what they did to you is void. It may even mean they are deflecting and gaslighting you. Get out of there and you know dont like goodbyes of any kind. so in this case slowly drop off contact. 16. people cant read your mind with how your feeling, so tell them.. what they do with that information is on them after that.

17. you dont have to take pictures of everything. You will remember the experience more if you dont. 18. Drink your damn coffee!! its not going to stain your teeth anymore. you are so diligent with your skin and teeth care, you deserve to live a little.

19. Dont have sex with friends, just dont. its messy.

20. Just because someone doesnt choose you, doesnt mean you arent good enough. It means they're blind, theyre not meant for you, or better doors are opening. Sometimes you need to shut a few doors for some to open. Trust the process. 21. Its time to start doing the things yu have said you were going to do for years. Its time to sign up for that dance class, its time to start writing again (and you have been!), its time to start stretching (and you have been!), its time to finish your courses (and you have been chipping away!). The best thing is you are so motivated right now to do all of these things. They no longer feel like words, they feel like happenings. 22. Your body and mind is so much stronger than you think. You are managing a 23 + caseload, and working across emergency and intake. You sometimes dont have a lunch break and work 9 hour days at times. You still have the ability to relay information and type notes at great speed, connect with clients at a great depth and come to eat, shower and have been dedicating time to study and friends. Your body is a machine, and you are so much more robust than you give yourself credit for. People look at you and see a small petite typical white girl, but you are strength! 23. You have learned sex can be a safe and very enjoyable experience this year very recently. Even though the partner turned out to be a careless character emotionally within the friendship, you were able to experience what it was like to be that connected with someone sensually in such an intense way which was a first for you. Now you know what kind of sex you like - well you always did but now you know it exists. Good for you.

24. You spend the most time by yourself with yourself. Validate your own experiences and try to interrupt the fantasy that you should be waiting for someone else to enhance or witness it. i know you like to think about what it would be like to sing in the car with someone next to you, or to laugh about a ridiculous vine and hear someone elses laughter drown out your own, or to dance around your house and have someone watch you in awe... but its okay to be your own witness. This is one is probably the hardest ones of them all... All you've ever wanted is to feel seen. You fantasize about it all time, you live in fantasy because atleast you can always feel seen there. You're not so sure if you put yourself out there you'll leave feeling more discarded and invisible than before. This way its safer. It's time to witness you. It's time for 25. A year full of spontaneity, new experiences, enhanced friendships, self validation and enormous growth.

It's finally time to stop hiding from people, pleasurable experiences and desire.

It's time for 25.

[suituuup]

Could you do a follow up to the amputee Beca story where she and Chloe talk about Beca’s time in the military and Beca opens up about how she really feels about being a double amputee? And how Chloe felt seeing Beca’s residual limbs for the first time. Love what you did with the prompt.

Thank you! Here you go :)

home is wherever I’m with you

rating: T

word count: 2k

ao3 link

*

The knock on the door jolts Beca out of her thoughts, her heart doing a happy flutter. 

 Chloe’s here. 

 After graduation, Chloe moved to California to attend Davis’ vet school, and Beca’s dad finally agreed with Beca’s plan to go to LA and to support her financially until she found herself a job in the music industry. 

 Fast forward to after the summer, Beca’s now an intern in one of the country’s most praised labels. Sure, she’s not making any money yet, but at least she’s got a foot in the door. 

 (well, figuratively speaking.)

She and Chloe have been doing long distance for four months now, and they were able to see each other twice, Chloe flying down to LA every eight weeks or so. Past the fact that it’s easier for Chloe to travel, she lives in a dorm while Beca has her own studio, which grants them more privacy. 

 Rolling away from her desk, Beca heads to the door, unlatching it and pulling it open. Chloe is straddling her a second later, Beca’s squeak swallowed by the searing kiss she’s pulled in. 

 “Jesus,” she croaks out when they part, her hands drifting down to Chloe’s ass as she rests her forehead against hers. “Miss me?” 

 Chloe answers by kissing her again, and Beca can only respond in kind, her own body throbbing with want. She’s thankful Chloe chose to wear sweatpants as she slides her hand down them minutes later to give Chloe what she needs. 

 “Wanna order a pizza?” Beca asks as they lie in bed an hour later, spent and hungry from their earlier activity. 

 “You mean you didn’t whip up a romantic dinner for your girlfriend?” Chloe teases, knowing damn well Beca can’t cook to save her life. She pushes a kiss to Beca’s lips. “Pizza sounds great, babe.” 

 Beca reaches for her phone off the bedside table, wincing as another pang of pain shoots through her leg. A leg that’s no longer there. She’s been experiencing those a lot lately, and upon visiting a physical therapist, was told they’re called phantom pains. 

 “What’s wrong?” Chloe asks as Beca dials the number of the pizza place on her phone. 

 “Nothing.” She hasn’t told Chloe about it, finding it difficult still to address anything related to her amputation. But the look Chloe gives her tells Beca she won’t let it rest, and Beca heaves a sigh. “I-I sometimes have pain like-- it feels as though my legs are still there and they’re burning.” 

 “Phantom pains?” 

 Beca blinks, putting her phone aside. “You’ve heard of it?” 

 Chloe nods. “When we started dating, I… did some research about all of it.” 

 Beca’s heart does a funny thing at that. “Oh, right.” 

 “What did the doctor say?”

 “He suggested the mirror therapy where I should stand in front of one so my brain can integrate the fact that I no longer have legs, and also massaging my residual limbs.” 

 “I can do that,” Chloe murmurs. “Give you massages, if-- if you’re comfortable with that.” 

 “You really don’t have to.” 

 “I know I don’t.” Chloe’s hand drifts to cover hers. “I want to help, if I can.” 

 Beca purses her lips, hesitantly glancing at her girlfriend. “Are you sure?”

 “I’m sure. Let’s have dinner and then do that?” 

 “Yeah, okay.” 

 After dinner, Beca tells Chloe where she keeps her oil and settles back on the bed, over a towel to protect the sheets. “You’ll tell me if you feel uncomfortable, right?” She asks just to make sure as Chloe settles down beside her. 

 “Yes,” Chloe says with a smile, brushing a kiss to Beca’s lips. “And likewise for you.” 

 “Yeah.” 

 Chloe rubs some oil between her palms and starts kneading Beca’s left thigh, a groan flitting past Beca’s lips as the relief is near instant. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back against the headboard, exhaling deeply. 

 “That helps a lot,” she murmurs, brushing her fingers over Chloe’s upper arm in an affectionate gesture as she looks at her. “Thank you. I’ve always… been self conscious about how I look, ever since the procedure, and I was convinced you’d find it gross or something.” 

 “Seeing it for the first time at your PT appointment was a bit unsettling, yeah, because I couldn’t help but think about the trauma that triggered it. But did I think it was gross?” Chloe shakes her head. “Never. I promise. I know it’s easier said than done and your feelings are entirely valid, but your body is beautiful the way it is, baby. I hope you learn to accept it someday.”

 Beca is silent for a little while, letting Chloe’s words wash over her and settle the anxiety swirling in her guts. “We drove over a landmine in Afghanistan,” she croaks out after a minute or two, the memory still fresh in her brain even though it’s been two years. She feels Chloe’s movements pause but doesn’t look up. She can still smell it. The tires burning, the oil leaking, the  blood.  “The back of the truck blew up. It’s still blurry and I’m not sure what happened next but I got stuck under the side of it and my legs got crushed,” she takes a pause, emotions rising as she’s never told the story aloud except to her therapist. “Help arrived pretty quickly and they managed to free me. I was choppered to the nearest trauma center.” Beca inhales sharply as tears burn behind her eyes. She can still hear the whines and cries of her comrades before they drew their last breath. “My two best friends… they didn’t make it.”

 Chloe shuffles up to sit by Beca’s side, draping an arm around her waist as she rests her forehead against the side of Beca’s head. Beca leans against her, her hand resting on Chloe’s forearm. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

 Beca swallows, licking her lips. “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you what happened. It’s still… hard to talk about.”

 “Thank you for trusting me,” Chloe murmurs and presses a kiss to Beca’s jaw. 

 “Thank you for being you,” Beca replies, twisting her head to look at Chloe. Her hand drifts up to cradle her cheek. She’s still in awe of how lucky she is to have found such a beautiful person who loves her as much as Chloe does despite everything; being a double amputee, the nightmares, the PTSD episodes. “I love you so much.” 

 Chloe nuzzles Beca’s nose, then brushes a kiss to her lips. “I love you, too.” 

 They experience some ups and downs over the next two years as sometimes long distance is hard to handle, but their relationship only comes out of it stronger. Beca lands a job as assistant producer in the same label. Chloe finds a job in LA after graduating, and they move in together in a cute one bedroom apartment in Pasadena. 

 “What do you mean that last scene was ridiculous?” Chloe asks, seemingly affronted. They’ve just come out of the theater after watching a romcom Chloe dragged Beca to. “I thought it was cute.”

 Beca rolls her eyes as she walks beside her girlfriend. “It was cheesy as f—” 

 A loud  BANG! cuts Beca off and she visibly shrinks, her mind and body going into shock so quickly she can’t stop it. She leans against the nearby street post, her legs feeling like jelly.

 “Babe?” Chloe’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder but Beca recoils from it as her breathing turns labored. “It was a car backfiring, Becs. We’re safe.”

 Beca shakes her head, panic having already gripped her insides and shut out any kind of rationality. Flashbacks jump her mind and sounds that still haunt her in her dreams weave themselves in a continuous loop. 

 “You’re okay baby,” Chloe soothes. “You’re okay. You’re in LA, with me, not at war. You’re  safe. ”

 Beca hears Chloe’s words without really registering them; they get lost in the cloud surrounding her brain and keeping her from going back to reality. 

 She doesn’t know how long it takes, but she eventually snaps back into the present. Street chatter replaces the cries of her friends, cars passing by are quieter than the crawlers of tanks crunching the dry ground, and Chloe is here.

 Beca leans against her, clutching on for dear life as she tries to bring her heart rate back to normal. 

 “It’s okay,” she soothes, brushing a kiss to Beca’s temple. “You’re home.”

 A year later, Beca proposes. There’s no big speech or romantic meal planned; she asks Chloe as they lie in bed one lazy Sunday morning after making love. The sun is shining over them through the window, and Chloe is pressed snugly against her, laughing at one of her lame jokes, and it’s just… perfect. 

 They get married six months later at a resort in Northern California, surrounded by their close friends and families. The next few years are a blur of domestic bliss, before their lives get a whole new meaning with the arrival of their baby.

 Beca’s not quite used to being woken up in the middle of the night, and she jolts at the shrill cry coming through the baby monitor.

 “I’ve got her,” she rasps when she feels Chloe shift next to her, and uses her arms’ strength to transfer herself in the wheelchair set next to her side of the bed. 

 They moved into a larger place when Chloe found out she was pregnant, a house with a garden on the outskirts of LA. It has no stairs and large rooms, ideal for Beca to manœuvre her chair around as she tends not to wear her prosthetics at home. They got a custom made crib which slides open on the side so Beca can easily pick their baby up from her chair, and their changing table can also be lowered to her height. 

 “What’s up, sweet pea?” She coos as she undoes the latch and slides the side of the crib open, leaning forward to lift the three month old. She knows it’s her hungry cry, and with Emma on her lap, rolls towards the kitchen to heat up a pouch of breast milk. Much like the stroller, the wheelchair movements momentarily sooth Emma. 

 “Here we are,” Beca murmurs minutes later, cradling Emma in the crook of her elbow and presenting her with the bottle. She’s still completely in awe of this tiny human being who’s captured her heart the moment Beca held her in her arms for the first time. It’s like she felt her heart double in size to be able to accomodate all the love she held for her wife and daughter. Yeah. Motherhood has turned her into a real softie. She smiles as Emma’s big blue eyes lock on her while she feeds. “You had to have your mommy’s eyes, huh? How am I going to be able to ever say no to you?” 

 Once Emma finishes, Beca heads back to the nursery to change her and sings her back to sleep, carefully setting her in her crib. 

 “Mama loves you, my sweet girl.”

 She rolls back to the master and parks her wheelchair next to her side of the bed, locking the brakes before transferring herself back into bed. After years of practice, it doesn’t take Beca as long as it used to. 

 Chloe snuggles into her side as soon as Beca’s settled down. “All good?”

 “Mhm,” Beca hums, brushing a kiss to her wife’s hair. “Everything’s perfect.”

[i-stan-nct-and-satan]

Not Broken Part 11 (Jaehyun Mafia AU)

Not Broken Masterlist

Jaehyun X Reader 

Trigger warning: Mentions of abuse

Awakened by the rays of sunlight that shined a little too brightly for comfort, I lifted the covers over my head, keeping my eyes shut in the hopes that I could continue my much-needed slumber.  

I felt myself melting into the mattress. It felt so much softer than I had remembered. The pillows fluffier, the duvet silkier, and the entire bed felt roomier than I was used to.

Everything was so warm, so nice, so... comfortable. I wondered how long it had been since I felt this at peace.

My eyes fluttered open at the thought.

How long had it been?

I threw the bedspread off my body to see that I was wearing something that definitely didn’t belong to me. I normally went to bed either in a tank top and boxer shorts or in my day-clothes depending on whether or not I drank too much the previous night but right now I was wearing satin teal pajamas covered in a seashell design. It felt too early in the morning to have this much to process, even without the confusion surrounding the tacky nightwear.

This isn’t my bed. This isn’t my bedroom. Where am I?

After the initial shock of having woken up in a new place finally managed to wash away, the memories that I was free of during my harmonious slumber were back and I felt as though I were drowning in them.  

I noticed my breathing was almost at the point of hyperventilation, so I took in several slow breaths to calm myself.  

The last thing I want to do in this scenario is panic. I must be smart about this.  

After a split second of searching, my eyes landed on a window. I stood up from the bed and quickly yet quietly moved towards it.  

Maybe I'll have a better chance of escaping if I climb out through here.

I easily removed the window screen before wrestling with the window itself, trying to figure out how to open it. It was unlocked.  

Yes, yes, yes!

No, no, no!

After finally managing to open the window wide enough to climb through, I stuck my head out to find that I was at least three stories high and that there was no way to climb down without a rope.

I looked to the bedsheets and practiced tying them together like in the movies, but the satin fabric slipped undone as soon as even a little pressure was added to the knots.  

Curse these soft fucking sheets.

Just as I started to realize that the window plan wasn’t going to pan out, I spotted a nearby door.

My nerves worsened as I walked towards the small beacon of hope. If I wanted to make it past them in a house I knew nothing about, I was going to have to be quick in my escape.

My hand reached for the knob. I hesitated, noticing the coldness of the metal before a small bout of adrenaline encouraged me to turn it. I swung the door open more harshly than I had intended but the adrenaline had taken hold and I ran into a fucking closet.  

What the fuck? Ow!

I rubbed at my forehead.  

As if I wasn’t bruised enough already.  

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I, Y/N, tried to escape by running into the bedroom closet.  

Thankfully, the closet was filled with enough clothing that it served as padding to my idiocy.  

Still on the floor of the closet, I waited a few seconds hoping that any noise that may have arisen from my sudden encounter with the closet wall wasn’t enough to draw any attention to the fact that I was awake.  

Stepping out, my eyes noticed two more doors. More slowly this time, I opened the first one, still taking every precaution not to make any unnecessary noise.  

Bathroom.  

Okay, on to the next one.  

I knew that this time it had to be the right door given the fact that it seemed pretty unlikely that they had built an entire room around me as I slept.

I turned the knob expecting a clicking sound but it never came.  

Locked.

I sighed in frustration.  

Of course, it was locked. What did I expect?

I turned around, resting my back against the door as I slid down to the floor.  

A groan left my mouth as my image reflected itself on a large mirror on the other side of the room.

I hadn’t had a chance to look around the room yet since once I realized it wasn’t mine, I had become preoccupied with the goal of leaving it. Now, seeing as I had nothing else to do, I figured I could at least find something to turn into a makeshift weapon or something along those lines.  

Taking in the bedroom’s décor, I noticed that it was a lot less flashy than the bedroom that used to belong to IU. Where her room was mostly covered with purple detailing, this room was filled with more black and grey tones. The walls were painted a plain white color. The hardwood floors were coated in a dark glaze that really drew attention to the wood’s natural patterns. The room only had 5 pieces of furniture: a bed with a charcoal-toned net canopy, the sections of which were tied around the tall wooden bed poles; a nightstand that matched the wood of the bed; a medium sized vanity table, on top of which was the mirror I spotted my reflection in, with a small matching chair, along with armchair on the other side of the room that reminded me of one of those movies where wealthy old men would sit in front of the fireplace smoking a cigar.  

I carefully stood up, painfully aware of the aches and pains that taunted every nerve. I walked towards the vanity, never talking my gaze off the mirror’s reflection. My eyes weren’t as swollen as they once were, but I couldn’t help but notice that they were even darker than before.  

<><><><>Flashback<><><><>

“Bruises take around six days from the point of the injury to fully develop. After that, they’ll turn slightly green, then yellow, and then they’ll start to slowly fade away,” My mother told me as she rummaged through the cupboards.  

I was sitting on the bathroom counter, watching her as she searched for the first aid kit. My older brother, the one who ended up disappearing with our inheritance, had pushed me down after I tried to join him and his friends in their soccer game. My knee hadn’t been scraped since my jeans shielded its impact, but it was obvious that a bruise was starting to form. I was eight at the time.

“So, they don’t turn purple immediately?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“That’s so stupid! You mean that I have to wait for it to get purple before it goes away?”

My mother rolled up my pant leg, a slight smile adorned her features.  

“Sometimes things get worse before they can get better. That’s the way life is,” She hummed opening a jar that lacked any sort of label.

She noticed my pouting expression and let out a chuckle.  

“But you know, you don’t have to just sit there and put up with it. That’s why we use vitamin k cream, to clot the broken capillaries so that the bruises fade faster,” She explained in her usual sing-songy tone.  

“That’s so stupid. What does that even mean?” I whined.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”  

<><><>End of flashback<><><><>

I smiled at the memory but the tears that filled my eyes revealed the real truth.  

My mother always seemed to know exactly what to say. It was like she always knew that everything was going to be okay, no matter how bad it appeared to be. That knowing smile which reassured me that things would turn out the way they were supposed to, ended up being a false comfort. Things didn’t turn out the way they were supposed to. Not then when she and my father died in that car accident, and not now.

My mom wasn’t here to tell me everything was going to be okay and she never would again.  

Staring at myself in the mirror, the tears spilled over one by one, until a sudden series of knocks started coming from the locked door.  

I tried to wipe the tears away using the sleeve of the pajamas, but the unabsorbant satin merely spread them over my cheeks.  

Seriously?

“Y/N? I’m coming in now,” the voice announced.

Making one last effort to wipe the moisture from my face with my hands, I turned towards the opened door. The first thing I noticed was red.

It was Taeyong.

I didn’t allow myself to feel relieved that it was him entering the room instead of one of the more violent members, especially since he was still one of the men who had been holding me captive.  

He was holding a lunch tray with a bowl resting on top of it. I couldn’t see what it was at first but as he drew closer, finding out the contents of the bowl wasn’t my biggest concern. I retreated from the man’s approach by climbing onto the bed only for him to walk past me to set the tray on the vanity.

“How do you feel?”

Still foggy from having woken up, I passed on coming up with any form of a snarky response. Instead, I just stared at him.

“You slept for quite a long time, but I guess that makes sense since you weren’t able to get much rest the night before,” He commented, referring to the lack of sleep I received due to the adrenaline shot I was given at the time.

He leaned against the wall across from me. I stayed silent.

“I’m not gonna ask you if anything hurts, because I know that everything probably hurts right now, but I’d like you to answer some questions for me,” Taeyong explained.

He stared at me expectantly.

“Nod your head if you understand.”

I paused before nodding.

Taeyong’s gaze lingered on me awkwardly before kneeling in front of the nightstand beside the bed.  

I lifted my feet onto the bed out of instinct but either he didn’t seem to notice or was purposely ignoring my jumpy antics.  

“Do you feel any dizziness?” Taeyong asked as he opened the nightstand drawer.  

He took out a first aid kit before turning to me. I shook my head.

“What about swelling?”

Again, I shook my head.  

Taeyong continued to ask me a grocery list of questions regarding how I was feeling. I answered no to most of the questions by simply shaking my head but then he started asking things I couldn’t silently answer.  

“Where does it hurt the most?”

“My ribs.”

“Huh, how would you describe the pain?”

“It’s aches when I inhale,” I replied, downplaying the extent of which the pain was restricting my ability to breath comfortably.  

“Okay, what else?”  

“My head hurts.”

Taeyong opened the first aid kit and brought out a small flashlight.  

“And you said you weren’t feeling any dizziness, right?”

I returned back to answering with subtle head nods.

“Keep your head still and follow the light with your eyes.”

I did as Taeyong instructed as he performed a series of tests I hadn’t gone through since I had participated in my middle school’s sports team.

“No concussion, that’s good. I was worried that you hit your head on the floor when the chair broke.”

I frowned at the memory in which Winwin tried to explain how Jaehyun had basically destroyed the chair with me in it.  

“What else hurts?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It would have been easier if he asked, what didn’t hurt. I was too tired to make any effort to express my anger over the current situation and it wasn’t like he didn't already know.  

“Everything else just kind of aches.”

“I see,” Taeyong pondered.

“I’m gonna have to take a look at your rib so I need you to um...”

He seemed reluctant to finish his statement.

“Could you remove your shirt for me?”

I stared at him blankly.

“Uh, I can go grab you something to cover up with while I take a look at it- Uh, your rib, I mean.”

I took in a shallow breath.

“No need,” I replied, unbuttoning the pajama shirt.  

“I assume you were the one who dressed me in these wine aunt pajamas in the first place. Am I correct in that assumption?”

Taeyong nodded sheepishly.

“Then it isn’t anything you haven’t seen before.”

I let the top fall past my shoulders.  

I scowled at Taeyong making it clear that I wasn’t trying to act coy, I was just tired and didn’t really care what he saw, especially when it seemed like half of the members had seen me naked in one form or another.  

“Which side does it hurt on?”

“This one.”

Taeyong sat on the bed on the side of me I had referred to, the side opposite from the vanity. His hands hovered over my body as if asking permission to touch it. I looked him in the eye but made no expression of encouragement. Once he got the hint that I wasn’t going to give him any, his hands met my skin.  

I flinched at the sudden contact and I could feel the goosebumps that began to dust my exposed skin. I hadn’t been embarrassed before, but after being touched by his cold hands, a small shiver went up and down my spine. I began to feel self-conscious, worried that my hardened nipples would give him the wrong idea. I did my best to avoid his gaze by fixing mine on the vanity, but was instead met with his reflection, which seemed to be even more uncomfortable than I was. His features were tinted a light shade of red that almost matched his fiery locks.  

“Sorry,” He muttered as he continued to carefully feel around my ribs.  

“Ah” I winced as his hands found my injured rib.  

He quickly withdrew his hands from my body.

“Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” I groaned through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to push on it a bit to make sure it isn’t digging into your lungs.”

Just great.

I couldn’t believe the situation I was in but here I was.

“Do what you have to do,” I grumbled.

Taeyong’s hands returned to my body. The injury was in the most awkward spot possible. Two inches to the left and his hands would have been touching my breast.  

“Ah, ah!” I winced again.

“Just a little longer... and done.”

His hands instantly retreated from my body and were now raised in front of his chest like a contestant on a competitive cooking show. One whose time had just ran out and was required to cease any finishing touches he might have been adding to his dish.

Once he realized what he was doing, Taeyong lowered his hands and stood up from the bed.

“Uh, umm. Good news, it isn’t broken, probably just cracked.”

“Yay for me,” I cheered in a monotonal voice.  

“There isn’t much that we can do for a crack rib. It’ll heal on its own. I can get you an inhaler to help with the breathing and prevent you from developing pneumonia, but that’s pretty much it.”  

Taeyong’s face had returned to its normal color once I finished buttoning the pajama shirt over my chest.

I looked up at him. Visible sympathy in his eyes. He must have thought I was pitiful, and he would have been right. I wanted this whole thing to be over, but the end was far from sight.  

“Here, take this,” He instructed, handing me a small white pill and a glass of water from the tray.  

I just looked at the pill and Taeyong immediately noticed my hesitation.

“It’s just a regular aspirin. We have stronger stuff, but I don’t know if you’d be willing to take it.”

“I would prefer it actually,” I replied.

Taeyong let out a small chuckle instantly regretting the action when he saw the coldness in my gaze.

“Sorry,” He muttered apologetically before taking out a what I assumed to be a hydro or an oxy from his pocket.

He handed me the pill and reoffered me the water which I readily accepted.  

“You should eat some food with that. Here, I brought you some dakjuk, I hope you are okay with eating meat.”

He gestured toward the vanity and pulled back the chair. Too hungry to refuse the gesture, I got up from the bed and repositioned myself at the vanity. The pain made it difficult to bring the porridge to my mouth but I pushed through it.  

“I’m sorry for undressing you while you were unconscious,” Taeyong began.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable in these. I’m sorry they aren’t to your liking.”

I set the spoon back into the bowl before turning to Taeyong.

“Really? Are you sure you weren’t inspecting the product?”  

“What?” Taeyong asked in response to my sudden accusation.

“I know that the only reason you’re administering first aid is so that you can sell me off to the highest bidder. I’m sure damaged goods don’t sell as well,” I elaborated bitterly, making it obvious how much disdain I held for the man who was pretending to be concerned for my well-being.

When Taeyong finally understood what I was insinuating, he began to trip over his words, struggling to find the right way to assure me that his intentions were anything but sinister. I turned back to face the mirror only to glare at his reflection instead. After having finally ceased his unintelligible rambling, Taeyong brought his hands to the side of his head and sighed.  

“Okay, you’re right. I lied about why I changed your clothes, but it wasn’t because we plan on selling you or whatever.”

My expression softened slightly waiting for further explanation.

“The clothes that you were wearing belonged to IU. When Jaehyun recognized them as IU’s clothes, he got angry and told you to take them off, which I’m guessing you misunderstood as him suggesting something else which is probably why you fainted.”

Unable to believe that he was finished, I continued to stare at the red-headed reflection for what felt like several minutes.  

“Okay, first of all, that’s stupid and second, why didn’t he just say that?” I demanded.

Taeyong rubbed the sides of his head.

“I don’t know. It’s complicated. This is complicated. Everything is so goddamn complicated!”

I flinched at the sudden rise in volume and sunk into the stiff chair.

Taeyong glanced at my shrinking figure and immediately regained his gentle composure.  

“I won’t try to explain Jaehyun’s actions toward you by telling you about his sister. I have a feeling that you wouldn’t think of it as a proper excuse for what he’s done and I don’t blame you. What I will say is that you don’t have to worry about it happening again. Those pj’s were what we could find at the moment. Due to the current situation, all unnecessary staff have been sent home so we couldn’t have one of the female maids dress you. For that, I’m sorry. I took your measurements while you were asleep and sent them to one of our on-call maids, so that you’d have clothing for the remainder of your time here. I had her hang most of them up in your closet. Anything that couldn’t be hung was put into baskets on the floor. If they aren’t to your liking, we can send someone out for clothes that are more suited for your comf-”

“Wait, what? The remainder of my time here?” I gawked.  

“How long are you planning on keeping me here?” I demanded, sounding more upset than intimidating.

“I’ll let Jaehyun explain all of that to you when we go see him.“

“W-what?”

“He sent me here so that I could bring you to him.”

“No way. I’m not going.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but you don’t really have a choice. I’m surprised he allowed you time to eat first.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel like I owe him?”

“No, it’s supposed to help you understand that he might not be so willing to accommodate you in the future if you don’t cooperate with us.”

I couldn’t help but feel defeated. I never saw myself as the person to just go along with whatever someone said, especially not someone like Jaehyun. Sadly, I couldn’t ignore the situation I was in, not unless I was willing to withstand even more damage.  

“I’ll let you get dressed. Knock on the door when you’re ready. If you take too long, I’ll come in, whether you’re dressed or not,” He warned, interrupting my thoughts.  

Making his exit, Taeyong left me alone with my reflection, closing the door behind him.

I glanced around the room, hoping to find a clock of some sort, but to no avail. Looking at it, the room seemed very minimalistic, as though it were a guest room that often went unoccupied. It didn’t surprise me though. If this building was able house to every member of NCT 127 and still have empty rooms, then it made sense that they wouldn’t put as much effort into furnishing the rooms with the least amount of traffic. I just kind of wished it had a clock so that I could keep track of the time.  

I walked over to the closet and opened it. I hadn’t considered that the clothes were meant for me when they had cushioned my failed escape attempt earlier. I was amazed by how much they had bought for me in such a short amount of time. I respected the maid’s shopping ability. I couldn’t say the same for her taste though. I enjoyed dressing up or I guess... dressing down for burlesque shows, but I didn’t like to dress up in my everyday life. Don’t get me wrong, I like to feel pretty as much as the next girl and I’m not ashamed to say it. It’s just that the closet was filled with colors I usually tried to avoid and it reminded me of a closet that would belong to one of the desperate housewives. I tended to gravitate towards blacks and dark blue colors and sometimes the occasional white, but it almost always ended up with a huge stain before the day ended. This closet was filled with more colors than I knew existed and if you think I was exaggerating, I wasn’t. Well, maybe a little.  

I rummaged through the closet ignoring anything I deemed too fancy for a meeting with the man I loathe, which turned out to be all of the closet. Giving up, I considered not changing for our meeting so that I could show him how little I cared about respecting him, but after insulting the pajamas’ seashell design so many times in my head, I decided to just pick something before Taeyong came barging back in.  

I took out a pair of leggings from one of the baskets and put them on, checking the mirror to make sure they weren’t too see-through. Then, I found an emerald green dress. The color caught my eye and greatly reminded me of not only the necklace, but of the dress I had stolen from IU’s corpse. Maybe a detail of the story, I was glad to have left out. Unlike the dress from that night though, this dress was very casual looking. At first glance, I had almost mistaken it for a long-knitted sweater. Maybe it was. Either way, it covered enough of my lower half that I didn’t have to pick out anything else to wear underneath besides the leggings.  

I looked in the mirror. The dress was nice, but still too nice to feel completely comfortable in, especially when it was paired with two black eyes. My hair was a mess, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want Jaehyun to think for a second that I was trying to impress him, so I allowed it to remain in its tangled state.  

Just as I knocked on the door, I realized that I had forgotten to look for something I could have used to protect myself, but it was too late.  

“You look nice.”

“Pound sand, Taeyong.”

Taeyong raised his hands in a surrendering motion and I heard a laugh.

It wasn’t just Taeyong, Doyoung was there too.

Great.

Based on how much of the house I had already seen, I thought that Jaehyun’s office would be several minutes away, but here we were only a few rooms apart. There wasn’t enough time to psych myself up and before I knew it, I was already being forced through the doorway by a less than patient Doyoung.  

I nearly stumbled onto the floor but was able to catch myself at the last minute. The first thing I noticed going in was an empty desk, then the large window behind it and the bookshelves on each of its sides. I could hear Taeyong scolding Doyoung in a hushed tone as they also entered the room. I was relieved thinking that it was only us three who made up the room’s inhabitants, until a deep voice announced its presence, startling me in the process.  

“Ah, good. You’re here.”

Jaehyun was leaning against another bookshelf beside the door we walked through. He was holding a short crystal glass filled with a clear liquid and a few noticeable ice cubes floating around.  

He pulled his body off the wall and approached us. Taeyong and Doyoung stood behind me but that didn’t stop Doyoung from holding me in place by my arm, not that I was brave enough to go anywhere anyway.  

Jaehyun stopped directly in front of me and took a sip of his drink. His eyes grazed over my body like he would a car when inspecting its new paint job.  

“I assume you two brought her here without any problems?”  

Jaehyun’s question was directed toward the two men behind me, though he kept his eyes fixed on me as he asked it. I avoided his gaze.

“That is correct, sir, I made her aware of the circumstances she’d be putting herself in if she refused to come willingly,” Taeyong announced.  

The intimidating man tapped the glass with his middle finger a few times before responding.

“Good, you may leave us now.”

Following their boss’s orders, the two men exited the room. The sound the door made as it closed felt a lot louder to me than it probably was.  

Jaehyun made his way to the desk and sat down, setting his drink on a nearby coaster while I stayed put.

“Aren’t you going to sit down?” He asked with a sly smirk.

I looked at the chair facing opposite his. His desk was large enough that it would provid quite a bit of separation between us, but it still wasn’t enough. Nevertheless, I obeyed.

I kept my eyes glued to the drink on the table, but in the corner of my eye, I could still see him staring at me, an amused look on his face.  

“Oh, I’m sorry. Can I offer you a drink? I’m drinking a gin and tonic, myself.”

I could feel my stomach turn sour as my mind flashed back to that night I almost drank the spiked gin in Lucas’ wine cellar.

“No? Then let’s get to the point, shall we?”

My eyes flashed towards him for a split second. His voice had gotten noticeably colder and so had his expression.

“You were brought here under suspicion for being involved in the murder of one of my family members. That reason being the emerald necklace you wore matched the one owned by said family member, a necklace that was specially designed for her wear.”

The way he spoke about his sister as if she were a stranger was baffling.  

Were they not close or was he trying to be professional? Clearly, he had to have been torn apart by her death for him to have acted the way he did towards me.  

“Since I recognized the necklace, we certainly had reason for suspecting your involvement in her death which is why we brought you here.”

Brought? He makes it sound like I was invited here for tea and a chat.  

“During the interrogation, you refused to tell us your actual relationship with Lucas and so we may have taken things further than we usually would have to extract the truth from you, given the importance of the matter we were asking you about.”

May have taken things further than usual? Was this supposed to be an apology? 

It sounded like he was reading from a script.

“I didn’t tell you that I killed Lucas because I thought you would kill me if you found out!” I angrily blurted out.

Jaehyun’s eyes continued to look at me in disinterest as though he had expected the abrupt disruption.

“Seeing as your story has been confirmed,” He continued, ignoring my outburst like he would a child’s tantrum.  

“-we now know that you are not involved in IU’s death and that you somehow managed to kill the person responsible-”

Jaehyun’s eyes showed a hint of distaste as he finished his sentence.

“-even if it somehow occurred by accident.”

I could feel the rage bubbling inside of me.  

“I recognize that you may feel as though I’ve committed a great injustice towards you.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” I stood up from the chair and slammed my fist on the desk unintentionally spilling the contents of the half empty glass on the desk. The liquid managed to drench several important looking documents, but still, Jaehyun made no effort to save them.  

Yet for the first time, Jaehyun’s eyes showed something other than utter discontent. They widened in surprise at the sudden gesture only to return to their previous state within an instant.

“That being the case, I would like you offer you reparations,” He kept going, leaving me astounded, my fist still on the desk.  

“We are willing to offer you 120,000,000 won (roughly 100,000 USD) in exchange for your silence.”

I didn’t care how scared I was of this man. He thinks that he can call me in here and tell me that this is my fault? That he isn’t responsible for all the shit that happened since that night? I was kidnapped, bound, beaten, injected with adrenaline and starved. I’ll never be able to return to the Heart Breakers again. Wendy could be dead for god’s sake! And this bastard thinks that he can just pay me off in exchange for my silence?

“No.”  

Jaehyun raised his eyebrows at my response.  

“Really? I thought it’d be a good deal for someone like you. I guess I could raise th-”

“Someone like me?”

I had been avoiding his gaze for most of our meeting thus far, only taking the occasional glance to gauge his reactions, but I had gotten gutsy. I looked him directly in the eye with an intensity I didn’t know existed. I knew what he meant but I was daring him to say it outright.  

I questioned my state of mind as I swore I could see the slightest smirk on his lips.  

“Oh, I just meant that for someone of your profession, I’m sure there are a lot of things you’d be willing to do to earn such a generous amount of money.”

I was shaking. I couldn’t believe this was happening, not that I was surprised. I wasn’t exactly expecting a warm apology, however for him to not only take zero responsibility for what he did to me, but to insult me?  

“We can negotiate the specific amount at a later time, but for now, you will be given full accommodations during your time here. If you need or want anything within reason, someone will fetch it for you.”

“During my time here? I told you that I had nothing to do with IU’s death. You said you confirmed it! You can’t just keep me locked u-”

“You are free to leave whenever you want, but I’d advise against it.”

Confusion took over my features and I silently scolded myself for being so easily readable. The man in front of me began to elaborate.

“Wayv, the group whose leader you killed knows of your actions from that night and have demanded we hand you over to them. Now I can’t say I know for sure what they want with you, but I can tell you it isn’t good. Once we found your name, we had no trouble finding information about you, such as your home address and I can guarantee that Wayv is capable of the very same.”

“W-what?” I asked, knowing full well what he meant.

Instead of repeating himself or rephrasing his words, Jaehyun merely tapped his fingers on the desk as if he were keeping time.

Wayv wanted me dead. There was no denying it.  

“So what? If I leave then that’s it, I’m dead? What am I gonna do, just stay here forever?”

“That’s up to you, but I can assure you that we are working to take down Wayv. We may require your assistance in the near future, but nothing is decided yet.”

“My assistance? You mean use me as bait?”

“Not necessarily,” He answered.

I gawked at him in disbelief.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, now I have to remain here under the same roof as him. It didn’t matter how big this house was, there would never be enough rooms between us.  

“The money we’re offering you is to compensate you for your silence once you leave, but for reconciliation, I will allow you to stay here until Wayv is dealt with. I’ll make sure my men and staff do everything in their power to make you comfortable during your stay here as long as you’re willing to follow a few house rules.”

“Rules?” I quirked.

“I’ll have Taeyong explain all of that to you once you head back to your room.”  

Jaehyun stood up and finally started collecting the soiled documents that had remained on the desk all this time. I simply stared at him, waiting for him to go on, but he didn’t. It was like he was silently telling me to let myself out, but I’d be damned if I was going to make this easy for him after all he’d done.  

I knew that he was right and that leaving this house was suicide, yet I couldn’t stand the idea that he believed he was doing me a favor instead of what he was actually doing which was throwing money at the mess he made of my life.

I stayed there and watched him, knowing that he would eventually have to acknowledge my presence since I made no effort to remove myself from his office.

After several agonizing moments, Jaehyun looked at me and stopped what he was doing.

“Taeyong? Could you please come in and escort Miss y/l/n to her room?” He called out.

Shit.

Taeyong entered the room and walked towards us. I had to take my chance.

“I have a request,” I stated clearly.

Taeyong froze in place unsure of what he should do while Jaehyun quirked an eyebrow.

“And what might that be?”

I swallowed hard, previously unaware at how much my nerves were affecting my body.

“That night, the night you took me, no, kidnapped me. I saw one of my closest friends get shot. Wendy. I want to know if she is okay. Not just her, I want to make sure they’re all okay, and if not, I want you to do something about it.”

Jaehyun paused, deliberating on my request.  

“Is that all?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“And if she didn’t make it?  What then? How do you suppose I make that right?” He pressed, dropping the papers that were in his hands back onto the table.

I looked down at the floor. I didn’t know how he could make things right... in any sense, but I had to know whether Wendy was okay.  

Jaehyun eyes left my softly trembling frame to meet Taeyongs. I didn’t see this but Taeyong nodded his head signaling something to his boss.

“I’ll send in some of my men to search out what they can about your colleagues and the state of your friend Wendy. I’ll let you know what they find. Taeyong?”  

Taeyong grabbed my arm and brought his lips to my ear.

“Come on,” was all he said before guiding me out of the office.  

As we walked through the doorway, I immediately spotted Doyoung leaning against the wall with a bored look on his face. Taeyong paused for a second to give him an update.  

“I’m taking her back to go over the house rules, you good?” He asked.

Without answering, Doyoung fixed his gaze on me as I was half hidden behind his colleague.  

“Boo!” He half whispered half shouted.

I jerked back slightly only to recoil in embarrassment.

Taeyong rolled his eyes.

“I guess we’ll be off,” He announced, motioning that it was time for us to head back.

<><><>

Doyoung waited until Taeyong and I had disappeared from his vision before knocking on his boss’s door.  

“Come in,” Jaehyun consented.

Doyoung opened the door and propped himself against the doorframe. Jaehyun looked up at him from his desk chair.

“What?” Jaehyun demanded.

Doyoung chuckled at his boss’s intimidation tactics and took his time in forming a response, something most other members wouldn’t dare to do.

“I said, what?” Jaehyun thundered.  

Although Doyoung’s laughter had faded, his smile remained. He took a step forward and closed the door behind him.  

“Did you really mean it when you said she was free to leave, Boss?”

Jaehyun’s furrowed brows relaxed. Leaning back in his chair and propping his feet on the table, he opened his desk draw and pulled out two cigars. Doyoung walked over to his desk and sat in the very chair Y/N had used only a few moments prior. Jaehyun extended one of the cigars to the man who readily accepted. Doyoung leaned forward as Jaehyun lit his cigar with a silver lighter, feet still on the desk. Running a hand through his oddly streaked hair, he took in a puff of smoke and held it for a few seconds before releasing it into the air. Jaehyun took his time in lighting his own cigar before turning back to Doyoung.

“Say what you will about the old codger, he always did buy the best stoags,” He laughed examining the cigar band.  

“Stealing from daddy’s stash, are we?” Doyoung jokingly mocked.

Jaehyun’s face turned cold. Removing his feet from the desk, he leaned forward, staring into  Doyoung’s eyes.  

“What did you say?”  

Doyoung matched the man’s intense gaze, leaning in to show his lack of fear. Their eyes remained fixed on each other’s, unblinking until-

“Pfft!” Jaehyun chortled, Doyoung instantly joined in his laughter.

“So, you heard everything, huh?”

“Well, you did ask us beforehand to wait by the door until you both were finished,” Doyoung reminded.

Jaehyun nodded before setting the cigar down on a marble cigar stand.

“So, you’re really going to let her go?”

“Of course not. If Wayv wants Y/N, then I will do everything in my power to make sure she’s out of their reach.”

“Then why did you tell her that she was free to go?”  

Jaehyun paused.

“I’m still not sure she’s telling the truth.”

“Sir?”

“If she’s working with Wayv, then she’ll have no reason to stay other than to find out information. Taeyong is informing her of the rules she’ll have to follow as we speak assuming she chooses to stay. These rules will make it impossible for her to gain access to any information we don’t want Wayv to know. If we make it clear to her that these are the conditions under which she may stay at the estate and that they will continue to be enforced until Wayv is dealt with, then she will have no reason to stay since her life wouldn’t actually be in any danger in the first place.”

“You really thought this through, didn’t you?” Doyoung complimented.

“Right down to the last detail,” Jaehyun mused.

“So, what are the rules?”  

“Taeil is currently bugging and placing cameras in her room, which she will be informed of. Only the bathroom is free from any form of recording devices. These cameras are transmitted through wiring to a house computer disconnected from Wi-Fi and therefore unhackable meaning she won’t be able to send any messages to Wayv through the cameras. She will be under constant supervision and she will be unable to leave the room without-”

“-being escorted by one of 127’s members for the entirety of your excursion out of your room,” Taeyong read out loud.

We had returned to the room I had woken up in and Taeyong had started informing me of the rules that were listed on his clipboard.  

“What? This is ridiculous.” I exclaimed.

Taeil was setting up cameras, checking to make sure there were no blind spots.

“There won’t be any cameras in the bathroom so feel free to change comfortably in there. As long as we have the room completely covered, we’ll be able to see anything suspicious you might bring in there,” He explained.

“The boss said he believed my story. Why is he making me follow all these rules and why do I have to have cameras in my room?”  

“He does believe you. We still have to take precautions though given you aren’t a member of 127,” Taeyong interjected.

“There are still more rules we need to cover. You aren’t allowed to leave the room during any of 127’s meetings without specified permission from the boss. You will not be allowed access to any devices that allow you to contact anyone outside of this house, but don’t worry, we will have plenty of things available for your entertainment. You are allowed to ask for anything within reason.” Taeyong continued.

“What do you mean, within reason?”  

“Okay, good question. Things within reason are things such as clothes, books, makeup, small pets, furniture.”

“Pets?”

“Yeah, small ones like cats or birds. We could have one delivered tomorrow if you wanted. Just don’t name it Louis.”

“What? Why?”

“Umm. Don’t worry about it. Anyways, things that are out of reason are things that can be used to break any of the rules on this list along with things in extreme excess like houses or things that are impossible to fulfill.”

I stared at Taeyong in disbelief.

“Oh, and you can just ask me or Taeil when you have a request. It’s best not to ask the boss himself since he has a lot going on now.”

“What if I want to leave my room?”

“There will be a member at your door at all times. When we’re all in a meeting, we’ll either have a member stay in your room with you and catch them up later or we’ll have one of the staff watch over you. When you want to leave your room, just open the door and whoever is there will act as your escort.”

Hopefully Doyoung won’t be guarding my room all that much.

I stopped for a second to process everything he was saying.

“And if I refuse to follow the rules?”

“I can make arrangements for you to go back home or wherever you want to go along with the money that was promised to you if agree to our confidentiality agreement, but I have to warn you, you won’t last long out there with Wayv on your case and we have other ways of making sure you keep quiet. Ways that aren’t as beneficial to you as the agreement is.”

“So, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice. Sometimes the best option just isn’t what you’d hope.”

I made no efforts to hide my frustration as Taeyong moved on to explaining how things would be from now on. Meals would be made by the few staff that were kept on hand which according to Taeyong, were not that many. According to him, they had a few staff members that were specially trained to double as bodyguards in case of any house invasions. Besides these select few, the majority of staff were sent home on paid leave to prevent any issues while dealing with Wayv. There were always risks of traitors so limiting the amount of people who entered the household was necessary. Sometimes they would send outside staff to go on delivery runs, but everything that came into the house went through inspection. I was allowed to eat in anywhere and anytime I wanted, but if I chose not to leave my assigned room, meals would be delivered three times a day at set mealtimes. Taeyong told me that he would find a clock for my room. He also asked if the room was to my liking, telling me that he chose one of the smaller rooms since he believed there was a large chance that I would feel more at home in one of the less flashy rooms. He was right but he still offered to move me into a bigger one if at any point I choose to do so.  

Taeyong left for a little bit and returned with the clock he promised. During his absence, Taeil explained to me where all the cameras were in the hopes that it would make me feel more comfortable knowing. It didn’t. Taeil left and then it was just me and Taeyong.  

“I know that this will be a drastic change for you but try as best you can to adjust to your new surroundings. You might have to follow several rules but remember that you are a guest in this house, and you won’t have to worry about anyone hurting you here.” He promised, getting up to leave.

“That is, unless I break one of the rules,” I muttered.

Taeyong stood in the doorway, looking at me with those same sympathetic doe eyes he had flashed me earlier. I hated them. I hated how they were always filled with pity.  

“Try your best not to,” He told me as he started to close the door.

“Welcome to the Soo-man estate.”

I looked at the clock.  

11:42.

How was it still this early after everything that happened today?

[jawritter]

Broken me...

Ch. 11 1/2.. LOL... The deleted chapter... Because tumblr hates me... 

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunatly have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: ***SUICIDE ATTEMPT*** If this kind of thing bothers you!! This might trigger you!! Overdose, brief discription of medicial Intervention because of suicide attempt.. language, angst, this is overall a tough one yall..

Word Count: 2117

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

Your POV:

Things had seemingly gone well at Jensen’s parents. His family all seemed nice enough. Jensen seemed to be enjoying himself as well. He acted like he didn’t want to leave, but the two of you were headed back to Austin for one more night before you both had to fly back to Vancouver for Jensen to start filming.

It was a roughly a three hour drive from Dallas to Austin. Depending on the traffic. Jensen’s upbeat mood he’d been in sense we got to Austin had seemed to be gone from the moment he got back behind the wheel of the car.

He was quiet on the ride home.

Which was a little unsettling.

You tried to shove it off…

‘He’s just tired. He will feel better in the morning.'

So you kept quiet. Giving him his space. Even though you couldn’t shake the feeling deep in the pit of your stomach that said something wasn’t right..

When you both finally walked back through the front door it was late, almost one in the morning, and you were so tired from the events of the day, meeting his family, to the six hour drive round trip, to your own worrying which you knew was probably senseless, that you just wanted to do nothing more than to fall face first into the bed..

“I’m gonna go grab a shower, and then I’m headed to bed.” You tell him, giving him a peck on the check. He smiled tiredly at you. Reaching over and grabbing your waist, pulling you between his long bowed legs as he made himself comfortable on the barstool in the kitchen..

“Okay, I’m gonna stay up a little bit. Wind down from the drive.” He said, placing his head against your stomach, holding on to you as if he let you as if it were the last time he’d ever have you in his arms again…

That seemed odd, but again you brushed it off…

“O… Okay..”

Jensen stands up, wrapping you in his arms, pulling you into a deep passionate kiss. Making your knees go weak. His grip on you a little tighter than it usually was..

“I love y/n.” He says when he finally breaks the kiss. A strange look in his eyes. Like something in him was…

Off…

Wrong…

Broken…

Missing…

Something that wasn’t there when you arrived in Austin just a few days ago, but you had noticed a hint of it at the dinner table today at his parents house….

“I love you too.” You tell him as he let go of you. “You okay?”

Jensen nodded his head and gave you a tight smile.

“Yeah baby I’m fine, go on to bed.”

Looking back over your shoulder as you walk away you yell back at him. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, handsome!"

You hear him chuckle lightly as you head quickly to your shower.

He was fine, surely you were just imagining things, making something out of nothing because you were tired… Or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself as you took your shower.. Your nerves seemed to be buzzing, and you couldn’t quite figure out why…

After your shower you changed into a pair of pj pants, and one of Jensen old shirts. Crawling into bed you laid there for a few minutes.

The house was quiet…

Jensen still hasn’t come to bed…

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong…

That look, the way he was acting all the way home from Dallas. What he did when you got home…..

Panic rises in your chest like a growing storm…

You’d seen this type of behavior before…

How the hell did you miss it?

Throwing the covers off, and shooting out of the bed, run toward the kitchen where you left Jensen, heart pounding in your ears from panic.

You brother acted this way…The last time you saw him alive…

Right before he took his own life…

No one in your family knows why he did it. He never left a note, but he acted all overly happy two days before the night he left mom’s house. Drunk. Quite. Telling everyone he loved them….

He lost the battle with anxiety and depression that night…

You almost didn’t survive the funeral. The two of you were close. Still you never saw it coming. He never said anything. Depression is a silent killer. You learned that the hard way…

You search the entire bottom floor. Calling his name. He was nowhere to be found. You run out to the pool and backyard. He wasn’t there either. You run back into the house heading to the second floor. You see the light on in JJ’s room. You call his name, but get no answer….

Your heart is beating so fast you think it might explode as you approach the door…

With shaking hands you grab the nob, and open the door, looking around the room at first you think he’s not there either.

Walking around the bed you see a pair of boots and legs sprawled out in an awkward position on the floor. A whiskey bottle and two bottles of pills laying on the floor next to his feet…

………………………………………

Jensen’s POV:

Blackness…

Or at least that’s all that was left, until that annoying beeping started somewhere off in the distance, growing louder and louder with each passing minute..

He could hear voices off in the distance, but he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying..

Many times he’d acted out "his death”. Having played a character for years on TV that had not only died more times than most people could count, but had also gone to hell…Actually he  figured that’s where he’d find himself…

This…. He wasn’t sure what this was…

His throat felt like it had been ripped to pieces from the inside out. He was nauseas as hell. His whole body literally hurt. Every joint. Every muscle.

Maybe I was in hell…

He was afraid to open his eyes. Afraid of where he’d find himself…

The more he came to himself, it felt like someone was holding and rubbing his hand.

‘Y/n?’

‘She’s not dead, this isn’t right, something is wrong?’

Slowly things started coming back to him…

Flashes of what happened after he’d tried to end his own life…

You screaming…

Someone he couldn’t see trying to do CPR on him in what he assumed  was an ambulance…

Really bright lights and a searing pain in his chest as they tried to shock him back on an operating table…

A tub being rammed down his throat, pumping a thick black liquid into him… Then the same tub pulling out the contents of his stomach…

His entire body shaking uncontrollably…

People running around the table he was laying on yelling at each other… Trying to save him……

No this can’t be real. This had to be a nightmare……….

Slowly he opened his eyes for the first time in what was probably days. At first all he could see was blinding light, and blur as his eyes adjusted…

“Jensen!! Jensen!! Look at me baby! Can you hear me?!!"

Hearing you call his name Jensen looked blindly towards the sound of your voice.. You sound panicked… This was his fault… This shouldn’t be.. He’d done this.. He caused this…

He felt your hand on the side of his face as his eyes adjusted, and the invisible, black weight that was holding him down to his bed started to slowly lift. Letting his eyes adjust to your face…

‘Why the hell did I do something so stupid?! How could I hurt her like this?!’

"Jared, he’s awake, get the nurse.” She said, looking across the room to his best friend. Who he heard run toward the door.

“He’s awake!”

Your POV:

“Y/n you need to go back to Jensen’s, and get some sleep.” Jared said ,looking at you like you might drop dead from exhaustion at any moment.

“The doctors said he’s stable, and when he’s ready he will wake up. This is just the body’s way of dealing with the trauma he’s put himself through."

Jared meant well, but you weren’t going anywhere.

"There is no way in hell I’m leaving him. I’m going to be here when he wakes up.” You say through your teeth. Lack of sleep makes you easily annoyed.

It had been two days since you found Jensen in his daughter’s room. He still hadn’t woken up. The doctors all swear that he will when he’s ready. Part of you feels guilty that you couldn’t see the signs that were right there in front of you. You were kicking yourself for leaving him and going to bed that night. So you were determined to be there when he finally was ready to wake up again.

That, and everytime you close your eyes you see his body seizing on the ER room gurney…

Doctor holding him down, and shoving tubs filled with charol down his throat…

They had to pump his stomach to make sure all the stuff he’d swallowed was not in him anymore…

Three more minutes, if you had just laid there for three more minutes in bed that night before getting up to go and find him, it would have been too late…

You grabbed his hand like you had done countless times in the past two days. Running small circles across his hand with your thumb.

For just a moment you thought you saw his face twitch, but you were probably just imagining things. The longer you sat there watching him, ignoring Jared complaining something about how you were no good to Jensen if you had to be hospitalized yourself.. The more you thought you could see movement…

All the sudden like you had been praying they’d do for a little over 48 hours now Jensen’s eyes fluttered open and searched around the room blindly.

Shooting to your feet so fast that the chair you were sitting shoved back you placed your hand on the side of his face..

“Jensen! Jensen! Look at me baby can you hear me?!"

His eyes rolled back into his head before refocusing several times, fighting to stay continuous as he searched for you, and when he finally found you tears were already streaming out of his bloodshot eyes. Jared was standing frozen next to the window on the opposite side of the room in just as much shock it seemed as you were..

"Jared, he’s awake! Go get the nurse!” You said, afraid to take your eyes off of Jensen, not knowing if he was in pain or not.

His mouth moved, but no sound came out, and you started to panic.

Finally it hit you.

He’s probably hoarse from the tubes.

You grabbed the glass with a straw in it that was sitting on his tray, and poured it into the cup. Sitting the bed up some you put the straw to his lips, and he turned his head away from it..

“Come on baby please! It will help.” You said, and he looked at you like you’d asked him to walk across hot coals.

Then reluctantly put the straw in his mouth. Taking a small test pull at first. Then taking deep pulls on the straw. Realizing how thirsty he actually was. When it was gone he finally croaked the word “more” out. You quickly refilled the glass, and put it back to his lips. Watching him closely as Jared ran back into the room with about four nurses.

“Good. Your drinking. How are you feeling Mr. Ackles?” The charge nurse asked. Checking his vitals and the monitors that were next to the bed.

He said nothing. Just sat there with a death grip on your hand and staring at his lap.

“Mr. Ackles, do you remember how you got here?” She asked, and he only nodded his head yes.

You’d never seen him so down…

So defeated…

It was heartbreaking…

“Well, because of what you did you are being placed on a 48 hour suicide watch before you are released to your care takers. You will be required by law to see a therapist. Since it’s illegal to kill yourself your also looking at a pretty hefty fine I’m sure.” She went on telling him what he had to face in the next 48 hours.. Once it had been settled that he was no longer with Danneel, and he signed the papers putting you as his support system, and caretaker for the extended future, or at least until he was cleared by the therapist. She finally left the room with the other nurses, leaving the three of you alone..

He just sat there. Still clinging to your hand, and not looking at you or Jared in the eye. No matter what you said or asked him. The hospital staff came every hour to check on him, and there was a nurse sitting at a desk outside his door.

Jared went and got his favorite takeout, and brought it back to Jensen and yourself before leaving for the evening to help Gen and the babysitter in hope that he’d eat, but he wasn’t really all that interested, and after a few bites gave up completely on eating it…

Everytime Jared asked Jensen why he wouldn’t talk he’d just point to his throat. So neither of you wanted to press the matter. Afraid it would hurt him worse than help him…

Once Jared was gone Jensen looked at you sitting in the chair next to his bed. Tears running down his face again. The look of someone that was being torched alive.

“I’m so sorry…” He finally got out. His voice so hoarse it was almost a whisper.

You were on you feet in an instant. Dropping the side rail on the bed. He slid over for you to slide  in next to him.

He immediately put his head on your shoulder.

Exhausted, broken, and defeated.

Three things he should have never been.

“There isn’t a damn thing you need to be sorry about.” You tell him. Running your hands through his hair. Grateful that you were still able to do this. That you could still reach up, and run your hands through his hair. Touch his face. Feel his breath on your neck.

"I love you Jensen. I’m gonna be right here with you the whole way through this.” You tell him as he nuzzles himself into the bend of your neck.

“I love you to y/n. Please, please don’t give up on me."

Exhaustion was hitting him. Sleep trying to reclaim him. He’d been awake for a long time. You didn’t realize it was almost midnight until you looked at the TV playing silently in the corner..

"I’m not going anywhere, and there is no way in hell I’ll ever give up on you.”

Jensen’s POV:

The biggest mistake he’d ever made in his life still wasn’t an accurate excuse for what he felt like he’d done.. He’d let hurt feelings, fear, and depression lie to him. Convince him that you’d be better off without him..

He felt like he was Drowning.

The little voice in his head telling him over and over again that you’d be better off if he’d never come into your life.. Never came and knocked on your hotel door.. Never pulled you up on that stage.. .

At least then you’d be able to have a normal life.

A life without people stalking.

Taking pictures of your every move.

Social media attacks.

All those things you never deserved.

He’d never get his kids back from Danneel.

He’d always be broken.

Like a Drowning person with no hope he thought he’d find his relief in death. That way the suffocating pain would stop.

In truth it wouldn’t have stopped. He would have just passed it on to his kids, you, Jared, and everyone else that loves him. The scars inside him are permanently there, but that doesn’t mean he can ever give up again. He can never stop fighting. People he loves counted on him to keep going, even when he didn’t want too…

As he fell asleep in your arms he thanked God for another chance.

He knows this battle within himself isn’t over. It’s just beginning to even surface, but at least he knows for sure now that he’s not alone.

You said you’d never leave him. No one has ever said that before and meant it.

He knows though that you mean it.

He will make it up to you for doing this to you. He felt like he owed you his  very life. If you’d just gone to bed, and not come looking for him. He would have lost everything.

The thought of losing you is something he never wants to face again, especially at his own hand…

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag List: @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ 

binge tag: @sarahbaker2010​ @deans-baby-momma​ 

[the-darklings]

—𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔;

pairing: john wick x f!reader

word count: 6.5k+

summary: “Tell me a story with a happy ending.”

warnings: strong violence, blood, swearing.

notes: oh wow, it’s been a hot minute, huh? I miss posting my writing on here but life has been hectic and pretty unkind this year so apologies for the inactivity. All I can say is that I got an urge to finally write for Mr Wick. This is set pre-first movie so any spoilers will be up to that movie only. For now, I decided to split this into two, so expect another part some time soon and enjoy!

children of ares series: .. | 02 |

“Tell me a story with a happy ending.”

“I can’t. People like us don’t get happy endings.”

. . . 

The first time you meet him, he points a gun to your face with a sharpness that makes your pulse race.

You’re just a second behind him, but you know perfectly well that it would have been a second too late. 

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Tarasov grumbles under his breath, waving his hand in irritation. “Will you two lower your weapons, we aren’t in the zoo.”

The man clad in all black does so immediately, and you idly wonder just how tight his leash is if he obeys so seamlessly. 

You watch him warily as you lower your arm as well, hesitating just long enough for Tarasov’s gaze to slide your way. While you don’t want to piss off your new boss, the man in black stands beside him with a stoic sort of calmness that makes your instincts prickle with unease. 

You know who he is. 

You’ve heard stories about him. 

Soft, terrified murmurs of his infamy—of his terrifying skill. You would rather not meet him at all, truth be told. 

Even amongst killers, John Wick’s name is spoken with a degree of reluctant respect and fear. 

“John, this is our newest associate. I wanted to introduce you personally,” Tarasov explains easily, pouring himself another glass of vodka. “I was rather hoping you will be able to look after her for a bit. Show her how we do business.”

You rather he didn’t. Truly. 

John Wick is tall, calm, and deadly focused on every twitch of your body. 

Underground world has some certains you can find in any corner of the world: money, blood, drugs, and high egos. The latter goes hand in hand with an inflated sense of self-importance and posturing. 

You’re used to that. You know how to handle people with egos. Know how to communicate with those who like the sound of their own voice a bit too much. 

Yet, John Wick somehow manages to be the most fear-inducing thing in the room without so much as making a sound.

His dark eyes appear almost black when they finally connect with yours. There is nothing but polite coolness to be found in his gaze. 

“Sure.”

Tarasov grins wider, saluting you both with his glass, “Excellent,” he intones in smooth Russian. “I do believe this is the start of something rather beautiful.”

. . .

Three months down the line, and you’re still unsure what to make of John. 

Anyone who kills people for a living should be easy to pindown. Sure, everyone has their own reasons, but at the end of the day, they’re all a little twisted. 

John is a walking contradiction. 

He’s cold, he’s stoic, he’s frighteningly efficient in his field. John rarely speaks, and getting more than a few sentences out of him at any given time seems like an incredible feat.  

But he’s also kind in the most subtle ways, thoughtful, and always—unfailingly—has your back on the field. 

Tarasov originally wanted you to do three missions together before he sent you on your own. But somewhere along the way, he seems to have concluded that you work better as a unit. 

It’s odd at first. You’re not used to working with someone, and you’ve never heard of John having a partner with him either. He’s the man they send when no one else wants the contract or they simply can’t finish the job. So working with him is as bizarre as everyone's reactions when they see you together. 

Most of the time, you’re not sure if he even likes you because most of the time, it’s near impossible to read him.

On paper you should never work, you know that much. 

He’s older. His name is known. He’s earned the respect of some of the deadliest in the world.

You’re a nobody from nowhere. Sure, your skills are finally being utilized and by merely associating with John and Tarasov, people are starting to take notice of you, too. But doubt still lingers in your mind as you go through one job after another. 

Truthfully, you’re still unsure if there’s a place for you here, in this shadowy circle of Tarasov’s gang. Though all the alternatives are so much worse you can’t even entertain the idea of a different life right now.

“A stick of gum?”

John is silent for a long time, and for a second you worry that he may not have heard you over the sound of the wind, but you don’t dare to lift your gaze from the scope in front of you. 

Patience you know well. It’s one of the very few areas where you and John are equals. 

“Realistically, one,” he finally mutters, his voice low to a point you have to strain to hear. Blinking, you suppress a grin, adjusting your position as you wait for your target to appear. 

“Just the one?” you repeat with obvious disappointment. “Huh.”

John’s breaths are quiet next to you, thoughtful, “Sorry to disappoint but choking is the only viable option,” he points out a little dryly. 

You hum contemplatively, trying to think of your own spin on this scenario. It has become a bit of a game between you. When you first started working together, John’s company was near painfully boring, especially on long jobs. So you came up with the idea of challenging him with ordinary objects and drilling him on how many people he can realistically kill with them. Of course, he has to fully justify his reasoning for each casualty—that’s half the fun right there after all.  

He still likes his space and peace to this day, but at least now you get him to talk with you regularly on jobs. 

“See if it were me,” you begin in an unhurried drawl. “I would put slow-acting poison in the gum. Maybe even add a dispersing agent into it, so anyone the target comes into contact with would die as well. Multiple dead, I won’t even have to break a sweat.” 

“Sounds dangerous,” he points out idly, but the challenge in his voice is clear. “And highly volatile. How can you be sure it won’t accidentally kill your partner or anyone else that needs to be kept safe?”

“Antidotes, John, c’mon now,” you shoot back playfully, your finger moving to rest against the trigger when you spot slight movement in the building opposite to you. “Oh, the party is a go. Target twelve o’clock.”

You both watch as the men file into the room, chatting and pouring drinks as both parties sit themselves down around the room. A typical setting for deal negotiations. Of course, Tarasov doesn’t want any negotiations to happen at all—hence why you and John are here, and ready to rectify that. 

“You have a clear shot,” John speaks beside you after a long pause, and it still unsettles you how composed he is during jobs and outside of them. It’s like nothing can ever affect him. With every job, every interaction, you begin to understand more and more why the nickname The Boogeyman is starting to catch on. “Take the shot.”

You do. 

Inhaling deeply, you line the shot and it pierces the air with a deafening whistle that shatters the hotel window to pieces. 

Panic reigns and the men scatter like cattle. Some try to find where the shot came from, but by the time they come anywhere near the window, you and John are already walking down the fire exit in a calm, unhurried fashion. The target is dead, and that’s all either of you care about.

“You’ve gotten better.”

It’s not praise, not exactly, more of a tepid assessment. But you take what you can get with John nowadays. In the beginning, it unsettled you, but now you just know that’s how he is. 

“Marcus is a pretty nice guy once you break past that prideful demeanour of his,” you joke with a slight laugh as you both get into his car. “I think he tolerates my pestering because of you, to be honest.”

You feel John’s curious gaze on you, and when you turn to glance at him one of his eyebrows is arched slightly. “That so?”  

“Drive on, Wick,” you say instead. “I’m starving. I wonder what it is about doing this job that always makes me so damn hungry.”

. . .

“You’re a pain in my ass, I hope you know that.”

John only grunts in reply. 

You half drag him with you through the front lobby of The Continental as you slowly approach the reception.  

Charon welcomes you with his typical placid smile and a polite nod of his head. 

“Mr Wick and Miss Vipress,” he greets politely, unfazed by all the blood covering you both as you stagger to a stop in front of his desk. “Pleasure as always. A room for two?”

You nod your head briskly, shifting on your feet till more of John’s weight is leaning against you. “Thanks,” you mutter, sliding the golden coin across the smooth wood. There’s still specks of blood on it, but Charon takes it without batting an eye. 

“Will you be needing a doctor tonight?” he questions with a tilt of his head, ever the helpful hotel concierge. 

You’re shaking your own head before he’s even finished speaking, and glance at the still dazed John beside you. He’s already looking better than he did fifteen minutes ago—less pale and clammy—meaning that the poison is slowly but steadily leaving his system. 

“We’ll be fine,” you say wearily. “But if you could send us up some X7 and Aspirin later, I would appreciate it.”

Charon hums, noting your request immediately in a notepad in front of him. 

“X7 will take a bit longer but consider it done,” he responds pleasantly, sliding your room key across the table. You grapple for it, clenching it tightly between your bloody fingers. “Enjoy your stay,” he adds as you turn to go.

You grunt some vague pleasantry back but your mind is only focused on getting John to the hotel room before his legs decide to give out on him.  

By the time you make it to your room on the third floor—Charon has mercifully put your room only a few doors away from the elevator, and you make a mental note to thank him for it tomorrow—your arms are trembling from the strain. John falls on the couch heavily, a harsh groan rattling free the moment he does, indicating just how bad he must be feeling. 

His dark, half-lidded eyes track your movements as you stumble towards the bathroom, grabbing the complimentary first-aid kit found in every room. A certain, intent sharpness you’re used to seeing is missing from his gaze and you snap your fingers in front of his face a few times. 

“Hey, you still with me?”

John nods his head and groans as he sits up, leaving you once again impressed with his silent strength. It seems like things that would kill ordinary men ten times over barely leave a dent on John. Some part of you can’t help but be slightly envious of the fact that he’s really as brilliant and as unstoppable as everyone makes him out to be. 

He shrugs off his jacket under your command, leaving him in only a shirt and a tie and you loosen it, hurriedly wrapping it above his bleeding forearm. 

“See, poison is a bitch when it’s not done by yours truly,” you mutter under your breath, carefully tracking his breathing patterns. “Aren’t you a lucky boy to have me on hand?”

His answer to your poor attempt at a joke is a half-hearted glare, and you smile weakly, grabbing a small blade from your boot to cut off his shirt sleeve. The white material flutters towards the ground and you grimace at the deep gash running at least eight centimetres down his arm. It looks angry and inflamed; a side effect to the potent poison the blade to make that cut was laced with. 

You brush the damp strands of loose hair away from his sweaty forehead, and press your palm against his skin. A pleased hum escapes you and you nod your head, satisfied, before turning to sanitize the needle you’ll be using. 

“The fever is going down,” you tell him when you feel his silent question hang in the air between you. “That means the antidote is working. You should be back to normal in another hour or so. Gelsemine though? Jesus. I miss the days when people used Thallium and thought they were efficient poisoners.”

You grab your belt, taking it off with a hurried jerk as you offer it to John who looks up at you in confusion. “For the pain,” you supply, shaking your hand a little.

“Just get me something strong,” he grunts, pointedly shifting his gaze to the table where a bottle of something that looks like whiskey sits untouched. 

Clicking your tongue, you shake your head, “Not if you want to start vomiting blood. The poison is still in your system. Alcohol will make it worse and likely kill the antidote too. Take it.”

John looks away and you roll your eyes, dropping the belt to the ground as you step between his legs to get better access to the wound. 

“Right, okay, this will hurt.”

John doesn’t say anything—not that you expect him to. You start with cleaning the cut first, and John’s fingers sink into the couch but he remains stubbornly silent. His eyes focus on a spot just above your shoulder as you work quietly. Cleaning wounds is meticulous work, and your line of work assures that you’re always meticulous. By the time the needle finally pierces John’s skin, it already looks better. 

His jaw clenches tightly as you move the needle in and out of his skin. You know it’s excruciating but he makes no protests aside from occasional soft grunt of pain. His blood is warm on your fingers and you work as quickly as you can without messing up, a slight tremor shaking your hand. 

“How,” he begins before clearing his throat. “How did you get involved in all of this?”

You make a small sound at the back of your throat, unsure if he’s trying to distract himself from pain or truly asking because he wants to know.

“How does anyone get involved with this sort of thing,” you answer dully, not taking the bait. “We’ve known each other for almost a year and you’re only asking about my tragic past now? Tsk, tsk.”

You feel his eyes focus on you, and pull on the needle harder, tightening the stitches much to John’s clear discomfort. 

You’re both silent for a long moment after that, and much to your surprise John doesn’t push further. Most people would. 

But John Wick is not most people, you’ve come to find. 

He’s the type of man who never tries to make passes on you, never makes unnecessary comments about you or your appearance, and always insists on two beds. If there’s no spare bed, he always offers to sleep on the couch or the floor—the only exception to this rule is if he’s injured himself. 

“My parents,” you speak softly before stopping. There’s a sudden tightness in your chest and throat as you swallow, gripping John’s arm tighter so you don’t slip with all the blood coating your hands. You feel his attention turn to you, and work to control your breathing. “They worked for Tarasov when he still ran his drug operation in Moscow. Everyone owned him. He practically ran the city. People were watched, police bought out. I didn’t know about any of it. My father was tasked with the export of drugs from and into the country. My mother worked directly in one of his drug houses. Keeping the books.”

You pause, breathing deeply, and grab the nearby towel to wipe away the blood on John’s arm. Hesitating, you glance up at him. He looks alert again, sharp, and you wonder if you should continue. 

This man is already lethal—the last thing he needs is leverage over you. 

But—

You move towards the desk where the bottle of whiskey is sitting while you wipe your own hands on a towel, hiding the visible trembling of your fingers as you resume your story. 

“They decided that it would be a good idea to have a side gig on the side,” you continue, your words flat, emotionless. By now, you don’t feel grief when thinking about your parents. Just anger. The destructive, bubbling sort of rage that festers under your skin every day. “My mother started adjusting the numbers. Little by little. Nothing Tarasov would notice. Never more than thirty thousand rubles per shipment. That may sound like a lot but actually, it’s less than five hundred bucks. Seems laughable now when I think about it. For us, of course, every month that kind of money made a big difference. We didn’t need many luxuries. But they say your greed grows as you eat.”

You turn back towards John, bringing the bottle over to him. Sitting down on the table in front of him, you pour some of the whiskey on a fresh towel and press the soaked material against his arm. John’s expression twists slightly but you can tell from the way his eyes focus on you seconds later that he’s listening intently to your every word. 

“They started taking a bit more every month,” you whisper, swallowing your anger, “More and more. Just a bit. But penny after penny and it all adds up. Tarasov eventually found out, of course. He gathered everyone who works for him and had my parents shot in front of them. That’s how you keep sheep in line. You scare them till they’re too afraid to do anything, even help. I don’t blame them though. Those people had nothing. Elderly. Orphaned kids. Immigrants. Fear and hunger are all they’ve known. And well, after...”

Your head dips, and you nibble on your lip for a second, tasting blood. For the first time in a long time, the coppery tang makes you feel queasy. 

“Tarasov came to our flat that same afternoon. Had me make him dinner practically at gunpoint,” you explain further, a sardonic smile twisting your mouth as you meet John’s steady stare. So far, he hasn’t made a sound. “We discussed my parents' debt to him. He could have just had me shot too of course. But he said he didn’t want that. He said that my talents with chemistry were too valuable for him to waste. So he gave me a choice. I work for him until my parents' debt is paid off or….”   

For the first time since you began your story, John speaks, “Or?”

You chuckle under your breath, removing the towel from his arm, and lightly press your fingertips against the tender flesh. 

“There’s many uses for a healthy, young woman, John,” you state flatly, your lips stretching into something that could never pass for a smile. 

You can’t exactly pinpoint his expression, but you know it’s not pity. Perhaps it’s sympathy or even compassion. Some deeper understanding that can’t be expressed with words alone. But for once you feel like John is looking at you openly and without that uncrackable armour he usually wears like a second skin. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, at last, his voice almost gentle. “About your parents.” 

You scoff, taking a swing from the bottle and wince at the stinging burn the drink leaves in its wake. “They were stupid idiots,” you deadpan harshly. “I love them dearly. But they were fucking idiots.”

John nods once because you both know you’re right, and you swallow shakily, blinking your eyes rapidly.

For a few minutes, it’s quiet between you. You expect it to be awkward yet somehow it isn’t. In fact, it’s almost peaceful. 

“Anyway, I made my choice and here I am,” you mumble, carefully pouring him a tiny amount of the drink. He should be fine to drink it by now. Probably. “Tarasov said that once the debt is repaid, I’m free to go.” 

“And you believe that?”

Your eyes meet as John takes the glass from your hand. 

“No,” you reply frankly, your smile pained. “But when you have nothing, you have to believe in something.”

. . .

You settle into an odd little routine, you and John. 

Tarasov gives you a mission, you go, accomplish the impossible somehow and get to go on breathing for another day. 

The longer you work together, the easier it becomes to correlate. Your only weakness—if one can even call it that—is that you’re both stubborn individualists. He’s a brute, relentless strength to your sly, vicious subtlety. That’s what makes the fact that character-wise you couldn’t be more different so stupidly hilarious to you. The only real arguments you have is the way in which the job should be approached.

That thought makes you chuckle and you wince in pain immediately after. The ice pack against your jaw shifts slightly, and you shift in your seat, trying to get more comfortable. Most of your body aches painfully, but your jaw feels especially sore. One of the idiots has managed to get three heavy hits in before John splattered his brain all over you. In return, you’ve been forced to kick John out of the path of a bullet hail. 

He’s the one who pressed ice against your jaw while you were busy cleaning his bruised and bleeding knuckles. 

Then you sat in silence, digesting another job well done, and basking in the tranquil air of the hotel room while the pain-reducing solution you’ve made works its magic. 

And odd routine indeed. 

“Hey,” John’s voice breaks the soft tranquillity, and you jerk up, realising that you’ve come dangerously close to dozing off. “Do you ever think about getting out?”

You blink slowly, clearing your head as his words register. Then, confusion blooms, “Out? Get out of what?”

John doesn’t look at you though. His heavy gaze focuses on something outside, out of your sight. The slopes of his profile have become familiar to you—the raven hair, dark eyes, the small crinkles that appear around his eyes on the rare occasion he does smile. He’s not standoffish in the way others often accuse him of being now. If anything he looks softer somehow, more human than a weapon Tarasov boasts of so smugly. More than a living nightmare so many fear. 

He looks like a man. Simple as that, and when he finally turns to face you, you see the fresh cuts and bruises on his face. Just a man. 

“Getting out of this life,” he replies slowly, his voice rougher from the lucky hit one of the guards managed to get into his throat. “Getting away from everything. From Tarosov.”

It strikes you then that John is asking from a genuine place of interest—something he rarely indulges in with you, considering nine out of ten times all conversations between you are started by you. 

The second thing that strikes you is a genuine surprise. John is not the person you would ever expect to hear this type of question from. It’s private, it’s raw; he knows about your debt, about the chain around your neck. Better than most, perhaps better than everyone. But because you respect him enough to at least give it actual thought, you consider his question for a long time. 

It takes at least five minutes until you finally speak and when you do your voice sounds hollow in your own ears, “I never wanted this life,” you begin softly, your voice thin. “I never asked to be involved in any of this. I didn’t ask for my parents to take me from country to country, never allowing me to settle down anywhere or make friends. When they kept secrets and were barely home. I didn’t ask for adventure, or danger, or even wealth, John. But—”

John stares at you, considering you, no doubt analysing your words, and you swallow the sudden lump in your throat at his show of keen interest. 

“But,” you repeat again, your tone harsher. “I’m here, and I have to make the best of it. I’ve never been good at anything in my life. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself in this last year is that I’m very, very good at this. I’m starting to think that violence is in my blood, and I don’t know what that means just yet but…”

You exhale, eyes fluttering shut and you only open them after counting to ten inside your head. Slow and steady as you meet his gaze straight on. “So to answer your question: no. No, I don’t think about it. Even after I’m finished dealing with Tarasov, I don’t see another path for myself anymore. It was taken from me.”  

John peers at you for a long, long time after you fall silent. You’re not sure what he discerns from your expression or what he’s searching for, but you doubt he finds it as his obsidian eyes eventually slide away from you and towards the window. 

The sun is rising in the East. 

Milan is beautiful this time of year. 

You sit together through the sunrise, not saying a word. 

Years later, you would look back on this as the last true moment of peace for an interminable number of years. 

. . .

Separation comes only two short months later like a punch to the face. 

Tarasov’s argument is simple: he needs two jobs done on different sides of the world. One requires the lethality John is infamous for, another requires the most subtle of touches; a snake’s slyness. 

Tarasov needs the Boogeyman and the Vipress but for vastly different things this time. 

John must sense your unease—this will be your first solo mission after all—and he stops you as soon as you’re both out of earshot of any prying eyes. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says so simply, effortlessly, with enough confidence in his low voice that for a second you believe him too. “It’s the perfect job for you.”

“Of course I’ll be fine,” you shoot back with forced nonchalance. “I’m not that helpless.”

Your smile is forced, and John knows it too. 

He doesn’t point it out because deep down John is kind—no matter how ironic it is for a deadly assassin to be that.

For once, you expect him to say something else but he doesn’t. One of Tarasov’s men shouts him over because his flight is leaving in three hours. John’s gaze lingers on you for an insignificant second but he still walks away, leaving a cold kind of silence in his wake. 

His name burns at the back of your throat as dread bubbles in the pit of your gut.  

But you don’t call his name out.

. . .

It doesn’t go bad. 

It doesn’t go well either. 

It goes thoroughly and wholly to shit. 

You grasp at your shoulder where blood is still pouring freely, and your eyes sting with tears of pain as you make your report to the silent Tarasov over the phone.

They have known. 

They have prepared. 

The target got away at the last moment.

You are lucky to still be alive. 

“Better you weren’t then,” Tarasov purrs in Russian, the letters curling like a death grip around your throat. “Report to me tomorrow.”

“But—”

The line goes dead. 

You pull the bullet out yourself. Through gritted teeth and sweat dripping down your forehead. You cry twice and throw up once before you pass out from pain and terror. Still, you manage to patch yourself up. 

The lack of John’s presence stings in an unexpected, violent way when you wake up, bleary-eyed and shivering.

You have gotten dependent on him and his help. 

Now it feels like a weakness. 

Now, you hate yourself for shaking in terror as you make your way to Tarasov’s new office in New York. 

You’re strong (but not strong enough), you’re smart (but not enough), you’re— 

You wonder if you should pray, or perhaps plead for help from some higher power. Tarasov as good as admitted that you will be dead by the end of this meeting. There is no helping you now. 

Sickness cramps your stomach and you dry heave in an alleyway behind his office. Your vision swims, your blood rushes in your ears and for a second you consider simply lying down on this cold, dirty ground and letting the world consume you.

You failed, you fucked up. First solo mission and you failed in the most spectacular way possible. The target got away. There’s no one to blame but yourself. 

You’ve considered poisoning him, but that seems so unlikely to succeed now. His lackeys will never allow you to walk through the office door without ransacking you, nor would Tarasov be stupid enough to let you anywhere near him. 

Death, now more than ever, seems like an inevitably. 

John will save me. 

A harsh bark of laughter tears from your throat at the sudden, invasive whisper of your mind. How pathetic. To mess up is one thing, to know that there’s close to nothing you can do to rectify the situation is another, but to actually hope someone else will save you…

Even if you are to allow yourself the overly indulgent thought, that still doesn’t change the fact that John is in Europe right now. Half a world away—too far away. 

John.

Knees quaking, you stand up. 

Squaring your shoulders, and ignoring the burn of pain in your left shoulder, you start walking. 

John would face this with dignity, with that same cool detachment he does most things. 

John would not quiver in some dingy alleyway. He would not cry like some pathetic idiot because of his own mistake. He would face it, and he would fight back. 

Your forehead presses against the freezing wall of the building as you pull yourself together piece by piece. 

You are no longer that same girl who wept over your parents because you have no idea where they are buried, or if they even had a burial. If perhaps their bodies have been thrown onto the streets, or woods, or simply fed to the dogs. 

That girl has been killed by your parents' stupidity. 

Now only the Vipress remains. 

Vipress who is a master poisoner, whose name is no longer whispered with mockery but with reluctant respect that’s starting to rival John’s.

With every step, you stand straighter, walk with more confidence. Your shoulder throbs terribly but you step into the building as through a fog.

Tarasov greets you with a glass of vodka and a wide grin. 

The hardness of his gaze is chilling though, and you try to keep your cool demeanour, emulating John as much as possible. Two other guards lurk in the dark corners of the room, and you still entertain the thought that you can take them if it comes to that. 

Your heartbeat is so deafening in your ears, you barely catch Tarasov’s words. 

“Sorry?”

His grin stretches even further, and he tuts, “My, my, I almost forgot. How’s the shoulder?”

He doesn’t sound like he cares. But not answering would be a stupid thing to do. “It’s fine, sir.”

Tarasov makes a small sound at the back of his throat before his fist strikes your shoulder with enough force that you crumble to the floor. A cry of pain manages to escape before you bite your cheek, hot blood flooding your mouth as you tremble on the floor before him. 

“Oh, my,” Tarasov comments in sharp Russian as if surprised by your predicament while one of his guards hands him his glass. “Seems like you’re not as ‘fine’ as you say. You’ve disappointed me, (Name). Greatly.”

Tarasov pats your head, the contact heavy and patronizing, as he jerks your head up. He stares at you with a hum, shaking his head as his powerful features rearrange into a look of genuine disappointment. 

“Stand up,” he orders sharply and lets go of you, allowing you space to stagger to your feet. “It would be undignified to shoot you like this. Believe it or not, my hopes for you were high and you’ve been rather useful to me. I at least respect that.”

The two guards shift in the dim room, and you bare your bloody teeth on instinct, lowering your blood-covered hand from your shoulder. If they want to fight...   

Tarasov laughs genuinely this time, loud and booming, suddenly reminding you of your father. “You’ve got fire, little viper. I will need that ferocity for our expansion. But you also fucked up. Badly. But you will never fail me again, isn’t that right?” 

You don’t answer, staring at him through a pain-fueled haze. Tarasov ‘tsk’s and the back of his hand strikes your face with numbing force. Your lip splits on contact, one side of your face tingling with raw pain as your head snaps to the side. 

Few droplets of blood hit the pristine floor, and you stare at it dumbly, breathing harshly through your mouth. 

“I grow impatient,” he mutters coldly in clipped Russian. “Isn’t that right? I expect an answer. What did you think I will kill you? No, no, my dear. Not yet. You’ve made a mess but it can be sorted. How severe your punishment is going to be, however, is entirely dependant on you.”

Swallowing thickly, you lift your eyes to his, “I won’t fail you again.”

Tarasov laughs again, and salutes you before drowning the half-full glass in one gulp. He exhales, looking rather pleased with himself. 

“Of course you won’t,” he hums pleasantly, and pats your injured cheek with heavy intent. “Because if you do, I will have John himself put a bullet in your pretty little head. Now get out of my sight and don’t come back till I call for you.” 

. . .

The knock on your door comes two days later.

You aren’t expecting guests so the first thing you do is grab your poisoned needles and your gun. 

Gripping the familiar weight in your palm, you cautiously approach the door, levelling the gun against the wood. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

Your hand drops instinctively, and you crack the door open, only to find a familiar pair of dark eyes already staring at you. Your fingers tremble slightly as you open the door fully and John’s familiar stocky frame comes into view. 

He, in turn, takes a good minute to no doubt take in your bandaged shoulder and bruised face. Even though you added ice the moment you left Tarasov’s office, one half of your face is still swollen. Ugly, blotchy bruises litter your skin and you swallow shakily upon noting the hard, near frightening intensity in which John is taking in your injuries. 

“Why did you come?” you finally force out, and clear your throat when your voice cracks a few times. “Didn’t you have—”

“What happened?” John speaks instead, and there’s an icy undercurrent to his words you’re unused to hearing from him. 

Turning away, you walk deeper into the room, and John follows you silently. 

“I figured you would know. I’m the talk of the town,” you mutter dryly, and feel a stab of anger at the thought.

When you turn to face him, John’s expression is still oddly severe though his demeanour appears as calm as always. You’re not quite sure what to make of it. 

“I do know what happened on the mission,” he replies, his mouth a tight line, and voice dropping into almost whisper. “I want to know about this.”

He reaches out and for a stupid—purely idiotic second—you think that he’s going to touch your face; maybe run his thumb over your tender jaw to soothe the pain. 

But John stops halfway and allows his hand to drop back to his side, patient and quiet as he waits for your explanation. 

There’s an odd tension in the air that you can’t quite pinpoint. The relief of seeing him, at knowing he cares enough to at least come and see you, is already enough. Which doesn’t explain why you feel a distinct stab of disappointment at the realisation that he’s not going to hold you or comfort you, regardless of how naive it would be to expect something like that from him. That hard demeanour of his is near impossible to crack through most of the time.

“Tarasov wasn’t happy,” you settle on the easiest explanation you can give him. “Reminded me that I will never fail him again or he will have you shoot me next time.”

John’s expression twists. “I—”

He cuts himself off and you smile sadly, wincing when you scabbed lip stretches too wide. You know what he was about to say. That he wouldn’t do it—that maybe he simply couldn’t. Even in the world of killers, there are grey areas no one likes to tread on. Friends, family, associates. 

But you also know the truth. 

You both work exclusively under Tarasov’s contract. John would have to do what he’s told regardless of his own feelings on the matter. And maybe even if he does care, even if he considers you an actual friend, it won’t be enough to deliberately place himself in danger by showing disobedience. 

“It’s okay,” you say softly, and you wonder why you sound so sad without even meaning to. “We do what we’re told. We don’t ask questions. We just pull the trigger, right? It’s who we are. We’re made for violence and isn’t that fucking sad? We don’t even question it anymore, John. Do you think—”

His head tilts, his loose hair brushing against his forehead. “Do I think what?”

You exhale slowly, shaking your head, and give him another tiny smile. Somehow even ignoring pain is easier with him beside you. 

“It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

For a moment, it looks like John will say something else but he stops himself at last second and nods his head as if accepting your words. 

The distance between you feels like a ravine even while you spend the entire evening in the same room, breathing the same air. But perhaps that’s just the endless paradox between you.

. . . 

It doesn’t happen overnight. Or days. Or even weeks. 

It’s slow. So much so that you don’t notice for a long, long time and by the time you do, it’s already painfully clear that there’s no going back. 

Much like the name John wears, much like the man himself, it creeps up on you. Little by little. Bit by bit.

There’s no groundbreaking moment, there are no fireworks. There’s just the knowing that sits deep in the pit of your stomach. It’s a foolish, idiotic thing. You brush it aside because you know better. Because you’re not naive enough to hope for anything in a world like this. 

Hope is a dangerous thing, and you’ve had yours broken too many times to rely on it anymore. 

So you don’t.

You know not to expect good things anymore, to never try and rely on anything or anyone. Every good thing you’ve ever had has either died or been taken from you. 

So you really should have known that this would never last. 

. . .

Tarasov’s imposed “time out” lasts for three months. 

It marks the beginning of the end. 

And it starts with an accident that turns into a tragedy. 

. . .

an: wooo, I hope you all liked that. I’m sooo rusty it’s not even funny but I hope you found some enjoyment in this. Also sorry for the very slowburn relationship I suppose? This isn’t super romantic. But considering the type of man John is (and the fact that he’s younger here) I actually don’t see him falling for someone immediately? Also, I love angst so....this is gonna be exactly that! Thank you for reading everyone!!

[marculees]

Epilepsy Awareness Month💜

I recently seen this post by @interstellix  who made great points about epilepsy for Epilepsy Awareness Month. It sums it up really well so I suggest you give it a read and reblog! Its nice to find another photosensitive here too because we’re such a small group within the epilepsy community. I deal with anxiety on top of my epilepsy and while they aren’t always related to each other, I don’t hear enough about the day-to-day worries of epileptics. Things that seem completely normal or fine to some people can be dangerous for me, which is why stuff like giving trigger warnings are much appreciated. But often, non-epileptics don’t know about what its like to actually live with epilepsy - not just having seizures. I want to add on some of my own experiences with a funky clickbait title, below the cut. Anyone who reads this all is a star and ily⭐️

10 Things Non-Epileptics Don’t Get (Yet)

1. That moment in movies when the character wakes up and a bunch of faces are gawking down at the camera uncomfortably. Always have someone to stay with the person having a seizure. But out of care for both that person and the people around, its best to get everyone else away. No one enjoys watching someone have a seizure - it’s scary and knowing you can’t stop it can ignite feelings of guilt or panic. For the person having the seizure, its embarrassing - they aren’t even conscious of what’s happening and for all they can remember, they were minding their own business and now they’re waking up and barely able to move their body without wincing in pain.

*TW: BODY FLUIDS* I’ve literally puked, shit and pissed myself all at the same time unconsciously in front of a room of people. I’m lucky these people were my family but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing or upsetting knowing that everyone there saw me in such a state. A fear I had growing up was having a seizure in front of my class and the students making comments about it, thinking it was funny. In today’s age, filming seizures is something to worry about too because of how easily it can be shared to others online. Even if you aren’t an arsehole like that, try to be as respectful as possible and get everyone else to evacuate the room. At most, have three people to stay there: one person to stay close and time the seizure, one person to move furniture away and find something soft to lay under the epileptic’s head, and one person for crowd control who is keeping everyone else out and reassuring them all it’s okay.

Whatever you do, don’t make the epileptic feel bad for having a seizure. They can’t control it. Afterwards, comfort them and let them know its all over and you’ll stay with them until they feel better (unless they say they would rather be alone). Most of the time, the epileptic will be so tired and sore after their seizure that they’ll fall asleep. Let them; they need it. I’ve woken up on a couch, in my bed, the back of an ambulance or in a hospital bed and sometimes I was laying there for half an hour, sometimes a whole day. Knowing someone was there is relieving. Knowing everyone was there is shaming and it doesn’t make you feel any better when they’re all in your face afterwards too. Don’t be the camera crew.

2. Travelling alone is either a dream or everyday reality for a lot of people, but its a no-go for some of us. I was raised in a very overprotective household and still today, I don’t have a lot of freedom. Driving is usually one of the first bits of independence you get, but not for me. I’ve had seizures while out travelling because of the SUN. The sunlight flickering through trees, railings or bouncing off surfaces have triggered seizures in me where my family have had to pull over. The thought of being the one driving in such a scenario is terrifying to me, my loved ones and everyone else on the road. Driving is such a normalised thing for people my age that I’m embarrassed to bring up my own case unless someone specifically asks.

Then you have public transport. The sunlight issue is also here but this time, you’re with a bunch of strangers (see Point 1 again). Something my mum drilled into my head since I was younger was that if I ever got public transport by myself, then I could have a seizure and someone would film it and another person would rob me (and then you wonder why I have an anxiety disorder). I got my first bus by myself when I was 19 and for something so mundane to most people, it was like a little adventure to me. My mum didn’t approve but she complained about having to drive me everywhere too. While its fun to get the bus into town every now and then though, it becomes a bigger issue when travelling is a daily requirement and you aren’t able/allowed to drive yourself.

Free public transport doesn’t always include those with epilepsy, depending on which country you live in. What do you do when an employer asks if you can drive? What do you do if you have committments to go to and no one is around to drive or come with you? Or you need to explain why you’re going out, every single time, because someone else has to decide whether its worth the risk. Sunny roadtrips? Want to be a pilot? That last one isn’t a joke, by the way! I used to get a coach/private bus to college and if it was sunny, I’d pull the curtain over, wear my sunglasses and try to nonchalantly cover one eye to help. You can’t really get a curtain while driving your own car though and driving one-handed is not cool, its irresponsible.

3. Staying up all night talking with someone you love isn’t as romantic as we’d like it to be. All-nighters, i.e. lack of sleep, are a huge trigger for many epileptics. I wasn’t allowed to go to sleepovers with friends as a kid until I was 13, and at that sleepover I ended up having a seizure in the middle of the night after waking up to use the bathroom. Not to flex, but I had a seizure on the toilet. Where’s the weirdest place anyone else has had a seizure?. As a result of that, I was put back on medication after being told I was growing out of my seizures and had been med-free for one whole year. I’d love to stay up with a loved one and spend the night talking or watching movies, but I think a seizure would be more of a killjoy than going to bed early.

3. Unless you’re the paparazzi, camera flashes won’t give photosensitive epileptics seizures. Its a small gesture and I do appreciate it, but don’t worry - one small flash from a camera will not send my brain into override. Just don’t be taking photos from 5 different phones at the same time for more than one pic. Standing and waiting for people to take a photo all at the same time is awkward already because you don’t know who to look at, what to do with your hands, if you should change pose, smile or not, etc. Just take one flash photo and be done, or don’t use the flash at all if you don’t need to. Ring lights are a common thing now, by the way and I love them? Bye-bye camera flash!

I don’t blame anyone for having these types of concerns though. The only time you’re probably warned about flashing lights is when you’re about to watch a news report or awards show where there will be paparazzi and performances will be aired. Concerts are another thing that can be risky depending on the genre, size of the venue, whether its indoors or outdoors (if you’re like me and enjoy EDM music, you’ll have a very low chance of actually attending or watching anything live fdkslbjfdhb). Those things we avoid. But you taking a photo with a once-off flash will be okay, don’t worry. Seizures aren’t triggered by a single flash, but rather multiple flashes in a short period of time. They’re called Hertz and that shit hertz when its between 3-30 flashes per second. Also, fuck strobes, the Incredibles 2, Into The Spiderverse and any other movie that uses these for unnecessary effect.

4. Not everyone is diagnosed with epilepsy in their childhood and though some might grow out of it as they get older, not everyone will. I thought I had been growing out of it on two occasions (see point 3 again and point 9). Some people only get diagnosed with epilepsy later into their life. If you’re diagnosed while young, its easier to adjust your life because you’re growing up with it as your norm and its something you’ve just learned to live with. But for some people, they suddenly have to change their entire routine that they’ve established since they became an adult. Be sympathetic to those with epilepsy in their adult years, especially those who only got a diagnosis. Its not just a disability for children.

5. There are different types of seizures and one that’s commonly misunderstood is the partial seizure. These types of seizures have been mistaken for people being drunk or high (i.e. slurred speech, difficulty standing up or walking in a straight line, etc.), which has led them to getting kicked out of venues for something they have no control over. Swimming pools seem to be a common place for these bans, as well as gyms. Sometimes, these people are still somewhat aware they are having a seizure but cannot control them, which is really scary to think about. I don’t have them myself but I cannot imagine how frustrating they must be to not be taken seriously and instead as someone being high or intoxicated and then being punished for that. Alcohol is usually avoided as it can trigger seizures but when these seizures happen at social events, people can get the wrong idea. If you know someone who has these types of seizures, keep an eye on them if you’re out together. We’re usually only allowed one pint and hardly anyone gets that drunk after just one, so be aware that its likely they aren’t actually hammered but having a seizure instead.

6. Nobody likes being overworked but school, college, jobs and sport can very hard on us. Unless you’ve had a seizure, your teacher or boss probably won’t extend a deadline for you. The latter might even fire you. Chronic fatigue isn’t taken seriously. School is one big memory test in most countries, but for those with aura seizures, their ‘spacing out’ can affect how information they are actually taking in. Side-effects of meds can also make concentration and memory tough, and I hate how forgetful I can be because then I feel like I’m unreliable even though I push myself to give 110% anyway. Some activities like sports and physical education can be more draining than they would be for the average person, and sometimes I’d have to sit out during these activities because I felt an aura coming on after overexerting myself. I wish I could sit out having multiple assignments and group projects due in the same week, but college doesn’t work that way. I wish I could tell employers that I might not have that presentation done by the end of the day, but that wouldn’t go down too good either.

If you know someone who takes longer to complete tasks that might seem simple to you, ask yourself if you’ve ever considered they might have epilepsy or another chronic illness or disability. Don’t assume they’re lazy if they need to take an extra day or two to complete their final essay or have to stop their beep test earlier than the rest of the class. I didn’t know a good average for the beep test was 8-9, because no one ever told me. I pushed myself to 16 because I was scared people would think I was lazy and that I was dropping out to be with the other girls who agreed beforehand. I then ended up having an aura that almost slipped into a full seizure. I also almost had a seizure an hour before my religion exam in my Junior Cert at school. My mum even insisted I stay home and miss my State exam because of it. I still went though, took a bathroom break because I had another aura, and finished with an ‘A’ but had it been a different day, I might not have been so lucky. Its about knowing yourself and your limits, but we aren’t always informed that they should exist and then you end up doing stupid things like me that could hurt you. Likewise, its important to be understanding that not everyone can work at the same pace as you. It doesn’t make the quality of our work any less even if we need more time or energy to do it.

7. Side-effects aren’t always in the short-term. My own meds are advised to not be taken long-term as they weaken my bones over time. I’m 21 now and I’ve been on meds since I was 8. I wanted to reduce my dosage and eventually become med-free last year but the neurologist told me I still had brain activity and needed to stick with them. In fact, they almost ended up prescribing me more even after I had told them I was five years seizure-free. Why? See point 9. I’m lucky though because I’ve only been on one type of med. Some people can take years to find what works and their neurologists will prescribe them all sorts and leave them with awful side effects. Only last year I was chatting with a woman whose meds had caused sudden depression and fits of anger in her after she had been diagnosed and given her prescriptions. She eventually got brain surgery instead.

8. If you have a uterus and/or want to have children, do your research and a LOT of it. Birth control is usually a tough decision to make and often times, it can feel like you have no choice. Its so important to check with multiple neurologists and doctors which form of birth control is the best for you with your medication, because even the slightest new introduction to your meds box can have unpleasant side-effects. With the current medication I’m on, I can’t take the pill unless I want to increase my current dosage of meds as the pairing cancel each other and make me more vulnerable to seizures and other side-effects. I’m not pregnant and yet I have to take daily folic acid supplements because my meds cancel that out too. Every month or two, I will faint or almost faint on the first day of my period and I’m more vulnerable to having a seizure during that time. If I ever want to give birth, my children can possibly inherit my condition or be stuck taking care of me when I should be caring for them. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.

This is not to say that people with epilepsy can’t have fulfilling sex lives or raise families. But we just do it at a greater risk that even some neurologists aren’t aware of. I had to tell my neurologist last year why I didn’t want to go on the pill because HE didn’t know it interacted negatively with my meds. I’ve known women who were prescribed the pill or meds BY A PROFESSIONAL that interacted negatively with each other and gave them seizures as a result. It takes ‘find the right method for you’ to a whole new level. If your partner has epilepsy, its so important to discuss birth control and take their condition into consideration. I hear men telling their girlfriends to go on the pill so that they don’t have to use a condom, which is really selfish for a start and also disregards other forms of birth control. Do your research but let them and their own trusted neurologist decide which form is best. You should still be using a condom to protect yourselves anyway! And if you and your epileptic partner decide you would like to have children, do the same process and make sure that they are in a safe position to do so.

9. *TW: DEATH* Threatening (even ‘jokingly’) to trigger a seizure in someone is playing with that person’s life. SUDEP (Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy) affects roughly 1 in 1000 people each year. Even if that person doesn’t die after their seizure, you may have just broken a record they set for days, months or YEARS without a seizure. You just revoked their driving license and they weren’t even behind a wheel. You just prescribed them new doses of medication without any years of medical school.

Growing up, I had countless incidences where classmates would joke about making me have a seizure. If the teacher left the room for anything, the first thing they would do is run up to the lightswitch and fuck around with it. In secondary school, I stopped using the bathroom at lunch because one of the girls thought it was funny to deliberately flick the lights on and off anytime I was inside. She would snicker and call out to me while I was in the stall, asking if it could make me have a seizure. Even after saying yes, she continued to do it. If I did end up having a seizure in that bathroom, god knows what could have happened. I had a seizure in a bathroom before and was lucky I only hurt my jaw as my head slammed against the wall. Others aren’t so lucky. Injuries from seizures can be brutal, just like OP said. Yeah, you might not kill them by triggering a seizure, but what injuries do they have to deal with after?

Imagine playing a game for years and you spent ages collecting all the items, defeating every boss and proudly showing off the trophies you won. Now imagine someone suddenly pulls the cord as you’re playing; your game freezes, the screen shuts to black and when you try to frantically start it up again and see where you had remembered to last save, it says your data is corrupted and deletes everything without your permission. It doesn’t matter where or when you saved. You have to start your progress all over again. You can try memorise the strategies from before but the game switches things up and suddenly you’re hit with a difficulty spike out of nowhere. The person who joked around and pulled the plug doesn’t have to do anything. And if they wanted to, they could do the same thing again and again. Don’t be that person. Be their Player 2 and help them. If they need to go into a dungeon but they’re scared to be alone, offer to cover their back. If their health is low, find them a safe spot and let them heal. The same goes for appointments and seizures. Its not a multiplayer game by default and while they can power through solo, that doesn’t mean they don’t need help if they’re ever stuck.

10. To end on a more positive note, there are lots of successful people out who have/had epilepsy and you probably never even knew. Cameron Boyce’s passing brought attention to SUDEP and celebrities with epilepsy but did you also know about these people and their own cases and seizures?

Prince

Elton John

Lewis Carroll

Danny Glover

Lil Wayne

Neil Young

Hugo Weaving

Charles Dickens

Julius Caesar

Vincent Van Gogh

Theodore Roosevelt

Adam Horovitz

Susan Boyle

Rick Harrison (the Pawn Stars guy!)

And some who are not confirmed (due to medical practices of the time) but are suggested as a result of numerous seizures:

Leonardo da Vinci

Michelangelo

Edgar Allen Poe

Agatha Christie

Socrates

Napoleon Bonaparte

Aristotle

Alexander the Great

Epileptics are humans, normal people just like you. And like you, they’re capable of great things too. If you think about making a crude comment to someone with epilepsy, think about these people and ask yourself if you would say the same things to them. 

If you read all of this, comment with a ⭐️ and please reblog to spread awareness. Whenever we talk about epilepsy, we start and stop the conversation at seizures. Its good to bring awareness to the other things too because its something that affects every part of our lives. Its an invisible disability but that doesn’t mean we are hidden from the disability community and discussion!

[onedoesnotsimplywriteafanfic]

Reunited at last (5/6)

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4

After exploring the old ruins that was were streets. It was a long lost dream to find this place and here I was. I wasn’t suppose be there on the hill of the mountain, but I was. Rafe had yet another meeting with Nadine and her men and he didn’t want me their, with the excuse it was way to boring for me and I could use that time exploring the building. So that was what I did. I explored and figured it all out.

Walking trough history, thats how it felt. Everything was just like it had been left behind after what looked like a huge fight, some could call it a war. Bodies where spread over the clearing, canons, weapons and barricades could be found.  It was unclear who’s battle it was and what they where fighting for.

Making my way inside the bloodshed had continued, who ever the battle was between had made their way inside.  Big golden looking doors, three times bigger than that I was, kept me from entering, what I only believed to be, the treasure room. A lever on my left was my way in. I pulled it towards me and a heavy mechanism could be heard starting to work.

Only it was for a little while before it stopped, doors still closed. With a groan I walked over to the door and pushed it with all my wight. It took a lot of effort but I manged to open the doors by force. My believes where right, this room used to be a treasure or trophy room, only this one was empty.

It was hard to imagine what had taken place hundred years ago but I had my ideas. By the looks of the state this room was left in, Avery had already taking his treasure elsewhere. Along the walls almost life sized paintings hung portraying the pirates. Avery, Tew all the founders of Libertalia.

They were all marked with the word ‘’Thief’’ meaning the treasure was already gone by the time the citizens had fought their ways in. Looking around the room for further clues I found the last peace of the puzzle. It was so small most would have missed it, but not me.

A map was painted on the sealing, it was barely visible because most of the roof was missing. But it was there. It showed a small town named ‘’New Devon’’ inhabited by seven large mansions. One for each pirate of Avery’s crew.

Smiling to myself, proud of my findings, I found myself calling for Nate. ‘’Nate, I figur,-’’ I cut my self off mid sentence, realizing Nate wasn’t here. In that moment of happiness I longed for my best friend. I should have been here with them, with Nate and my father.

Gunshots pulled me back to reality. It sounded far away but not the less it caught my attention. In a haze I looked for a way out. It took me way more time then I had anticipated and by the time I found a way outside the sound of a gun fight had stopped.

Now standing on top of a watch tower I looked around in the hope to locate the source of the fight. But what I found was more disturbing. Shoreline men filled my few, weapons drawn. Panic filled my body and the only thing on my mind was that I needed to get the hell out of here.

Making my way down was difficult because the tower was about to collapse. Running as fast as my legs could carry me I made my way down. Just before the tower collapsed I jumped to the roof of a nearby building.

My body wasn’t used to these kinds of shenanigans any more, so the safest way was the ground. No more jumping buildings. More shots filled the air and sometimes I needed to duck to prevend myself from getting shot.

In the distance I saw Rafe running inside a gave with some of the Shoreline soldiers. I followed him and waited till I got close to make my presence known. I ran out to a small clearing leading to a ravine. ‘’Rafe!’’ I called out. All eyes where now on me and so were most of there guns. ‘’Rafe?’’ I called out again, this time with my hands in the air.

Looking around the group I saw Nate and Nadine who was held captive by someone I couldn't see its face of. The man holding Nadine shifted slightly in its place making it able for me to see his face. My eyes grew bigger from confusion. ‘’Sam?’’ My voice was shaking, my mind making over hours. ‘’I told you to stay away.’’ Rafe spatted at me. A low growl could be heard leaving Sams throat.

Snapping my attention to Rafe I spat back at him. ‘’Excuse me?’’ I was still being hold at gun point but I ignored them. With anger in his eyes Rafe took a step towards me. Trying to hold my ground I stayed put. Locking my eyes with his I looked for answers. ‘’You knew, didn’t you.’’ I asked bluntly not giving him time to talk. ‘’You knew, all this time he was alive?!’’ I felt a white rage burning in my stomach and my anger got the best of me.  

Waiting for him to confirm my theory I kept my eyes locked on his. ‘’Of course, who else did you thought broke him out for a second time.’’ Without thinking I swing my arm back and connected it with his jaw. Through the force of the impact Rafe stumbled back. By only one sign, one of the Shoreline soldiers grabbed me and put his gun to my temple.  

The safety of a gun being pulled back could be heard, coming from Sam, still holding Nadine. ‘’Let her go Sam, or she dies.’’ pointing at me Rafe kept his vision at Sam. ‘’No.’’ Sam said trough gridded teeth. ‘’Don’t make me ask again, sam.’’ A threatening hint was visible in his voice.

Nate who kept watching until now made a move no one expected. It all happened in a second. Nate moved towards his brother and unarmed him so Nadine could step free. ‘’Now let her go, Rafe.’’ Nate said trowing the gun away. ‘’I can’t quite do that yet, Nathen. I still need her.’’ Anger kept boiling up inside of me.

I lowered my head towards my chest before I yanked it back, making contact with the nose of my captor. He let me go to grab his now bloody now. Kicking the gun out of his hand sending it flying. ‘’I am done helping you, Rafe.’’ I spat my words out, filled with poison.  

A cynical laugh left his lips. ‘’I don’t think so princess. You and your not so dead boyfriend over there are going to lead me to Avery’s treasure.’’ With his pistol raised at Sam, he shot daggers at me. ‘’To bad I don’t know where it is.’’ I lied, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly.

He wasn’t to happy with my answer. ‘’Then you better figure it out, fast, or els.’’ He threatened me. ‘’Please, I am sure we can figure something out, make a deal, find it together.’’ it was Nate he broke the silence. ‘’There is nothing to figure out. I only need one or two of you.’’ His gun shifted from Sam to Nate. ‘’No!’’ Sam and I yelled in unison. But it was to late, Rafe had pulled the trigger.

Sam jumped in front of Nate to take the bullet but it hit him in the shoulder. It was a trough and trough and it launched itself in Nate, who fell backwards to the edge, eventually falling over leaping to his faith.

The build up anger that i’ve been collecting inside bursted, I launched myself towards Rafe. One of the Shoreline men grabbed me but without luck. In a second I had disarmed him and held him under gunpoint with his own gun. ‘’Tell your men to stand down and no one gets hurt.’’ I threw a quick glance at Rafe. ‘’And who is going to hurt them, you?’’ wrong answer.

Pulling the safety back and pulled the trigger I shot the man in his back. Dead. ‘’Yes, me.’’ with an empty look in my eyes I looked at Rafe. Sam watched me from his position on the ground. An amused and proud look spread across his lips.

A vein on Rafe’s forehead was about to burst so much anger was he carrying. ‘’Maybe I only need one of you.’’ Rafe said coldly and pulled the trigger. The bulled embedded itself in my torso, falling to the ground immediately. Faintly in the distance I could hear Sam’s voice but I couldn’t figure out what he was saying.

One by one Rafe and his people left the cliff, dragging Sam with them. Leaving me to die. But one thing Rafe forgot, he doesn’t get rid of me that easily. What felt like hours I woke up.  My body felt stiff and everything hurts.

Weakly I made my way trough the cave to the shore. My last hope for survive was my dad. He owned this ridiculous old aircraft that could land on water.

Nearing the shore I saw the outlines of the aircraft, with the last strength I had in me I screamed for my dad. ‘’DAD!’’ limping closer to the water I tried again. ‘’Dad!’’ I hadn’t much strength in me left, but it was just enough for him to hear me.

For a second time I lost conscious. The next time I woke up I laid in the plain all patched up. ‘’Dad?’’ I asked silently, slightly in panic. ‘’I am here, doll.’’ I heard my father say over the sound of the plain. ‘’We are getting Nate and Elena at the north side of the island.’’ By hearing Nate’s name I shot up from my laying position. ‘’He is alive?!’’ I could barely believe it.

A tension filled the air followed by a deafening silence until I broke it. ‘’I know about Sam.’’ My dad looked at me quickly over his shoulder. ‘’Sweetheart, I am so,’’ he started but I stopped him. ‘’I understand Dad. You did it to protect me and because the whole thing with Rafe.’’

The flight was short, we landed near the shore and waited for Nate and Elena. Loud explosion could be heard in the distance. Getting closer and closer by the second. An armored car seemed to be chasing something or someone.

In horror I saw who the car was chasing, Nate. ‘’Dad, it’s Nate!’’ But my dad was already on the case and shot an RPG at the car, making it stuck on a wall. ‘’Trow me the RPG!’’ Nate yelled and my father did what he asked.

We helped Nate up de wall after the car was taken care of. Without giving him time to react I embraced him tightly. ‘’I thought you were dead.’’ I breathed in his chest, slightly crying. ‘’Me too.’’ He whispered back. 

After breaking apart I looked for Elena. ‘’Where is Elena?’’ and right after the words left my mouth she came running towards us. ‘’Hey.’’ She said before embracing each other. ‘’Hey.’’ he said back. ‘’How are you doing?’’ My father asked. ‘’Im doing good, some close calls but,’’ She stepped away from us to look at the ruins. ‘’He covered me.’’ And walking out of the ruins came Sam.

Part 6 

Masterlist