[ Paranormal Pull ] - Stanford Pines x Reader

I Won't Let Go (Ch. 4)

A/N: Hey guys! As of right now, this work may not seem very popular, but the 15 total views has me weak. I'd never think anyone would read, let alone 15 wonderful people read my shitty writing. I'm honored. It may not be much, but to me, it means the whole world. Also, how my work got a ranking is beyond me. It's shitty and it's new. It's not a high rank, but it's still ranked. How the hell did that happen? What I'm saying is: thank you. I hope this is enjoyable.

Triggering content ahead!

- rape mention

- PTSD flashbacks

- physical abuse

- parental neglect

- divorce

- family death

- child death/murder

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After your two hours long acrobatic stunt, you had promised Ford you'd apply more of your skills to your hunts. You two had gone into a discussion about the origins of your flexibility and balance after the man compared your reflexes and agility to a cat's. You were honored and more than a little prideful that your slight crush had an admiration for your athleticism.

The two of you talked for hours on that roof. You'd gone into how you basically trained yourself in all aspects except self-defense. However, by the time you were taught how to fight, you already had a good grasp and could through a nasty punch, as well as land a kick that could launch someone like a kangaroo. All of this came from: the facts you grew up on a farm, had to tackle and hold onto a sturdy goat successfully through painful trial and error, hunt for your meats (because it was better than buying it), and that you adored climbing trees. You also realized that tree hopping was an excellent way to move around. Hence why you could land and climb on a railing.

In return, Ford had also shared some of his experiences in the portal. You never brought up the subject because you knew it was a sensitive subject for him. While you were no psychiatrist, you knew he had trauma. Hell, could you blame him? The man was trapped in a vicious dog-eat-dog world for thirty years with the possibility of death every day. You felt horrible for the man. The way he spoke with a trembling voice recounting some of the tales made you want to pull him into a tight embrace and rock him, telling him everything is going to be okay; that he was safe. Despite your motherly instincts, you only nodded and patted his shoulder to comfort him as he vented.

Deep down inside, you questioned why he poured his soul before you. While the Pines and especially Ford knew about your own past, there were many sugar-coated details, along with a few omitted out of fear of being seen as weak. No, not even that- you didn't want to be hurt again. The things you've gone through left you with a sour view on the world. When your best friend recounted his former motto "trust no one", you really connected with him deep down on that one, even if you didn't like to admit it.

That's what you've been thinking about for the past two days. And it's sucked. By the time you made your way home after the ten-minute walk through the woods, your body was in autopilot. As soon as you sat on that couch, you began wailing. So much emotional pain built up over the past few months had boiled over yet again.

You looked at the clock on the stove from your seat at the kitchen table. 2:34 AM. You hadn't slept since then, for the night terrors that ensued jolted you to high alert after half an hour of resting. Eventually, you blinked and removed yourself from the trance you were in. Standing up you moved to the couch and relocated yourself to the couch with your canine pal on your heels.