Requested by: @genisisisjustheretoday !!
Gift for: @yourlocaluuma13 <33
Controlled Chaos β MOTM
Summary: A persistent melody leads you straight into the heart of a mess you canβt ignore β and a man who refuses to stop long enough to notice heβs falling apart. What starts as irritation turns into something harder to name, as sharp words, stubborn defiance, and unexpected closeness blur the line between frustration and something far more dangerous.
Pairing: Myth Bugs x Reader
Genre: Hurt / Comfort, Light Romance, Slow Burn, Drama, Slice of Life and Romantic Tension
Trope: Workaholic Genius on the Brink, Grumpy x Grumpier (but softer underneath), "Only You Can Get Through to Me", Tension to Softness, Reluctant Caretaking, Emotional Walls Cracking and Touch-Starved Realization
The music started as a whisper.
Just a faint melody leaking through the underground hallway like smoke slipping through a cracked door.
Thin, persistent, impossible to fully ignore once you noticed it. It curled through the air in uneven strands, weaving itself between the dull mechanical hum of the base until it became something you couldnβt quite separate from everything else.
Not part of the environment but not entirely separate from it either.
At first, you didnβt notice.
The base was never truly quiet. There was always something, machines humming in distant rooms, ventilation systems rattling like they were holding secrets, the occasional echo of footsteps that never quite told you where they came from.
Pipes ticked softly as temperatures shifted, and somewhere, always somewhere, a loose panel clattered just enough to make you glance over your shoulder.
Not random. Not accidental. There was structure to it, intent. A rise and fall that felt almost theatrical, like it was building toward something that never quite arrived.
It lingered on certain notes just a little too long, stretched tension thin and refused to resolve it.
By the third hour, it wasnβt background anymore.
Pressing against your thoughts. Slipping into the spaces between them. Filling the quiet moments you didnβt realize you relied on just to think clearly.
You dragged a hand down your face as you walked toward the lab, your fingers pressing harder than necessary against your skin like you could physically wipe away your growing irritation.
Your nails scraped faintly over your cheek as your hand fell away, and you exhaled sharply through your nose.
Your footsteps echoed sharply against the polished concrete floor, each step a little louder than the last, not because you meant them to be, but because your patience had worn thin enough that restraint wasnβt really a priority anymore.
The fluorescent lights above flickered intermittently, casting uneven shadows along the walls. Each flicker came with that faint electrical buzz, a stuttering hum that crawled under your skin and settled there, mixing unpleasantly with the low, theatrical melody drifting from the end of the hall.
Your patience had been gone since yesterday.
You were running purely on spite.
Thatβs how long heβd been down here.
Three days since anyone had seen him leave.
Three days since youβd last seen him in passing, when heβd brushed past you without slowing, coat swaying behind him, that infuriatingly confident grin already in place like he knew something you didnβt.
βDonβt wait up. Docβs busy.β
The memory alone made your eye twitch faintly.
You had rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt at the time.
You were rolling them again now, though there was no one around to see it.
βUnbelievable,β you muttered under your breath, your voice echoing faintly down the corridor as you shoved your hands into your pockets for a moment, only to pull one out again immediately, restless.
The music grew louder as you approached the heavy metal door at the end of the hall.
Almost theatrical in a way that felt intentional, like it wanted to be noticed.
Like it wanted an audience.
Your jaw tightened further.
You grabbed the handle and shoved the door open harder than necessary.
It slammed against the wall with a loud CLANG that echoed through the lab, the sound sharp and violent enough to momentarily overpower the music.
Not his organized chaos, the kind where everything looked like a mess but somehow still made sense if you stared long enough.
This was what happened when control slipped.
Coffee cups littered every available surface, some empty, some half-full, one tipped dangerously onto a pile of blueprints that had clearly once been important. The liquid had dried in uneven stains, leaving warped paper and smeared ink behind like evidence of neglect.
Burnt coffee. Metal. Smoke. Something faintly electrical that prickled at the back of your throat.
Blueprints covered the walls in uneven layers. Some pinned, some taped, some barely hanging on. Notes were scrawled across them, hurried, messy, overlapping.
Ideas abandoned halfway through, replaced by something else scribbled in the margins.
Machines hummed constantly, filling the room with a low mechanical vibration you could feel in your chest. Somewhere to your left, a metal arm twitched suddenly with a sharp click, making you flinch before you caught yourself, your shoulders tightening in irritation at your own reaction.
Wires hung from open panels like exposed nerves.
And in the center of it allβ
He sat like none of it mattered.
Leaning back in a rolling chair, one leg stretched out and propped casually against the workbench, like he owned the mess instead of being consumed by it, just like you.
His tie hung loose around his neck, slightly crooked.
His suit jacket was open, wrinkled in places it definitely hadnβt been before.
His sleeves were rolled up unevenly, like heβd done it absentmindedly hours ago and never bothered fixing it.
A cigarette burned slowly between his fingers, the ash long and fragile, threatening to fall at any second.
His ears twitched the moment the door slammed.
The chair turned slowly with a quiet squeak, one hand lazily guiding the motion.
That infuriating, knowing grin. Spread across his face like nothing had changed.
βLook what the cat dragged in.β
You crossed your arms instantly, shifting your weight onto one leg, your expression flattening into something unimpressed and entirely unamused.
βDonβt flatter yourself.β
One eyebrow lifted, subtle but deliberate, his head tilting just slightly as if considering your response like it was genuinely interesting.
βOuch,β he replied, pressing a hand briefly to his chest in mock offense, though the glint in his eyes made it clear he wasnβt affected in the slightest.
You stepped into the room, your boots crunching faintly against stray debris on the floor.
The smell hit you immediately β stronger now.
Your eyes scanned the disaster again, slower this time, taking in details you hadnβt caught in that first glance.
βDid a tornado hit this place?β you asked, your voice edged with sharp disbelief as you nudged a fallen stack of papers aside with your foot, watching them slide across the floor in a disorganized heap.
βCreative process,β he said easily, flicking ash into a tray without even looking at it, his wrist moving with practiced ease.
You let out a dry laugh, short and unimpressed, your lips curling slightly.
βThis isnβt creative,β you said, your gaze snapping back to him. βThis is disgusting.β
βYer always so dramatic,β he replied, leaning back further in his chair like he was settling in to enjoy this, one hand draping lazily over the armrest.
You walked deeper into the lab, stepping carefully around scattered materials.
A sheet of paper stuck to your shoe.
You stopped abruptly, your brows knitting together in annoyance as you lifted your foot slightly and peeled it off with two fingers.
Your eyes flicked over it.
Half of it crossed out so aggressively the paper was nearly torn through.
βYouβve been scribbling nonsense for three days?β you asked, holding it up slightly between your fingers before letting it fall back to the floor, where it fluttered down unevenly.
He leaned forward just a little, elbows resting on his knees now, his posture shifting from lazy to something more engaged.
βNonsense?β he echoed, his tone light but with an edge of amusement threading through it.
βThat,β he said calmly, gesturing vaguely toward the mess with a loose flick of his hand, βis groundbreaking engineering.β
βThat,β you shot back immediately, your voice sharpening as you pointed toward a stack of precariously balanced equipment, βis a fire hazard waiting to happen.β
His grin widened, slow and deliberate.
βYer hurtinβ my feelings.β
You ignored that completely.
Instead, you stepped closer.
And this time β you actually looked at him.
Dark circles under his eyes.
His fur slightly uneven, like heβd been running his hands through it repeatedly, leaving faint disruptions in its usual neatness.
His fingers tapping, too fast, too restless.
Like stopping was no longer an option.
ββ¦You look terrible,β you said, your voice quieter now but no less blunt, your arms loosening just a fraction where they were crossed.
His grin didnβt falter.
βAw, shucks,β he replied, though his voice dipped just slightly lower, like it had lost a fraction of its earlier brightness.
He tilted his head, studying you now with more focus, his gaze lingering longer than before.
βYer gettinβ sharper.β
Your eyes narrowed immediately.
βDonβt patronize me.β
βI wouldnβt dream of it,β he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he might.
Your attention shifted past him again.
The machine behind him loomed large.
Pieces exposed, panels open, something faintly glowing deep within its structure in a way that made your instincts prickle.
βWhat is that?β you asked, your tone flattening again.
βIt looks like a bomb.β
βNow yer hurtinβ my feelings again.β
You pinched the bridge of your nose, your eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment as you exhaled slowly through your teeth.
βDo you ever stop talking nonsense?β you muttered, your shoulders rising and falling with the breath.
βDo you ever stop complaininβ?β he shot back immediately.
Your eyes snapped back to his.
The music swelled behind you, filling the space between your words, louder now that neither of you were speaking.
βYouβve been down here for three days,β you said finally, your voice steadier now, but quieter.
βTime flies when yer brilliant.β
βYou havenβt slept.β
ββ¦Well ainβt that somethinβ.β
You groaned, dragging a hand down your face again, slower this time.
βI swear youβre impossible.β
βAnd yet,β he said, that grin creeping back in full force, though there was something thinner about it now, βhere you are.β
The space between you shrinking until it felt intentional.
His gaze followed every movement now.
βYou need to stand up,β you said, your voice firm.
He raised a brow slowly, his head tilting again.
βYou givinβ orders now?β
He leaned back further instead, deliberately, his chair creaking under the shift.
Something in your chest snapped.
You grabbed the back of his chair and shoved it forward hard.
The wheels screeched loudly across the floor.
He grabbed the desk instantly to steady himself, his posture snapping forward.
βYouβre insufferable.β
The sound cutting cleanly through the tension in the room.
βYou shoved my chair,β he said, like he couldnβt quite believe it, one hand still gripping the desk as he looked up at you.
βYou got a temper,β he added, his grin widening again.
βThatβs the fun part.β
And suddenly, he was right there.
Taller than you remembered.
Your breath hitched, just slightly.
His grin sharpened, just a fraction, his head dipping slightly as he leaned in enough to make it intentional, but not enough to close the space completely.
βWhatβs the matter, 'Doc'?β he murmured, his voice lower now, softer in a way that contrasted everything else about him.
You stepped forward anyway.
Even if your heartbeat had picked up.
βYouβre spiraling.β
βOr maybeβ¦β he leaned in just slightly more, his voice dropping another notch, βI just like annoyinβ you.β
Your heart betrayed you with one sharp, sudden beat.
βCongratulations,β you muttered, your gaze flicking briefly to his shoulder before returning to his eyes. βYouβre succeeding.β
More serious than before.
βYou came all the way down here just to yell at me?β he asked, quieter this time.
βThatβs kinda sweet.β
And then, before you could overthink it.
Before you could talk yourself out of itβ
ββ¦Doc?β he said, his voice losing that smooth edge for the first time, replaced with something uncertain.
βYouβre exhausting,β you muttered against him, your arms firm where they wrapped around him.
ββ¦Three days,β you continued, quieter now, your grip tightening just slightly. βThree days with no sleep.β
ββ¦I had a carrot,β he said weakly, like it was the best defense he could come up with.
βThat doesnβt count.β
Then slowly, carefully, like he wasnβt entirely sure how to do thisβ
His arms wrapped around you.
ββ¦Yer gonna wrinkle my suit,β he murmured after a moment, though there was no real complaint behind it.
Some of the tension broke.
ββ¦That song ainβt wrong,β he murmured after a moment, his voice quieter now, closer to something honest.
You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hands still lightly resting against him.
βSometimes thereβs a little devil in yer head tellinβ ya to keep goinβ,β he said, his gaze drifting briefly past you toward the machine behind him, his jaw tightening just slightly.
βAnd sometimes,β you said, softer now, βsomeone has to drag you away.β
ββ¦Funny thing about you,β he said.
βYou drive me crazy.β
βThat feeling is mutual.β
For once, neither of you argued.
He reached over after a moment.
The music cut off instantly.
The kind that felt earned.
He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, shrugging it on with a small roll of his shoulders, like he was shaking off something heavier than just exhaustion.
Then he nudged you lightly toward the door with the back of his hand.
βWhere?β you asked, though you were already moving.
βMaybe Iβll stop annoyinβ you for five minutes.β
You scoffed, though it came out softer than before.
But when he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours, hesitant for just a fraction of a second before lacing throughβ
And neither of you said a word about it.
Author's note: It's funny that my dad listens to this song sometimes, even though he doesn't know English, he likes how loud it is, he loves to listen it when he's working LMFAO.
I thought it fits Bugs' personality quite well in this fic because he's driven by a restless, self-destructive focus, he hides exhaustion and instability behind charm, wit, and constant motion like heβll fall apart if he ever stops. The βdevil in his headβ keeps pushing him forward, but around the reader, that sharp edge softens into something quieter, almost vulnerable. With them (you), his chaos finds its only pause, someone who sees through him and stays anyway, in this case.
I hope you guys enjoyed it <3
