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masterwords · 2 years

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Can you write Hotchgan in the beginning state of their relationship and Hotch has a meltdown, which catches Derek off guard because he didn't know about the autism? 👀

If you aren't comfortable with this its no problem, don't worry💗💗

Oh, hey YOU. Okay, I really hope I did this some justice...I scoured @eldrai's blog for inspiration and cues. It got long, way out of control, and it was partially inspired by a scene at the end of 10x05 - Boxed In on the jet and of course I took a lot of inspiration from Lo-Fi/Mayhem too. But this jet scene...

Something about everyone sleeping, and how close to home that case was for Hotch, and the way Morgan stands up there to look at him in the dark but gives him space...ANYWAY. I hope this is okay. <3

4.1k words | Hotch/Morgan | Derek figures out how to help when Hotch has a meltdown.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and stared hard at the file, willing the words back into focus. He could finish the whole thing before they landed, and with any luck, he could keep the noise at bay. Or keep them from noticing when it got too loud. The pressure built in his chest and his pen worked faster.

Sometimes it caught him off guard, things fell into place too quickly for him to perform his carefully curated damage control. And sometimes it was a slow burn, a gradual undoing of the threads that kept him in one piece. A pot of water coming to a low, rolling boil over dying embers. When he looked at Mary and told her she couldn't blame herself for what her son did, something had hitched in his chest. Some little warning bell, an alarm. He was seasoned enough to know his triggers, so he trained his eyes on his feet and walked one foot in front of the other toward the vehicle. His job here was done.

This was a slow burn, he recognized it, but he could put it out before it became a blazing fire.

Breathing got him through it. Closing his eyes, blocking out the crime scene, he managed to put it back where it belonged in order to drive he and Dave and JJ back to the precinct. He drove, because if he drove, then he could also decide to pull over. He was in control.

He took the banker box of information for the reports so he had something to keep his hands busy and his mind quiet on the jet. He was in control.

He poured a cup of coffee because if he slept he might slip into a nightmare. He was in control.

On the jet, everyone visited quietly about saving that boy. Finally a good outcome. A happy ending. Sure they'd all missed Halloween, but a little boy would go home with his parents and hopefully, after time, be okay. Derek kept looking back at Hotch who had seated himself completely on his own in the back with the remaining work. For Hotch, the case wasn't closed, it wasn't over, but he could make it go fast. Each time someone looked like they might talk to him, Derek drew their attention back to him, back to the conversation at hand. He could see the wild on-the-brink look in Hotch's eye and knew that he was one drop, one ripple away from losing it.

Right now, he was in control.

“Hey Hotch? What did you say to Mary back there?” JJ asked, craning her neck over the top of the seat. He glanced up at her and blinked slowly, his eyes faraway and coming sharply into focus. Derek watched the change happen. The shadow that fell over his features, and his lips formed a grim line.

“Later, Jayj,” Derek said, patting her on the leg. “He looks like he's in the zone there. Unless you wanna get stuck with that paperwork, we should let the man focus huh?” Draw it back to work. She shrugged and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, yawning.

“You don't have to tell me twice.”

Hotch looked back down at the report, but it had all gone fuzzy and he wasn't getting it back. He was no longer in control.

His glass pond was full of ripples, rings growing bigger and more violent by the second. His heart was thundering. There were no more words on the page, just splotches of bright white and kaleidoscope colors dancing in his vision. He clenched his fist against his thigh, dug his fingernails in until they cut crescents into his palm and couldn't seem to make himself stop. Instead, he pressed harder and harder, his shoulders shaking, muscles coiled tight all the way up into his jaw. His hand felt wet, blood pooled against his fingertips and he squeezed harder. Like a tea kettle with a steam release, he was waiting for it. The pressure was still building, though.

And the noise in his head was so loud.

The world around him was quiet, so many tiny people fluttering through their lives below him and though none of them were anywhere near him, he felt their electricity crackling over his skin. He became a lightning bolt. Everyone's goodness, their evil, the words, the expectations it all flowed through him like a current. He thought about how he'd yelled at the unsub, he heard the words he said and felt them thunder through his chest. Pulling the child out from underground, that family's generations of evil manifesting into a squall in his head. It hurt to hold it in, it hurt but it was in there so tight he couldn't let it out, it just raged inside of him beating against the walls of his being until he thought he might just come apart at the seams.

His face gave no real sign of any of this, but the muscle that twitched just beneath his ear was a dead giveaway to Derek.

Derek watched him cautiously. Everyone else was sleeping, or close to, and he was caught somewhere in time wondering what to do. How to help without drawing attention...attention would undoubtedly make it worse, but Hotch was no longer in control of much. He could see the quiet primal fury boiling there. He stood up, glanced at Hotch staring so intently he thought he might burn a hole into the page, and then turned to head toward the back of the plane. Hot water on tap gurgled and growled into a mug, Hotch's favorite mug, and then a bag of chamomile tea was plopped inside. He grabbed himself a cold water bottle and felt around for a moment beneath the seats for his headphones. He liked to keep them right there, easy to grab, easy to lose himself in.

Careful not to startle Hotch, he crouched in front of him and waited to feel those amber eyes on him. Desperate, a silent plea for understanding, and Derek nodded before holding the headphones up. Hotch didn't back away, didn't flinch or move. He just stared helplessly. Unable to speak.

This was always hard for Derek, knowing that someone who valued control so much could lose it so completely, so vastly and not even afford themselves the grace to let it happen. Ride the storm without the shame.

There was no shame, but Hotch simply had never given himself the freedom or the kindness to try and see it that way.

At first, Derek had tried to comfort him through it. He was never one to shy away from an emotional situation, and Hotch so seldom showed him anything like that...he really thought he was doing the right thing. He was doing what he would have wanted, were he to find himself in that situation.

But what he thought was going to be a simple thing turned out to be anything but. He didn't know what he was seeing. Hotch was so good at hiding himself away, so in tune with his triggers that he never showed that side of himself...until New York, until a car bomb ripped his feet from the ground and took his hearing and his relationship with gravity out in a ball of flame. He found Hotch in the hospital, tearing an IV from his arm, desperate and concussed and bleeding. His eyes were so wild with terror and he was shouting...he'd never heard Hotch shout at anyone like that before. Part of it was his hearing, the shouting because his world was unsettlingly quiet when he knew it should have been anything but...and yet the noise in his head, the ringing, was so loud. He shouted and Derek froze for a moment. This wasn't an unsub, it was a doctor and a nurse, people who wanted to help him, to care for him. Derek managed to get them out of there, pressed his hand to Hotch's chest first and felt the hammering of his heart against his sternum. “Hotch,” he said quietly, his hand moving to settle over the bleeding on Hotch's arm and he tried to pull him back in. He squeezed it, tried to stop the bleeding, and something about the pressure seemed to snap his focus onto Derek. It seemed to quiet him a little, but that despair, that fear and wildness was still there.

And Derek couldn't touch it.

“Hotch, your go bag is on it's way...” Relax, he meant to say, but he could see that feral spark in his eyes that told him that would be a step too far. That word was wrong. Hotch was barely holding something together, barely holding his tongue, his fists. He looked around the room desperately, saw the mangled sheets, the bed at an odd angle and tried to picture the rampage he'd only just missed.

As Hotch came down, a deep sadness and shame filled his eyes, but he forced himself to talk only about the case. It became his only focus as he regained some semblance of control, and Derek longed to ask him about what had just happened, but it felt dangerous, so he didn't, he followed Hotch's lead. They talked about the case, they waited for the team to arrive, things got worse instead of better, but he was in control again. At least for the time being. The pressure had built and released, and now it was building again.

He managed to find his way to a bed, to sleep, before he lost anything again.

That night, after the unsub slit himself ear to ear in front of Hotch, after the news of Kate, after Derek blew up the ambulance...he and Spencer met up in the hotel bar for a beer. Well, Spencer ate a plate of french fries and had a Coke, but Derek went for the beer he'd decided against the night before. Ice cold Stella Artois, he could drown himself in its amber depths. As quietly as he could, he spoke to Spencer about what he'd seen at the hospital while Hotch did his best to sleep off the day. “I've never seen him like that before,” Derek confessed, and Spencer nodded solemnly. He'd always had a feeling he knew Hotch better than any of them and he felt vindicated, but he wasn't about to overshare, not something so deeply personal. Instead, he offered what he could in a roundabout way. Things that might help.

“When I feel like everything is out of control,” he started cautiously, really focusing on his word choice and holding Derek's eye contact. That part was the hardest for him, he longed to look somewhere else, anywhere else, but Derek needed it. He knew that, in order to know this was a moment to take seriously. For the sake of his relationship. “When everything is building up, things are stacking up too fast...it's hard to hear people talking to me, even if they mean well. It just makes it worse. What I need is...a buffer, I guess. A way out. My voice, in here,” he indicated his head sadly. “It's too loud and anything added to it just increases the volume until I think I'm going to lose my mind.”

“Are you saying...” Derek stared and Spencer raised his hand briefly, begging him to stop. To just listen. Not to ask questions that Spencer had no business answering.

“I'm only saying maybe there was too much going on. He was in an explosion, Derek. We saw the footage. And everything else this week...then that...I'm just saying that what happened in the hospital was...” he paused, he could feel himself getting worked up, dangerously close to just blurting something out that he had no right saying. “Listen. It was probably just too many things that happened too fast. And even if that one last thing was a good thing...like a doctor trying to care for his injuries...it was still...” Too much, even for a person who wasn't autistic, that was what he wanted to say, but Derek interrupted him and stopped him just in time.

“Overwhelming.” Derek finished the sentence, and thought he caught more in what Spencer didn't say than in what he did. But now Spencer looked exasperated and a little wild, so Derek just shrugged and told him he had some thinking to do but he appreciated the help. They didn't speak about it the rest of the night.

It gave Derek a lot to consider, and a conversation was looming just out of reach. One he wasn't sure he knew how to navigate. It was just that he thought the one place Hotch should be able to be himself, and lose the mask, should be with him, right? He was so sure of that, but there was a little voice inside that said it wasn't inherently true. Unless he wanted to. It was Hotch's decision. Derek struggled with that.

“Aaron,” he'd started on the long ride home from New York, unable to sit in the silence any longer. He had to know. He was desperate for answers. But Hotch was distraught, in and out of some kind of fitful sleep, deeply uncomfortable now that his body had time to come down from the shock of the night before. The intensity of the pain kept him pinned in place while his mind spun out of control. He couldn't have talked about any of it if he tried. He'd already been on the precipice of another meltdown all morning, he'd snapped at Derek over trust when he hadn't ever meant any harm, and now he was barely holding it at bay. One more thing.

“Derek please,” he started, his voice nothing but a whisper. “Not now.”

“Okay,” was his reply, hearing Spencer's voice in his head. Adding one more thing...he didn't want to do that. That wasn't his goal, it wasn't ever his goal. “Soon?”

Hotch nodded, and let his hand cross that invisible barrier, over the console, to rest against Derek's thigh. He rubbed fingertips over and over in a quiet rhythm with the grain of the denim and closed his eyes against the throbbing in his head.

By the time the conversation actually happened, by the time Hotch actually used the word autistic, Derek had figured out everything he needed to know on his own. It was probably better that way, it didn't feel so much like a confession or Hotch being on center stage and more of a simple acknowledgment, a mutual understanding. Derek had already proven he could be trusted with such a deeply guarded part of him that Hotch didn't find it hard, one night in bed, to just lay it out. He no longer feared that the admission would come with an end to something good.

“Am I that obvious?” Hotch asked, seriously, once the rest of the conversation, the hard parts, were out of the way. Derek smiled and he could feel the warmth of in the dark. The sincerity was almost overwhelming.

“Something like that.”

He'd learned to read the signs, until he was no longer caught off guard. To anyone from the outside, the way he would press his fingertips to his forehead, or pinch the bridge of his nose a little harder than seemed necessary, it might look like he was nursing a wicked migraine. And sometimes he was. It was hard to tell the difference, the way he'd taught himself to react was jarringly similar. And that had always worked for him, no one could tell the difference and really he preferred it that way. No one could fix a migraine any better than they could this, that was his thought. This was like his body's alarm system screaming that he was at capacity, and he had to release it whether he was in the right place or not. His father had tried to beat the "fits" or "tantrums" out of him, that sure as hell didn't work, especially when he was big enough to lose control and fight back. Now everyone offered him a wide berth and a quiet room, it really was as good as he thought it was likely to get.

Dave and Gideon had figured out the difference and mercifully kept it to themselves. They would make sure he was given some space, and often Dave would make a sort of show of it. Bring Hotch a cold can of coke and an ice pack, a wet rag, some Tylenol...something that might scream migraine to anyone whose eyes were keeping a little too close a watch. And he would always come out looking tired with the Coke opened, the Tylenol stashed in his pocket, and a half-hearted exhausted smile on his face meant for a good friend. And with as long as the aftershocks lasted, it really played perfectly into the migraine mask.

Derek quickly discovered he couldn't do much. Hotch didn't want physical attention; he didn't want a hand in his air or on his shoulder. In fact, those things often made it worse, made him retreat further or react with more intensity than if they'd just left him alone. And while Dave had more than once confided in Derek that he had something that would help, Derek wanted to do more. The migraine thing worked in police stations, at Quantico, in the courtroom. But that was only helping him hide it, not through it. And Derek didn't want him to feel like he had to hide it. Especially not with him.

Dave was a friend, and he was a good friend. But Derek was more than a friend, so he should be able to do something more, right? It was hard knowing that the answer to that question was likely a resounding no. This was something Hotch had to weather on his own, ultimately. And what Hotch wanted was space, really, but he also needed something Derek figured out how to provide anyway.

He figured it out sort of by accident. He thought about Reid talking about how loud his inner voice got and it gave him an idea, something he tested out one day at home when it came out of nowhere and somehow...it worked. It didn't fix anything, but it helped and that was all he'd been hoping for. Hotch needed a buffer between himself and the rest of the world, and if there was one thing Derek understood, it was that. Throwing up walls, creating barriers. Cultivating quiet. He'd become skilled at that at a very young age, and while he didn't hold on to most of it as he'd aged, he retained what it could do for his own well-being.

After every case he pulled out his headphones and lost himself in music for the hours on the jet.

Music reminded him of good in the world.

Music reignited the parts of his soul that might wither and die after what he saw every day. A good drum beat could teach his heart how to do it's thing. A good guitar riff would make his blood rush. A thumpy sexy bass could cure everything else and by the time the jet landed he felt like himself again.

Hotch liked music differently, and Morgan spent hours and hours of his life trying to educate Hotch on proper music. Really, truly good music. Gospel, deep raspy blues, outlaw country, things you wouldn't find on the radio. Hotch was a Top 40 kind of guy, a classic rock guy at best, before Derek showed him the treasures. Things you had to dig properly for. Hotch, it turned out, loved Muddy Waters. Something in the harmonica, the rhythms, the sad wisdom in his voice.

So, he slid the headphones gently over Hotch's head, pressing them firm against his ears to make sure the seal was in place and placed the mug of tea down beside him. Satisfied with these little things, he walked away into the darkness. He'd created a barrier between Hotch and the world, and the hardest part for him to learn was that that barrier had to include him too.

Hotch closed his eyes and let the weight of the oversize headphones on his head distract him from the noise, let his fist slowly un-clench and pressed his bloody palm flat against his thigh. He'd dug deep this time, he could feel the crescent gashes throbbing, he'd need to cover them up with bandages and he knew Jessica would have a flurry of questions but...not now. The music started low, the volume so quiet, and in trickled the harmonica and the guitar. It painted his senses and he struggled against his body to pull in a breath, just one. The world's noise melted away from him as his focus was drawn to Muddy's voice. She moves me, man...

None of the songs were in order, except by order of what Derek knew Hotch's favorites were. He began with quiet, just a soothing voice and a simple melody. He selected each song while his eyes flicked up and read the situation from the other end of the plane. To anyone else, in the dark, it would look like he was just playing around on his phone, solitaire or a word game with Garcia (and he was doing that too) ...not playing personal DJ. Guiding Hotch through the winding path of his mind from afar. It was like holding his hand without ever touching him.

Hotch's hands, trembling, hugged the warm mug of tea and his features softened slowly over the course of the trip until he leaned back and let his eyes close. The muscle in his jaw throbbed when he released the tension there. He would pay for it with a headache later. But for now, the case file could wait and he could breathe. Derek kept it up for the duration of the flight, one song after another, lulling Hotch into a space of comfort, of eventual peace. It may have been fleeting, but it was undeniably good.

It didn't fix him. In the car, he was pensive, exhausted, painfully quiet. Derek knew better than to ask questions, he didn't need answers. The case was hard. Sometimes these things didn't have triggers that were obvious to him, but Derek knew this time. It was clear as day. JJ said some things to Hotch that she had already mentioned feeling bad for, foot in mouth statements she wished she could take back but knew had already done their damage. She told him what Hotch had said to the boy, how he'd been with the mother afterward even though she couldn't hear what they spoke about...it was a perfect storm. Past colliding with present.

He'd said things to that boy, channeled some long-buried words in a voice that didn't sound at all like his own. He jumped into that hole, pulled that little boy out, and that should have flooded him with joy. He knew that, but it didn't. Because as he watched that boy's parents rush toward him with all the love in the world, he knew that had never belonged to him. He wished, briefly, that his mother had loved him well enough to do what Mary had done and that made him feel worse. More of a monster. To wish harm because he was harmed. He had never been a believer in an eye for an eye, but that moment, he felt some little piece of him snap.

“You can't blame yourself,” he'd told her, but did he really mean that? He chewed on that for much of their drive home. Did he mean that at all? He blamed his mother, and shouldn't she too blame herself? Isn't that how blame works? It isn't subject to logic. It doesn't bow to facts. It swears fealty to despair and desire.

“Derek?” Hotch asked, sliding his sliced-up hand over until it rested against his thigh. He rubbed at the seam of Derek's pants, pressed the thick denim between thumb and forefinger to ground himself, and released a long and weary breath. The noise in his mind was fading and leaving something else in its wake. Some desperation for comfort. A way to release it all before walking through his front door, something to help him find his smile for Jack. “Would you mind stopping for a milkshake? My treat.”

Derek grinned and nodded. “I thought you'd never ask.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #criminal minds #hotchgan #fanfiction #autistic hotch

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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space Word Count: 7.3k

MASTERLIST

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Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.

So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.

“Hello, little girl.”

But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.

It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.

“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.

“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.

I hoped not.

Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”

“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.

“Barely,” he corrected.

“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”

I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.

“Yeah, sure feels like it.”

His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.

“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”

“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”

He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.

“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”

“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.

He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”

“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”

Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.

It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”

He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”

“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”

“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.

“My last one is on Wednesday.”

The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”

“You should call my professors and yell at them.”

He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”

“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”

After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”

It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”

The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.

But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.

“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”

“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.

“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”

But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Unfortunately.”

I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.

“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.

But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”

“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”

“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.

“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.

He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.

“I want… you to go to bed.”

“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.

Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.

“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.

“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.

Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”

“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, little girl.”

—————————————————

Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.

It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.

The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.

I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”

“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.

“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.

But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.

“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”

“But you weren’t,” I snorted.

Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”

There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.

But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”

I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.

He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.

Speaking of…

"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them."

In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.

"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me."

While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.

“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.

Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever."

The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.

A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.

“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.

“Is that a challenge?”

I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.

Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.

As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.

It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.

“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”

But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.

Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.

His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.

Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—

“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.

Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.

The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.

I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.

For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.

Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.

He kept a few for me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.

I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.

Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.

There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.

“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.

Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”

The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.

I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.

But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.

I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.

“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.

Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”

His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.

“Take me home.”

Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.

“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.

“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.

“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.

I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.

“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.

I couldn’t resist.

“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.

“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.

After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.

—————————————————

The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.

“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.

Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.

From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”

It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.

“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted you so badly.”

There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.

“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”

Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.

“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.

I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.

“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”

Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.

“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”

“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”

“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”

He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.

“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.

“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.

He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.

“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”

The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.

“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.

“I don’t know…”

If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.

“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”

It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.

“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.

“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.

I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.

It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.

“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.

“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”

Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.

I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.

“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”

I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.

His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.

But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.

Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.

“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”

My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.

I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.

My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.

Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.

That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.

“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.

It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.

“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”

“Gross,” I joked.

“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.

“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”

Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.

“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, Spencer.”

I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.

And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”

Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.

It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”

In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.

“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”

Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”

Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.

“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.

“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”

“And do what?”

It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.

Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.

And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

| Finale |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #here to misbehave #h2m #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #reid series #spencer reid request #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #dr spencer reid #reid request

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ricksroaches · 3 years

Text

Y/N part 1 - Dysphoria ch. 5

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Y/N has an accident at a Halloween party that sends her further down the wrong path.

notes: Occasionally I'll make some grammatical errors on purpose for emotional emphasis so that's why. Also sorry this took so long I'm kinda going through some stuff right now.

word count: 16.9k

warnings: language, drugs, self harm, mental hospitalization, shitty parents, near drowning, anxiety attack, overdose, hospitalization, miscarriage, sedation

“Do you know why you’re here, Y/N?”

“Spare me. I’ve done this before.”

“I know you have. I’m simply asking if you understand that you need this.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t understand?”

“No, I mean that I don’t need this.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I’ve already accepted that this is how I feel, and how I’ll keep feeling ‘til I die. No amount of talking it out and coping skills will change that.”

“Well, that’s not a very healthy way to look at it.”

“Yeah, no shit, but it works for me and I’d appreciate it if people didn’t waste their time trying to fix me so they can feel better about themselves.”

“I understand.”

“Obviously, you don’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I do. I’m not here to tell you what you're doing wrong. I’m here to figure out how and why you got to where you are.”

“What, you gonna pick apart my life and tell me where everything went wrong?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“Well first, I’d like to go back and discuss your experience at St. Joseph’s.”

“I don’t really feel like talking about that.”

“Y/N, these sessions are mandatory. No matter how much you resist, we’re still stuck here, so you might as well take advantage of the time we still have.”

“…”

“Or, we could just here in silen-”

“Fine. Anything but that.”

~~~

8TH GRADE

The cold classroom was silent except for the steady tick of the clock on the wall. It was only third hour and Y/N already wanted to jump out a window. She’d long finished her classwork and homework, so she buried herself in her sketchbook. Drawing was always her safe place. She found it meditative being able to just turn off her brain and let the pencil map out her mind.

Everyone jumped a little when the intercom released its usual loud beep. “I need to see Y/N L/N in the office.” Her stomach fluttered at the chance to get out of class. “And tell her to bring her things.” She halted. What? She didn’t have any appointments that she knew of, and her parents weren’t the type to check her out for minor things. Her head pounded while she stuffed everything in her backpack with everyone, including her teacher, watching her.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, she made her way down the bland cream and blue hallway that she’d spent the last three miserable years in. Jimin was her best friend all through elementary school, but he switched to a private school, leaving her to fend for herself in a new school of unfamiliar faces. He didn’t want to leave her, but the school she was going to didn’t have a dance department, and his mom had convinced him to go. By the time she found out that the school in question had the best arts program in the district, it was too late. There was no way her parents could afford to send her there anyway.

She’d be lying if she said she was happy he was pursuing his dream. Making friends wasn’t an easy task, Jimin was always the one that did the talking. So she settled for whoever cared enough to give her the time of day. There was only one person she was actually close enough with to hang out outside of school, Abigail. To say she was the dominant one in their relationship would be an understatement. Whatever Abi said, went. Whatever Abi wanted, she got. Whatever she wanted to do, Y/N was dragged along whether she liked it or not. She didn’t mind that much. It was better than no one.

The office door came into view, and she ran over every possible circumstance in her head before opening it. Her parents stood by the front desk. Her dad was clutching her mom’s trembling hand. “Mom? Dad? What’s going on? Did somebody die??”

“No, everything’s fine. We’ll explain on the way.” Her dad took it upon himself to answer.

“Uh...o-kay?”

The second her dad pulled the car onto the road, her mom turned around to face her. “I don’t really know how to start this, so I’m just going to say it. I was cleaning your room last week and found something.”

“What?” She pulled an old DVD case from the glove box and set it in Y/N’s lap. Every single defense mechanism in her body went off at once as she gawked at the image of a black bobbed Uma Thurman laying on a bed with racey magazines, puffing on a cigarette. Her favorite movie. But she knew it wasn’t the inappropriate film that her parents were concerned about. She slid the plastic sheath off to reveal-. They weren’t there.

“Looking for these?” Her mom held up her palm stacked with the razor blades she’d tucked behind the cover. Y/N’s face turned a sickly white, her mouth opening and closing to think of something to say. Her mind was moving so fast her words couldn’t keep up. She had nothing.

“Really? You have nothing to say for yourself?” She subconsciously pulled down her sweater sleeves. Her mom snatched her wrist and yanked the knit fabric back. “How could you do this to yourself?” She turned her arm to make her look at the pale pink and red lines that peppered all the way up her arm. “This is going to stay on you forever. What do you expect people to think when summer comes?”

Y/N dropped her head against the headrest and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. Of all the scenarios she thought of, this wasn't one of them. This had to be a dream. It had to be. She tried to pull her arm away and her mom let go, letting it fall to her side. She turned to her dad with a look that screamed, Say something! He simply shook his head in disappointment.

The car was silent for a long time before she finally mustered the strength to open her mouth. “W-where are we going...?”

“A Catholic youth center.”

“A youth center?”

“Yes. They offer great adolescent counseling.”

“But I don't want to.” She crossed her arms defensively.

“Y/N, we just want to get you help, but we can’t do this on our own.” Her dad finally spoke up.

“It’s a nice place. Sister Adrianne from church volunteers there.” Her mom added.

They turned into the parking lot of an old fashioned brick building decorated with stained glass and white molding. She could smell the Catholicism from here. A black suit, white collared man was waiting for them at the entrance once they’d found a parking space. His wire rimmed glasses caught the late morning sun, shining it right in Y/N’s eyes. That alone was enough to make her scowl. “Hello, I’m Father McCarthy, you must be the L/Ns.” Her parents exchanged pleasantries with him before he led them into the lobby.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of the room was a marble statue of St. Joseph, patron saint of children. Y/N scoffed to herself. She hated this place already. The priest spun on his heels to face the family. “If you don’t mind, I was hoping to have a word with Miss Y/N before the tour.” They looked at each other, shrugged, and nudged the poor girl out to him. “It won’t take but a minute.” He said before cupping her shoulder and steering her through the lobby to a set of backdoors.

Outside was a meditation garden that spanned farther than she could see. Cobblestone paths twisted and turned around rose bushes and vines of ivy. The steady flow of the fountain at the center gave the air a calming ambience. Y/N was anything but calm. “Why are we here?”

“I thought maybe a look at the garden would suit your nerves.” He caught her confused stare and laughed lightly. “Your mask is thick, strong, but I can see deeper than most.”

“I appreciate the effort, but it takes more than some pretty flowers to make me feel better. Are we done?” He sighed and checked his watch.

“I suppose. Right this way.” He placed a guiding hand on her back and steered them to the path out of the garden and inside. Her stride slowed when she saw her parents standing in the lobby, a suitcase in her dad’s hand. Her suitcase. A man in white scrubs took it from him and carried it in the other direction. Everything clicked.

¨No…” She breathed, her head mindlessly shaking. She stepped back and bumped into something firm and whipped around. Another man in the same white uniform towered over her. His face was gentle but his jacked body told a completely different story. His hand clamped onto her bicep. “No, no, no, nonoNONO!” She frantically looked to her parents, who were standing at the exit with pain stricken faces. Her mom buried her head into him while she heard her daughter being dragged away kicking and screaming by two nurses. She’d never forget the final words she caught before she disappeared behind a set of swinging doors.

“I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”

~~~

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you ever forgive your parents?”

“I tried, but she ruined it.”

“How?”

~~~

Y/N followed her screaming, cussing mom through the house as she took trips from her room to the porch, tossing her belongings out onto the lawn.

She’d found her stash.

“Mom! Stop it! This is childish!” she stopped in her tracks and whipped around to face her daughter.

“CHILDISH?!” She took an aggressive step forward. “I’LL TELL YOU WHAT”S CHILDISH! STEALING FROM YOUR OWN PARENTS TO BY DRUGS!” Y/N threw her hands into her hair and tugged at her scalp.

“It’s just weed! And I bought it with my own money! It’s not like I’m doing crack!” She looked to her dad sitting in his chair in the corner of the living room, observing the whole debacle. “Dad? Help?” He gave her a look of surrender. Not my call. Her mom disappeared back into her room.

“IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” Her mom shouted as she threw another handful of clothes out the door. “AFTER ALL THE MONEY WE SPENT ON YOU AND YOU GO AND BUY DRUGS?! IT’S LIKE YOU CHOOSE TO BE MISERABLE!” Y/N pounded across the floorboards and got nose to nose with her.

“OH, I’M SO SORRY YOU HAD TO PAY TO THROW YOUR OWN DAUGHTER IN A PSYCH WARD BECAUSE NOT HAVING A NORMAL KID WAS TOO HARD FOR YOU! AND I’M SORRY YOUR HUSBAND WAS TOO PUSSY TO STOP YOU! AND YOU KNOW WHAT’S MAKING ME MISERABLE?! YOU!”

“THEN GET THE FUCK OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Her mom shoved her by the shoulders into the wall.

“FINE!” Y/N stomped to her room and grabbed her backpack, stuffing in as many necessities as she could. She threw it over her shoulder and blew past her still fuming (and still cussing) mom. “Good fucking riddance!” she shouted over her shoulder. She swiped her car keys from the bowl and slammed the front door behind her so hard she heard a line of books topple to the floor inside. The lock on the door clicked and the curtains at the front of the house were hastily drawn.

She lividly gathered her clothes and suitcase strewn about the grass and crammed them into her shitty grey Corolla wherever they could fit. She dropped into the driver's seat and ripped the car out of the driveway and down the dimly lit street.

She crashed at Jimin’s for a bit while she looked for a place. Abi was long gone by then. Back when she was at St. Joseph’s, she’d called Abi for comfort, but what she didn’t know was that she happened to be at a sleepover, and that she’d put her on speaker. It didn’t take long for Y/N to hear a muffled giggle from the other end, and it was safe to say their friendship died the second she slammed the hospital phone receiver back onto its hook.

She didn’t need her anymore. Not with Jimin coming back for high school. He begged his mom to let him go to public school so he could be with Y/N again. What managed to convince her was the impressive dance team the school boasted.

Within the first week away from home, a packet of government documents for her emancipation arrived in her parents’ mail. She was surprised to receive a phone call from her attorney the next day, saying he already received the pettily signed forms and that they’d been filed with the district court. That was it. In a few months, she would be legally on her own. Sixteen years old and on her own.

~~~

“Good. That was good. I know that wasn’t the easiest thing to say, just know that it’s a step in the right direction.”

“Whatever. Are we done?”

“I suppose.”

~~~

Y/N sat on Yoongi’s lap while she painted his hairline into a V and thickened his sideburns into a more boxy shape. His hair was slicked back and he sported a suit and bolo tie. It didn’t take much to convince him to dress as Vincent and Mia from Pulp Fiction for Halloween. She bit the inside of her red painted lips while she cleaned up the edges of his widow’s peak with a steady hand.

It was a lot weirder than Yoongi expected to see her in a wig. The silky black bob made it feel like a complete stranger was parked on his thighs. Her unbuttoned white blouse and wide-bottomed slacks the complete opposite of her usual style. The only thing about her that was the same as he always loved were her eyes. He admired the e/c orbs that flicked back and forth in concentration, oblivious of his gaze.

“I think I’m done.” She leaned back and moved his face side to side to make sure his sideburns were even. “Yeah, you're good to go.” She gave his cheek two solid pats and climbed off his lap to get her shoes. He stood from her bed and checked himself out in her full length mirror. His hair had grown out quite a bit. Long enough to brush the back of his neck when he turned his head. He didn’t think he’d like how he looked with this hair, but it was quickly growing on him.

Y/N came up from behind and wrapped her arms around his torso. She peaked her head around his shoulder to admire his look put together. “If I didn’t know a better word, I’d say you look hot right now.” He caught her eye in the mirror with a smirk as he smoothed back his hair once last time.

“I think,” He pulled her in front of him to see her reflection, “I should be the one saying that.” He slid his hands up her shirt and adjusted the black bralette hidden underneath that had been wrinkled from her hunching over him. Her skin tingled under his large, warm hands. That asshole. He did that on purpose. He dipped his head to be even with hers. “Now, we should go before I mess up that lipstick of yours.”

~~~

Jin leaned against the kitchen counter and surveyed the frat house filled with college and high school students alike. Cobwebs stretched over every corner and fog machines gave the air a dark, heavy look. He always loved throwing his annual Halloween party. It was his favorite holiday other than his birthday. Couples cutely matching, friends coordinating costumes, comedians in gag outfits, and almost every girl wearing a sexy version of what we all dressed as kids. He loved any excuse to dress up.

He wore a loose white tunic and black slacks, his defining piece was the pink and blue diamond printed coat hanging from his shoulders. Howl from, only his favorite movie ever, Howl’s Moving Castle. He watched that shit like it was his job.

“Damn, do you need a maid? I’m not an old lady, but I can cook and clean.” He spun and met a smirking Jimin. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, black tie loosened, hair tousled, and red lipstick marks trailed from his chest all the way to his cheeks. Jin eyed the scene with visible concern. “Relax, this is my costume. I have a little class.”

“Oh, thank God.” Jin laughed.

“Although some of these are courtesy of some lovely ladies here tonight.” He turned to show the words “KISS ME” written on his back in big letters.

“How did you even get them to agree to do that?” Jimin flashed a proud smile.

“It was easy. Girls aren’t threatened by me. Being part gay is great, you get the best of both worlds!” Jins phone buzzed in his pocket.

Thing 1: Me and Yoongi are about to pull up

Jin smiled at his screen and typed a quick response.

“Who’s Thing 2?” He turned to the younger looking over his shoulder.

“You.” Before Jimin could offer a rebuttal, Jungkook squeezed out of the crowd and nested at his side, beer in hand.

“There’s my Ponyboy!” Jimin gave him a slap on the back. Jungkook's hair was greased back with a single curl hanging on his forehead. His white t-shirt and jeans matched well with Yoongi’s leather jacket that he lended for the occasion. “Doesn’t he scream Ponyboy vibes?”

“I’ll admit it,” Jin added, “he does.” Jungkook took a sip of his beer to hide his embarrassment. He never liked being the center of attention.

The front door burst open to reveal Taehyung, clad in a full face of clown makeup, green hair, and a purple and yellow suit. “WHAT’S POPPIN’ ASS WIPES!!!” He marched inside and made a beeline to the three with Jiwoo in tow. Her skunk stripes were in pink and blue pigtails and her black and red corset top and tights hugged her slim figure. “GUESS WHO HAS A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND!” He laced his fingers with hers and lifted her arm triumphantly in the air. She hid her face bashfully with her free hand. Jimin gasped.

“Shut. Up. You're joking!” Tae flashed a boxy grin.

“No, I’m Joker.” Jiwoo slapped him in the arm.

“Yes, he’s for real.” She answered on his behalf. Jimin and Jin exchanged dramatic, wide-eyed looks and threw their arms around the new couple.

“We did it! He’s off the streets!”

“He’s off the streets!”

“I’m off the streets!”

Jiwoo watched the three jump in circles with their arms linked like a bunch of kids who were told they’re going to McDonald’s. Yeah, she made the right choice.

The front door opened again, not flying off the hinges this time, and Y/N stepped in with Yoongi flush against her back. She spotted the group in the kitchen and threw her arms up. “Heyyyyy!!!!” Taehyung turned with an ecstatic smile and bounded over, pulling her off the ground in a big bear hug.

“Y/N GUESS WHAT! GUESS WHAT! GUESS WHAT!”

“What?” she gasped under his grip. He dropped her and gripped her shoulders.

“I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!” Both Yoongi and Y/N’s faces lit up.

“WHAT?! TAE, OH MY GOD YOU'RE OFF THE STREETS!” She clapped her hands together giddily and threw her arms back around his neck.

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHAT EVERYONE ELSE SAID!”

“Okay, okay, break it up.” Yoongi pried the two children apart and steered them to the kitchen. On the way, he leaned into Tae’s ear and whispered, “I trust you, but I’ll say this anyway. You hurt her, I hurt you.” He snapped out of his scary tone when Jimin came and pulled Y/N into a hug and kissed both her cheeks.

“Ahh! You two look so hot together! Best couple costume ever!” Yoongi never minded how close they were. He knew about their brief fling before he came along, but he trusted her when she said it was all in the past.

Y/N’s excited squeal broke through his thoughts. She booked it for Jungkook to gush over his costume. “Kookie! You look so friggin’ cute!!” She played with the piece of hair hanging on his forehead and fixed a few loose strands. He smiled at his feet and fiddled with his jacket zipper. “Come on, gimme a spin!” He sheepishly did a 360 to give her a full look at his outfit.

“I’ll be damned,” Yoongi added, “you almost look better in that jacket than I do.” Jungkook hid his face behind his hands. He couldn’t control the big ass grin plastered on his face.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him all night!” Jimin cut in, fists on his hips. She squeezed past him and Jungkook to say hi to Jiwoo and Jin.

The eldest boy pulled her into a sweet hug, his coat draping partially over her back. He leaned back to catch her eye. “How are you? You doing okay?” Jin, ever the mom.

The truth was, she wasn’t. Her situation with the pills was getting out of hand. What started out as a party topper, became a full blown addiction. She hated the person she had become. If she didn’t get her fix, she’d turn into a monster, snapping at anyone and everyone if they rubbed her the wrong way.

The moment she realized she had a problem was when Jungkook tried to approach her at school on one of her bad days. She ended up punching her locker with enough force to turn heads. The cold, unsympathetic eyes of the complete stranger that took her place bore into him before storming off. Tears welled in his eyes and he was frozen in place. All he asked was if he could help.

She scared him, and she'd never forgive herself for it. Even after he did.

She put on her best convincing smile and patted Jin’s chest. “I’m fine, you shouldn’t be worrying about me.” He searched her eyes for a crack in the facade, but he saw none. A warm smile played on his lips and he gave her a kiss on the head before turning her loose. She immediately pivoted to Jiwoo, trying to change the subject.

“Now I’m no DC expert, but I’m pretty sure you two are from different movies.” She gestured to the couple. “Tae, I know you’re from the Dark Knight, but I've never seen Harley in this hot ass outfit before.” Jiwoo chuckled and shuffled in her knee length boots.

“I’m actually Harley from Arkham Knight, a video game. It’s my favorite look of hers.” Y/N gave her another up and down, nodding her head.

“It’s great ‘cus Harley wasn’t in The Dark Knight, so she could be any version she wanted.” Tae commented.

“Except Suicide Squad.” Jiwoo added.

“Except Suicide Squad.” He echoed. “That movie was a disgrace.”

“Hey,” Y/N slapped Jimin on the arm, “Is Hobi here yet? I need a little...” She tapped the side of her nose. He giggled and pointed to the loft on the second floor.

“He was up there last I saw him. Have at it.” She made her way back to Yoongi and went on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck.

“Go ahead and make yourself a drink. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” She said seductively in her best Mia Wallace voice. Her index and middle fingers walked up his chest and dragged across his shoulder as she walked past him.

The loft was surprisingly hard to get to being that it was clogged with partygoers. She finally managed to squeeze through and fall to the floor, her face inches from a pair of sharp-toed dress shoes. She followed the white suit up to the face peering down at her. “The floor is no place for you, Mrs. Wallace.” A hand gripped her forearm and hoisted her to her feet with ease. At the other end of the arm holding her, was Hoseok’s beaming smile. The pointed collar of his black dress shirt was folded over the lapel of his suit.

“Saturday Night Fever?” He nodded. “Yay, now I have two John Travolta’s.” She took her arm from his hold and fixed her bangs.

“I think I might know why you’re here.” He inquired

“You would be correct, sir.” He chuckled.

“Follow me.”

He led her to a couch at the edge of the loft that overlooked the sea of costumes below. There was so much smoke in the air it was impossible to tell if it came from the fog machines or someone’s lungs. They plopped onto the cushions and he went to work cutting lines on a mirror laid on the coffee table. “So how’s life?”

“Eh, I've been better.” She let herself slip a little. Talking to Hoseok was easy. She liked being able to tell him some heavier things because he never pressed for more information. He accepted what he was given and took it in stride. She leaned forward and grabbed an almost empty bottle of cherry vodka and finished it off.

“I feel ‘ya. Soccer practice is really starting to get to me. Just gotta take it day by day, my friend.” He slid the mirror to her side and handed her a rolled up bill. “Here.”

“Thank you, good sir.” She plucked the makeshift tube from his fingers and dipped her head to sniff up the pristine white line. The feeling hit her instantly. A huge smile spread across her face and her whole body felt like it was floating among the smoke clouds.

“Good?” She couldn’t find the words, so she gave him a simple thumbs up. Their moment was cut short when Taehyung’s booming voice cut through the music and conversation.

“EVERYONE! OUR BELOVED QUARTERBACK, NAMJOON KIM, IS OFFICIALLY OFF THE MARKET!”

“WHAT?!” They shouted in unison. With a quick shared look, they scrambled down the stairs and through the cheering crowd. Taehyung was standing, red cup in hand, on the thick mantle of the fireplace at the head of the room. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She mumbled as they watched Jiwoo weave through the mob to pull him down.

“There he is!” Hoseok pointed to the head of brown hair that poked above everyone else. He pulled her along behind him, using his strength to cut through the congestion. When they broke through the wall of bodies, the entire friend group was gathered on the massive sectional couch at the center of the room. She picked the couple from the cluster and her jaw dropped.

“No fucking way. Cheyenne?!”

“Yes way.” Jimin chimed. The girl in question was perched on the arm of the couch next to Namjoon. Her amber eyes lit up when she recognized Y/N standing there.

“Y/N?!” She jumped up and crashed her body into hers with a crushing embrace. “Oh my God you grew up so much!! You’re not a little shrimp anymore!”

“I haven’t seen you since what? Fifth grade?” Cheyenne’s smile flashed white against her sepia skin. They were rather close in elementary until she moved away before middle school. She was the extrovert that found her and acted almost like a mother to her. Cheyenne was the one that cracked Y/N’s shell.

“I know, girl! We moved back and I’m going to Westview!”

“Westview?! I go to Westview!” Her eyes widened.

“What?! How come I haven’t seen you at school?” Y/N chuckled.

“I make myself very hard to spot.”

“She’s right,” Yoongi added, coming to stand beside her, “took me forever to track her down to talk to her for the first time.” He handed her a solo cup of vodka cranberry and she gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. Cheyenne’s hand flew to her chest.

“I’m gonna cry. My baby’s all glown up and she got herself a man!” She dramatically fanned her eyes. Her long false lashes almost reached her brows when she looked to the ceiling. Her box braids were twisted into space buns on either side of her head and her long, flowing white dress cinched at the waist and had a slit running up to reveal her muscular leg.

Y/N peaked over her shoulder at Namjoon. His long sleeved, tan v-neck and black vest made everything click. “Oh my god! Han Solo and Leia! That’s so fucking cute!”

“Can you guess whose idea it was?” Cheyenne cocked an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder at him, who blushed and gave a little finger wave. What a man baby. She took her seat back by him and Y/N and Yoongi sat on the couch across from them.

“So how did you guys meet?” The couple shared a humored look.

“Remember that bloody nose I said I got in P.E. a couple weeks ago?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah?” Cheyenne proudly raised her hand.

“That was me. It was girls vs boys in dodgeball and I nailed him in the face.” Y/N would expect nothing less from her. Even in elementary, Cheyenne was the best softball player she’d ever seen. That girl had an arm like a cannon.

“She walked with me to get ice and we kinda just got to know each other along the way.”

“Awwww~” Jimin and Taehyung swooned.

“As much as I hate to break up the moment, I'm trying to get fucked up tonight.” Y/N finally said once the conversation died down. “Chey, do you,” She put her thumb and index finger to her lips and puffed on an imaginary joint, “partake?”

Cheyenne raised an eyebrow at her. She wasn’t surprised Y/N had turned to drugs. That girl had issues from the very start. “Of course I do, who the fuck do you think I am?” Smirks cracked the pair’s lips and they shared a mischievous look for the first time in a long time.

~~~

Y/N, Yoongi, Cheyenne, Namjoon and Jimin gathered on the sofa by the swimming pool filled with splashing guys and girls stripped down to their underwear. Which was insane given that it was basically November and the water was 70 degrees at most. Yoongi placed a thick blunt between his lips and flicked his Zippo lighter, casting a brief warm glow on his face. He expertly cupped his hand against the flame and got a good burn going, then snapped the lighter closed against his thigh. The blunt cherried bright orange when he took a colossal hit, letting the smoke roll out of his nose in plumes before passing it to Y/N. She gathered a thick cloud in her mouth and let it float out to inhale through her nose. The milky reverse waterfall flowed into her nostrils like a yellow tinted nebula. The THC hit her already intoxicated brain, sending her further into the couch.

Jimin took his two puffs quickly and passed it on. On her turn, Cheyenne blew a single smoke ring and ran her finger down the middle to make it a heart, sending it floating into Namjoon’s face.

“Cute.” He said sarcastically as he took the blunt from her manicured nails and drew a long hit. “I don’t know any tricks so you’re just gonna have to deal with my boring ass.”

“We’ve been dealing with your boring ass for years.” Y/N deadpanned, earning a series of laughs from the group.

The blunt made its way around the circle back to Yoongi for the third time, and it was starting to reach its end. “Have you two smoked together before?” He questioned the new couple. They looked at each other and shook their heads. “Well then,” he clapped his hands together and plucked the blunt from his lip, “it’s customary that new couples christen the relationship by shotgunning.”

“What?” Namjoon’s brows knit together in confusion.

“Come on Joon, you’ve hung around us this long and you still don’t know what shotgunning is?” Y/N spoke up. He threw his hands up in defense.

“Hey! I’ve only ever heard it mentioned. No one ever told me what it actually was!” Yoongi huffed a chuckle.

“Watch and learn.” He puffed on the blunt and trapped the smoke in his mouth. His hand went to the back of Y/N’s neck and pulled her into a kiss, slowly delivering the cloud to her lungs. They parted, and white fog poured from her lips. “Now you try.” He handed him the blunt. Namjoon pocketed a good bit in his cheeks and cupped Cheyenne’s jaw. He pressed a light kiss on her full lips, transferring the smoke to her.

“Like that?” Yoongi and Y/N gave him an approving nod with a shared smirk.

“Consider us properly christened.” Cheyenne quipped. Before anything else could be said, a guy popped out from the sliding doors leading inside.

“AYE! WE GOT JELLO SHOTS IN HERE!”

“Oh fuck yes!” Y/N lept up, not giving herself time to ride out the head-rush that blacked out her senses and made a beeline inside. Yoongi watched her stumble through the glass doors and disappear in the crowd with visible torment.

“You good?” Cheyenne’s robust voice broke through his inner turmoil.

“Yeah.” He kept his gaze on the spot he lost sight of her in, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

~~~

Six Jello shots, two shotgunned beers with Taehyung, another rip from Hoseok, and a bonus sniff of crushed oxy in the bathroom later, Y/N was completely, totally, and utterly wrecked. She had to hold onto the walls and furniture for dear life to make her way outside. It had been almost an hour since she left Yoongi, so it was about time she found him.

The pool was a little less crowded and she could see her reflection on the surface. It’s hair was wild, clothes wrinkled, lipstick faded. Stars twinkled across the ripples, drawing her gaze up to the sky. She walked along the edge of the pool as she admired the lights that dotted the heavens. Her feet stopped their ambling to match the two sets of pictures in her vision back in place. The luring abyss of the sky gave a sharp contrast to the glimmering lights. Everything in her peripheral melted into the darkness that blanketed her view, and the frigid water rushed up to meet her.

It sounded like any other splash. Yoongi didn’t think anything of it. People had been jumping in and out of the pool all night.

“Hey, wasn’t that your girlfriend?” He turned to see a random girl standing behind his seat. His brows furrowed.

“What?” She pointed behind her to the steady bubbles that rose to the surface of the water.

“She was walking on the edge and just keeled-” He rocketed out of his chair and shoved her out of the way. He stripped off his coat mid sprint and dove head first into the jarring water without a second thought.

The water blurred his vision, but he could make out Y/N’s body steadily sinking to the bottom of the pool. He kicked as hard as he could and propelled himself deeper and deeper until he could reach her. His hand gripped her fuzzy wrist and pulled her up to him. Arm around her waist, he swam towards the light with powerful strokes from his three free limbs.

They broke the surface and he swung his head side to side to rid the hair from his eyes. He hooked an elbow over the edge for support while he lugged her unconscious figure out of the water.

“What the fuck?” Taehyung stood dumbly at the sliding door looking out, joint hanging between his lips.

“Get her, get her!” Yoongi grunted. Taehyung rushed over and hooked his hands under her shoulders. With one big tug, he dragged her onto the cement. Her upper body rested in his lap while Yoongi hauled himself out of the pool and scrambled to her side. He pressed his ear to her chest, listening for a pulse in agonizing suspense. The breath he was holding exploded out of his chest when he heard the familiar beats. Taehyung held his finger under her nose.

“She’s breathing.” The adrenaline left Yoongi’s system, taking every ounce of his energy along with it. He collapsed onto his back next to her, gasping for air. The sliding door opened and closed.

“Tae? Why’d you- holy fuck!” Jiwoo came rushing to his side and looked over Y/N’s soaked frame. The black wig was long gone, leaving her h/c mane splayed on the wet cement. The water turned them into a dark mass of limp waves, dulling their natural brilliance. “What happened?!”

“Fell…” Yoongi huffed, “…didn't hear...splash.” His heaving breaths spaced out his words into incoherent fragments. By now, a few heads turned to watch the scene, but most everyone else was too drunk to notice there was even a problem. Jiwoo jumped up.

“I'll go find some towels.” She disappeared back inside and came out not long after with Jin and Jimin carrying thick, blue towels in their arms. Jin immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping it around her soaked body and hugged her to his chest like an infant.

“Is she okay?” He asked apprehensively.

“Yeah. I think so.” Taehyung answered for Yoongi, who was tweaking and on the verge of an anxiety attack. The first one in nearly two years. His heart clamped in his chest and despite the biting cold, his trembling body was drenched in sweat.

Switching to mom mode, Jin snapped his fingers at Jimin, who was staring at the scene before his wasted eyes. “Jimin, wrap Yoongi up and try to calm him down. You,” he pointed to Taehyung, “go find Jungkook. He’s the only one who’ll know if she’s actually okay.” The three, Jiwoo following Taehyung, jumped to work on their tasks.

Jimin draped the towel over his figure as best he could given he was laying flat on his back and there was no getting him to sit up. Yoongi’s eyes darted back and forth, pinballing against his peripheral in all different directions. “Yoongi? Yoongi, I need you to look at me okay?” He sandwiched his face between his hands and tried to catch his eyes. Yoongi shook his head rapidly, eyes still all over the place. “I need you to listen to me. If you can’t look at me then close your eyes.” He squeezed them shut in hopes the roaring panic in his system wouldn’t be able to find him. “I’m gonna press on your chest, and I need you to push back, okay?” He didn't show any kind of response, so Jimin went ahead. He placed both palms against his hyperventilating chest and applied a gentle pressure that compelled him to take longer breaths. “You can breathe, it's okay. Feel that pressure? That’s air filling up your chest. You’re not suffocating, you have plenty of air. You’re okay.” He repeated the affirmations like a mantra. “Deep breaths. Push against my hands for as long as you can.” His chest pressed against his hands again and again, each breath growing deeper and longer. “There you go.”

The sliding door ripped open and Taehyung had Jungkook by the elbow, all but dragging him across the ground. Jungkook yanked his arm free. “What the hell is happening?!”

“You didn’t tell him?!” Jin shouted. Jungkook’s frustration disintegrated when his eyes landed on Y/N wrapped in Jin’s arms and Jimin bent over Yoongi splayed out on the ground.

“I was in a hurry, okay?! I couldn’t think of the words!” Taehyung retorted. Jungkook pointed a shaky finger at her, flashes of a life without her sent his anxiety through the roof.

“Is...is she?”

“No, she’s not dead.” Jin answered his unasked question. “We need you to check her and see if anything’s wrong that we didn’t catch.” Thank God. He could live again.

“Why me?” A stupid question, honestly.

“Because you’re the closest thing we have to a doctor, now get your ass down there and do your thing!” Taehyung gave him an urgent nudge. Jungkook hesitantly knelt by Jin’s side. It almost felt wrong seeing her in such a vulnerable state.

“U-uh...okay. You found a good pulse, right?”

“Yeah, but you need to be the judge of that.” He swallowed hard and pressed two fingers to her neck. “Well?”

“Her pulse is fine, and from the looks of it, her brain is getting enough oxygen.” He pointed at her lips, which were coming back to a healthy peach. “If she wasn’t, her lips and fingernails would be blue.”

“Is she okay?” Yoongi’s raspy voice was barely audible over the din of the party. Jimin managed to wrap the towel around him and his breath was nearing back to normal. The occasional twitch jolted his muscles from the lingering bad high.

“Yeah, just keep her warm and she’ll be fine.” Yoongi’s head fell back against the ground in relief. “Just make sure she stays on her side all night so she doesn’t aspirate.”

“Aspirate?” Jimin inquired.

“Suffocate on her own vomit.”

“Christ. That doesn’t happen a lot does it?” Taehyung asked.

“Enough to have a word for it.”

The door slid open yet again and out came Namjoon, Cheyenne, and Hoseok. “Jiwoo told us what happened. Are you sure she’s okay?” Hoseok spoke first.

“Jungkook said she should be.” Jin replied. “I’m gonna take her home and watch her for the night. Just in case.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

Namjoon carried Y/N in his arms to Jin’s car and laid her down in the backseat, taking care that she was propped on her side. Yoongi and Jin came to the car soon after, the latter carrying a hastily packed duffle bag.

“Yoongi, sit with her in the back and keep her from rolling over.” Jin ordered. The younger gladly climbed into the backseat and readjusted her head on his lap. Jin dropped into the driver's seat and hooked an elbow over his rolled down window. “Joon, I trust you can handle things while I’m gone. I might not live here, but it’s still my party so make sure everyone gets the fuck out by 6.” Namjoon gave him two thumbs up and headed inside when Jin started the car.

~~~

Jin slid his copy of Y/N’s house key into the lock, and the deadbolt snapped open. He pushed the door in for Yoongi, who was carrying her up the steps. The clock on the microwave read 3:45. Surprisingly early for leaving a frat party. “I’m gonna change her into some dry clothes.” Yoongi said.

“Okay, make sure you guy’s hair is dry so you don’t catch a cold.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and disappeared into her bedroom. Jin helped himself to the closet of sheets and blankets and grabbed a pillow from the bottom shelf. Once he was happy with the nest he made on the couch, he slipped in the tiny guest bathroom to wash his face, change, and take his meds. High blood pressure. His mom always said it ran in the family.

A few minutes later, he emerged in a pair of Totoro pajama pants and a grey t-shirt. He eyed the kitchen cabinet that was always stocked with ramen. Yoongi’s gonna be starving when he’s done with her. He set out a pot on the stove and grabbed three packages from the cabinet. “Hey Yoongs,” he padded to her doorway, “I’m making ramen do you want beef or-” His voice quieted when he peeked inside and saw them both in bed. He’d changed her into one of his hoodies and tied her hair in a bun. He laid behind her, arms seatbelting her to his torso, fast asleep. Without context, it was a heartwarming scene. Jin's lips formed a small smile and he eased the door shut, careful not to wake him. “Goodnight guys~”

He plopped onto the couch and plugged his phone into the charger that ran across the floor to reach the coffee table. The second his head hit the pillow he felt himself being pulled under by the current of sleep. He wondered to himself, what was going on in Y/N’s head that was so bad she nearly died just to get away from. She’d never lost control like that before. At least not bad enough for Yoongi to have a whole anxiety attack over. Whatever it was, he prayed it was nothing too horrible because he knew no matter how much he’d try to help, there was no getting anything out of her. That scared him. Hell, it terrified him not two hours ago. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being, and let his lids droop until sleep overtook him.

~~~

NOVEMBER 9TH

“Haaaaappy Biiiirthdayyyy tooo youu~! Haaappy Birthdaaayy tooooo youuuuu~! Happy Biiirthday dear Yoongiiiiiiii~!” The birthday boy buried his face in his hands out of sheer embarrassment while the group drunkenly sang around the cake in front of him. “Happy Birthdayyy toooooo yooouuuuuuuuuu~!” A birthday party, his worst nightmare. He was never one for birthdays, his family didn’t have the money for that kind of luxury. Every year, his dad would just gift him a pack of cigarettes, grab him by the collar, and give the same drunken speech about how he needs to toughen up if he’s gonna survive in the real world. Y/N carded her fingers through his hair to get it out of his face.

“Make a wish, Yoongi.” Her gentle touch was enough to coax him back to reality. He lifted his face from his hands and studied the three joints stuck into the frosting as candles. He thought for a minute then leaned in and blew the tiny flames out in one breath. Their cheers bounced off the old, bare walls of the abandoned house. Everyone was there, even Cheyenne.

“Finally!” Taehyung and Hoseok pounced on the cake and plucked off the “candles” before ash fell on the frosting. The cake was white with colorful piping on the edges and pink flowers dotting the sides. It was obviously for a kid, which was most likely the reason Y/N and Jiwoo chose it. The room quickly filled with wispy clouds of smoke courtesy of Tae, Hobi, Jimin, and Cheyenne.

“Holy shit!” Cheyenne’s hand flew to her mouth to cover her grin and pointed at Yoongi and Y/N.

“What?” She asked.

“Yoongi’s 18 now! You guys can’t fuck!” Y/N turned bright red and hid her face behind her hands.

“2 months, 17 days and...” Yoongi checked the time on his phone, “10 hours.” He sighed. The time until her 18th birthday. She got held back a year in kindergarten after a nasty case of pneumonia. So, technically, she should’ve been a senior by now. But then she never would’ve met Jimin. Or Cheyenne for that matter.

Y/N leaned her cheek on her fist and observed the spectacle. Her natural smile slowly faded, and corners of her lips grew heavier and heavier. She could feel the curtain of despair lowering over her, suffocating the enjoyment out of the otherwise jubilant moment. The all too familiar mentality settled in her mind that she’d never be happy again, or see life as anything more than some sick joke. Not now. Not now, not now please… She tried to keep it together for everyone’s sake, but the tears were coming any second now.

Under the cover of the noise, she slipped away and into the bathroom on the other side of the house. She eased the door shut with a tiny click. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. The harder she pressed her lips together, the wetter her eyes became. She leaned against the sink, staring into the abyss of the rusty drain. Five hours. Five hours of sobriety and she was already a sobbing mess. She tried. She really did. She wanted to be sober for Yoongi’s birthday so she’d have the memories and not need to rely on pictures and stories the next day. Her and what little self preservation she had left were fighting a war against her demons. And she was losing. Five hours would soon turn to four, then three, then... She stopped from scaring herself any further.

She hurriedly fished out two Zoloft tablets from her black skinny jeans pocket. The bulge of the baggie was covered by her oversized, snow white sweater. Using her phone case to crush them and credit card to scrape the dust into a neat line, she bent down and snorted the powder in one quick sniff. Her head jerked up and she stared at the person in the mirror. Slowly but surely, her face relaxed, her smile returned, and everything felt okay again. She wiped the runny mascara from under her eyes and stepped out to return to the joyful madness.

~~~

DECEMBER

The heated architect’s office provided a welcome contrast to the biting cold outside. Y/N sat behind the receptionist desk, filing the last of a client’s paperwork so she could finally leave. Everyone else had left for the day, leaving her the task of locking everything up. After her emancipation, Jimin’s mom couldn’t have offered her a job at her office fast enough. Hell, she even offered for her to live with them permanently. The work was boring, but it paid better than any other part-time job ever would.

“Y/N!” Jimin quacked from the employee lounge down the hall. He’d tagged along after school to study for midterms with her in the downtime.

“WHAT!”

“ARE YOU DONE YET?!”

“ALMOST!” Were they yelling louder than necessary? Probably, their dynamic accepted nothing less. He popped his head around the corner, his body following suit. There wasn’t anything good to raid from the fridge, so he had nothing else to do but watch her lock up.

The phone on her desk rang, breaking the silence. “Fuck a duck! Do people not pay attention to business hours?!” She huffed aggressively and ripped the receiver off the hook. “Mijeong Park’s office, this is Y/N, how can I help you?” Her voice took a hard right to a bright, singsongy tone, and he had to bite his lip to not laugh. Hearing her speak in such a way he knew she hated brought him pure joy. On busy days it was like watching two personalities fight over their host. “Oh, I’m sorry she just left. Would you like to leave a message?” She grabbed a pen and jotted something down on a sticky note. “Uh-huh. Mhm...Alright, thank you!” She hung up and her face immediately fell back to its usual resting bitch face. She slipped on her coat and threw her messenger bag on her shoulder. “Okay, let’s go.”

~~~

The euphoric ring of the bell signaling that school was over washed over Y/N’s senses. She did it. Midterms were over. Granted, she didn’t study that hard, so she wasn’t expecting the best results. Oh well. C’est la vie. Now all she had was another week before winter break and she was home free.

Yoongi had work, Jimin had dance, Namjoon had football, Jungkook was with his family, and pretty much everyone else seemed to be busy when she texted each one to hang out. Whatever. She’d treat herself to something special.

The clock on her nightstand read 8:50 by the time Y/N stepped out of the steamy bathroom. She did everything; shave, exfoliate, lotion, face mask, hair mask. She scrunched her hair with a t-shirt until the curls were almost dry, leaving the rest of the water to soak into her roots. Yoongi’s Kendrick Lamar hoodie with the word “DAMN.” across the chest in big red letters kept her warm in the chilly apartment. She never used the heat system. It was cheaper and more comfortable to just bundle up. Her black sweatpants had the RIPNDIP cat giving the one finger salute on the side of one of the legs. There was no contest. They were her favorite pair.

The only light that filled her room was from the moon that poured through her open blinds. Long black shadows were projected over the space, giving it a strange yet aesthetically pleasing contrast. She shimmied under her bed to grab the shoe box shoved to the very back against the wall and tossed it on the bed. She climbed onto the mattress and sat legs crossed. The box was full of various paraphernalia she’d collected over the years. Digging to the very bottom, she pulled out a tiny baggie with two white tablets. They were bought a few weeks ago, but had been saved for a special occasion such as this.

She’d always been interested in trying Fentanyl. Just once. To satiate her curiosity. The pills crushed into power nicely. She cut and scraped a small line -- much smaller than the usual line of coke -- on her makeup mirror. This stuff was fifty times stronger than heroin. She wasn’t a complete idiot. Come on.

The line stared back up at her with a silent urgency. Now or never. She put the straw to her nose and snorted up the dust.

She waited.

Nothing.

She waited some more.

Still nothing.

A frustrated huff left her and she reached for her phone to cuss out the plug who had the audacity to sell her fake shit.

She reached for the phone.

The phone.

Get the phone.

Get the fucking phone.

Her mind completed the action time and time again but her body moved at a snail's pace. The last of her strength gave out and she collapsed onto the bed, only to realize, she’d been laying down the whole time. Woah.

A sedated smile spread ear to ear and a string of lazy, incoherent giggles made her diaphragm flutter. At that moment, the entire world shut the fuck up, and she was alone. Truly alone. It was just her inside her head. No depression, no anxiety, no trauma, no mommy issues. Nothing. Just her. It was like walking around in an empty mall. She had the entire world to herself. You know what would be great right now? Music.

She inched for her headphones.

Didn’t move.

She tried to focus on that singular action as hard as she could.

Didn’t move.

Okay...this isn’t really funny anymore.

She tried again.

Her muscles didn’t even flinch.

Tears pricked her eyes and her back broke into a cold sweat. Panic began to make its entrance as her eyes darted around the room for something, anything, that could help her. Her lungs struggled to replenish her oxygen leaving her chest in agony. She regressed back to the terrified, helpless little girl that she ran so far to lose.

She almost didn’t hear the knock at her door over the internal cacophony. She tried to listen for it to happen again. Maybe she was just hearing things. Sure enough, another knock split through the roaring static in her ears. Help! Please Dear God! I'm here! I’M IN HERE!

“Y/N?”

Jungkook.

Oh shit. No. No, no, no, no! Anyone but him!

“Y/N?” Every emotion that she’d freed herself from was dumped over her head like a bucket of ice water when, out of the corner of her eye, the door eased open. Jungkook’s silky head of black hair reflected the moonlight streaming through her window. He almost didn’t spot her from the glare. “Y/N? Are you okay? I felt bad that you were alone today, so I thought I’d stop by and check on you...” She made a barely audible, unintelligible sound. Attempting to raise her voice above a teensy whisper was an exercise in futility. His heart sank at her response. “Oh, you’re in the middle of something. I-I’ll just come back tomorrow.” He turned back around. Wait! No! Please don’t go! Forget what I said earlier! Help me please!

“..d-n’t g-o…” She scraped all the energy left in her body — from the top of her head to the tips of her toes — to say those two words.

Jungkook turned and stared at her stagnant figure. Wow. She must be really high. “Alright, come here.” He sat on the bed next to her and helped her sit up. Her head rested on his shoulder. His arm was the sole thing keeping her upright. He took a deep breath and thought about what he planned on telling her when he got there. He might as well practice now since she wouldn’t remember anyway.

“So uh...about me being with my family… That was a lie.”

“Mmm..?”

“I went on a date. Well, not really, but I really like her and I think she might like me too..” His cheeks blushed a little at the thought. “She’s a great friend, so if it doesn’t work out I hope we still have that.” He grew more confident with his words the more he talked about her. “I think you’d like her. She smokes weed and stuff for pain, but she does it recreationally too.” Her silence finally caught his attention after the mention of weed. He giggled a little. “Did you fall asleep?” When he turned to look down at her, she slipped past his shoulder and slumped onto the bed. The impact of the mattress didn’t stir her in the slightest. “Y/N?”

He shook her shoulder.

Nothing.

He shook harder, the familiar fear germinating in the pit of his stomach.

“Y/N?”

Nothing.

Fear festered into horror as each attempt failed. Tears blinded him while he turned her on her back and roughly patted her cheeks. “Y/N?! Y/N, wake up!” His heart dropped past his stomach and onto the floor. Her lips and fingernails had turned an unhealthy shade of indigo and her breathing was dangerously shallow. No. This wasn’t real. It had to be a nightmare. It had to be. “Please wake up!!” He couldn’t stop saying her name in hopes that it would somehow magically awaken her. Her declining state said otherwise.

“Don’t leave me!” He pulled her onto the floor and straddled her hips, pulling his phone out to dial 911 in the process. His hands lined up with one another over her heart and jumped into action pumping her heart for her.

“Just stay with me! Please!”

“Blood oxygen at 60%!”

Jungkook had to be ripped from Y/N’s body as the team of EMTs swarmed around her. One of them lifted her lid with a gloved finger and flashed a penlight in her eye.

“Pupils are constricted! I need 2mg of Narcan!”

He was shoved out of her room and forced to watch from the doorway while the first responders stuck her with needle after needle. They slipped an oxygen mask over her lifeless face. The world seemed to slow with every jagged breath he took. His eyes unfocused and his hearing grew fuzzy except for the faint sound of his hammering heart. All was quiet in the eye of the storm. Then, the air left. Every atom of oxygen was sucked from the world with no regard for his existence. He fell to his knees gripping his throat and chest, his lungs screaming for air.

“..........d!……..id!……..Hey, kid!” He was snapped back to reality when large hands pressed into his shoulders. He darted his red, watery eyes to the paramedic restraining him to the floor. “You need to calm down!” His kicking, screaming and crying had been silenced by the ringing in his ears. A sharp pinch pricked his side and before long, he stilled as a wave of serenity washed over him. It was like someone flipped his off switch.

“What… what did you give me..?”

“Just some Valium to help you relax.” He felt his body sink into the floor, being pulled further into the abyss of slumber. He fought his lids open despite their growing weight, but it was no use. They drooped closed and all the chaos and fear gave way to darkness.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital pierced Jungkook’s lids pulling him back into consciousness. He was stretched out on a firm sofa with a simple heart monitor clipped to his fingertip in what looked like an ICU room. The soft beeping of an EKG drew his attention to the bed next to him. He got to his feet as fast as he could with the Valium still lingering in his system and raced to Y/N’s bedside. The bittersweet excitement of getting to see her went completely sour when he took in her state. She’d never looked so frail and delicate before. Dark circles sunk in her eyes with rings of yellow on their border giving the illusion of two black eyes. Her lips were chapped and bleeding. Countless tubes and IVs protruded from her body which only stressed the severity of her condition further. Yet, despite her broken appearance, she never looked so peaceful.

“Good. You’re up.” He spun around. The voice came from a doctor standing in the doorway clipboard in hand. “I’m Dr. Lobrano, I’m the one in charge of your friend’s case.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s stable, but the stress overload caused her to slip into a coma so her body can heal itself to its full extent.” Jungkook’s face paled. “Now, I’m not saying it’s 100%, but most opioid coma patients wake up and make a full recovery. Physically, that is.” “How long will that take?” He took in a calculating breath.

“It’s hard to say. It could take three days or three weeks. Every case is different” His heart sank for the nth time that night. He looked over his shoulder at her motionless figure under the sheets. The only thing that told she was even alive was the soft, steady beep of the EKG. He could hardly bear to look at her. It was like seeing Superman fall from the sky. She was his Superman. Whether she believed it or not didn’t matter because it was true. “I hate to bother you during such a stressful time,” he pulled a pen out of his pocket protector, “but I need you to answer a few questions about our friend over there.” He pointed the end of the pen at her.

“U-um, okay.” Dr. Lobrano took a seat in the chair facing the sofa which Jungkook had retaken his seat on. He clicked the pen against his knee and held it at the ready.

“Next of kin?”

“Her parents, but she’s emancipated.” He nodded and silently jotted something on his clipboard.

“Siblings?”

“No.” He looked up.

“Extended family?” Jungkook opened mouth to answer when he realized -- she didn’t. She had no one. From what he’d caught over the years he knew her mom was an only child and her dad’s only brother died when he was in college. No aunts, no uncles, no cousins. No one.

“Not that I can think of. No.”

“Okay...any other significant relationships? We need someone to sign off on her paperwork and consent forms in case anything happens.”

“But it won’t, right?” He clicked his pen.

“As a medical professional, I’m legally obligated to tell my patients and their loved ones the truth. And the truth is, your friend over there took an almost lethal dose of Fentanyl. And with her age and weight? I consider myself a man of science, but that’s a miracle if I ever saw one. However, just because she made it past those first critical hours doesn’t mean there’s zero risk of other complications that may arise later on.” Jungkook nodded, trying to take in the information as stoically as possible. He didn’t want the doctor to see how he really felt on the inside.

“How old are you?”

“I’m sixteen, sir.”

“Do you have anyone you can call who’s at least eighteen that can sign for her?”

“Yeah, her…boyfriend” The weight of his circumstances hit him like a bus. The thought of anyone else hadn’t even crossed his mind until now. How the hell was he supposed to tell Yoongi that the only person keeping his life together was in a coma from almost killing herself?

“Then I suggest you give him a call as soon as possible, and if you don’t have any other questions I should finish making my rounds.” He gave a distant nod and was left alone with Y/N once again. His eyes were drawn back to the subtle rise and fall of her chest. A long sigh of anguish left his lips and he buried his face in his hands.

“What am I gonna do?”

~~~

Jungkook stared at Yoongi’s contact in his phone. His thumb hovered over the call button. He knew he was about to hurt him worse than anyone ever has in his life. It was going to kill him. He forced his thumb down on the screen. The dial tone counted down the seconds before the heartbreak. It stopped after three rings.

“Hello?”

“....”

“Kook?”

“Yoongi…” His voice began to quiver, “Yoongi, something bad happened.”

~~~

Jiwoo laid in bed on her stomach with her feet swishing in the air. She held her phone to her ear with her shoulder while she painted her nails their usual black chrome. “You should listen to Never Know by Bad Omens. I bet you’d like it.”

“You think?” Taehyung’s voice came from the other end. Before she could answer, she heard Yoongi in the living room on the phone.

“Woah, woah, calm down. What happened?” Silence.

“Jiwo-?”

“Sh!” The silence stretched for a good four seconds. She jumped when Yoongi came barreling down the hall to his room like a bat out of Hell and came back out with his jacket slung over his arm. The front door opened and slammed shut. Within seconds, his car peeled out of the driveway. The roar of his engine quickly dissipated in the distance.

~~~

Jungkook bounced his knee in anticipation. It had been almost ten minutes since he called Yoongi and there was still no sign of him. He was beginning to worry something might’ve happened to him on the way when the door swung open sending the doorknob colliding into the wall. Jungkook shot up and immediately broke down in tears when he laid eyes on Yoongi’s familiar face. Yoongi rushed to catch his crumpling body and hugged his head to his chest. Jungkook sobbed like he never sobbed before. Every emotion he’d kept bottled up since the moment he found her in her room spilled out onto Yoongi’s grey hoodie.

His heart — along with every other function in his body — stopped when he saw Y/N. She’d never looked so broken and it tore at his insides to even look at her. It didn’t feel natural. It didn’t feel real. There was no way this was the girl he loved.

When Jungkook’s cries diminished to a sniffle, Yoongi gingerly took him off his chest and approached her bedside. He tentatively placed his hand over her cold one. IV needles were sunken into each of her wrists and one on the back of her hand. He drew a shuddery breath. “What-....what did she take?”

“Fentanyl.” Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut trying not to dwell on it.

“Is she gonna be okay?” He knew it was a stupid question. Of course Jungkook couldn’t answer that.

“I don’t know.” Jungkook muttered.

“Did they say when she’d wake up?” Jungkook winced at his question. He must’ve been in shock to assume she even would.

“Yoongi,” the older turned to face him, “Y/N’s in a coma.”

~~~

Yoongi and Jungkook stayed the night in the spacious ICU room with Jungkook passed out on his little couch and Yoongi pulled up a chair next to Y/N’s bedside. He stayed awake all night watching her. It wasn’t that he thought something would happen if he fell asleep, he just couldn’t bring himself to leave her. Even if he may have still physically been there.

Breaking the news to everyone the next day was hard. Hearing their reactions over the phone was harder. ICU patients were only allowed to have three visitors per day —excluding Yoongi—so he was forced to decide who would get to see her first. He decided to just go by age.

Jimin and Taehyung arrived within five minutes of getting the call. Yoongi was waiting outside her room when the two came flying down the hall. They skidded to a stop and Yoongi had to hold them back with his palms against their chests. “Hold on, hold on. You can’t see her just yet.”

“Fucking why not?!” Taehyung shouted.

“Yeah, what the hell?” Jimin added.

“The doctor said that it helps to talk to coma patients, so we’re taking turns visiting her alone. Jungkook’s in there right now.”

~~~

Jungkook sat in Yoongi’s chair beside the hospital bed. His fists balled against his knees trying to think of something to say.

“Y/N…..I’m…. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took your pills. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I watched this happen and didn’t get you help.” Tears pooled in his eyes. “I’m so sorry...You're my hero Y/N….You probably don’t think so, but if I never met you...” He choked, “I don’t-...I don’t think I’d be alive right now.” His lips quivered trying to form the words. He’d never said anything like that out loud before. “You’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m not alone. I’ve never felt more loved and wanted than when I’m with you. You’re the strongest person I know. You always make sure I get all of my work done and eat right even when you can barely take care of yourself. It sounds useless, but it’s those reminders that reassure me that someone actually cares. If you go I-...I don’t know what I’m gonna do. But it’s not gonna be anything good.” He put his head down on her thigh and cried. “I need you, Y/N. I need you so much it hurts.”

~~~

The three in the hall jumped to their feet when the door finally opened, and Jungkook stepped out. His eyes and nose were puffy and red from hours of stop and start tears. Jimin pulled him into a soft hug which he gratefully accepted. “Okay Tae, you’re next.” Yoongi said. Taehyung thought for a second.

“No. Jimin should go. He’s known her longer than I have.” Yoongi looked from Taehyung to Jimin who looked up in surprise.

“That’s fine.” He said. Jimin gave Taehyung a thankful look and entered the room.

He drew a hard breath when he saw her. Her hospital gown washed away the color of her cheeks that once gave her a youthful glow. “Oh, Y/N…” He put his hand to his heart and sat down. “What happened to you?” The dark circles under her eyes popped against the blank canvas of her face. He slipped his hand under hers and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “You can’t be doing this to yourself. You scared me. You scared us.”

He spent a long time just looking at her in silence. He couldn’t find a way to put his emotions into words. “God, you’re so gorgeous. Even when you're wearing a paper gown with bags that rival a panda’s.” He reached and twirled a piece of her hair in his fingers — something he did a lot when they relaxed together. Her usual bouncy coils laid in dull, limp waves against her shoulders. “You almost left me. You can’t do that, because you’re stuck with me. And there’s nothing you can do to change that. Wherever you go, I’ll follow, whatever you do, I’ll copy. We’re in this together, so your ass better wake up so we can fuck shit up until we’re old and grey, scaring kids on Halloween together.” He giggled, but it slowly turned to whimpers. He wiped tears from his cheeks with his sleeves. “You’re my best friend, N/N. I don’t know if I can handle it if you go.” He took a sniffly breath. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you. Even if it was in different ways, but I always have.” He sniffed and his voice cracked under the emotion. “You deserve the world, you deserve someone who loves you the way I know you should be loved. That’s why I was so happy when you met Yoongi, because I knew he was perfect for you. He worships you, Y/N, kisses the ground you walk on. And I can rest easy knowing you’re in the best possible hands. Don’t worry about me though, I’m happy loving you in any way I can.” Tears patted on the bed sheets when he leaned in to give her a lingering kiss on the cheek. “Please come back to us.”

~~~

An hour passed, and Jimin emerged from the room. “Finally! I was starting to regret giving up my turn.” Taehyung stood. Jimin and Jungkook held hands and Yoongi stripped his leather jacket off. The extra layers were starting to get to him. He looked up and saw Taehyung still standing there.

“What are you lookin’ at me for?”

“C-can I go now?” Yoongi chuckled a little.

“Of course you can.”

~~~

It took a while for Taehyung to eventually gravitate to the chair beside her. He mainly stood near the door and stared at her for the first five minutes. Another twenty went by of him just sitting in the chair with his hands clasped between his knees. “Listen uh...I’m not good at this whole sentimental thing, so if it’s true that coma patients remember what they hear, don’t judge. I know I get on your nerves a lot and tease you, but I do it ‘cus that’s just how I show love.” He looked down. “Truth is, you’re like a sister to me, Y/N. I always wanted an older sister to annoy, and when I met you it felt like I’d found my missing piece. Nobody in my life ever stays long, but you’re the one constant that I could hang on to. No matter which girl left me or friends I lost, I knew I could always count on you to be there, ready to go along with whatever I wanted.” He chuckled at the tears brimming in his eyes. “Look at this shit. You got me cryin’.” He roughly wiped his eyes with the collar of his hoodie. “Well, that’s my spiel. Wake up soon. I need somebody to roll their eyes at my jokes again.” He stood and wiped his palms on his sweats. His fingers twitched at his side as he peered down at her. Hesitantly, he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. “Get better, sis.”

~~~

The next day was Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin’s turn. Namjoon, unsurprisingly, got there at the exact time Yoongi texted him to. He came in carrying a to-go cup of coffee with the Starbucks logo on the sleeve. Immediately, he pulled Yoongi into a quick hug before he could protest. “Here, I know you’re not sleeping.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi took it with a small smile. Namjoon wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t slept a wink since he got there, and it was starting to show. His raven hair hung in glossy clumps and he was starting to develop his own set of dark circles. “You can go in whenever you’re ready.”

Namjoon stepped in and closed the door gently behind him. “Hey, N/N.” He sighed and took a seat in the chair that he dwarfed with his long legs. “I know you probably could care less, but I’m gonna take care of your homework for you until you get out of this. That is, if you don’t wake up by Monday. Anyway, uh, Cheyenne couldn’t make it. She’s at a tournament in Las Vegas, but she sends her love. Maybe when you wake up, you can FaceTime her. She’s really worried about you, y’know. Even if you guys haven’t seen each other for years.” He gazed at her almost as if he was waiting for her to respond. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Normally, I always know what to say, but….with you there’s just so much to be said I can’t think straight, so I thought,” he fished a small book out of his coat pocket, “I’d read you some poetry instead. I know the guys have probably talked your ear off, so it should be a nice break from it all.” He cracked open the book to one of the pages he’d marked with a sticky note. “I’ll start with this one, since I know it’s your favorite.”

Life is unpredictable,

It changes with the seasons,

Even your coldest winter,

Happens for the best of reasons,

And though it feels eternal,

Like all you’ll ever do is freeze,

I promise spring is coming,

And with it, brand new leaves.

- Erin Hanson

~~~

Hoseok was already in the hallway when Namjoon finished up. “How’d it go?” He showed him the book in his hand.

“Just some reading. She always likes that.” Hoseok gave him a nod and circled around him to take his place.

He took a seat and rested his elbows on the mattress. “Hey...God, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to do this. I’m not used to one sided conversations.” He gave a tiny chuckle. “I was a mess when I heard about your accident...I mean, Fentanyl, Y/N? Fentanyl?? I know how bad that shit’s reputation is and when I heard you ODed on it, I was certain you were dead. It took five minutes for Yoongi to calm me down and say you were alive.” He eyed all the tubes and machines she was hooked up to. “Although it doesn’t really look like it….Fuck you scared me, Y/N. Don’t you ever do that again.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You hear me? You’re the only one who knows how bad my coke problem really is. In fact, no one else even knows I’m bipolar. Only you. Because you’re the only person I feel comfortable talking about it with. So please, don’t scare me like that again. I don’t expect you to come out of this clean as a whistle. Hell, I don’t even expect you to stop snorting your prescriptions. That’s why we need each other. We can work on ourselves together. I know you’ll wake up. I just know it. And I’ll be waiting with a big ass bag of all your favorite candy and movies when you do. So, you just focus on healing that body of yours and get back to us as soon as you can.” He gave her a kiss on the hand and another on her forehead. “Love ‘ya.”

~~~

Yoongi eyed the book Namjoon had set on one of the chairs lining the hall. He picked it up and leafed through it. “Hey, Joon?”

“Yeah?”

“You think I can borrow this for a bit?” He looked over to see what he was talking about.

“Yeah, of course.” Yoongi continued to flip through the pages when Hoseok stepped out and shut the door behind him. His eyes were misty and his voice was a little nasally.

“That was a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be.” He scanned the hallway. “Is Jin coming?”

“He’s coming around six after he gets off work.” Yoongi said, not looking up from the poem he was in the middle of.

“Oh, okay. Well, I have practice later so I’ll try to come visit again as soon as I can.” Hoseok gave each of them a hug and took his leave.

“I can stick around if you want, Yoongi.” Namjoon offered.

“No, no. I’m okay. There’s really not much you can do here. I’ll call you if anything comes up.” He stood again and Namjoon gave him another parting hug. “Thanks for the book, by the way.”

“No problem. I’ll see you later.”

Yoongi took his spot in the chair by Y/N’s bed and delved back into his book. As he went along, he wrote poems that reminded him of her on the hospital stationary from the bedside table. He didn’t read them aloud. He found it hard to believe that talking would actually help. His life hadn’t been fortunate enough for him to believe in anything more than cold, hard facts. He wasn’t one for talking anyway, and he knew neither was she.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed until Jin came knocking with a duffel bag in his hand. “Who’s that for?” Yoongi asked.

“You.” Jin said as he tossed it at him. He dropped the book and caught it against his chest. “Now go shower while I talk to my baby because I know you haven’t. You don’t want Y/N to wake up and have you smelling like ass.” He had him there. He stood up with a sigh and took the duffel to the connecting bathroom.

Jin turned and felt his heart sink at the sight of her. It hurt to see her like this and not be able to do anything to help. “I hope you’re feeling okay in there.” He sat on the edge of the bed by her thigh. “I can’t stay as long as I’d hoped, so I’ll have to make this quick. I know you probably don’t want me boo-hooing over you, so I’ll try to keep the tears to a minimum.” He rubbed the smooth tape securing the IV in her hand. “I’ll never forget that time I found you curled up on the floor, in the middle of your living room, so depressed you couldn't walk. I had to bathe you and tuck you in bed. I even fed you soup even though you said you could do it yourself.” He smiled softly. “I know I have to take care of you sometimes when you can’t do it yourself. And that’s okay. It’s okay to ask for help every once in a while. That’s my job. We always joke about how I’m your guys’ momma, but it’s true. You’re the reason I realized how much I want to be a dad one day. Believe me, if I could take care of you for the rest of my life I would, but I don’t think you’d care for that too much.” A small tear slipped past his guard and dripped down his cheek. “Sorry,” he wiped it away, “but you can’t blame me. I’m worried about you, Y/N. I don’t know what drove you to do this, but I know you tried your hardest to fight it.” He squeezed her hand. “I want you to know that I’m not mad, I’m not disappointed. You were trying to take your pain away. I just wish you could’ve told me how much you were suffering. Even if you want to spare me the stress and heartbreak of it all, I’d rather know you're in pain so maybe I can help you. Please don’t hide like that again. I need my little gremlin around to give me grey hairs before I hit thirty.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the head. “And you’re worth every single one.”

The door to the bathroom opened and Yoongi stepped out rubbing a towel over his hair. “Sorry, I tried to take as long as possible.”

“It’s fine, I need to be going anyway.” Jin stood and gave Y/N one last glance. “I’ll be waiting for you, kiddo.” He turned to Yoongi. “You gonna be okay here by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Have you talked to her yet?” Yoongi paused. “You should. Even if you think it doesn’t do anything, you’d be surprised what comes out.” With that, he took his jacket off the chair and closed the door behind him.

~~~

The clock read 11:50 by the time Yoongi finished his book. He set it on the bedside table with a sigh. Over a dozen notes were taped to the railing in a long line of comforting messages. It was surprising how much it helped him take his mind off the worst. But now, he had nothing to do but wait. He let out another long sigh. “I’m sorry I haven’t talked much. It’s just hard not being able to hear your voice...I figured if I tried to say anything I’d fucking lose it, but it feels like I already am.” He rested his forehead in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus...what am I gonna do? If you go, I don’t know what I’m gonna do to myself. It scares me...One of the nurses told me you’d be going to a better place, but I don’t care if you’re going to a better place, I need you here.” He sniffed. “And I know that’s wrong, but I need you in this shitty ass world because I can’t survive without you.” He tried to blink the brimming tears out of his eyes, but it was no use. “There’s no one else in the world I’d rather be with than you. I don’t know how you made me like this, but I don’t ever want to change. I love you. I love you so fucking much I don’t know what to do with myself. I love the little things about you the most. I love that one curl that you hate because it goes the wrong way, how you’re not afraid to eat twice as much as me, how you grab my shirt in your sleep, how you walk in the grass with a flashlight during the summer so you don’t step on any frogs.”

The steady beep of the EKG was the only response he got. “Please don’t leave me. Please? No one’s ever made me feel this good before. And if you leave...if you-...” His head sank as he tried to hold back his tears. “It’s just- It’s easier to smile with you because when I look at you, I can feel it. And I-I look at you and I-....I’m home….Please, I don’t want that to go away.”

~~~

Yoongi didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up with his head resting against Y/N’s hip. He blinked away his sleepiness and tried to read the clock. 6:20. He groaned. Stayed awake two nights in a row and didn’t even get so much as six hours. Despite his suspicions, he did feel a lot better having talked to her. It seemed to bring her a little closer to him in these God awful times.

She was looking better. The dark circles were fading and the color was returning to her lips. It lifted his spirits to see she was visibly healing. He called Namjoon to bring him another poetry book. The stuff was really starting to grow on him. Of all people.

Other than a visit from Jungkook, Jiwoo, and Jimin, the day was pretty uneventful. A few nurses came in to take her vitals and stretch her joints, but he wouldn’t necessarily consider that an event.

“Here’s a good one.” Yoongi leaned forward in his chair for her to hear.

I don’t think you will

Ever fully understand

How you touched my life

And made me who I am.

You are the keeper of my dreams,

The man who holds my heart,

The one I want to spend my life with,

The one with whom I will always stand.

Stand beside through thick and thin

Through all that life throws our way

Knowing that this special love we share

Will guide us each and every day.

I don’t think you could ever feel

All the love I have to give,

And I’m sure you never realize

You’ve been my will to live.

- Stephanie Schiavone

~~~

The light of dawn shone through the thin curtains that billowed in the breeze coming from the open balcony door, casting the spacious bedroom in a golden glow. Yoongi shifted under the white, linen sheets and stretched out his spine like a cat. He cracked an eye open and took in the view of Y/N’s bare back on the other side of the bed. The fabric only came up to her hips and was pulled around to her chest with her sleeping hands. Her hair swept over the entire pillow scattering her curls every which way.

He ghosted his knuckle down her spine and back up again, repeating the action until her slender shoulders stirred. She let out a small, airy groan and dug herself further into the mattress. Birds chirped in the lush trees swaying outside with the coming morning. Yoongi scooted closer until her back was flush against his chest. The heat between their skin was a welcome sensation that seemed to fill his heart with even more love. If that was possible. He slipped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She wriggled again when he started peppering her with kisses up and down her neck and cheek. He finally brought his lips to her ear. “Wake up.”

~~~

Y/N’s eyes drifted open and fluttered against the cold lights of the ICU room. She looked down at her IVs and around the room groggily. Yoongi was asleep on the edge of the bed with his head resting on his folded arms. It broke her heart to see how tired he looked. Dark bags marked his red, puffy eyes from hours of vigil. Tears welled in her eyes and her lips drew into a pained frown as the memories of her night flashed in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to silence her hiccups. Her head sank back into the pillow and hoped it would just swallow her whole. There was no way she’d be able to face anyone after what she did. Oh God. Jungkook. Instant guilt and shame washed over her when she realized what she put that poor boy through.

When her eyes cleared enough to see, she noticed the dozens of messages littering her bed and side table. She took one off the railing with a shaky hand. It was in Yoongi’s handwriting.

When I first met you

I remembered you

From a hundred different dreams

And there you were

For me to love

All over again

For the very first time

- Atticus

A smile crept onto her lips as she read each one.

Your eyes.

Your eyes hold everything

My soul thirsts for.

- Paul Perry

She read another.

You gave light to my soul

You helped me to be whole

I have felt love for you before

And it will be more and more,

You are mine, my dear

You are the angel from above

Who taught me how to love.

Please, forever keep me near.

- Anonymous

~~~

The feeling of his hair being carded through slowly coaxed Yoongi out of his dream. He peeked an eye open. Y/N was mindlessly playing with his hair while she intently read one of his notes. “Oh my God!” He jumped onto the bed and cupped her head in his hands as he attacked her with kisses wherever he could land them. “You’re awake! Holy shit, you’re awake!” He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I thought I lost you.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Her hoarse voice was like music to his ears. He let himself laugh for the first time in the longest three days of his life. She looked up at him and he finally got to see those e/c eyes that he missed so much. Another wave of kisses washed over her that concluded with a final long, heated kiss on her lips.

“I’ve been waiting to be able to do that again.” She giggled and pushed against his chest.

“Get off, creepo. If the nurses saw you like this you’d get kicked out so fucking fast.”

“Oh shit,” he jumped off, “I need to tell them you’re up!” She watched in amusement as he ran out the door, then frantically popped back in.

“I’ll be right back!”

~~~

Everything that happened next flew by in a blur. She nearly suffocated under the hugs and kisses and gifts she was bombarded with. She was transferred to a standard room where she was allowed to have as many visitors as she wanted. Her entire day consisted of catching up with everyone, watching movies, and lots, and lots of Jello. Most of her IVs were removed which allowed Yoongi to curl up beside her that night.

The next evening, Jungkook was visiting her when Dr. Lobrano stepped in with his usual clipboard and pen. “Hey you two. If you don’t mind, I need to speak with Miss Y/N for a few minutes in private.”

“Oh..okay.” Jungkook reluctantly got up and left the room, stealing a glance on his way out.

“So?” She asked. The doctor folded his hands in front of him and looked down for a bit.

“I’m afraid there’s one thing about your condition that I’ve yet to mention.” She sat up straighter, her stomach churning.

“What is it?”

“When you first arrived at the ER you had major vaginal bleeding, so we did some tests...” Her heart stopped. “You were pregnant, but I’m afraid the shock of your overdose also caused you to miscarry.” It felt like she got punched in the stomach by Mike Tyson. All the air was sucked out of her lungs.

“P-pregnant..?”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to give you some time to catch up with loved ones before I informed you.” Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and her eyes darted back and forth trying to make sense of it all.

“H-how far along was I?”

“About three weeks.”

“Does...does Yoongi know?”

“I’m leaving you the choice to decide that. Once again, my deepest condolences.” He left her to process the news in privacy.

She collapsed onto the bed, her sobs coming out in hiccupy squeaks. Her hands gravitated to her stomach and tried to imagine the little being that used to be there. Three soft knocks sounded from the other side of the door. It slowly opened and Jungkook peaked his head in. “Y/N? Are you okay?” She only stared up at the ceiling. He approached her bedside. “....Y/N?” Her eyes eventually found him and filled with more tears.

“Can you hug me?” He immediately sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her up into a hug. Her shoulders quivered and she gripped desperately at his shirt.

“Hey, it's okay. It’s okay…” He stroked her hair and rested his chin on the top of her head. She cried, and cried, and cried until nothing else came out. Jungkook held her until her sobs faded, and her body leaned against his chest. He gently laid her down, taking care not to wake her up. Her peaceful face was a stark contrast to the tears that wet her cheeks and reddened her nose. Whatever the doctor told her must’ve been pretty damn bad to have her asking for a hug, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

Y/N was still asleep when Yoongi stepped out of the shower. Moonlight that came from a small window lit his path to her bed. She stirred when he climbed in. “It’s me. Go back to sleep.” He whispered. The sheets were pulled over their bodies and she rolled onto her side with her back to him. He took the opportunity to pull her closer. His face nestled on her shoulder and he let out a long sigh of contentment. She clenched her muscles to suppress her whimpers, but it was no use. He lifted his head to look down at her. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Her eyes clamped shut and a choked sob escaped her chest.

“I killed our baby.”

~~~

It took a long time for Yoongi to wrap his head around what she told him the night before. When he finally put two and two together, he immediately turned her around so she was facing his chest and pulled her in as close as he possibly could. He was absolutely distraught, but only a few silent tears of shock came out as she sobbed into his shoulder all over again.

They slept late into the afternoon until they were woken up by a beaming Jimin. “Wake up, sleepyheads! It’s your discharge day!” Yoongi scowled at the unwelcome noise and lazily swatted at him. Jimin grabbed his wrist and pulled him to sit up straight. “Come on! Don’t you wanna get out of here?”

“Gimme a minute before I punch you.” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. Jimin circled around to Y/N’s side and played with her hair.

“Y/Naaa, wake uuuup~” She cracked an eye and glared at him. “Oh, don’t give me that look too. It’s noon, and you’re supposed to check out at two. Let's get a move on.”

They spent the better half of an hour watching TV while Yoongi packed up the duffel Jin brought him. Y/N brushed her teeth in bed and spat the toothpaste in a cup when she was done. “Here.” She handed it to Jimin who took it and rinsed it out in the sink.

There was a knock at the door and Dr. Lobrano stepped inside. “How’re we feeling today?”

“Fine, I guess.” she shrugged. “I’m just ready to go home.”

“About that. It’s come to my attention that you have a history of suicidal behavior, and while it’s not my position to judge, I also can’t rule your overdose out as a suicide attempt.” “What?” She was dumbfounded. How could that be any of his business? “I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”

“But did you or did you not have any concern for your safety when you took that Fentanyl?” She pressed her lips into an angry thin line. She was angry because she knew he was right. She knew the risk and she did it anyway.

“What are you getting at?” Yoongi stepped in.

“According to California law, overdose victims are required to participate in a mandatory 28 days of rehabilitation. And since you’re also a danger to yourself, your treatment will have to be in a psychiatric facility.”

Y/N, Yoongi, and Jimin’s jaws dropped. There was no way he was serious. Right? Her heart beat faster, and faster, and faster with every memory of St. Joseph’s that flashed in her mind. “No….no, no, no!” She clawed at her IV and yanked it out of her hand. She threw the sheets up and made a mad dash for the door, but two male nurses stood ready to catch her. “NO! NO! NO! I’M NOT GOING BACK!” They hauled her back on the bed and tried to pin her kicking legs down. Her screams brought another team of nurses rushing in with a set of bed restraints.

“What the hell are you doing to her?!” Yoongi shouted. One of the nurses turned and put her hand to the boys’ chests.

“You two need to leave, right now.” They were shoved outside the room and forced to watch the crowd of people struggle to hold Y/N’s thrashing body to the mattress so the restraints could be slipped on. Jimin held his hands to his mouth and stared through wide, teary eyes.

“NO! NO! NO! NO! I CAN’T GO BACK! YOONGI!” It felt like someone stabbed him in the heart when she desperately called out to him. He could hear the terror in her voice.

“YOONGI!”

Pain filled his entire body and he bit the inside of his lip, visibly restraining himself from lunging forward and ripping her from the restraints that she jerked so furiously against. “YOONGI! PLEASE DON’T LET-'' A nurse sank a syringe into her hip and her legs quickly ceased their kicking. Y/N fell silent.

Yoongi stood like a statue and stared at the only half of her that he could see. “Yoongi, I-” he ripped his shoulder away when Jimin placed a hand on it and stormed away. He didn’t stop until he got all the way to his car in the parking lot. The door slammed shut behind him and he was left in silence. His forehead fell against the steering wheel and he let out a long breath.

A single whimper escaped his chest.

Then another.

And another.

Loud, hiccupy sobs wracked his whole body as he white-knuckled the leather wrapped wheel. One especially aggressive wave had him hugging himself in a bawling heap. He hadn’t cried like this since he was little, hiding in the closet from his dad’s drunken rage. It was scary how quickly he lost control, and he knew there was nothing he could do to get it back.

#bts x reader #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #namjoon #bts seokjin #yoongi #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts sad

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cherryfi · 5 years

Text

Under the light of the full moon

Plot: Moving into a new neighbourhood is hard, especially when you’re a wolf and it’s almost time for the full moon or, the one where your new hot ass neighbour is also a werewolf.

Word Count: 4875

Werewolf AU! Smut!

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Warning: 18+! Oral, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, a little violence

A/N: Part of my halloween series! Requests are open! I liked writing this one but, I still think I could have done better you know? Anyway, Chan is so beautiful oml I just want him to dick me down. Enjoy!

“Your neighbour is sexy as hell.” You laugh as you glance over your shoulder at your best friend, you’re putting up the last of the scent blockers in your new home and she’s supposed to be helping you.

However, she’s stood at the window, watching as your neighbour makes his way back from his morning run. He was shirtless and wearing running shorts – it was hard not to notice how hot he was.

You’d finally moved into your new home and were adding the finishing touches. Moving to a new town was hectic and super stressful but, you were taking it in stride. Honestly, nothing could get you down. You’d gotten a promotion at work, which meant a bigger office and you had a big enough bonus to purchase the house of your dreams. It was perfect. A 3-bedroom house surrounded by lush forest – the perfect getaway from the chaos of the city. Being a wolf, and a lone one at that, you needed all the nature and open space that you could get. Especially when it was a full moon.

“He’s even hotter up close but, I’ll be keeping my distance.” She glances at you, eyebrows raised and prompting you to continue. You really didn’t want to have this conversation.

“He came over to say hi when I first moved in, he’s a really sweet guy but he’s a werewolf so, it’s not going to happen.” She looks at you in shock and then laughs incredulously.

“How do you know? Has he told you? Does he know that you’re one as well? If you’re both werewolves shouldn’t that be a good thing, you can finally meet someone; and you won’t have to worry about explaining why you have to go out every full moon?” You laugh at her babbling.

“I can smell it on him, it’s like a perfume, you know? His scent is quite strong but, I’ve got no idea what that means. He came by to say hi when I was moving in and I smelled it on him, obviously. He’s an architect and he does carpentry in his spare time, so he was offering to help out.”

“He helped you move in? He was in this house with you? You had that whole gorgeous man in your home and y’all just talked about work? Also, you didn’t answer all of my questions.” You laugh at how pushy she is, and she raises her eyebrows, placing her hands on her hips

“He helped the movers with the sofa and some of the drawers, so we didn’t talk much. It was pretty late, and he said he was just coming in from work. I haven’t told him anything and I don’t think he can smell it on me because of the scent suppressors.”

You hold up your necklace, the charm glinting in the light from your window. As long as you wore it other wolves wouldn’t be able to smell you.

Which came in handy because you were alone and had no pack.

A lone wolf was an easy target for any pack, especially an omega, all it took was one curious alpha and it could be all over.

Staying hidden in plain sight was your best option.

“So, when are you going on a date with him?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at you and you laugh before sighing.

“I’m not. Jas, all he did was help me move in. It’s no big deal.” But you couldn’t help but feel a little hopeful at the chance to get to know your attractive neighbour some more. You imagined dates with him and spending time with him. Would he kiss you when he welcomed you home or would he cuddle you instead?

Chan was ridiculously handsome, with his gorgeous smile and pretty eyes. His Australian accent was the stuff of dreams and it didn’t help that during the little time you’d spent together, he was friendly and warm.

He was boyfriend goals.

But, it would never happen.

He was a wolf and judging by his scent, he must have been an alpha and if he was an alpha, he had a pack. Being his friend would only lead to issues down the line. The closer he got to you, the closer he would get to the truth and you weren’t prepared to tell him that.

“Besides, it’s almost time for the full moon, I need to make sure all my charms are put up; so, no curious wolves come poking around.” The perks of moving to a rural area was that the surrounding greenery was the perfect cover for a lone wolf who wanted to stay hidden.

It gave you the perfect opportunity to spend as much time as you needed in wolf form (especially during the full moon) and it meant that you didn’t have to travel as far to get to a wooded area.

But that came with it’s cons.

A large forest meant more space for other packs, which, of course, meant more wolves.

“If you’re a wolf, why do you need to ward off other wolves again?” You’re in your kitchen now, sipping hot chocolate as you wait for your home to heat up. The chill October air finally seeping in, as it gets late into the evening.

Jas had been your best friend since you were seven and she was there for you when you were attacked.

Other than your mum, Jas was the first person to know what the ‘animal’ attack had really done to you.

Coming from an active family and living on the peninsula meant that as a family you’d always gone hiking. You were an avid hiker and forest walker, spending plenty of time in the hidden meadows and next to the brooks, streams, and rivers that ran past your home.

This was your thinking place – it was where you hid away when life became too much and the weight of the world threatened to crush you underfoot.

Today was one of those days.

Finals were coming up and life was changing way too fast for you. Your friends were moving away from home, you were all going to separate schools, come autumn and your family was falling apart.

You were reeling and the only thing you could think to do, was to go to the one place where nothing ever changed.

The forest.

You grabbed your camera and packed a hamper with your favourite foods, your schoolbooks and a blanket. You were going to one of the many meadows you’d discovered, this one was close to a small stream; and you were going to relax the day away.

But when you got there, the forest was silent.

The silence hung in the air like a stale, musty smell.

Thick and heavy with tension.

None of the animals were chirping or making noise, it was as if the woods themselves had been frozen in time.

You shook the eerie feeling off, sure that it was your own anxiety towards the future that was making you antsy.

But then you saw it.

Your eyes caught on to the movement of the trees, just on the outskirts of the meadow. It took some time for your eyes to adjust to the movement but, when they did, you gasped.

The trees moved artificially. Almost jerkily as you caught sight of 2 eyes.

They caught the nearby sunlight and glinted but appeared almost as if they glowed on their own and soon, the wolf stepped forward.

Almost haughtily as if it tasted and enjoyed your fear.

You packed your things slowly.

Maybe if it noticed you packing, it would understand that you were going to leave and meant no harm.

Were you meant to make yourself look smaller and submissive or bigger and more threatening to a wolf? You didn’t know but, you hoped it would understand the message you were trying to convey.

“I don’t mean any harm; I’m going to leave now. Please let me leave in peace?”

It made a noise, something like a barked laugh and approached you further.

It was blocking the way you came.

You picked up your hamper and walked backwards, keeping your eyes on the wolf and thinking of any ways that you could get away from it and into civilisation.

It didn’t matter what you did, the wolf kept stalking towards you.

Once nightfall came, you knew you were screwed.

As the sun began to set, the temperature dropped, causing you to shiver, and you’d lost sight of the wolf.

Despite it’s larger than normal stature, it was completely black, and the only light you had was your phone’s flashlight. It wasn’t powerful enough to be of any help to you.

How were you going to get out of this?

Especially because you didn’t know what’s its agenda was.

What did it want with you? Why did it continue to stalk you?

Your signal was down, and you had no way to contact anyone.

You began to sob.

Broken and completely alone, you began to wonder if this would really be your fate – mauled to death by a determined monster-wolf.

Suddenly, the pressure to do well on your exams and to fix your parents’ crumbling marriage didn’t matter.

Worse things were about to happen.

“Please! Please, leave me alone! I’m not going to do anything to you, I won’t even tell anyone I saw you. I’ll never step foot in this forest again, I swear. Just please don’t hurt me.” Going hysterical, the only option you really had left was to plead to this creature.

It wasn’t a normal wolf; you’d known that then.

The way it stalked you, wasn’t normal, the way it looked at you with those almost human eyes wasn’t normal.

As if showing you some mercy it broke through the trees and approached you.

Towering over you, it huffed in your face and you stood up from the cold ground, hoping that it would let you leave. The moonlight illuminated its fur making it look almost ghoulish. It should have been frightening, but the wolf was calm and so were you.

The wolf really wasn’t so bad.

You reached out your hand and petted their fur, it nuzzled its head onto your shoulder.

And then tore a chunk out of your side.

You shuddered at the memory, unable to really remember what had happened after you’d screamed and passed out.

“I have to. After that wolf turned me in the forest, I had to learn everything on my own. Honestly, I was angry at first, I’d go into the forest every day to hunt it down. I was going to kill it. But then my first full moon came, and I was all alone and there were no other wolves there to help me. I had to deal with it on my own. I just wanted it to show up. It never did. I won’t get played like that again.”

“So, you’re scared that if you let another pack in, they’re just going to abandon you.” She doesn’t have to question it.

“It’s different with other people. You and my mum have never left my side and dad supported me so much after they found me. Hell, he led the search party. But, the only experience of wolves I have is that one and I’m not going to let it happen again. Even if that means being alone forever.”

“Yeah, well who needs a pack when you’ve got a Jas? Am I right?”

Chan knew you were a wolf as soon as he stepped out of his car.

He couldn’t catch your scent, which meant you must have been blocking it but, that didn’t matter.

They were other markers that gave it away; like your body language.

As soon as he stepped out of his car, you stiffened; you weren’t even facing him, but it was clear that his presence was affecting you.

And when he came over to say hi, you shrunk away from him.

You were being submissive to him; which must have meant you ranked lower than he did but, what rank you were was left to be seen.

What was clear, however, was that you were alone, there was no scent of any other wolf on you or your things and none of the people helping you to move seemed to be wolves either, not even the friend that came over later when he said goodbye.

So, he scent-marked as many of your items as he could, hoping that that would help alleviate your anxiety towards him and that it would protect you from other wolves.

Even if you weren’t in his pack, he’d decided you were his responsibility and especially with the full moon coming, wolves needed to look out for each other and as an alpha, it was his job.

He knew what kind of wolf you were after he’d finished helping you move in.

“That’s the last of it!” He smiled, rubbing his hands together as he faced you. He could hear your heartbeat picking up.

“Thanks for helping me out Chan.”

“Hey don’t mention it. Consider it the start of an amazing friendship.” He wrapped his arms around you unexpectedly and before you could catch yourself, you returned the hug, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in his scent.

You were an omega.

It almost scared him how happy he was that you were comforted by his scent and by his own revelations.

No matter how long it took, he was going to make you his but, he hoped he could at least make you notice him by the time the full moon came.

You were antsy.

Which was normal given that the full moon was that night, you were always on edge by the time it came around.

Your wolf, scratching just beneath the surface of your mind was ready to be let out.

So, you let her out.

You’d spoken to your mum and she’d wished you luck for the full moon, in the same way that she did every time it would rise. You told her you’d call back once you returned home.

You’d told Jas that you would be gone for a few days and that you would call her once you were back as well.

Sitting under the light of the full moon, you waited in front of your tent, the campfire blazing high as you stripped out of your clothes, folding them neatly and placing them inside.

It was all part of the routine.

You turned after that.

Your bones shifting and rearranging, your muscles lengthening and growing and the hair on your skin thickening into fur; your jaw cracks and grows into shape.

With one last roll of your shoulders, you shift you the weight on each of your legs, giving yourself time to become re-accustomed to your canine form before you wandered around this new area.

It was a wild meadow, a lot like the one back home, the smell of lavender filling the air as it swayed in the bitter wind but, you weren’t cold.

Back when you’d first shifted, it had been extremely painful, it had taken you hours to get over the pain and fear of readjusting to another form but now, it was light work.

What was excruciating pain, was now a muscular ache; the same kind of pain you got after a heavy workout.

You ran around the meadow and into the woods themselves, leaving your makeshift campsite at its edge, just under the cover of the trees – hoping no one would find it – and headed into the clearing.

The clearing led to a cliff’s edge and you sat there watching how the moon’s glow cast itself on the forest down below and swept across the horizon, it was the only light to be seen but, it was all that you needed, your eyes were sharp.

The wind swept across the trees and forestry making them dance in time and you sighed in contentment, withholding the urge to howl.

As much as you were at peace, the last thing you wanted to do was to alert another wolf to your position.

The wind carried another scent across your nose, and you looked to your left, catching a glimpse of movement.

Too late.

You noticed it too late.

Looking back at you, was another wolf.

The way the light shone off their fur made it hard to discern their colouring but, you guessed it was a sandy brown.

You both stared at each other, and the wolf stood up from their stoop, clearly curious about you and without thinking, you took off. They followed after you, only a little caught of guard by the abruptness of your movement.

Their scent caught you again.

It was Chan.

Did he know it was you?

You didn’t care, you didn’t have time to worry , you were doing everything in your power to dodge him.

Jumping past fallen logs and ducking around corners and trees you hoped you could confuse him with your scent and lose him.

You could hear him, treading through the bramble and underbrush behind you.

But just as suddenly as you saw him, all trace of him was gone.

You couldn’t smell Chan in the air at all, nor did you hear him in the surrounding areas.

Cautiously, you snuck back to the edge of the meadow, scared that if you entered the clearing, he would materialise.

Chan caught you off-guard, shoving you from the side.

You fell down as he clambered on top of you.

You growled at him, trying to nip at any part of him that you could catch but, he dodged your teeth every time.

You nipped at one of his front legs and he yelped pulling away from you; you took that as your opportunity. You rolled on top of him and nipped at his shoulder before his hind leg kicked yours from under you. Trying hard not to lose your footing you, got up quickly, and ran full pelt.

You didn’t know where to go but, anywhere away from him was good.

He quickly foiled your escape attempt.

Chan gripped your back leg in his teeth, pulling it back and you fell, howling in pain.

You rolled over ready to fight back but, he pinned you down, baring his teeth and aiming for your jugular.

You’d lost the fight.

If you kept trying to fight, all he had to do was sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your throat and you would lose your life as well.

His body language was clear.

Phase back and reveal yourself or face the consequences.

You shifted back, trying your hardest to cover your exposed body but not from the cold.

Chan was staring down at you, recognition in his eyes.

He shifted back too.

“Y/N?” He didn’t care that you were both naked, but you did, and you tried your hardest not to look down at his exposed body.

He smirked.

Chan sat back and you sat up as he continued to look at you.

You shied away from his gaze.

“Don’t hide from me Y/N. Aren’t you tired of hiding from me? You’ve been avoiding me and blocking your scent. You’ve been hiding what you are, and we still managed to end up here.” He slinks towards you and places his hand on your cheek.

Tentatively, Chan kisses you.

His lips move against yours softly at first but then fervently and you gasp into the kiss as he lifts you into his lap. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you wrap yours around his neck.

He pulls away first and begins peppering kisses all over your neck and shoulders, laying you down in the grass. Chan hovers over you, staring at your body hungrily.

“Y/N I want you so bad.” He growls it out, placing himself in between your legs, running his hands up and down your body and tickling you lightly.

“Can I, have you?” He leans down softly nipping at the sensitive spot on your neck and you moan out, your hands reaching up to card through his thick, fluffy hair.

He kisses further down your body and takes one of your nipples into his mouth sucking lightly and running his tongue over it until it perks while his hand massages your other breast.

You’re a mess.

Moaning louder and louder, you don’t know what to do with your hands and you grip the grass firmly, your head thrown back.

Chan kisses down your body, leaving hickeys as he goes and once he’s directly between your legs, he kisses across your hips.

“Y/N, can I have you?” He kisses your inner thighs, nipping lightly at the soft flesh and you gasp out.

“Oh god yes.” This isn’t like you. The heady mixture of desire and his scent in the air drives you crazy.

“Baby, look at me.” His voice is deep and sultry, words dripping with honey but commanding and you look up.

“Y/N, I’m going to make you feel so good. I’m glad we’re outside because I’m going to make you scream.” You can only moan in response, too far gone with desire but, also a little shy.

How do I respond to that?

Your mind short circuits when Chan’s tongue licks a stripe up your folds, parting them a little and laying his tongue flat on your clit.

Your eyes roll back and you sigh, trying hard to keep your noises to a minimum.

It’s cold out but, you don’t feel it at all, your body temperature is at fever pitch and heating up more and more.

You’re dizzy with pleasure and Chan continues on, eating you out like a man starved.

He wraps his lips around your clit sucking lightly and moans as you cry out; his tongue continuing to drive you closer to release. His arms wrapped around your thighs holding your legs open. The noises he makes are lewd and if you’d been in your right mind you would have been so embarrassed.

Your chanting his name like a mantra now, begging him to make you cum.

Chan places one of his arms across you hips as you try to buck up into his mouth and you cry out, desperate for just a little more tension.

You only needed a little more.

“Please, pleasepleaseplease. Chan I’m begging you, please!” Your words come out garbled and your voice doesn’t even sound like your own, but Chan hears you.

And since you asked so nicely…

Chan puts 2 fingers inside of you, curling them upwards just right as he sucks on your clit again, a little harsher this time.

He alternates between licking you and sucking, all the while pumping his fingers in and out of you at a rough pace. Your vision goes white as you cum hard, clamping down on his fingers and your eyes roll right back into your head.

You don’t have the time to feel embarrassed by how loud you’re crying out, completely lost in wanton passion.

But he doesn’t let up, even as you clamp down on him, spasming in orgasm he keeps up his speed only stopping with a kiss to your inner thighs when you beg him to stop.

You’re so sensitive.

“Did you like it Y/N?” He whispers it against your ear as you gasp for breath, trying to get composed.

“Yes.” You’re still out of breath but, that doesn’t phase Chan. In fact, he loves it.

“I’m glad you liked it, but we’re not finished yet Y/N. You sound so pretty when you cum but, I didn’t get to see the face you make. I would love to see it so; I’m going to make you cum again. I’m going to fuck you now, would you like that Y/N? Would you like me to fuck you out here where anybody could see us?” You can hear the smirk in his voice and your breath catches.

You’re a little embarrassed but thrilled at the same time. God, he’s so hot.

I really want you to fuck me.

“How much do you want me to fuck you Y/N?” He sits back on his on his legs, watching you with dark, lustful eyes.

You prop yourself up on your arms, breathing heavily.

Chan begins to stroke himself, holding eye contact with you as he does it.

He’s rock hard, leaking precum and it catches the moonlight as it runs down his hand. It almost looks pretty.

You swallow and lick your lips. Your mouth’s watering but your throat is dry and the only thing you want to do is make Chan feel good.

Your mind is filled with nothing but him.

“So bad Chan, I want you so bad.” Chan’s hand stutters at your words and he decides that he’s tired of playing.

He reaches forward, picking you up and placing you in his lap again, you take his face in your hands and kiss him hungrily, almost desperately, whining as he grinds you down on his length.

Chan’s tongue fights yours for dominance and just like your recent fight, he wins. You gasp when he enters you.

Your so slick and so lost in pleasure, he slides right in and he moans low, at the sensation of you around him. He can’t hold himself back.

“Chan!” He’s desperate. He’s so worked up that he can barely control himself, slamming into you at a speed that shouldn’t be possible.

He ploughs into you, laying you back on the grass, so that he can grip your hips tightly and control the pace better. His hold is bruising but you don’t care, your hands are back in the grass head thrown back as you cry out again.

He knows you’re close but, he knows what will really push you over the edge.

“Oh, ohgod!” Your eyes roll back and you cry out. He circles his thumb around your clit.

Rubbing in time with his thrusts and you begin to beg.

You don’t care who hears you, you don’t even care who sees you; you just want Chan to make you cum.

Chan grunts low, his voice deep and gravely and he keeps pounding into you and the way his hips stutter let you know that he’s close too.

“Y/N, look at me. I want to see that beautiful face when you cum.” You open your eyes and the sight is the final push you need to release.

Chan’s thick hair clings with sweat to his forehead and sweat glistens all over his lean body. The light from the moon casts an ethereal glow around him and he blows you a kiss as you make eye contact; smirking at you cheekily.

You clamp down on him, your body going stiff and then snapping as your orgasm rushes through you, white hot. Your toes curl and your vision goes blank.

Distantly, you hear the sound of someone crying out and realise that it’s you.

Chan keeps rocking into you as you lose yourself in pleasure, your tight hold on him makes his orgasm hit him like a punch to the gut and he releases into you with a growl.

He collapses on top of you and rolls you both to the side, cradling you close.

It takes you some time but, eventually you both catch your breath and look at each other, giggling like a pair of kids.

“Don’t hide from me Y/N. I know you want to close off from me but, don’t. I’m your alpha, I want to take care of you.” This is it. Fear shoots through you like a branding iron and you suddenly want to run away.

But your wolf doesn’t want that, she’s content.

The 2 warring sides of your mind make you confused and you try to put some space between the two of you.

Chan’s not about to let that happen. He pins you down again and kisses you.

“Let me in Y/N. Please, let me in.” With pleading eyes, he unravels the last bit of your resolve and crumble. Chan doesn’t even flinch when you start crying, he instead picks you up and cradles you in is arms.

“Tell me what’s wrong baby. Let me help you.”

“The only other wolf I knew is the one that turned me, and they abandoned me. I had to do all of this on my own. How do I know you won’t do the same?” He sits back to look you in the eye.

His eyes are shining with sincerity and fondness.

“I’m not them. No responsible person abandons someone who needs them. Good people don’t do that. Y/N, I live here, my pack lives here. My whole life is here, and I want you to be a part of it. I can promise you that I’m not going anywhere but words are cheap. Let me show you that I’m here for you.” Chan winks at you playfully and dries your eyes.

“You promise?” Even though you want to be sceptical, you’re hopeful instead.

“I promise. I told my pack all about you, and they can’t wait to meet you. You’ll love them.”

#Stray kids smut #bang chan smut #stray kids #bang chan #chris bang #stray kids imagines #bang chan imagines #stray kids scenarios #beang chan scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop halloween #kpop halloween imagines #halloween scenarios #stray kids werewolf au #werewolf au #cherryfi halloween series

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ancientechos · 4 years

Text

Hallow’s Eve

Emet-Selch/Arianna ♡ 3281 words ♡ eldritch au [modern au]

Did I...write even more...for eldritch AU...? Yes, yes I did. Proper fic coming...who knows when. My superpower is to write a lot about nothing.

Random little Halloween-themed fic! And another example of how I cannot do titles.

Has an appearance from @windup-dragoon Kiri and Hien.

Despite herself she --

Admittedly, very often, wonders if she’s too boring for her...very strange and impromptu roommate. Lover...? She supposes they are technically thus, at this point...

Though that is besides the, well, point.

It’s not as if they’re always home, though she admits they are...more often than not. Thus Arianna has taken to worrying she’s exceptionally dull to the eldritch creature...he’s simply too polite to say it.

(There is, of course, inherently something wrong with this assumption, but alas.)

“H-have you ever been to a party...?” The second the question finishes making its way past her lips, she regrets it -- it’s banal, not specific enough, absurd. Her suspicions are confirmed as Hades fixes her with a quiet, unimpressed stare. He plucks a grape from the fruit bowl before answering.

“Depends what sort of party, I suppose.”

Absentmindedly, she wonders what sort of “parties” he might have been privy to in the past...the only thing her mind can conjure is strangely fantastical images of odd creatures, one less humanoid than the next, eerie music --

She has to stop her mind from running off into the imaginary. Perhaps she’ll ask him later.

“Um -- w-what I mean is -- a -- ” The woman finds herself growing ever more anxious when she realises she doesn’t -- really -- have any point of comparison for what she wants to ask. For a moment, she fidgets her fingers together, then brushes a hand through a few strands of her hair. Her green gaze glances from her companion, still leaning casually against her kitchen counter, to the calendar on the wall in the hopes it might give her answers.

Unfortunately, it does not.

Somewhat blessedly, he does not interrupt her nervous fumblings as she struggles for words.This does not, however, stop her mind from being dangerously on the edge of wondering just how exasperated he must be --

“A-a p-party...?” Almost desperate to say anything at all, she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Yes?” She can practically see one of his eyebrows quirk without actually looking at him. “You mentioned a party already. I asked what kind.”

Never mind that the question had been decidedly implicit.

He sounds far more patient than she ever deserves, and she presses her palms to her face, hard enough that colours dance behind her eyelids. “Ah...” Why is she getting so worked up about this, in any case...?

“There’s nothing to be upset about.” Hades’ voice cuts through the fog and white noise threatening to overcome her. “We have all the time in the world. no?”

-- He’s completely right. She truly has not an inkling of an idea as to why this has made her so on edge. Is it the subject matter itself?

“Unless there was a party happening within the hour...”

“N-no, that’s not -- ” She’s responded before she can fully realise, with the wryness of his tone, that he’s being sarcastic. Of course she wouldn’t have asked him about something like this on such short notice. Slowly, she lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, her shoulders lowering from where they’d nearly surpassed the tips of her ears. What she wants to ask...

“What I mean is...a c-costume party...” She trails off as she pulls her thoughts together. “Some people...like to d-dress up as...strange creatures, o-or book characters...for parties. A-at this time of year.”

Not that she’s ever really gone to one. Twining a strand of curled hair about her right index finger, she finally turns to look at him curiously. Already, she can feel the strange, harsh energy from earlier dissipating simply from being able to speak properly.

“Mm. I suppose I’ve been to one of those before. Though not really any in the mortal realm, of course...” There’s a pause as he regards her. “I suppose that means there would be a great deal of people there...and you wanted to go regardless?”

She has to bite her lip before she can mumble a reflexive no. “I-I just thought...perhaps...you would be interested...”

“Hmm.” The sigh he exhales almost has her thinking he wants to reject her offer. But -- “You said people like to dress up? Maybe I could go as my true form...or something close to it.” There’s an almost malicious smirk that curls his lip, his head tilting slightly to the side. Arianna tries to ignore the way her heart thunders treacherously in her chest and absently prays the lighting is too dark to notice her nonsensical blush.

“I-I don’t think it would be a good idea to go in your...ah...o-other form...” She pauses, teeth sinking into her lower lip. “Wouldn’t you simply scare everyone away...?” She doesn’t need to be told twice to remember that...incident from before.

“That’s the point, is it not? You could enjoy yourself.”

She is not quite sure whether she’s meant to be touched or concerned, and thus settles for wavering uncertainly between the two.

“W-well, regardless...” She exhales nervously. “I think...if you wanted to go, it might be...best to go in...ah, c-costumes...?”

“Oh?” The smirk hasn’t faded for even a moment. “And what do you propose we’d go as?”

The we has her heart fluttering stupidly again, for no reason, as she brushes her fingers through her hair once more. “Um...that...” Blinking and shaking her head to try to clear it, she regards him with what is meant to be a critical eye, but simply gets caught up in his gaze again. “Ah...”

-- Now that she isn’t an anxiously flustered mess, he seems perfectly content with simply flustering her further. Pushing himself away from the counter, he approaches her to smirk fondly down at her. When she simply proves all the more wordless, he brushes a finger gently along her cheek.

“How about an angel and a demon?”

To say she would have expected a suggestion from him would be a lie...not to mention...the suggestion itself...? It’s enough to have her blinking up at him blankly, her nervousness for the moment forgotten.

“I-I suppose...but...h-how do you know what an angel looks like, anyway...?” Curiously, she eyes him. She can’t imagine he’s ever done much...mortal reading. Or maybe he has? Well, she isn’t home -- or even awake -- the entire time. She supposes it’s perfectly possible and within his abilities for him to have picked up any of the numerous books she has, or to even have perused the titles elsewhere. But something so specific as an angel and a demon? It’s an odd thing to think about...

“Hmm? Oh, that’s easy.” There’s a smirk on his lips as he casually slings an arm about her shoulders, leaning in close. Somehow, she manages not to turn away despite the blush threatening to overtake her yet again. “There’s one right in front of me, isn’t there?”

It takes a moment for the words to process, and even longer for the precise meaning to dawn upon her. But when they do --

She wouldn’t be surprised if the heat that radiates from her face could run a generator.

“Y-you -- !” she stammers uselessly, turning away from him and smacking a hand to her face. Her fingers feel cold. Though she attempts to pull from him entirely, he holds her fast against him, amused.

“Yes? What about me?”

She ducks underneath his arm to avoid answering him, rubbing her palms against her cheeks as if she could simply push the sensation out of them.

“Am I to take it that you agree with my idea, then?”

“N-no -- ! Definitely not!”

________

Well -- that was what she had said...

But clearly her conviction had not been strong enough, given her current...predicament.

It had taken a concerning amount of time to find an angel costume that simply...wasn’t too short, but finally she’d managed to find one with a skirt that went at the very least past her knees, while Hades had loitered about the rest of the costumes shop, occasionally remarking this or that or giving extraordinarily unhelpful advice.

“What about this one?”

He, of course, goes ignored.

The house they’re standing in front of now seems tall and imposing, though doubtless only to her. Various decorations and a myriad of lights are strung up about it. The owners had had no qualms to spare coin for making the place fit for Halloween. There’s even a fog machine, judging by the mist blowing across the front yard and obscuring the door.

She’s already not very enthused about entering. Alas, the same cannot be said for her companion.

Whilst Arianna is dressed mainly in white -- with gold accents and, of all things, gold glitter littering the skirt portion of her dress -- and a black headband to allow her halo to blend with her hair, her date (?) wears a mainly black suit with dark red horns. She can’t see his headband from this angle, which leads her to believe he must have simply...willed the outfit into existence, or something. She can’t remember him throwing any such thing into her cart, either.

-- She supposes he looks nice.

Apparently sensing whatever discomfort she exudes, Hades’ grip upon her hand tightens slightly, and he draws her closer to him.

“You are aware we don’t have to go, yes?”

“I am, but -- I thought...you might want to go, so...”

Certainly, as he’s fond of reminding her over their telepathic link, there’s no especial reason they need to be going. They could just as easily turn and go home...and yet she can’t shake off the feeling that she isn’t giving him enough of what he deserves. Surely he would like for more than to simply lounge about her apartment, or...whatever it is he does when she’s away.

And perhaps a part of her is curious if she truly can do this.

Arianna allows him to lead her past the gate, up into the odourless pale fog that masks the door, and then through it. The closer they get to the doorway, the more loudly the music reverberates against her ears. Ah -- her least favourite sort of “party”, then...

Not that she’s really been to many --

Inside are all sorts of people, most dressed in costumes with a few occasional individuals apparently left out, or simply not wishing to invest the time in their get up. There’s clearly food and drink available further within, and the decorations from without continue on in inside the house. Fake cobwebs with tiny plastic spiders, glowing pumpkins and skulls...and a bit of the fog from outside.

And of course there’s hardly any shortage of dramatic and multi-coloured lighting.

Most of the guests are milling about, some far too close for Arianna’s comfort Unfortunately, her already clear awkwardness isn’t especially evident to the more inebriated partygoers.

“Hey pretty lady.” A young man in a some sort of zombie mask apparently isn’t discouraged by the presence of the even taller man next to her. “Wanna go grab a drink?”

As soon as she focuses on him, her gaze snaps to his shoes, then away; he’s about to try to say something else, though with one derisive stare from Hades and he instantaneously shuts his mouth and slinks away like a defeated pup.

“Hmph. They’re like animals.”

Arianna doesn’t really want to ask him precisely what he means, focused on trying to regain her toppled equilibrium. The sudden approach and the already crowded atmosphere is doing little to quell her flickering anxiety. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here after all.

Her other free hand lifts to grasp at his wrist, her gaze firmly upon the ground as she hunches in on herself, entire body tense.

“Are you sure you don’t want to leave? Perhaps -- ”

“Oh, Arianna! You came!”

The other masculine voice cuts through the white noise and Hades’ words; she recognises it immediately. She glances nervously at Hien’s boots as he comes to a halt a little ways away; there’s cloth beside his, like a robe, or --

“I didn’t expect -- I see Hades is here, as well...” Hien trails off a little, perhaps noticing the dire state of the dark-haired woman. “Shall we go somewhere a little quieter? I know a spot -- the hallway’s not as crowded.”

She doesn’t need any other amount of convincing; Hades leads her as Hien and Kirishimi direct the two of them into a darkly lit hallway. Whilst the music here is somewhat muted, the decorations continue along the ceiling, winding over the doors.

It feels far less claustrophobic, however. Perhaps most of it is to do with being surrounded by friends instead. Or Hades standing in the entranceway to the larger room, blocking out most of the rabble.

Leaning against the wall, her death grip upon him slowly lessens as she exhales. Her shoulders slump as some of the sickly tension evaporates. Whilst she’s not entirely in her element yet, things feel -- slightly better. At least better enough that she can try to look up.

She’s somewhat tempted to ask Hien if something is wrong with his eye, until she recalls that they’re all wearing costumes. His appears to be something of a pirate, complete with an eyepatch; though the lighting is dim if not entirely coloured, his outfit seems to be composed of yellows, or perhaps orange. As for Kirishimi --

The woman looks so natural in the -- kimono? -- that for a second it hadn’t even registered that she’s wearing a “costume” at all. She still isn’t really certain it looks like a costume --

And the tails are certainly not a fabrication. Though she supposes she can get away with it at a party.

Hades chooses that moment to gesture with a sigh.

“And you wouldn’t even let me come like that.”

“Your case is a little bit...different...”

Hien’s expression is friendly once he notices Arianna looking up at him.

“Feeling any better? I could get you a drink, if you like...?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the woman gives a small nod. Whilst she feels bad for monopolising the man’s time, her throat undeniably feels a little parched. Once he slips past Hades, the kitsune takes the opportunity to speak.

“Yer lookin’ cute, Ari!”

Feeling her face heat up, Arianna directs her gaze away, glancing toward the ground; after a few seconds, she takes a peek to the wider room, then the other side. With no one else -- really in earshot, perhaps she can manage --

“Ah...tha-thank you...you...too...”

Pressing her fingers to her cheek, she closes her eyes as she tries to calm herself, feeling stupidly childish for no real reason. Though she supposes, perhaps, this is childish; what sort of person can’t even converse...?

“But yer looking as slimy as ever.”

“And I can tell you hardly put any effort into your ‘costume’. You’ve just gone as yourself.”

“Ya tellin’ me yer not some kinda demon? As if I’d believe that. And that suit’s just what ya always wear.”

“Not at all, the cut and style are entirely different. But I wouldn’t expect anything more of a mutt.”

Paradoxically, their hissing argument somehow manages to put her at further ease. Perhaps because it’s a norm of what those two always do when they’re forced together in a single room; no matter the occasion or the reason, they’ve never seemed to be able to get along for longer than a few minutes at a time, and even that is being generous...

See? Everything is normal. That is what she tries to tell herself.

Except for, well, everything else about the situation, but if she just focuses on Hades’ shoulders, perhaps she can pretend nothing is too out of the ordinary about this.

Hien returns a few minutes later with a clear glass of water in his hand; he gives it to Arianna with an encouraging smile, and she takes it gratefully. The glass is cool in her hand, and for a moment she wishes she had something warmer, but it’ll do. Lifting it to her lips, she begins to sip as her companions break out into quiet conversation and half-hearted jabs --

A loud sound, like a foghorn, sheers through even the music; a few people scream. Arianna full-on nearly jumps in place, her vaguely settled nerves fraying like unravelling threads. The blood in her veins turns to ice along with the coldness of the water spilling down her front, and she lets go entirely of Hades’ hand to press her palm to her ear. It’s a wonder she doesn’t let go of the glass entirely -- or that her grip doesn’t simply break it. Instead, she presses it to her other ear as she curls away from the entranceway, her mind struggling at a mile a minute.

There’s few things she’s consciously afraid of. Loud, sudden noises are one such thing.

The tiny noise that had managed to spill from her lips earlier dies, her throat constricting painfully. The dimly lit hallway seems to flicker and swim before her eyes; she squeezes them shut as she tries to calm herself.

“Ari? You okay?”

Their voices sound far away, as if they speak to her from under water or glass. She can’t respond, not even with a movement; her head spins like a kaleidoscope and, dimly, she thinks to herself yet again how stupidly childlike she must look to them all. Especially...

“I am afraid everyone here has overstayed their welcome...”

If there’s one voice that cuts through the noise, it’s his, always his.

But what is he...?

“ -- Ha -- ” Her voice falters in her throat the moment she tries to speak out and grasp at his arm; he easily slips from her and into the crowd of giggling and chatting partygoers, their volume spiraling into a crescendo. She still feels ill, and his sudden disappearance does a poor job of calming her. Was he talking about her...?

There’s a sudden scream; the entire crowd stops stock still. Then pandemonium erupts as chaos consumes the whole house, a thundering of voices and footsteps as the guests throw themselves out whatever doors and windows they can reach.

It’s not difficult to see why. In the centre of the room -- and taking up more space with every second -- is...Hades, in his eldritch form of course, the same one she’d seen when she’d first met him.

The house is deserted in less than a minute; only Arianna, Kirishimi, and Hien remain. The kitsune’s ears are instinctively flattened to her head, tails stiff, her arms unconsciously thrown out in front of her companion. Arianna thinks she can hear something like a growl from within her throat. The devourer of souls seems to have no issue with his current appearance, arms spanning the whole living area.

“Will ya put that away already? Ya stink like the damn void.”

“And you smell like wet dog. Nothing new about that, however.”

With a sigh, the eldritch’s limbs and size retreats; shadows envelop him, and finally he stands in the middle of the abandoned glasses and shattered plates in his humanoid flesh.

“Much better now, eh? I said you’d finally be able to enjoy yourself.”

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thewritewolf · 5 years

Text

The Search for Halloween Chapter 1: Ornament+Harvest

Hello and welcome to my entry for Unusual October! I was motivated to do this in part because I recently reached 500 followers, so thank all of you for joining me!

I won’t be doing all 31 prompts, but instead have chosen eight of my favorites to form into one story. I’ve also collab’d with my wonderful and talented beta, @noanieactuallydrawingalot! We’ve worked together on each of these chapters, with me writing it and her providing adorable art. Without further ado... the summary:

Halloween isn't a major holiday in France, but that hasn't made the gang any less curious about the traditions of this spooky festival. So when the opportunity comes up to do a school project over one foreign holiday, Alya, Adrien, Nino, and Marinette jump at the chance. Join them as they try to discover for themselves the true meaning of Halloween!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 (Final)

Enjoy!

@unusual-october

Read on Ao3

My ko-fi

The art of this chapter

Class was a blur as Marinette stared doe-eyed at the back of her boyfriend’s head. Everything had happened so quickly and she was still trying to take it all in. Adrien and Chat Noir being the same person was a shock, but not nearly as much of a surprise as the realization that came immediately afterwards. That if Adrien was Chat Noir and Chat Noir was in love with Ladybug and Ladybug was her…

...Adrien loved her.

A dreamy giggle escaped her, causing a tittering of laughter from her nearest classmates. Ms Bustier glanced over her shoulder, but everybody had quickly switched to a mask of seriousness. A little hesitantly, she returned her attention to the board, letting Marinette continue her daydream.

Naturally, she and Adrien were… something… now. Wait. Were they dating? Her eyes widened and she gasped when she realized neither of them had really asked the other out yet. Sure, they were closer than ever, but aside from some hand holding and longing looks… nothing much had really changed? They definitely hadn’t kissed yet.

Before Marinette could spiral further, Alya elbowed her. When Marinette looked her way, Alya nodded her head towards the front of the classroom, just in time for Ms Bustier to turn around with a big smile on her face. Behind her, written in big letters, was ‘Holidays from Around the World,’ with a bunch of names (presumably of holidays) written below it. Some she recognized, but most were obscure.

“Now, as I mentioned earlier, you’ll be breaking up into groups of four.” Ms Bustier passed worksheets down the rows. “You will be filling in the boxes with various ways that your chosen holiday is celebrated.” She returned to her desk at the front of the room and leaned back against it. “I’ll give you the remainder of our class time to choose your groups as well as decide on your holiday.”

Without further prompting, the room was filled with the noise of backpacks being picked up and papers being gathered. Marinette’s group had it the easiest - their boys simply turned around. Her heart did a little backflip at Adrien’s bright smile as he looked up at them. Or, more specifically, at her.

“So, dudes, what holiday were we thinking?” Nino adjusted his cap as he placed an arm on the back of his seat. “I don’t have any preferences, so I’m down for whatever, dudes.”

Alya smirked. “What do you guys know about American-style Halloween?”

Marinette shrugged. “Um… there’s candy and pumpkins involved? And…” She frowned. “...Scary movies and stuff.”

Meanwhile Adrien’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Oh, wow! I know tons of stuff. I always see it pop up on the Internet, but I’ve never got to try any of it, ‘cause, well…”

“Your father,” Nino supplied. His eyes had narrowed slightly before returning to normal.

“Right!” Adrien looked toward Alya. “Did you want to do Halloween, then?”

“Well, ‘tis the season, yeah? October just started, so we’ve already got a leg up over the others. It shouldn’t be too hard to get the stuff we need, or find ways to get the real Halloween experience.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “We’re going to find the Halloween spirit!”

Biting down a laugh, Alya replied, “Sure, sunshine. And I think I know just how to start…”

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

After classes were done for the day, they all agreed to meet up at Marinette’s place later, after Adrien’s fencing practice. Alya disappeared with Nino in tow, refusing to explain what they’d even be doing for the day. The only thing she’d let slip was that they were going to need some knives and table space.

Both of which were pretty easy to obtain. This late in the day, the cooking was already winding down at the bakery. All Marinette had needed to do was some cleaning to have enough space for all four of them. Knives were a little harder, but not by much. Just because they were bakers first and foremost didn’t mean that was all they cooked.

Knowing Alya, whose tendency for over the top plans was only rivaled by Marinette’s own, Marinette opted to get a bunch of towels ready too. And after a moment’s thought, a bucket of water.

Once all that was set up, she heard the door to the bakery open and Adrien’s voice as he talked to her parents. Her heart fluttered again, but she pushed it down as she left the kitchen. “Thank you both so much! This is delicious.” Adrien nearly walked into her as he turned the corner. He had been looking over his shoulder while clutching a chocolate croissant. “Oh! Sorry, Mari.” He gave her that familiar look that she’d always caught Chat Noir giving Ladybug. He tore a piece off his croissant. “Want some?”

She laughed. “Sunshine, I live here. I can have some whenever I want.”

He still held out the piece.

Her resolve weakened as she took it before shoving it into her mouth. “Not a word.” She motioned for him to follow as she took him into the living room. “Up for some Mecha Strike?”

The answer was, of course, yes. After an hour of gaming, the door to the bakery opened again and she recognized Alya and Nino’s voices. By the time they’d finished their last match and headed into the kitchen, the two of them had already set their paper bags on the kitchen counter. There was a manic glint in Alya’s eyes.

“Wanna try to guess what I’ve got in these bags, M?”

Marinette glanced between the tall, heavy bags and the knives. “Um… Pumpkin carving?”

Alya deflated a little. “Well ...Yes. You got that too fast.” She brushed it away. “Anyway, I’ve got four fresh pumpkins, some candles, and some cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon?” Adrien asked as Alya passed him one of the pumpkins, which he then handed off to Marinette.

“The internet told me it makes them smell nice,” Alya said with a shrug. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Once they all had pumpkins in front of them and knives in hand, there was a general air of confusion. Alya frowned as she turned hers around. Nino tapped at his, his ear pressed to the side. Adrien glanced between his knife and his pumpkin, biting his lip nervously.

A smile flickered on Marinette’s face. “Do you guys want me to go get my markers?”

“Yes!”

“Thanks, girl.”

“Totally.”

With the pumpkins marked, they started carving. They didn’t get far before Adrien remembered they were supposed to empty the pumpkins first.

“Shoot,” Alya said. “I should’ve picked up some scoopy things while I was out.”

“What? No! Tearing out the pumpkin guts is part of the Halloween spirit,” Adrien said as he rolled up his sleeves and stuck his hand inside. His eyes widened as he pulled it out, glistening wet, orange… pulp clenched in his fist.

Marinette rushed to place some paper towels down. “I think we’re supposed to save the seeds…?”

Adrien slowly nodded. “That sounds right.”

After that, they each started working at their own pace, completely entranced with their designs. Marinette had chosen a smaller knife so she could do some precision work, but despite the extra detail her diligence allowed her to keep up with the others.

More than a few times, she caught Adrien trying to steal glances at her pumpkin. She stuck her tongue out at him and put herself between him and the art piece in progress. He huffed in mock irritation and got back to his own piece.

An hour passed before they spoke.

“Alright, guys,” Alya said, washing her hands off at the sink. “Let’s see what everybody’s got. M?”

Marinette turned her pumpkin towards the others. She’d decided to do a cat’s face with carved whiskers and ears. Just as she’d hoped, Adrien blushed as he looked at it,a soft smile on his lips as his eyes crept up to hers.

“Nice job! What about you, sunshine?” No response. Alya snapped her fingers near his face. “Hey, centerfold! You still there?”

“Huh? Oh!” Adrien quickly took the towel off his pumpkin. As jack o’lanterns went, it was pretty basic. At least, from Marinette’s limited experience. Triangle nose and eyes, big toothy grin. He’d made the teeth ‘sharp’ by turning them into triangles too. “It’s a vampire pumpkin!’ He picked it up and shoved it in her face. “Bleh!” Giggling, she batted him away.

“Whoa, dudes. Save the flirting for later,” Nino said with a knowing smirk. Immediately, both of them broke into deep blushes.

“Aww, babe, you embarrassed them. And, more importantly, you did it before I could take a picture.” Alya smacked her boyfriend on the arm playfully. “Well, I guess it’s my turn now.”

She took off the towel, revealing a classic wavy ghost flailing its arms. Marinette’s eyebrows shot up as she realized just how many squiggly lines made up the specter.

“How’d you get all those curved lines? I was struggling just with the few that I had…”

Adrien quickly nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I got stuck doing a bunch of straight lines.”

Alya leaned against her pumpkin with a smile. “Trade secrets.” She turned to Nino. “What about you, babe? What’ve you got for us?”

“You dudes ready for this?” At their nods, he quickly yanked off the cover. Underneath… was a normal pumpkin. Yeah, the top was cut off, but so was everybody else’s. Alya gave him an unimpressed look. “Wait! It’s still missing something.”

“Yeah, you bet it is,” Alya grumbled. “Everything.”

Ignoring her, Nino took off his cap and placed it on the pumpkin. “Perfection, my dudes. It’s Nino Junior!” Adrien snickered, which he deftly turned to a cough when Alya turned around to glare at him.

“Well… this was mostly a good start,” Alya said with a pointed look at Nino’s pumpkin, but her facade was breaking down as smile threatened to spread across her face. “I think I’m looking forward to this whole Halloween thing.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Alya Cesaire #Nino Lahiffe #DJ Wifi #Caline Bustier #Unusual October #ml fanfiction #my writing #The Search for Halloween

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side-effect-of-the-meds · 5 years

Note

Fem! Aftg question - cuddling positions??

Sorry this took me so long, but I had so many thought about this one!!!!! Thanks so much for your patience, love. The short answer is Erin likes to sit in Ania’s lap with Ania’s arms wrapped around her. The long answer the fic below. Thanks so much for you ask and I hope you enjoy!

Erin and Ania are both incredibly touch starved. Both of them finds a way to deal with this but their methods are drastically different. Once Kevin finds out who Ania is, he softens up considerably. They spent a lot more time together as kids than Neil did in canon. As a result, Kevin has always seen Ania as a little sister. They hesitate to show affection for one another in front of the others for fear that they’ll get the wrong idea. However, every night after practice, while Erin is outside smoking, Kevin will sit on the couch with Ania curled up in his arms.

Back at Evermore, Riko used to deprive Kevin of touch whenever he disobeyed or annoyed her. Even when they weren’t fighting, Riko wouldn’t touch him unless she wanted something from him. She’d drag a hand across the back of his neck when asking him to finish her work for her. She’d wrap her arms around his waist and bat her long lashes as she urged him to rough up the freshman for her amusement. She’d slide her hands up his shirt and watch him turn to putty before asking if she could cut him up. Just the thought of Riko’s blades on his skin pained him but he always said yes anyway. Kevin was covered in the deep scars of Riko’s ‘love’ but it hadn’t mattered to him so long as she kept touching him. Since his flight from the nest, Kevin has had no physical contact off the court and he feels like he’s losing his mind. When Ania admits that she sometimes wishes that someone would hold her, Kevin jumps at the chance. They spend half an hour on the couch every night, clinging onto each other like their lives depend on it. Their sanity definitely does.

Erin doesn’t get much physical contact due to the persona she’s built up. While she’s drugged sky high, Nicky will chance laying a hand on her shoulder. That simple gesture always floods her with so many emotions. Anger that he would touch her; repulsion at the thought of a man near her; horror at having a man’s hand on her; despair at knowing she’ll have to survive the rest of the week on that alone. There is only one other source of physical contact but the means by which Erin acquires it makes her feel a little sick.

When Aaron gets drunk, he lets loose. From her perch, Erin watches as her brother’s inhibitions fall away. She watches the smile creep across his face as he sways to the music. Over the pounding music, she can always pick out his laughter. Alcohol and cracker dust mix in together in his bloodstream and Erin gets a glimpse of what Aaron once was. Is this the real Aaron? she asks herself. Or is it just the one that existed before? Whatever the case may be, seeing Aaron like that makes her throat close up. Erin wants her brother by her side. She wants him to be happy, she really does, but not without her.

On the way home, she watches him in the rearview mirror. His laughter has subsided. Instead, he’s sitting sideways with his legs thrown over Nicky’s lap. A small sleepy smile decorates his face as he listens to Nicky ramble on about something or the other. For once, he looks at peace. When Aaron hugs Nicky goodnight before heading to his own room, Erin feels a knife twisting in her heart. Both boys are too inebriated for them to have even the slightest of chances at remembering the exchange the next morning. Even if Nicky does, he’ll wave it off as a dream. My cousins don’t love me, Erin can hear him chiding himself.

One night, about a year before Wymack could recruit them, Erin had woken from a nightmare and headed to the kitchen for some hot chocolate. She had found that it calmed her nerves better than anything else. The kitchen light was already on. In the overly bright glow of the tube lights, she saw her brother sitting on the counter.

“Eri!” he called when he saw her. The smile he turned on her could have lit up the entire Earth on its own. Realizing how loud he’d been he clamped his hands over his own mouth. They couldn’t cover his wide smile. “Eri,” he whispered, just as enthusiastically as the first time. Dropping his hands, he asked, “What are you doing up? Can’t sleep? I can’t sleep either. We have a test on Monday. Did you study? Wait, we can study together!” He clamped his hands over his mouth once more, aware that he might wake Nicky. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat beside him. He giggled as a sleepy look settled over his face.

“You’ve had enough of this,” Erin said as she walked over to him. Grabbing the bottle, she felt him grab her wrist. She pulled away but he didn’t let go.

“You want to hear a secret?” he asked, looking very serious. Erin looked deep into her brother’s eyes. It was like staring into a mirror. Brushing her hair away from her ear, he leaned in close. “You’re really, really mean,” he said. Erin stepped back out of his reach as he threw his head back and laughed.

Is this what I’m like when I’m high?

“You’re so mean,” he continued. “And it makes everything so hard. You never want to talk to me. You never want to hang out with me. You don’t even let me have friends. You’re so mean, Eri and it makes everything so so hard,” he said. She turned her back on him. She didn’t need the musings of her drunk brother. “But I still love you, Eri.” Erin stopped in her tracks. Distantly, she was aware of Aaron hopping off the counter. She felt him brush past her and heard his footsteps on the stairs. Laying in bed, she stared up at the glow in the dark stars Nicky had plastered to the ceiling. She lost track of the hours she wasted listening to her brother’s words replay themselves over and over again in her head.

The next morning, when Erin went down to breakfast, she found her brother and cousin already at the table. As soon as Aaron caught sight of her, a scowl passed over his face. He chucked his bowl into the sink and slid past her, keeping a wide berth between the two of them. Erin starts to think she hallucinated last night’s encounter. She has to be sure. That night, once Nicky’s gone to bed, she leaves a new bottle of Aaron’s favorite whiskey on the counter in the kitchen.

Creeping down the stairs, she sees the kitchen light on once more. She finds Aaron swaying softly to the music wafting through the air from the radio.

“Dance with me,” he says when he sees her. Erin flinches when he grabs her hands but he doesn’t seem to notice. He spins her round and round in the little kitchen until Erin can no longer stand right. Aaron falls against her, drunk and dizzy. Every nerve in Erin’s body screams in protest. She shuts her eyes tight and tries to calm the racing of her heart. “Eri? Are you okay?” Aaron’s voice cuts through the blood roaring in her ears.

Pulling herself together, Erin sends him an impassive look. She watches as her brother deflates. He gives her a soft smile instead. It looks just like Nicky’s. If it’s Nicky’s smile, that makes it Luther and Tilda’s smile too. Erin hates that such a kind smile comes from such shitty people. Aaron carefully raises a hand and pets her head softly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I won’t do it again.” He walks shakily out of the kitchen, using the wall for support. Before he can leave, he turns to look at her once more, “I still love you, Eri.”

When Erin is sure he’s gone she lets herself collapse on the kitchen floor. Erin has always felt things but she’s never felt anything like this. When Nicky smiles, when Aaron laughs, when they dance, a warm feeling fills her chest. My boys, is always her first thought. Nicky and Aaron are her family. They make her… happy. Erin has been alive seventeen years and, in all that time, she has never been happy. Until now.

When Aaron gets drunk, he lets loose. His mouth runs too fast for his mind to keep up. When Aaron gets drunk, he tells Erin all the things he wishes he could tell her. Erin has never been grateful for her eidetic memory but now she commits everything about her brother on those nights to her memory without any trouble. He tells her about all the things he loves and all the things he would do if he knew Erin wouldn’t stop him. She isn’t ready to let her brother go. She isn’t ready to let him have all the things he wants but she tries. She always makes sure she picks up his favorite chips and picks up a few clothes in navy blue because she knows it's his favorite color. She records all his favorite shows for him and turns the radio up when his favorite songs play. She knows he knows what she’s doing but he never does more than glare at her.

At night after Aaron’s downed his whiskey, Erin lets him brush the hair out of her face and cup her face in his hands. She lets him stare into her empty eyes and tell her they’re pretty. She tells him that they’re the same as his and lets herself almost smile when he tells her that’s why they’re so pretty. She lets him spin her around the kitchen as they sing softly along to the radio. When his eyes start to fall shut, she lets him lean on her. She lets him wrap his arms around her neck and carries him back to his room when he gets too tired to walk. She lets him tell her that she’s the meanest person that he’s ever met. She lets him hold her hand while he insists that he wouldn’t trade her for any other sister in the world.

Alone in her room, she stares up at the stars on her ceiling. Guilt is not something Erin believed in. In order to feel guilt, a person must regret what they’re done. They must feel shame. In the early hours of the morning, Erin lets herself feel shame for hiding behind the smokescreen of her drugs and exploiting alcohol's ability to get her Aaron to drop his guard.

This goes on until Ania shows up. On Halloween, Erin finds herself drifting towards the kitchen. The light is on and Aaron is just stumbling out of the kitchen.

“Eri,” he coos. He extends his arms out to her and loses his balance. She surges forward to catch him. She hears him laugh. “I knew you’d catch me,” he says. Erin just sighs and picks him up. As she turns to carry him back to bed, she sees Ania watching her from the couch. How could she have forgotten that Ania was staying with them? This was it. This was how everyone figured out that Erin was really just a soft bitch. She carries Aaron back to his bed and falls back into her own. Staring up at the ceiling she wonders who Ania will tell first.

The next morning Erin finds Ania sitting alone at the breakfast table. Erin grabbed the box of cereal and poured it into a bowl. After a moment’s consideration, she poured her coffee into the same bowl.

“That’s disgusting,” Ania says.

“Who did you tell?” Erin replies as she shovels a spoon full of stupidly sugary cereal into her mouth. It tastes horrible with the coffee but she isn’t going to lose face in front of the runaway. Ania frowns as if she doesn’t remember what she saw last night. A small part of Erin hopes that she did. That hope is crushed within seconds as Ania’s eyebrows shoot up.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” she replies. Erin holds her gaze as she shovels another spoonful of the shitty cereal into her mouth. “Consider this your... compensation. You let me bring the upperclassmen out to Eden’s so I’ll keep your secret. That’s fair, yeah?” Erin didn’t say anything. No one had ever tried to pay her back. Every person she’d ever met was focused on what they stood to gain from her. Men had take, take, taken from Erin all her life. There had been women too, not as many, but just as bad. Sitting three feet across from her sat the first person to ever look at Erin and try to give something back.

“Oh,” was all Erin could say. Raised voices argued outside. Erin could easily pick out Kevin’s voice in the middle of it all.

“Sometimes I feel bad for you,” Ania says as she stands. She places her bowl in the sink and heads for the patio door. “You got yourself stuck with two idiots that know how to pick fights but not finish them.” Ania gives her a wry smile as she slides the door open and slips outside to investigate the commotion outside.

Aaron and Nicky made Erin feel happy. Watching Ania leave, Erin realized that she made her feel things too. It wasn’t happiness that she felt. It was something more. Erin hated it immediately.

In the months following the upperclassmen’s trip to Eden’s a lot of things happened. From that moment on, Erin’s feelings only intensified. With them came the unbearable urge to touch Ania. Erin didn’t care if it was to rip her still-beating heart of out her chest or feel that same heart pounding in time with her own as Erin wound her fingers through Ania’s hair. She just wanted- needed to touch her. She got her wish just before she got carted off to Easthaven. Ania had snagged her wrists and placed Erin’s hand under her shirt. Beneath her fingers, Erin could feel the ridges and valleys of a thousand scars. There was nothing she wanted more than to trace every one of them with her eyes, her fingers, her lips. If Erin came back from Easthaven in one piece, she wondered if she’d get the chance to do so.

She did. Every night following the birthday incident, Ania dragged herself back from midnight practice up to the rooftop where Erin say waiting. Every night Erin traced those scars and ground her fingers into the soft skin on Ania’s hips. She pulled at her hair and scratched at her back. She bit up her thighs where no one would see and licked at her core. It wasn’t enough. Erin could never get enough of Ania. The only times, Erin seemed remotely close to satisfied was when Ania sat on the stool in their bathroom as Erin braided her hair. Feeling the heat of Ania’s back pressed against her stomach soothed Erin in a way nothing ever had.

After Binghamton, Erin realized what exactly it was that she wanted. She wanted Ania pressed as close to her as she could get her. She didn’t ever want to be apart from her again. How could she though? Every time someone pressed against her, Erin felt herself losing her grip on her sanity. Letting Ania run her hands through her hair was already unraveling her. Erin was torn. Either she’d lose her sanity beneath the weight of another person or she’d lose it from the lack of it.

Erin lasted a few more months before it got too much. Summer practice hadn’t yet started, so Wymack had insisted on taking Kevin to see a specialist. Riko’s death had broken something deep inside of him. She might have been a sorry excuse for a human being but Kevin had really loved her. The same could be said about Ania, Erin thought as she led her up to her room.

Today was worse than most days. Erin could almost feel the weight of someone over her. Sometimes, she thought she could catch the faint smell of alcohol but the house was empty save for her and Ania, neither of whom had been drinking. She sat Ania down on her bed and stared at her. Ania stared back, her expression colored with curiosity.

“Yes or no,” Erin asked.

“Yes,” Ania replied with a soft smile. Erin’s immediate response was to scowl. Ania’s smile only widened. Erin carefully climbed onto the bed, straddling her. She placed her hands on Ania’s shoulders and lowered herself into her lap. Ania’s eyes grew wide as she watched Erin settle in her lap.

“Hold me.” Arms wrapped around Erin’s waist and her stomach lurched. She could feel herself breathing a little too fast.

“Erin?” Ania asked as she loosened her grip on her waist.

“Don’t let go.” The arms slowly tightened around her middle and drew her close. Erin buried her face in the crook of Ania’s neck and inhaled shakily. Seconds, minutes, hours, days passed before Erin finally started to relax. This was it. This was what she had been so desperate for. The hard press of Ania’s body against hers without the weight of it bearing down on her was exactly what Erin needed to ground her. Some soft impulse took over Erin. She pressed soft open-mouthed kisses to every inch of exposed skin she could reach without pulling away from Ania. She basked in the giggles that slipped past Ania’s lips. Sunlight streamed through the window behind Ania, casting a soft halo around her. Erin always thought that Ania was beautiful but, in that moment, she looked ethereal. In that moment, Erin believed in God. Why? Because she was sitting right in Her lap.

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rainbows-fanfics · 5 years

Text

Two Dearest Friends (Chapter 23)

Summary:

Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King of Halloween Town, meets Sally, a ragdoll created by Dr. Finklestein. A friendship blossoms between them as he introduces her to the world outside of her tower. Sally is falling for him as their relationship grows into something more, and Jack finds the same is happening to him.

A story where the Christmas incident never happens, and Jack and Sally find their happiness on their own.

Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally

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Finklestein is not surprised when Sally doesn't return home early.

In fact, he spends his time looking outside of the window, watching as the reds, yellows, and oranges gradually turn darker. After hours of waiting, he eventually finds himself staring at the endless amounts of stars in the sky. And in that time, he feels...numb. He thinks of nothing, feels nothing, and says nothing. He, instead, spends his time counting how many stars he sees, wondering to himself why he never looked at the sky like this before. But then it dawns on him why he is exactly sitting in his Laboratory late at night, waiting for someone instead of going to bed. And then the image of Jack Skellington and Sally comes back into mind, and he desperately counts the stars again hoping it will ease his mind once more. The sound of the front door squeaking open interrupts this process. He wheels himself into the doorway as fast as he possibly can, where he stumbles upon the sight of his ragdoll stepping inside, peering around cautiously. It isn't long until she finds his face emerging from the dark, where Finklestein finally turns on the oil lantern he had been gripping in his hand. She lets go of the door suddenly, sending it to slam back into place. She then stands upright and holds her hands in front of herself, and although she smiles at him, the Doctor can sense her guilt already. They both stand there for a few moments in silence - taking in the situation at hand. "Hello, Doctor..." She greets nervously. He adjusts his glasses with a knowing look in his eyes. Nothing is going to fool him at this moment.

"Hello, Sally. Had you forgotten about our little promise earlier?"

She pretends to remember. "Oh, yes...I-I'm sorry, Doctor...I was just-- the time just slipped by-" His impatient look stops her from blabbering on. "Did you still want to do that?" "What I had to say before doesn't matter now." He sighs after that sentence, partly remembering what exactly he had planned to ask. "But you can answer one thing: where have you gone this time, girl?" "The town was, um, carving pumpkins. I just wanted to join in." She holds her head low. "I'm sorry. I should have asked for your permission before I left." He gets the impression that this is false, for he witnessed the true source of her departure, but he doesn't find that lying look about her eyes. Had she really gone out to participate in those festivities again? Previously, he'd be truly upset with this information. Countless of times has he told her to stay away from the town and its celebrations...but that was a curiosity resulting from her restlessness he knew would require time to change. For this reason, he isn't that mad about it. He is, instead, more upset about the missing part of this story -- stabbing a pumpkin multiple times is nothing compared to kissing a man she wasn't promised to, after all. "Well, I'm relieved you made it home safely. That's one of the reasons I don't want you leaving here. Who knows what can happen to you when I'm not there..." "I took care of myself," She assures him. "No reason to worry, Doctor."

"I wouldn't if you just stayed in your room as you were told." Her eyes lower. "You never finished your homework, did you, Sally?" "No...But I'll take care of that first thing after breakfast tomorrow. I promise."

Does a promise from her MEAN anything anymore? He wonders, but nods regardless. "Go to bed, now. It is getting very late." She gives him a final nod before leaving for her room above. He watches her figure grow smaller and smaller until it disappears into the door. He stays in this position for a few more minutes before turning around and entering his lab again. He has something more on his mind than sleeping at this moment -- an idea he has kept tucked away, but now has grown very prominent in his brain...Reaching for a piece of paper and a pencil, he begins designing something new. A project he will surely come to love, and become more invested in than anything...a project that will take his mind off of this Jack-and-Sally nonsense, and he will finally be in his own, comfortable bubble again...

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

When breakfast is served the next morning, Sally can already feel the uncomfortable aura about the tower. The meal they share is mostly quiet, apart from the few comments from Igor about the food being more delicious than usual. But the Doctor remains silent, and the moment she attempts to communicate with him, she is presented with either a cold shoulder or nothing at all. She still tries to be happy by keeping her head filled with the memories of her and Jack - what they had done only the previous night, everything they exchanged...this makes her content, but any moment she has to interact with her creator, she's left to feel uncomfortable and guilty. She knows he is angry at her for sneaking out without any notice again, but something seems...different about it this time. Like there is something else bothering him, or he has something new on his mind. She is afraid to ask. She knows what will happen if she pesters him with questions, or makes it obvious that she still feels guilty for her wrongdoings. But then she reminds herself not to be too interested in him or how he feels anymore - she has given up on her care for him long ago, but is just fulfilling her role to pass the time. Until it can come to where her and Jack can make their relationship known, and by then, she's sure she won't have to worry about him anymore...

But something new has become evident, for Sally has noticed that Finklestein is spending much more time in his laboratory than usual. At times, she finds the door locked with him behind it, muttering to himself...she's attempted to listen to what he's saying, but she can't quite understand. He uses complex words she doesn't know, and the times he does seem to make a little sense, it turns into complete gibberish. She knows of his 'Mad Scientist' side, but the last time she's seen it was when she was first created...Something seems odd about this, She thinks. And that is confirmed when, the few times she's managed to get into the laboratory while he's working, he always hides what he's doing from her. She decides to pry while bringing him some tea. "You've been working quite a lot lately, Doctor."

She notices the few papers he tucks out of sight as he grabs for a cup. "Is that so? I hadn't even noticed."

"What is it you're working on?"

"Something magnificent. Something...better." He pauses to take a quick sip. "Poisonberry...quite an interesting flavor, isn't it?"

She raises her eyebrows. He is being unusually nice right now. "I thought of trying something new. I didn't think you'd notice." He sets the cup back on the plate and shoos her away with a gloved hand. "Yes, yes, thank you, Sally. Now, leave me be. I need to get this part finished by this afternoon if I'm going to stick to schedule." She leaves him without a word, confused more than anything. He must really like what he's working on...but what could it be? She places a finger on her chin contemplatively. He gets excited about so many experiments...it's hard to say what he's happy about now. But she knows one thing for sure - he'll be more busy than usual, and that might work to her advantage...as curious as she is about this new 'project', it's nothing worth staying home for. If the Doctor is invested in it, then it probably isn't that interesting to her. They are two very different people, after all... ----------------------------------

Soon enough, it is Halloween night.

Sally is surprised how fast the days skimmed by - she snuck out a few times while the Doctor was busy doing who-knows-what in his lab, but she had a difficult time finding Jack. He was most likely swept up in work since he wasn't anywhere in town. She debated visiting him in his home again, knocking on his door or ringing his doorbell...but she couldn't gather up the courage. Were they that comfortable with each other yet? He visited her home, yes, but he had a reason for going, being good friends with the Doctor and all. If she came to his doorstep, it would be for him...but what excuse would she have for her appearance? These thoughts discouraged her, and for that reason, she didn't see him again for a couple of weeks. Jack didn't outright contact her that much, but she forgave him when Zero delivered her a letter a week after being away from each other. In his note, he apologized for his sudden absence, being extremely busy with Halloween preparations the rest of the month. She figured this would happen and thanked Zero anyway, but still kept a watchful eye on his Manor. Sometimes she'd end up seeing his figure through his windows late some nights, and she would smile watching it pace around all night. She was never really away from him, but she still felt a little lonely without his company. She still held her head high waiting for Halloween to come around, which she knew she was to partake in and inevitably meet with him there again. Tonight is that night. Sally finishes making the Doctor's dinner and brings it to him while he's cooped up in his laboratory once again. The moment she walks in, she sees him jump in his chair and frantically scatter the pages around. But she doesn't think much of them anymore at this point, and sets down his bowl of soup ready for him to eat. He must know what tonight is as well, because the moment it's in front of him, he looks at it suspiciously before pushing it away. Her jaw hangs open as he crosses his arms and sniffs it doubtfully, shaking his head several times insisting he'd make something else instead. Not only is she offended for the time she spent making it, but this batch isn't actually poisoned this time! She has other plans of leaving the tower, and poisoning his soup wasn't on her agenda for the night. "Are you sure you don't want to eat it?" She asks him as she takes the bowl.

"Nothing's wrong with it."

"It's Halloween night." He states obviously. "I know exactly what you want to do, and I'm not falling for it! Stay in your room and don't go outside, you hear me? I know you want to partake in this dreadful holiday, but I can't afford any distractions tonight!" "Fine. I won't sneak out." She lies. "Goodnight." She dumps the soup's contents in the drain, then hurries inside her room and hangs by her window. She can already see the lights shining from the town and all the dark figures walking about. She waits to hear for the creatures to begin singing, assuming things would happen the same way they did last year. She sticks to Jack's instructions as well, staying as close to the window as possible by sneaking her limbs out of the opening of the bars and listening carefully for the Halloween song. It is much more colder, she finds, when she hangs herself out like this - a breeze keeps tugging at her dress, and she has to fold it down repeatedly. The voices soon come, along with the witches and the ghosts flying through the sky. She isn't prepared for the huge gust of wind coming in her direction. Even more to her surprise, she finds several leaves that pass through her. As she reaches out to grab one, it feels almost like a gift from the wind itself. The song has already continued by this point, as she notices the shadow beginning to sing from the moon. She takes this as a cue to finally jump from the window.

After she lands, she sews herself back together and hopes the song has drowned out the sound of her fall. She leaves right away by following the voices and squeezing through the gates leading to the Town Square. There, she finds the crowds gathered as they wait for the finale of the song. She happily joins them and makes her way to the Hanging Tree and his Hanging Men, who greet her and happily let her accompany them. They wait patiently for the Scarecrow to emerge from the gates. When it does, the creatures erupt. There are screams, chants, and dances all at once. She is tempted to join some of them, but she doesn't know the words just yet. Instead, she watches in awe as the Scarecrow lights itself on fire, blowing at the straw and watching as it burns on himself. Then, he jumps from the horse to perform a few flips on top of the statues around the mantles of the walls. Everyone watches this in amazement, watching it flip from one wall to the other. Every time he passes a crowd, he'd blow a line of fire their way. Intrigued yet feared 'ooh's make their way around as the Scarecrow performs a front flip into the fountain. Then, with everyone watching intently, it surfaces from the water, no longer a Scarecrow. Instead, it's Jack Skellington. Applaud breaks out from the crowds, though Sally is too distracted gawking at him and feeling her phantom heart beat a million times. Her body naturally yearns for him, and she has to hold herself down and instead clap with the rest of the people. She and the others watch as Jack climbs the fountain and rests himself on the neck of the gargoyle, letting out a shriek that the crowd soon repeats. They laugh and cheer, naturally. The Mayor arrives from his hearse and motions to the skeleton, which earns yet another uproar as Jack perches himself comfortably. "What a horrifying experience!" Citizens compliment. "You're so terrific, Jack!" "Absolutely horrifying!" "Even better than last year!" "What a man!" "All hail the Pumpkin King!"

Her heart goes out with every compliment. She wants to yell one herself - get his attention somehow. But she doesn't need to, as Jack's head turns in her direction and he finds her off the bat. He beams and winks at her. She can't help but sigh dreamily. The ghouls around her do this as well. They believe this gesture was meant for them, and begin to call out back to him. "We love you too, Jack!" "How dreamy!" "You make rotting eyeballs look like shriveled spines!" He gives the group a patient smile, but Sally knows he had meant it for her. He turns from them and jumps down from the fountain, landing perfectly beside the Mayor. He startles the politician for a second, who regains his posture and continues to name out the prizes this year. Sally pays no attention to the trophies or awards, as her eyes can't leave the skeleton man who has taken her heart. And fortunately, he can't keep his eyes off of her, either. -------------------- The prizes are all eventually handed out, and Jack is beckoned by a group of vampires to converse afterwards. He is crowded by the citizens and ghouls as he always is. Sally leaves while she still can, but shoots a playful smile to the skeleton as she's leaving. She pays no mind to anything as she makes her way to the Graveyard, coming through the gates and quietly looking around. It is unusually quiet for such a popular night around here...not that she wants noise! Because only one thing is on her mind at this moment... She sighs blissfully, holding her hands close to her chest. "Oh, Jack..." She approaches one of the tombstones and rests against it, closing her eyes while she thinks about him. Every compliment she knows of, she fantasizes saying it to him. She is swept up in these thoughts that she doesn't hear the slight moan of the gate open as someone comes in. "BOO!"

She is sent upright by a sudden scream behind her, flailing her arms in surprise as she trips over herself. She would've fallen face-first into the dirt if a pair of hands hadn't caught her in time. She is sent back to her feet with her eyes rolling in their sockets. She nearly hyperventilates from the shock for a moment, clutching at whatever is in front of her, which happens to feel like fine fabric. "Oh, god, Sally, I'm so sorry!" She recognizes that laugh. "Please, forgive me, I seem to still be in a-" *OOF!*

That's the sound Jack makes when Sally turns around and hugs him. A death grip so tight she can feel her seams start to pull. A hug that ravishes him. His body, his scent, his touch...it's all within her grasp, now. After a couple of weeks of being away from him, she can finally feel him again...

"You scared me," She confesses, then finds the confidence to laugh. "Literally, too!" His arms come around her own figure, where he leans down and lightly grazes his jaw on top of her hair. "I'm sorry. You just seemed so quiet and content, I just had to let you know I was here!"

Even though she never wants to let go of him, she is still overcome with a strong urge to see his face. She removes herself and takes a step back, where she finds him grinning down at her brightly. His mood hasn't changed from the Halloween celebration, and she can still feel the hotness of his Pumpkin King form lingering on his body. She hesitates before slowly taking his hand and squeezing it lightly. "I've...been missing you, these past few weeks..." She admits quietly. "I have, too." He squeezes back and winks at her. "I saw your little performance with the wind. You did a fantastic job! Call me superstitious, but it seems to be a little familiar with you?" The haunting memories of her last Halloween floods her mind. She bites her lip and nods slowly. "I guess you can say that...thank you for letting me join in this year." "No need to thank me. In fact, I wanted to ask you if you could do it next year, too?" "Next year?" She blinks in surprise. "Of-of course!" She blurts out her answer. "So long as everyone else is fine with it, that is..." "I'm sure no one has an issue. And even if they did, I'll still make sure you're apart of it." He goes back to lean on a nearby tombstone. She notices that he is studying her, his eye sockets being the only thing fixated on her. She can feel his gaze crawling up and down her body. Not in a hungry way or with any intention of devouring her, that is, but with - interest. The smile widens on his lips. "You haven't tried to scare before, have you?" He asks. "What makes that so obvious?" "Well, besides it not really being your thing, I noticed something different about you tonight." He clears his throat. "You weren't very scared, were you?"

She takes her time deciding her answer. "I was...fascinated. Impressed. Even seeing it a second time, you took my breath away tonight." She shakes her head. "But I wasn't scared. Not at all."

The skeleton studies her for a long time without saying anything. This is when she notices devilish smile creeping on his face. One filled with sorts of wrong intentions...a mischievous look more than anything. Now it feels like he's devouring her with his gaze, and as he removes himself to stand in front of her, she shrivels up in the belief that she had said the wrong thing. She opens her mouth to take back everything, to admit he really did scare her tonight, but he cuts her off before she can.

"Oh, really? Not even if I'm someone who has devoured human's nightmares for centuries? A demon of light and a master of fright? I've scared millions of proclaimed-fearless creatures with little endeavor...but you're telling me...that despite all of this...You're not afraid of me?" She can feel his hands creeping along her back. She bites her lip as she holds in the sound of pleasure that so desperately wants to escape her lips. Something about this feels so...exciting. But she can't quite tell if he's being serious or not, and she doesn't want to ruin the moment if he is. As she opens her mouth to reply, she's stopped by his hands coming to her stomach and tickling it very gently. A giggle escapes her lips as she fights him, attempting to remove his arms but he insists they stay there. "I knew you we-were trying t-to...distract....me!" She kicks the air. "How...did...y-you know I'm ti-ticklish there!?" "A lucky guess." His voice replies from above.

She gives in and finally allows herself to laugh. Laugh as the sharp ends of his phalanges lightly dig into her dress, rubbing the delicate areas of her stomach. In this moment, she feels...good. But that feeling becomes quickly overbearing as he continues, and that's when she fights back. She doesn't mean to bring her elbow backwards, but it's too late. Jack already sees it coming and dodges it easily, loosening his grip for a moment. She takes this opportunity to snake out of his arms, and steps several times back to grab a nearby twig. She holds it up in defense. "Not one more step, Skellington!" She yells to him. He crosses his arms and gives her an amused look. "You would've elbowed me right in the spine, you know that?" "I didn't!" Her hands start to shake holding the twig. "Why did you tickle me, anyway?" "Call it a guilty curiosity of mine." He replies, stepping forward as she naturally drops her weapon. "How can I help it when you're standing there telling me you aren't afraid of the scariest man around?" "The scariest man around happens to be my boyfriend." She stiffens using this word, but relaxes when he smiles. Does he...is he...can that mean...? "And I don't believe he'd ever hurt me." "But it would hurt my reputation." He leans against a tombstone and rests his hand on his forehead dramatically. "What would people think if they heard someone wasn't terrified of me?" She can't help but giggle. She goes to the other side of the tombstone and pecks his cheek. "Oh, Jack, I do think you're scary."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"What if I am?"

"You're doing a hell of a job." He grins, trailing a finger along her chin once more. She closes her eyes and enjoys the tingling along her jaw. "But there is something else you can do for me..." "What would that be?"

He stands straight up, causing her to stiffen and jump in surprise when he turns to her. He's the chipper skeleton she saw back at the celebration - the extra pep in his step and the excitement in his eye sockets, she notes in particular. "-You can show me how YOU scare!" "Jack--" "I want to see what it'd be like if you scared someone." He notices her doubtful look and smiles weakly. "Just humor me. But be serious about it!" She decides to play along with him, but doesn't put much effort into it. She weakly rises her hands up, attempting to mimic the scaring tactic she'd seen the Wolfman use, and charges slowly at her lover. She tries her hardest to emit the lowest noise she can, striking at the air in front of his face, and twisting her face to make it appear more intimidating. "Boo!" Sally then notices the smile he's been wearing the entire time - from her prepping, positioning, and final execution. His face only changes once she lets him know that she's done, and then he places a hand on his hip and a finger on the side of his skull. His gaze presses into her skin, already knowing that he is judging her. She feels ridiculous for even trying to scare him and deflates where she's standing, feeling a little embarrassed. "That was adorable." He admits. "Well...not in a bad way, of course. It was just-" "-Not scary?" She finishes, frowning. "Your approach wasn't very threatening, is all." He points out. "You used what I call a Werewolf's Tactic - charging directly at their victim baring their claws with the intent of harm, but, erm, you don't exactly...have any." She blinks, clearly indicating she doesn't understand. "Scaring isn't just making loud noises trying to startle someone. It's taking your advantages, weaknesses, and tactics into play. In this case, I'd imagine yours being very, very quiet - led through a melody, unsettling." "I don't think scaring is my thing..." She finally confesses, rubbing the side of her arm slowly.

"Well, I gave you my promise. You humored me, and I got the answer I wanted." He smiles and places his hand over her own. "You don't have to be scary. But if you ever wanted to...I'd be more than happy to help. Everyone has their spark somewhere - and I think I know where yours is. You belong to Halloween just as much as anyone else."

She has no idea how well he can read into her insecurities. She smiles appreciatively at him and dips her head slightly. "Thank you...maybe, someday, I'll want to try."

"Let's sit at the hill. That might darken the mood." He leads her towards their usual spot. She follows behind him with a bit of confidence in her step, thinking some more of what he just said to her...So, he sees a spark in me? She wonders. What could that mean? And where would it be? There's not a part of me that was made for scaring -- maybe he was just being polite, or making me feel better...the Doctor didn't make me to be scary. There's no way I could be...

As the two sit down and settle themselves in the silence, Sally takes a deep breath and bites her lip. Even though he showed her no concern with her inability to scare, these thoughts still trouble her. They make her feel worthless and doubtful, and she doesn't want to feel this way. With as much courage as she can find, she asks for him again. "...Jack?"

"Yes?"

"It doesn't bother you that I'm not scary?" She fidgets with her seams. "As in, it doesn't make you love me any less?" "....No. Why? Should it?"

"Yes! Well, no. I...I don't know." She sighs. "Everyone else in this town have certain things that make them look scary and...well, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense that you'd be in love with someone who is scary. Since the Pumpkin King is frightening and all, why would you be in love with someone who isn't?" "Is this something the Doctor told you?" "No. It's my own thinking." Without warning, he takes her hand and makes her look at him. She is taken aback at his sudden movements, but her eyes naturally become locked on him and nothing else. He holds her palm by covering it with both of his hands, shaking them gently and meaningfully. They keep their gaze with every word he says, and his voice is so soft that it makes her heart flutter. "Do you remember how I told you royalty means nothing to me?" She nods slowly. "-It still doesn't, and it's the same with being scary. The truth is, I'm always finding something new with you, something else to think about on top of other things. I love how kind and considerate you are despite how you're treated at home. You're compassionate, and I like that. Whether or not you're scary is such a low concern of mine - nothing could be better to me than how sweet and understanding you are." Her eyes grow teary and she doesn't even realize it. He smiles at her and tucks a strand of her yarn hair to the side, wiping a tear of hers before it has the chance to fall. She closes them and clenches her jaw, doing her best to keep her composure. She opens them again, and the words leave her mouth before she even thinks of them. "I love you, Jack." He squeezes her hand. "And I love you, too, Sally."

She feels butterflies again just hearing the words from his mouth. He goes forward towards her face, and as she closes her eyes, she feels his hand wrap around her head. She is gently ushered into his embrace, where he kisses her once on the lips then rests the side of her face on his chest. She melts in this grip, carefully trailing her fingers over her lips and feeling the tingling on the edges of her stitches. He holds her tightly in these few moments - gazing out into the sky while she enjoys the feeling of his pinstriped suit. They sit like this for what feels like an eternity, her hand rested in his palm the whole time, their fingers entwined for hours. He begins to talk about constellations, and she listens intently to every word. -------------------------------------------- Being crafty is becoming a second sense to Sally. Or maybe her recent successful attempts at sneaking away is because of all the time the Doctor seems to spend in his lab. He crammed many hours of the afternoon into researching, working, or doing whatever it is behind that locked door. By the time she finished cooking and giving him his meal for the night, the Doctor is exhausted from his efforts all day and is either quick to get to bed or insistent on staying and finishing his work. This works in her favor, as she takes advantage of his frequent overworking by leaving one night every week to the graveyard to meet with Jack Skellington at the Spiral Hill. She is on the hill now, but instead of sitting there like she has done so many times before, she is not laying on its rippled surface. She's faced with the endless sight of the night sky, filled with all sorts of stars and colors, as well as the yellow crescent moon off to the side. Beside her, of course, is Jack, whose skull is gently rested on top of her red hair. They are both gazing at the sky, holding each other's hands between their bodies with the other supporting their heads. "There's cancer." Jack points in a direction in the sky. "Do you see it?" She follows his finger and finds the constellation. For a man with no eyes, he really has better vision than she does. She nods gently, rubbing her fingers against his palm and slightly down on his wrist. "I do." They are settled in by silence again. There is a cool breeze in the graveyard tonight, as well as a few extra spooky noises that give her chills. But she had nothing to fear with him by her side. If anything, it is whatever is lurking in the shadows that should be afraid of them. So Sally is very comfortable as she presses herself against Jack, at perfect ease. If she were to close her eyes right now, there is no doubt she'd be fast asleep, curled by his side and listening to the peaceful sound of bats in the distance. "Next time I'll bring my telescope." He rolls his head to the side. "You can see a lot better with it. The glass lenses help you see a lot closer." "The doctor has one of those," She brings up. "It's in his laboratory. He uses it a lot." "I think you mean a microscope?" "What's the difference?" He titters softly. She grows warm at the sound of his laugh. Even if she is wrong at times or sometimes misunderstood things, he makes her feel like it's okay. She is learning a lot being with him. A lot more than she'd ever learn from the Doctor. He insists she learn through books and reading and appliances - but Jack makes her visualize and feel everything. Because of this, she remembers things more fondly, and is so eager to learn more. She likes seeing and feeling things more than she does solving countless of problems she forgets the next morning. "Someday, I'll get to tell you." He motions to the sky with the end of his skull. "Beautiful, isn't it?" She looks around and smiles, taking everything in. "It is. Very beautiful." He closes his eye sockets and smiles. How he adores her voice. She is adorable, even when she seems a little confused. He doesn't mind helping her at all, it's rather fun for him to finally tell someone new things. He's been adjusted to routinely doing and saying the same things in the impression that everyone already knows what to do, but it is undeniably thrilling to find someone new to it all. And by all, he really means all. She's more than just a breath of fresh air - she's a similar soul who wants to gaze at the stars with him. It's more than anything he could have ever asked for from death. He clutches her hand again and points to the sky once more. "There's Polaris." "The northern star!" She sounds so proud remembering this. He can't help but laugh. "Yes, the northern star." He listens as she scoots closer to his figure and rests the side of her body next to his. They're touching now. She turns her head and lays on her side so she can rest her face on his shoulder. He presses the side of his skull against her cheek; they take a moment to breathe in each other. Her scent varies from times, Jack noticed - he can tell when she poisoned the Doctor because she'd linger of nightshade. Tonight, however, she smells a little like cherries. He glances at her face and notices she is staring intently at the incandescent bodies from above, her eyebrows knitted together and a slight frown spread on her lips. "The Doctor is making something." She says seriously. He prods his finger along the stitch across her cheek, and from the lack of his response, she continues, "He says it's something...better. But he wouldn't tell me what that meant."

"That sounds like him. He thinks everything he makes is something better. Doesn't matter what it is."

"But he keeps hiding his work from me. Every time I bring him something or I make his dinner, he's always tucking papers away and refusing to tell me anything about it. I haven't seen him spend this much time on something since...well, ever." "Maybe that's a good thing? I've seen a lot more of you than I have before. I'm just glad I can see you, no matter the cause." He pokes her nose with his finger. "And I know you've been dying to see me." She smiles at his words and giggles slightly as he pokes her. He has a point. They both have really been wanting to see each other....now that they have this chance, why waste time worrying about it? She wants to live in every moment with him, enjoy his touch, his voice, his kisses...Whatever has the Doctor kept, she should be thankful for. She just hopes this will last longer - that she can still be with Jack like this, and will no longer have to worry about being cooped up in her room away from him. She can see him on a regular basis and their love won't have to be as distant as it has been. Seeing her smile, he leaves a small kiss on the top of her hair. "See? The look on your face just proves you miss me!"

"I know you want to see me just as bad, Mr. Pumpkin King!" She jabs a finger at his chest and grins when he looks away. "You're as happy about this as I am."

"Am I happy I get to see my girlfriend every week instead of every month?" He purposely waits a few moments before grinning. "-Yes. Yes, I am." Sally doesn't wait a moment further to wrap herself on his arm and nuzzle the side of his shoulder. He ushers her closer by bringing his arm around her finger and resting her against his chest. She closes her eyes and listens to the noises of the night as well as his occasional yet gentle breaths. His embrace is so wonderful...she remembers a time where she always dreamed of him holding her like this. Sometimes, she still can't believe it's her reality, now. She feels weak remembering this, filled with longing, craving, and aching with desire. She leans forward to rest her head underneath his jaw, feeling very hot both inside and out. Her lips quiver as the words quickly leave her lips.

"You're...my everything, Jack." He chuckles, his hot breath sending more tingles down her body. His hand wraps around her waist, and quietly, he replies, "-And you are mine."

#long post #long #the nightmare before christmas #jack skellington #jack and sally #two dearest friends #tnbc #disney #jack x sally #dr finklestein

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sick-raven · 4 years

Text

Ghosts of the past - Chapter 4

Chapter 1 + warnings

AO3

Previous chapter

Chapter 4

Miranda felt like after a week-long party. Sure, she had to walk off even worse before and even now she put up her brave face, but in reality, she just wanted to fall into bed and sleep.

“Would you tell me what happened?” asked her professor Crane. He took her to his house. They had to look ridiculous, if any neighbours have seen them, they had to thought Crane is bringing home drunk woman for sure.

He fixed her. Let her sleep whole day. Just once he attempted to touch the bell. She punched him. Went back to sleep. Now they finally had a chance to talk over a hot tea. He didn’t even have visible bruise. Miranda had to be very weak when she knocked him.

“It’s Gotham. Stray bullet hit me.”

“Please don’t lie. Little honesty should be in place after I saved your cute neck.” Miranda realized she likes his approach. Jonathan was straightforward, didn’t let her fuck around and had enough sass to not sound like a complete posh jerk. Just a jerk.

“Someone hit me,” she explained. “I didn’t ask. I don’t know who. They just want me gone.”

“What are you?”

“An assassin.”

“I figured so much.”

Miranda drank her tea thinking. She didn’t like what she said next, but what the hell. “Thank you for helping.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“I think you had plenty of possibilities.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve read about your university research.”

No change in his demeaner or tone of voice. “When?”

“Before I moved here.”

“And you decided to visit me anyways?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t have much to lose. And I’ve dealt with… shady people before. Nobody died during your experiments. They just went completely bonkers.”

“Those are dangers of science. It got out of hand. I am changed man since.”

“Now you are the one lying. What about the wannabe Halloween costume?”

Jonathan smiled a little. Then he intertwined his fingers. “Are you willing to test a medication I have made?”

“After this conversation?” Miranda laughed. “Sure, I guess, I have nothing to lose.”

He nodded. “You say you don’t feel fear. I am going to make you.”

“I doubt it, but you are welcome to try.”

He walked away. Miranda has finished her tea. She wondered why she even agreed to this. She knew it won’t help. Nothing ever helped. No medication can make them go away. Her brain was fried. Maybe Crane will fry it some more. That might help.

And partially she was really interested in feeling again. Anything. Fear would be nice change of pace.

Jonathan returned with his stupid mask on. Miranda noticed his eyes through rough holes. Home-sawed potato sack you would put on dummy at farm. He carried a small vial.

“You don’t have to be so formal,” she said.

And then he opened the vial and out flew gas. Miranda coughed, the smell was terrible. Even rotten eggs are pleasant compared to this. “Damn,” she commented, “use air freshener.”

“What do you see, miss Bradbury?”

Her head started to spin. She looked up. Colours, shapes… The hallucination was there. It seemed so real. Scarecrow’s face was burning, heated wax fell from it on the ground. She felt the heat as if her skin was burning. His voice sounded like screeching.

But the feeling of fear wasn’t there. Her sensors were overloaded, her brain wanted to shut down, her flank hurt, and the pain spread slowly through the whole stomach.

“You look wild, burning,” she said. She looked around the room and yelped. There! The ghosts! Shadows, standing, waiting!

“What is it?” asked the burning man.

Miranda didn’t answer right away. It was weird. She looked in their dark faces. There were no details and yet she remembered perfectly. The grimaces of pain and death. Miranda didn’t see them go. But that didn’t stop her imagination. Dying in an instant, took away, crushed by rubble, expressions of hate aimed right at her. She tensed, expecting them to get her. Choke her, kill her, take her among them.

“They are here,” she whispered as if the ghosts couldn’t read her mind. “But they are not real.”

“No, they aren’t,” agreed the burning Crane.

“You don’t get it,” she continued silently. “The feeling… it isn’t… I have the bell.” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “It’s not them. Not really.”

She smelled the rot again. The pain increased and spinning worsened. The hallucinations got crazy. The shapes rotated all over the place changing into fractals, colours burned her eyes. She though she will puke.

No fear, just disgust.

She started to laugh.

“What’s so funny, Miranda?”

“It’s nothing,” she explained laughing. “I’m just high.”

***

The wound was healed. It took a week of doing nothing and few days of hating herself for doing things that hurt her.

Miranda was at Crane’s place every day. Only result of his experiments was constant headache and weird taste in her mouth. Drugs gave her symptoms but not feelings. She trembled – without fear. She cried – without sadness. Nothing helped. She didn’t feel different. When she took the charm down, she was still dying.

She was losing hope. She had fun, yes, she actually liked visiting the weird doctor. She loved looking in his eyes and catching sparks of excitement in his otherwise cold demeanour. The small talks he tried to avoid also cheered her. But what’s that good for? She wasn’t getting better. Or worse. The status quo was driving her insane.

And the random shadows… She thought the hit continued but every time she ran to face them… nothing.

She was a lost cause.

“I am a lost cause.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Jonathan.

“You can’t help me.”

Jonathan stopped looking at a new tincture and raised his eyebrows. “I think I can. You just need to be patient.”

“No,” she disagreed. “It’s impossible.”

“No wonder you don’t get better. You give up right away.”

Miranda sighed annoyed. “Let’s stop this. You can’t help me.”

He started to look visibly upset. She hasn’t seen him like that yet. Glimpse of negative emotions here and there, but until this point none of them were real anger.

“I can help. There are many ways…”

“Useless.”

“What did you say?” he raised his voice. Miranda blinked in surprise. She didn’t expect reaction like this about something as silly as research.

“I said…”

“I heard you!” he snapped. “You shouldn’t have come if you think I am useless.”

“I…”

“Crazy professor with crazy ideas, that’s what you think?!”

Miranda didn’t say anything. She felt attacked but at the same time tiny silent voice in her head told her the outburst was not aimed at her. You cannot argue against that.

“Let me remind you I could have killed you. Am I useless? Lanky, stupid Crane? You should thank me for sparing you!” His face was red from anger, his eyes weirdly distant. He didn’t argue with her. But she had about enough.

“I think you also need professional help, Crane.”

“You bitch!” He jumped on his feet a tried to hit her. She expected that. Caught his wrist, bended his arm. He screamed, more from annoyance than pain. With a little kick under his knee she made him fall on his knees. Pacified, he tried to wiggle away but she stopped him. Grabbed him by hair.

“No, you don’t, you crazy bastard,” she told him. “I don’t know what your problem is but consider our cooperation over.”

“You will be sorry, Miranda.”

“Oh, spare me the theatrics,” she rolled her eyes. “I’ve decided not to snap your neck. Who should be grateful now?”

Jonathan grinded his teeth but said nothing.

“Good boy.” She let go of him, took her bag. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Burn in hell.”

“See ya there.”

She left, feeling weirdly bummed. It wasn’t his behaviour that got to her. No, it was… She didn’t think he can help her. But she really enjoyed their weird talks. When was the last time she could have been open to someone? Yeah, I kill people. I like it. No, I don’t have insurance, can you get that as a murderer? Sure, I will take new meds, doc.

“Fuck you,” she mumbled.

At the lamp stood a shadow. She walked to it and realized it was only her eyes playing tricks again.

***

At home Miranda found an envelope on the table. She weighted it in her hand, thinking. Nobody had access to her place. This might be a trap. Or the information she wanted.

Who cares if she blows up?

She opened it. Nothing. Just bunch of papers and a flash drive with little bat symbol on it. She scanned fast through the documents – photos of old texts and transcripts.

“Thanks, B,” she mumbled. She made tea and started to read. The text made her angrier every second. It was nothing useful just description of the ritual and its victims.

Before suicide missions people performed this. They drank and ate together, swore an oath and then tasted each other’s blood. The bound was complete with hallucinogens and night of dancing and sex. Then the ritual was done, and the group went to die while fulfilling their task.

It was said that if someone broke this bond, they became hunted by their former fellows. Most of the survivals died within a year. It was like a countdown going down. If they didn’t kill themselves, it took year and a day, and they just collapsed.

Miranda bit her lip. Year and a day. It fit. That’s when she got her charm.

No mention of anyone surviving as long as her. No mention of anyone healing this madness. Miranda sighed. She didn’t believe in magic. These stories were only that – stories. The guilt made itself into psychosis, that’s all. No magical base.

She set the papers aside. The day started horribly and ended on even worse note. Miranda was tired and annoyed. Sad? She wished. She would let this sink deeper and cry, but it wasn’t possible.

She just didn’t want to die. This was her source of energy. She would do anything to keep herself alive. Degrade herself, betray, beg even. There was no dignity in death! She cannot let them take her, can she?

It made her remember. She didn’t always feel like this. Training and suffering clouded her mind. Death sounded much better than continuing the way she was. Running away wasn’t an option. Tundra in the middle of nowhere would kill her, if League members didn’t catch her first. Those deaths would be more painful than anything she could inflict on herself.

The knife was the best option.

“Kill yourself? You are crazy, girl. You are too weak to do that,” her master laughed when she found Miranda in her room prepared to end it. “You belong to us, so does your life, you cannot take it and you know it.”

That angered her. They never took her seriously, as if she wasn’t a person. Just a tool.

But fear stopped her hand.

“See,” master laughed.

And then Miranda stabbed herself in the chest.

She regretted it immediately.

‘I don’t wanna die,’ she realized.

“Idiot can’t even kill herself properly.” These words were the first she heard when she woke up. And that’s when she decided to run when she gets a chance.

Fucking ghosts won’t get her! She lived through so much shit, she won’t give up now! She wanted life! To have everything! She might be crazy, she might feel like shit, and nobody can help her, but she needs to get her marbles together and figure out how to fight those fucking ghosts.

“Fuck you,” she snapped at her imaginary master. “Suck a dick.”

***

Next morning was blurry for her. She got ready for work, she went there, she smiled at customers, she was pleasant, she sold some toys. She didn’t feel any of that. Her mind raced in circles. The ritual wasn’t magical. She was just crazy. But if so, why wasn’t she fixable?

Maybe she didn’t want to get fixed. If she felt, she would have to stop killing because she would cry over her victims. If she felt, she would tremble in fear under the idea of losing her charm. Maybe she was content, and she shouldn’t fight it anymore.

The door bell chimed. She smiled to welcome a new customer, but her expression grew cold quickly. Jonathan Crane walked to the counter, bouquet in his hand. Miranda reached under the desk to hold a gun.

“Miss Bradbury,” he started without greeting. “I’ve come to apologize.”

“Apologize?” she repeated.

“Yes, for my behaviour the other day. It wasn’t appropriate and I was out of line.” His expression and tone were sincere. She never heard so much colour in his voice and it took her by surprise. “I hoped you will accept this as a peace offering. And also, invitation for dinner tonight.”

She was speechless. Carefully she looked at the flowers – they looked legit, no poisonous strings attached. Miranda let go of the gun.

“Yes, you were out of line,” she agreed. “I don’t know what memory I awoke in you, but you should know I’ve never meant you when I said useless.”

“I am aware, miss Bradbury. I thought over our conversation and I jumped to conclusion. That’s why I wanted us to talk like two almost sane and almost moral adults.”

That made her smile. “Damaged seek damaged, am I correct? Thank you, professor, I accept your apology and I will gladly sit with you.”

“Brilliant. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I’ll be ready for you.”

Jonathan smiled and Miranda wondered whether he understood the raised finger. If he didn’t, it will be one hell of an evening.

Whole day she couldn’t keep eyes of the flowers and she was smiling like an idiot.

Next chapter

#batman #fanfiction #jonathan crane #writeblr #writing #sick raven writing #ghosts of the past

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

Text

646.

How are you doing today? >> Could be better, could be worse. I’m still a bit depressed but I’m hoping it’ll even out. The Inworlders have been very helpful.

What was the best thing that happened to you today? >> Er... I mean, nothing. Nothing much has happened at all.

Which cell phone network are you on? >> Boost Mobile.

Do you like the smell of cinnamon? >> Sure.

What was the last book you've read? >> The last book I finished was a reread of PZB’s Lost Souls. I’m working on Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood right now.

Are you hungry right now? >> No.

What was the last thing you've had to drink? >> Water.

How often do you visit this website? >> This website? Daily. Bzoink? Whenever I need a new survey to take (not that I always find one, mind you. Bzoink is very hit or miss with a marked emphasis on “miss”.)

Do you like frogs? >> I mean... not particularly? They’re cool sometimes, I guess. Mostly they’re just... there.

Are you afraid of dying? >> Sometimes.

Do you like bananas? >> I hate bananas.

Name a movie that you hate. >> I didn’t like Meet the Spartans. That whole genre of movie should have stopped at Scary Movie.

Do you like the show American Dad? >> No. Maybe I just don’t get it.

What TV show do you miss the most that's no longer on TV? >> Galavant.

Are you currently fighting with someone right now? >> No.

Is your life full of drama? >> It really isn’t.

How long can you hold your breath underwater >> I don’t know.

Where's the last place you've been to out of state? >> Houston, Texas.

Have you ever been kissed in the rain? >> Probably.

What letter does your last name start with. >> D.

What are you listening to right now? >> Nothing.

Have you ever had a pet that died? >> Wasn’t my pet, per se. Vlad had a cat die whlie I was living there, and Sparrow’s cat died this past October.

Would you rather use a trackpad or a mouse? >> Depends on what I’m doing. For just using the internet or whatever my trackpad works fine, but when I’m gaming I obviously need a mouse.

Do you consider yourself politically intelligent? >> No.

Have you ever done any volunteer work? >> No.

Do you like the Beatles? >> No.

Is it night time where you're at right now? >> No, it’s early afternoon.

Do you like steak? >> No.

Do you eat healthy? >> I just eat, man. Whatever.

How often do you work out? >> I don’t.

What was the best gift you've ever received? >> *shrug*

Have you ever participated in a spelling bee? >> Yeah. When I was in fourth grade, I won the spelling bee in my school, so I was supposed to go on to regionals -- but apparently, fourth-graders were too young to go to regionals. I was the first fourth-grader to win in the school bee’s history so they’d never had to deal with that. My father raised a big stink about it because he said that if fourth-graders aren’t eligible for regionals, they shouldn’t have been allowed to participate in the school bee in the first place. Somehow this conflict was so interesting to people (or my father’s just such an adept big-stink-raiser, which is most likely) that it ended up in the newspaper and on the evening news. ...And no, I personally did not fucking care either way. This was just one more example of adults placing undue importance on something that did not matter to me and never would matter in the grand scheme of my life, and just shoving me into a spotlight regardless of my feelings. Also, fuck spelling bees as a concept anyway.

If you could have one wish right now, what would it be? >> ---

Do you owe anyone an apology right now? >> No.

Are you the jealous type of person? >> No.

Have you ever tried doing yoga? >> Yeah. It doesn’t quite agree with me, unless I’m just doing the wrong kind or something.

Do you like getting massages? >> Me? The person who hates being touched? Hmm...

Would you rather be too hot or too cold? >> I’d just rather not be in any kind of extreme weather condition, thanks.

Are you good at telling jokes? >> No.

When was the last time you've attended a sleepover? >> ---

Tell me one of your pet peeves. >> I’d rather not.

Do you wear glasses? >> No.

Do you like to keep your nails painted? >> No.

Have you ever had a pedicure? >> Probably, a long time ago.

What is your favorite smell? >> ---

Do you like the TV show Full House? >> Never watched it, not interested.

Would you rather listen to country music or rap music? >> I like both, so.

Are you a Duck Dynasty fan? >> No.

Have you graduated high school yet? >> Yeah.

What kind of person were you in middle school? >> I don’t know. Probably a socially maladjusted one doing its best.

Do you have any major regrets in your life? >> Meh.

Have you ever thought about running away? >> Yeah.

Do you like pixie sticks? >> Not so much anymore. But there’s still some kind of fun novelty about them, despite the fact that I don’t really want to pour pure sugar down my gullet.

Do you like French toast? >> I like it a certain way.

Are you a fast typer? >> Yes.

Are you good at doing math in your head? >> Some math.

Have you ever played with Silly Putty? >> Not to my recollection, but maybe.

Do you take in a lot of caffeine daily? >> No. Caffeine fucks with me too much.

Do you like watching Football? >> No.

What language do you wish you could speak? >> ---

Do you know a lot about history? >> Not a lot, no.

If we could travel back in time, where would you travel to? >> ---

Would you ever consider joining the military? >> I would literally rather die.

Do you think women should be allowed to have abortions? >> Yes.

Are you a cigarette smoker? >> Not usually.

Have you ever done something you didn't want to just to look cool? >> No.

Do you like zombie movies? >> Not usually. Shaun of the Dead and Zombieland were fun, though.

Have you seen The Hunger Games? >> No, but I’ve read them. I don’t like the casting choices in the movies so I don’t know if I’ll bother watching them.

Do you have a favorite piece of clothing? >> No.

Do you own any Uggs? >> No.

Are you wearing any rings on your fingers? >> Not right now.

Name a TV show that you absolutely can't stand. >> Meh.

Do you have any unusual talents? >> I don’t have any talents, usual or otherwise.

Do you look like your age? >> I don’t know what the fuck I look like age-wise and I don’t care.

Do you feel confident in a bathing suit? >> No, I don’t like bathing suits at all.

Do you do a lot of online shopping? >> Not a lot.

Do you like the Harry Potter films? >> Some of them.

Do you judge people based on their sexual orientation? >> No.

Have you ever been told you had an accent? >> I mean, probably.

Have you ever ridden an elephant? >> No.

Are you allergic to pollen? >> No.

Have you ever eaten sushi? If so, do you like it? >> Yes, and I like it fine.

Are you a fan of anime? >> Sure. Not every single one in existence, obviously, but there are plenty I enjoy.

Would you rather play Xbox or Playstation? >> PlayStation seems to have more games I like. But I actually prefer PC gaming.

Are you a big fan of seafood? >> Yes.

What kind of food are you craving right now? >> None, I’m not hungry.

Are you currently in a relationship? If not, are you happy being single? >> I am in relationships.

Do you depend on others for happiness? >> Obviously. People made the video games I play, after all. Just as an example. Also, since I’m not a complete hermit, obviously I keep company with other people for some reason...

Do you like to go fishing? >> Never been, probably wouldn’t care for it. Even video-game fishing is the worst.

Are you a fast runner? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever worked at a fast food place? >> No.

What's on your mind right now? >> The answers I’m giving to these questions.

Are you texting anyone as you're taking this survey? >> No.

Have you ever had a nasty rumor spread about you? >> Probably.

Have you ever sent someone sexual pictures of yourself? >> No.

Do you like who you are on the inside or the outside more? >> ...

Are you good at drawing? >> No.

Do you know how to dance? >> I don’t dance as a matter of skill, I dance as a matter of enjoyment.

What's your favorite reality TV show? >> ---

Do you think Kim Kardashian deserves to be famous? >> I literally do not care.

Are you excited for Christmas this year? >> It’s January, I’m not thinking about Christmas.

Do you celebrate Halloween? >> Not really. What would I even do? Most of the time we just help pass out candy at the Wayland house and that’s good enough for me tbh.

Have you ever had a concussion? >> No.

Do you pretend to be someone you're not? >> No.

Do you listen to heavy metal music? >> Yeah.

Were you sad when Michael Jackson died? >> No.

Do you have more upper or lower body strength? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever been in a tanning bed? >> No.

Do you like hot tubs? >> No. The only time I got into a hot tub I thought I was going to pass out and die. That is definitely not for me.

Do you know anyone who is battling cancer? >> No.

Have you ever donated money to a charity? >> No.

Do you get bored easily? >> Sometimes.

Have you ever peed your pants in public? >> Yeah.

Are you afraid of roller coasters? >> No.

Are you good at doing tongue twisters? >> I don’t know, moderately?

What was the last movie you've seen in theatres? >> Jojo Rabbit.

Have you ever been to a drive-in movie? >> No.

Are you good at doing fractions? >> Probably not. Luckily, I don’t usually have to do them.

What is your favorite holiday? >> Christmas.

Do you prefer Apple or Android? >> Android.

Would you rather have a tablet or a computer? >> A computer. I like having a full keyboard and more robust hardware.

Do you like things that are touch screen? >> Not really, but they can be convenient.

What age did you have your first kiss at? >> ---

Do you regret losing your virginity to whoever you lost it to? >> ---

Do you have a good relationship with your mother? >> I don’t have a relationship with my mother.

Do you like the color lime green? >> It’s okay. In moderation.

What are your plans for tomorrow? >> I have no plans for tomorrow aside from the weekly Cafe Boba thing.

Would you rather wear jeans or yoga pants? >> Sweatpants.

Do you like your clothes to be baggy and comfortable or tight and revealing >> A little baggy and comfortable. I definitely don’t want anything “revealed”.

Do you wish you could change something about your hair? >> No.

Have you ever gotten a makeover? >> Yeah, at a Lord and Taylor’s counter when I was seventeen, for prom. Ugh.

Do you get mad easily? >> Not unless I’m depressed.

Have you ever punched someone in the face? >> No.

Do you think the minions from Despicable Me are cute? >> I really don’t.

Did you have a Gameboy as a child? >> No.

Would you rather have chocolate or gummy worms? >> Gummy worms. Sour, please.

What are your favorite pizza toppings? >> Pepperoni and various vegetables.

Have you ever auditioned for a talent competition? >> No.

Do you make good sandwiches? >> They’re good enough for me.

Would you rather get high or get drunk? >> ---

Have you ever failed a drug test? >> No.

Do you like the Silent Hill movies? >> I liked the first one.

What movie scared you the most out of any other movies? >> ---

Tell me something you've been made fun of for in the past. >> Having big eyes.

What is one thing you need to work on to make yourself a better person? >> ---

Do you support war? >> No. It doesn’t need my support, though. It will always prevail.

#surveys #survey #random survey #this one long

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 5 years

Text

Only For A Moment Ch. 23

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Past physical violence (from childhood), homophobia, just... heavy.

A/N: Uh... yeah... So some of you may remember me saying that I’m basically at the mercy of my characters. I’m just here to do the heavy lifting (or typing as it were). Well... this is one of those instances when that rings VERY true. Even when I thought this was going to be a smutty one shot I knew this bit of the backstory about the Reader OC. Let me tell ya... I was real mad about it. Tried to think of a way to not have it be a thing, maybe avoid telling it, and on and on. In the end though this experience shaped this character into who she is and it’s not really something I feel one would be able to avoid given the (literal) mark it left behind.

All that being said the really traumatic bits are italicized. You can skip them if you want and still sort of get the gist of what happened.

Tags are open!

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @soulless-and-sarcastic @saundrasays @breezy1415 @creepshowzombae @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barness @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius @auskitty @babyimp1967

“Are you ok, Bucky?” In response, he lifts his head and kisses you turning you so the water runs down your back warming you.

When his eyes meet yours there’s no darkness there. “I’m great,” he smiles softly and rests his forehead against your own for a minute. You both just stay in this cocoon of steam holding one another, your toes just barely touching the tub.

The water starts to cool a bit so you turn the stream off. Once out of the tub he grabs the towel from the hook and runs it over your damp face. He pecks the tip of your nose and begins to gently dry you. Your breath shudders as he places a kiss on every newly dry region of your body. At your back your eyes squeeze shut, the towel gently running over the latticework of scars, the feeling of his lips pressed between your shoulder blades simultaneously wonderful and horrible.

As he kneels drying your calves you snag the second towel and you playfully dry his hair. He peeks up from under the towel, grinning and you can’t stop the huge smile from covering your own face.

Pulling the towel from you he makes quick work of drying his own body. You openly gawk, entranced by the movements of the muscles under his skin and the fluidity of his actions for someone so bulky.

When he’s just about done he catches you watching, tosses the towel away and scoops you off the floor in one sweeping motion. You giggle loudly, unable to remember if anyone had ever actually swept you off your feet before.

As he lays you on the bed you switch all the lights off save the lamp by the couch. He lays on his side next to you resting on his left forearm. The blanket slides its way up the both of you. There’s a part of you that desperately wants more of him but you know that neither of you is ready for that, not right now.

For a while you mirror one another hands clasped just looking into the other’s eyes. Studying, memorizing, holding on to this.

“I’m glad you found me, Bucky,” you whisper. His eyes are glassy and maybe a little sad, as though he’s not sure you should be glad. You press your body next to his and he envelops you.

Neither of you really sleep. While the relief of earlier was excellent it opened wounds for you and sleep, you knew, would allow memories you didn’t want to creep out. You suspected it was the same for him. Instead, you both doze. Hands wandering lazily over the one another’s bodies, not sexually just enjoying being touched in tenderness and not pain.

Dawn begins to light the windows and you flick the lamp off, the muted light of early morning giving the room a dreamy feel. Bucky’s head is resting on the left side of your chest, his breathing steady as you softly run your nails up and down his back. His metal index finger runs down the thick rope-like scar that stretches from your back around to your collarbone.

“Bastards,” he whispers, almost inaudible.

“You’re not wrong but your rage is a little misdirected there.” He sits up a little looking at you and you give him a wan smile. His eyes shift from the scar to your eyes and back again. This was always the part you dreaded about intimacy. Questions would, inevitably, arise quickly with your lovers and it never took long. You couldn’t blame them, the scars were brutal even before your stint with Hydra. When curiosity and concern mix, they’re hard to ignore.

“How…?”

You sigh, “Short version… mom’s pastor boyfriend whipped me to drive the devil from me.”

His eyes spark with something vicious, “Long version?”

“I’ll tell you if you want to know. It’s a fucking ugly story though.” With him it’s the first time you want to tell it, you know he won’t run away or stop you half way. He just nods, his brows knit in concern.

You take a deep breath, sit up leaning against the wall, and dive in, “So… my mom grew up very religious and when things were floating around her baby’s crib she fully thought I was possessed.” He snorts a little and you shake your head, “I’ve had damn near every kind of exorcism performed on me. She always said I was her penance for her sins.” Your eyes roll, “Whatever. Anyway, after she broke up with the guy in the town with the movie theatre we landed in this microscopic town in backwoods Louisiana. Of course, we got involved with the church and she got involved with the pastor.

“About a month after we moved in with him she and I got in a fight and things began to float and fling around, I didn’t have a ton of control over it then. He saw and of course, I’m immediately deemed ‘possessed.’ I had just turned 13 a few months before and I literally didn’t see the outside world until I was 14.”

“What the fuck?” Bucky’s voice is a rumble.

“Can’t let the demon child out now can we?” You try to joke, always trying to make it seem lighter than it was. “But yeah, it was a fucking nightmare.” You trace the scars on your wrists, “That’s when I did this. Then they decided maybe they could let me out for church.”

You take a shaky breath, “It was October, the church was throwing a ‘Fall Festival’ because of course, Halloween is from the devil,” Bucky’s eyes roll and you laugh, “I know. And this girl… Beth,” your voice cracks a bit, “she was my age, the first and only friend I had there. She was dressed like an angel and she looked so gorgeous to me with her strawberry hair and green eyes.” You shake your head, “I was dressed like a fucking farmer.” He laughs a bit. “She asked if I wanted to walk around together and of course I did.

“We ended up sneaking into the chapel, sitting in the baptismal with our candy just laughing and talking. She told me she liked my hair,” your hand absently runs over the fuzz you’re sporting now, “I told her I liked hers, and her eyes and her lips. And…” you touch your own lips at the memory, “She kissed me.”

You let your head fall back against the wall with a thud. “I was walking on air when I got home… Someone saw Beth and I though… of course they told the fucking pastor. He bursts into my room in the middle of the night, literally drags me out of my bed, down the stairs, and out back to the barn.” Your eyes are closed fists clenched. “Mom’s screaming to know what’s happened, he says I let my evil taint an innocent young girl that I was toxic and vile and an abomination… I went wild, kicking and biting and screaming trying everything I could to get away from him. It was like that only convinced him I had the devil in me.” You pause, gathering yourself to finish.

“He hit me so hard I lost consciousness. When I came to my shirt was gone and I was hanging from my wrists. Mom was crying and he kept saying I was their responsibility, the lord was testing them… He actually had the gall to say that he was doing this because he loved me, it was gods love, he couldn’t spare the rod and lose my soul.” You touch the scar, “It wasn’t a rod though. It was a fucking whip.” You can still remember how it felt. Bucky seems to be holding his breath.

“Thirty-nine lashes.” He breathes out and you look at him, his face a mask of rage and horror. “They left me there, hanging bloody and sobbing. Before dawn, I got myself down, snuck into the house, stole all the money I could find, some sheets and a few shirts and a jacket from the laundry. Ran. I wrapped myself in strips of the sheets, layered on like 3 shirts and a jacket just hoping I wouldn’t bleed through it all. Got on a bus and went to New Orleans.” Your eyes sting with tears.

“Nix found me a few days later bloody and half dead, brought me back to life. I became a different person. Never saw my mom or that bastard again. But… Hydra… got them.” Bucky snorts as if to agree, for once, with their actions.

You’re not done though. “After Hydra found me again in Brooklyn after you got me out. I wouldn’t comply with anything. I had no reason to. Everyone I loved was gone and I thought they’d just kill me if I didn’t obey.”

“If only,” he whispers and you grab his hand, holding tight.

“Yeah, I figured that out fast enough. It didn’t take a genius to ascertain those scars were from something traumatic so they used it. Didn’t comply, whipped, beaten, raped. Still refuse, chair. Back and fo-“

“Chair?” His eyes are saucers. Terror is etched all over his face.

“… yeah…”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic

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fandomness--randomness · 6 years

Text

Just a ghost {Midoriya Izuku x ghost!reader}

Before you read this please know that there will be slight spoilers for the manga in this short story!

You sighed, your tired (e/c) hues glazing over the students in the newly built common room. There were having so much fun with each other. Laughing, playing….. Touching. The red haired one- you think his name was Kirishima- wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the angry blond boy- Bakugou Katsuki. How could you forget him? He always made you shiver despite him not being able to actually see or hurt you.

With another side sigh, you turned around and headed back outside, phasing right through the door. After all, you were a ghost.

You had been haunting the place of your death for nearly… how long had it been? Fifteen years? Sixteen? It was hard to keep track, but… you think you would’ve been about 31 this year along with your childhood friends…. Friends who were now pro-heroes and teachers at the school you once attended.

Anger and frustration filled your heart and before you knew it you were ravaging the area around you, the ground being toiled and the branches from nearby trees snapping off and flying away from you.

But just as quickly as the anger appeared, it faded away and was replaced with sadness.

You shouldn’t have died. You were supposed to grow up with Shouta and Hizashi and become pro heroes with them. Back in high school the three of you were the trio that everyone knew would make it big. Even by the middle of first year, a lot of your classmates speculated that the three of you would be the Big Three… and two people were.

You had died at the end of first year. You could still remember Shouta and Hizashi’s reactions at the funeral held at UA. God how you wanted to hug them, wipe away their tears, and tell them that everything would be okay, but you couldn’t.

Letting out a sad sigh, you sat on the steps of the dorm building you had decided to call your home. Well, more like you just floated on top of the steps.

You couldn’t physically touch anything or anyone, sure you could manipulate them, but it wasn’t the same as feeling the warmth of another human being. And it was frustrating.

The only beings you could touch and feel were other ghosts in your realm, but they would always disappear as quickly as they had appeared.

You are alone

You weren’t sure how long you sat on those steps, the only indication of time passing by was the lights of the dorms rooms that were slowly flicking off. Standing up, you phased back inside the door, starting to make your nightly rounds.

Every night, you’d go to every room and check up on each of the kids of Class 1A. Hell, you might be dead, but your want to help those around you was still as big as ever. Plus… you needed a sense of significance, so if you could help these kids somehow in anyway… you would feel needed.

You had already helped a multitude of kids when they were in their rooms crying their eyes out by making a ruckus so the others would hear and comfort them, hell you’ve even finish homework for a couple students and dragged them to their bed after they passed out at their desks.

Because of this ritual you’ve done since you’ve died, at this point, you were a genius at the UA curriculum in all the departments. You knew how mechanics worked from the support department, you knew how to run a small company from the business department, and strangely enough you knew all the bones and muscles in the human body from the general department- guess that’s what you get for haunting a student who wanted to be a doctor for three years.

But you would always be best at your hero work. Nothing would take precedence over that. Phasing through the ceiling of the common room, you found yourself in the second-floor hallway. Turning towards the first door you saw, you started with the girl who had way too many instruments for her own good.

Peaking in, your eyes scanned over the room. The digital clock near Jirou’s bed read “11:42 PM”. And just as you’d expect, the purplenette was asleep in bed.

Nodding to yourself, you floated back out of the room and moved to the next one, the dorm with the invisible girl. Hagekure was asleep and fine, just like Jirou.

You repeated this process to each floor, your eyes peeking at the girls once before leaving their private space. The only thing you had to do was move Yaoyorozu, the rich girl who was too good looking for your own mental health, over to her bed since she had fallen asleep at her desk.

You repeated the same process with the boys’ side of the dorms, starting from the very top floor this time and making your way down. Now, this was bit more of a process. Most of the boys were very responsible and didn’t need your assistance, but the ones that did… dear god those were the worst.

An annoyed sigh left your lips as you entered Kaminari Denki’s room, realizing you’d have to do the same thing as last night and the night before. First, you moved the electric blond from the desk over to his bed, making sure to wrap the blanket around him snuggly so he wouldn’t knock them all over the floor like usual. Then, you organized his books and school supplies. At least as much as you could without Kaminari becoming suspicious that someone else was doing this.

If you made it too neat, he’d know that someone was the reason for his complete homework and nicely made bed.

After you finished, you moved on, hoping that the night would go quickly. And it did. It seemed the boys were able to take care of themselves fairly well with the exception of Kirishima, who seemed to be having a nightmare.

You sat down next to his head and cooed quietly, humming him back into a quiet sleep. His clock read “1:38 AM”.

Before you knew it, you were on the last floor. You quickly floated by the door with the label “Mineta’ on it. The one and only time you went in to check on the boy, you were permanently scarred.

“Never again.” You thought, a shiver going up your spine.

Taking a quick turn, you peaked your head into the room whose owner’s head was a bird. As usual, he was fast asleep while Dark Shadow was wide awake. He turned his head to you as you peeked in. You weren’t sure why, but this thing that was apart of Tokoyami’s quirk could sense you. It wasn’t able to see or talk to you, but he would always turn to your direction whenever you were near Tokoyami.

Phasing back out into the hallway, you continued on, going to the last room on your list.

Midoriya Izuku.

This boy… he had lots of issues. Ever since the dorm rooms have been built, you’ve found him in his room multiple times in distress. Sometimes it was clear with tears running down his face and other times it was less obvious as his eyes would just be staring blankly at the wall.

He seems to have been through a lot from what you can gather with his conversations with All Might and notebooks, and as a result, his mental state is less than fine. Just last week his quirk went haywire while he was sleeping and he wrecked his room. (Manga readers you know what I’m talking about lol)

So now you were keeping a close eye on the boy. Like a mama hen watching her baby chick.

You phased through the door slowly, this time floating all the way in. The uniform you wore swished back and forth as if there was an actual breeze, but you knew it was just your ghostly apparition.

Looking around the room, nothing struck you as odd and everything seemed to be in order. Every All Might statue that wasn’t broken (you were still trying to fix the one with his First Age costume, whose head had flown during Midoriya’s incident. If anyone were to find your stash of stuff, there would be a huge scandal at UA), was in its correct place and all the posters were straight on the wall.

But there was something missing and that was the boy himself. Fear began to bubble in your veins as you tried to think of where the boy could be.

“Is he fighting that blond kid again? Wait no, I just saw Bakugou in his room above, he was sound asleep! Maybe he’s in the gym? If so I better get the attention of the rob-”

The sound of a toilet flushing shook you out of our thoughts, the sound of a faucet turning on joining the sounds. You let out a relieved sigh, happy that Midoriya was only using the bathroom.

As you turned to leave the room, you couldn’t help but stop and stare at the pictures on Midoriya’s work desk. They were different than the posters of All Might and other pro heroes on the wall. No these were of family and friends. A photo of Midoriya and a woman with green hair just like his framed with gold; another photo of him sitting on All Might’s photo framed by an All Might frame, of course; another photo of his with his two friends Uraraka and Iida at what looked like an amusement park; and a photo of the entire class. The boy sat at the front, flashing the camera a peace sign.

Sadness filled your heart as you stared at the photo. You wanted to see your friends again. You wanted to see your family.

You didn’t want to be alone.

The door to Midoriya’s personal bathroom opened, but you didn’t move. There was no use reacting to something that couldn’t even see you. There was a quick intake of air and then…

“Who are you?” Midoriya asked. You blinked and looked towards the door to see if anyone else had come inside. But it was still closed shut. Next, you looked towards the window that lead to the balcony. It was still shut, hell it was even locked! So just who was Midoriya talking to?

“H-hey? A-are you okay?” Midoriya asked.

Your eyes widened. There was no way… was he…”

Slowly, you turned around, your eyes catching onto Midoriya’s forest green hues. “Can you… see me?” You asked slowly, hope filling your heart.

Midoriya looked you up and down, taking in your appearance.

“Am I not supposed to?”

You are alone

Author’s note: Trying out a lil something, even though it is after halloween lol. I had the idea last night so hopefully this little mini-series will work out

#midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mini-series #short story

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southside-vixen · 5 years

Text

Fire and Ice (Sweet Pea) 5

Chapter 5. Red Spray Paint

AO3

Adrianna Rivera has just made a difficult move from Arizona to the southside of Riverdale. With the history of her life in Phoenix behind her will she be able to find a new family in the Southside Serpents? Or will a certain tall, dark, and rage inducing Serpent cause issues?

A few days had passed and thankfully things finally started to quiet down. School was finally starting to return to normal and Adria still hadn’t heard a thing from her father. It was discouraging to say the least. Thoughts raced through her head ranging from ‘maybe he’s just getting released soon’ to ‘maybe someone placed a hit on him and I’m the last to hear he died from a shiv to the gut’

She couldn’t focus on anything, not like that was out of the norm lately. She was stressed to the point where her morning runs weren’t helping, she couldn’t stomach eating most times, and she would return after school to watch old reruns of telenovelas. Ness was worried to say the least, but despite all the distractions she could think of nothing seemed to help. She knew nothing would improve until Adria heard from the person she needed to most.

Ness placed a heaping plate of tamales in the center of the table, smiling at her own work. It had been ages since she last made a meal at home as she hated cooking for one. When Adria came to live with her it just became easier to order takeout. Seeing her niece depressed for the few days was making her desperate enough to cook and she figured what better than to try to make an old favorite. Tamales.

“Dinner’s ready” She called out to the living room. Adria quietly pulled herself off the couch and placed herself at the dinner table. Her eyes widened when she caught a glimpse of the giant stack on the table.

“You took a break from your cooking hiatus to make tamales?” Adria stacked a few onto her plate “Very ambitious.”

“I think I did pretty well. I followed a blog about Mexican cooking. It’s a good read”

Adria’s face lit up for the first time in days and it was enough to make Ness’ heart swell. She watched as her niece took the first bite, and her face immediately fell.

“Oh wow. It’s great, Ness.” Adria tried to choke down the rest of her bite. It was absolutely terrible. She wasn’t sure if she even soaked the corn husks before steaming them. Ness followed her lead and immediately spat the bite back out

“This is awful. Wow.” She broke down laughing “I guess this is what I get for not cooking for years. Don’t eat that, I’m gonna order pizza.” Ness took her plate and immediately scrapped the contents into the garbage.

“Thanks, Aunt Ness.” Adria got out of her chair and helped her aunt clean up the mess “The thought really means a lot. Also, Maria’s cooking is a tough act to follow so don’t feel bad.” Her father had the same cook since she was a child. Maria was basically family. It was another thing she missed so much from Phoenix. She never gave it a second thought until now, but she didn’t want to know how many people lost their jobs when her father was carted off to prison.

The mess didn’t take long to clean and soon both were munching on slices of pizza, watching Halloween. Adria had her eyes glued to the screen as Judith watched her boyfriend leave her home, not knowing that her murderer was already in the house. The tension was building as Judith turned around to see-

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Adria screamed and jumped nearly a foot into the air before she picked up her phone. The caller display read ‘UNKNOWN’

“Can you press pause? I need to take this” Adria asked, feeling her heart rate starting to return to normal levels.

“Yeah of course, I’ve already seen this like five times.” Ness smiled, shooing the younger girl off

Adria returned to her room and shut the door behind her. She glanced at the screen once more before accepting the call “Hello?”

“Hola mija “her father’s voice came through the speaker and it was like the clouds finally cleared.

“Papá!” She nearly yelled “Where have you been? It’s been weeks.”

“Talking to my lawyers. I can’t say much more than that but I wanted to call you sooner.”

“Are you getting out? Please tell me you are. Aunt Ness tried to make tamales tonight and it just reminded me of how much I miss home.”

The line went quiet for half a minute before Alejandro replied “I wish I could say I was. My lawyers are doing all they can but…it’s not looking good.”

Adria tried to process it as best as she could but it just didn’t make sense. Her family’s lawyers were the best money could buy, there was nothing they weren’t able to do.

“But Papi…” Adria pleaded, hearing a chuckle from the other end of the line

“Papi or no, Mija. I promise you I will be out by your 17th birthday. I’ll even get you a new McLaren to replace the one they seized.”

Adria smiled to herself “Better be the Spider. You know I like to go fast” Maybe a little too fast, it was a good thing none of her speeding tickets ever stuck.

“I do not need to hear that” her father laughed again “You’re nearly a grown woman and I’m missing so much. Tell me about your biker aunt and her home town.” Adria rolled her eyes

“Aunt Ness is great, Papá. She even tried to make tamales tonight to make me feel better. They were terrible but the thought was there. School’s…terrible but its school. I’m making friends! We even have movie nights. They somehow roped me into watching terrible quality old films.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my daughter? The Adrianna I know would never tell me ‘it’s the thought that counts’. As much as I hate to admit it this seems to have been a good choice for you. Although I know your tíos would have loved to have you in my absence.”

There was a small series of beeps on the other end

“Unfortunately, Mija that’s my time. Te quiero. You’re growing into a strong woman and I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Te quiero, Papá”

Just like that, the line went dead. Adria placed her phone down on the night stand and flopped onto her bed. Every time her feeling of homesickness seemed to disappear it would come back with a vengeance.

“Fuck everything” She whispered to herself, staring at the ceiling.

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

The next day life went on as usual. She rode with Fangs to school, suffered through her classes, and sat down with the Serpents at lunch. When she sat down, no one even paid attention. Which was always a relief. This time, however, Sweet Pea had placed a laptop in front of them. One that was covered in duct tape. Classy.

“Ads, you’re here” Toni smiled “You’ve got to see this, the Northside’s gone crazy and now they’re making snuff films.”

“What?” Adria scooched over to Toni and glanced over her shoulder to watch some red head with an army of well-built shirtless guys behind him. Talking about some Black Hood and how they’re going to take him down.

“Snuff film?” She looked at Toni “This looks like the start to a really weird porno.”

“Hey guys.” Jughead walked up and stopped apprehensively “I guess we’re not watching funny cat videos”

Sweet Pea turned the laptop around to show him and pressed play

“We were just talking about how Fangs can earn his Serpent stripes by bringing us the head of the Northsider that posted this” he gave Fangs a pat on the back as he smirked at Jughead, as if he knew this would get a rise out of him.

“Don’t” Jughead sighed “I know this guy. He’s a football player, kind of a lame target is you ask me.” Just like that his demeanor altered “If you want to prove something, you go after the black hood”

Adria saw Toni’s eyes narrow out of the corner of her eye as Sweet Pea spoke up again

“Why would we do that? The Black Hood is only targeting Northsiders”

‘Thank God for that’ Adria thought

“As far as we’re concerned the Black Hood is doing our work for us. They’ve been blaming us for their problems for years. We’re sick of it.” Sweet Pea finished

Jughead sighed in defeat and walked off, leaving the table in a brief silence.

“Are you sure we need him here?” Sweet Pea scoffed “He’s less of a Southsider than Princess over here.”

Adria rolled her eyes.

“Not only is he blood, he’s FP’s blood. He’s one of us whether you like it or not.” Toni said “As for Adria she’s already proven herself to everyone but it seems like you didn’t get the memo.”

“Yeah. Let’s not talk about that night ever again.” Adria forced a smile, although it probably looked more like a grimace.

“Finally, something we agree on.” Sweet Pea locked eyes with her, as if daring her to say something. For once she didn’t rise to the bait.

“Shut the hell up, Sweet Pea” Toni groaned “No one’s in the mood.”

Thankfully the bell rang and released her from her what could have easily turned into her own personal hell. Adria watched as everyone picked up their bags and slowly started meandering toward their next class.

“Thanks, Toni.” Adria said as most everyone had cleared out of the cafeteria

“No problem. He’s being a huge douche and frankly I think everyone is over his shit now.” She put a hand on Adria’s shoulder “You’re one of us and everyone else thinks so. Ignore the idiot.”

Adria laughed “That really does mean a lot. Anyway, Ness is making one of her ‘specialties’ since her tamales were terrible. So if you want to come over for spaghetti tonight you’re always welcome at Casa de Rivera-Allen”

Toni made a face “Ads, I would love to but I already promised Jughead we would work on the cipher the Black Hood put out…”

“Oh…” Adria’s eyes widened “Well awesome. I hope that goes well for you.” She gave Toni a wink

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Anyone with eyes can see you’ve got a thing for the new boy. I don’t blame you, he’s cute.”

Toni blushed “It’s not like that. He’s got a girlfriend. If you looked up ‘Girl Next Door’ in the dictionary you’d find a full page picture of Betty Cooper”

“Wow. Girl Next Door, huh? Definitely not what I expected from Mr. Dark and Mysterious. I’m sure you’re more his type anyway. Only a matter of time before he sees it too.” Adria nudged Toni in the shoulder “We’ll miss you tonight but definitely tell me how it goes!”

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

That night Adria passed the time by chopping up mushrooms for her aunt’s ‘special’ spaghetti sauce. Although she wasn’t sure if Ness was allowed to call it special when the base was a store bought can of tomato sauce.

“Fuck!” Adria heard Ness grumbling with her face inside the pantry. She pulled out a can of sauce and examined it “This expired a year ago. I really should clean this whole thing out.”

Adria stopped chopping up mushrooms to look at her aunt “Anything you need me to do?”

Ness sighed “Can you stop by the bodega and pick up a couple cans of sauce? See if Fangs will go with you. I don’t want you out alone after dark.”

Adria sighed and threw on a coat “I’ll be back”

Just as she was told she paid a visit to her neighbor, pounding on his door. For a second she thought about if Fang’s parents would answer the door. Then again, that never happened. It seemed like everyone on the southside was either working multiple jobs to make ends meet or running errands for the Serpents. She probably only saw Ness as much as she did because of child services looming over their heads.

“Fangs!” She yelled

Fangs opened the door, confusion all over his face “What? Miss me already?”

“Terribly. I need someone to walk to the bodega with me. Apparently I’m too frail to go by myself.”

Fangs laughed “Have you seen yourself? Anyway what’s in it for me?”

“Ness’ spaghetti and my appreciation?”

“You got enough for 2 more? Sweet Pea and I are playing video games.”

Adria stopped in her tracks. “Sure…” apprehension was apparent in her voice, but considering she liked to consider herself sane, the idea of a serial killer out and about made her not want to go alone. Even if the bodega was a fairly short walk from the trailer park.

“Awesome!” Fangs smiled “I’ll grab Pea.”

Adria waited outside, rubbing her arms to keep herself warm. Regretting every decision she made up until this point.

Fangs exited the trailer with a disgruntled Sweet Pea following shortly behind. She wasn’t sure how to feel as he looked equally as upset about the arrangement. Honestly, she wasn’t sure how Fangs even convinced him. Especially in that short of a time.

The walk to the bodega was eerily silent. There wasn’t really anyone out on the streets and the company she kept didn’t say a word. Which was concerning but not necessarily surprising. She and Sweet Pea weren’t one to talk to each other by choice and Fangs must not have felt like keeping the peace tonight. Or maybe he was trying to avoid the fact that the awkward silence was his fault for inviting Sweet Pea in the first place.

Adria was now determined to make the trip as quick as possible. In addition to practically running to keep pace with the two boys, she quickly grabbed a couple cans of sauce from the store. She shot a quick text to Ness letting her know they would have two additional people for dinner tonight. All she got back in return was a string of smiley face emojis.

Adria met back up with Fangs and Sweet Pea outside, both of which seemed significantly less tense without her. The two were throwing play punches when they saw her.

“Ready to go?” Fangs smiled “I’m starving”

“Yeah of course” Adria raised the bag for both to see “Got the goods right here.”

The trio rounded the corner only for Sweet Pea to stop all of them

“What the fuck is this?”

Not even 20 feet away from them was the redhead from the snuff/porn video spray painting something onto the side of the bodega. Fangs looked and Sweet Pea and both of them seemed to reach a silent agreement. They weren’t leaving without showing this kid who ran this side of the tracks.

Adria followed the two as they stormed up to the red head and squared off. Adria wasn’t sure what was going to happen but she knew it wasn’t anything good. She stood next to Sweet Pea and Fangs ready to watch the entire scene play out.

“What do you think you’re doing” Sweet Pea shoved the guy’s shoulder so he was facing the group “Southside’s Serpent country.”

“Back off” The guy said “This doesn’t involve you.”

“Yeah?” Sweet Pea smirked “And who’s this for then? Hell, don’t tell me it’s for the Black Hood” he chuckled

The red head tried to walk away but both Sweet Pea and Fangs shoulder checked him, keeping him in place

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sweet Pea continued “You think you can just come here and tag our turf? Go back to the Northside”

“Move before someone gets hurt.” His eyes moved from Fangs, to Sweet Pea, and then locked onto Adria. Almost like he didn’t notice she was there until just now.

Both Sweet Pea and Fangs looked at each other and laughed. Adria was in awe of this kid. Didn’t he know that messing with any sort of gang was usually a bad idea?

Sweet Pea pulled a switch blade out of his coat pocket and released the knife “You’ve just made a big mistake” his smile was easy to see, even in the dark. It was clear he was in his element. As much as Adria would never admit it to a living soul he looked really good doing it. She scolded herself internally.

The guy’s eyes narrowed as he reached into the pocket of his hoodie. None of them expected him to pull out a gun and wave it in their faces

“Who made a mistake?” His voice grew louder to the point where he was yelling. All three were in a state of shock, Adria worst of all. Fangs immediately put his hands into the air, while Sweet Pea lowered his knife.

Adria, however, froze. She never in a million years imagined herself in this position, even with her father’s profession. She always had a sicario or two with her to keep watch but even then no one who wanted to live would dare threaten Alejandro Rivera’s only daughter. Even people who had a death wish didn’t want a death as painful as what waited for them if they so much as looked at her the wrong way.

Before she could even process how to react Sweet Pea grabbed her arm and moved her behind him

“Woah, Woah” he took a step back “In front of the lady?”

Sweet Pea gave her a quick push and whispered ‘run’ before the three of them took off. They didn’t stop running until they were in the safety of Sunnyside Trailer Park.

Adria was still in shock over the whole ordeal. Fangs took the shopping bag from her and led her inside. Adria quickly walked off to the bathroom as Fangs and Sweet Pea talked to Ness in the kitchen. When the bathroom door was shut she turned on the fan and ran over to the toilet, throwing up everything in her stomach. When she finished she walked over to the sink and splashed her face with cold water. The face she saw in the mirror barely looked like her own. She looked broken, her skin red and eyes puffy.

She was quickly brought out of it by a knock on the door

“Ads? It’s me. You good?” Fangs voice came from the other side “Ness wanted me to tell you dinner’s just about ready.”

Adria slowly opened the door to face him, trying her best to look normal. Judging by the look on Fangs’ face it clearly wasn’t working.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Thankfully Ness didn’t ask too many questions with the guys there. After dinner Adria went back to Fangs’ with both boys. The three sat in silence on the living room floor for what seemed like an eternity. Until Adria finally spoke up

“Thanks for not saying anything to Ness. I’d appreciate if we could keep it that way.”

Both Sweet Pea and Fangs nodded

“Are you okay though, Ads?” Fangs asked “You’ve been a mess since it happened.”

Adria let out a small, sad chuckle “That bad, huh?” She brought her knees up to her chest “Needless to say I never thought someone would have the balls to point a gun at me.”

“Even with your dad?” Fangs asked

“Especially with my dad. He’d have them gutted alive. Do you deal with this a lot?”

“No. Not usually.” Sweet Pea broke his silence “We have to retaliate. If we don’t we look weak.” He looked to Fangs

“You’re right. What’s the plan?” Fangs asked. Both of them were far more serious than she had ever seen them. Given the circumstances it shouldn’t be surprising and yet it still was. She felt like she was seeing a brand new side of both of them and it was fascinating to watch.

“Whatever it is I want in” Adria inched closer to be part of the conversation

“Absolutely not.” Sweet Pea snapped “You froze there. Who’s to say he won’t have it again?”

Adria sat there quietly for a moment. She didn’t have anything close to a good response. She glanced over at Fangs who silently shook his head

“He has a point, Ads. Just let us handle it.” He stood up from where he was sitting “Let me walk you back home” Adria was about to argue as it was literally 20 steps away from his door but he spoke again “I insist.”

Adria groaned and followed Fangs the short distance to her front door; he stopped abruptly and put his hands on her shoulders. Adria raised her eyebrow, waiting for him to reveal whatever was going on in his head.

“I’ll tell you everything. I swear.” Fangs removed his hands from her shoulders and pulled her into a hug, rubbing his hand up and down her back as she started to ease up a bit “If you ever need to talk about what happened tonight I’m just a few steps away.” He let go and flashed her a large smile before turning around and walking back to his trailer.

Ashe watched him disappear into the door and let out a large sigh, sitting on the front step. Once again she felt alone looking to the lit window of Fang’s trailer. She could only imagine what they were planning. She thought about calling Toni before remembering she would be at Jughead’s. Good friends didn’t interrupt quality time with the guy their friend’s trying to bang.

So Adria rest her hands behind her and looked up to the sky, for the first time in a long time able to see stars.

#sweet pea #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea x reader #riverdale #fanfic #fireandice

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cherryfi · 5 years

Text

Bedtime Stories

Word Count: 4424.

Plot: Siren!Doyoung x female reader. The only way to get your kids to sleep is with a bedtime story and this time you tell them about how you met their father.

A/N: It’s Halloween Hoes!!! I’m kicking off the series with some fluffy Doyoung goodness! I’ve been sitting on this one for like a week now :(. I’m a little disappointed with it but, tell me what you think.

Requests are open!! Let me know if you have any other idols/ pairings you want for the series!

“Can you put them to bed for me?” Your husband’s frustrated voice calls out from the top of the stairs down to the kitchen; where you sat working on your next book. The sound of socked feet padding down the stairs quickly followed. With your deadline fast approaching, you were working double time, trying to pull extra hours so that you could finish it on time.

Technically, it was finished but, following the success of your first book, there were obviously expectations set for you to write something bigger and better, the added pressure was stifling your creativity and making you question the directions you took your stories in. A lot of the added pressure came from within. You were a perfectionist by nature; and you wanted to prove to your fans that you could consistently produce incredible works but, you also wanted to silence your critics.

You weren’t a one hit wonder; you were here to stay.

“Y/N? Did you hear me? Can you put them to bed for me?” Now normally, your husband wasn’t this easily frustrated but, it was the holidays and both of your children: your 6-year-old daughter and 3-year-old son were at home all day because it was the holidays. Which meant their father (your husband) had been watching them all day while you worked on your novel.

“Just one more line and then I’ll take over, I promise.” Doyoung wraps his arms around you from behind, squeezing you tightly and rested his head on your shoulder. A small sigh leaves his mouth, his lips next to your ear.

“I’m sure it’s perfect already, you’re just a massive worrier so everything looks like crap to a perfectionist like you. Plus, you’ve been looking at that screen all day , you need a break before you go mad. Anyway, the kids want you to read them and I need to head out. You’ve got it covered yeah?” You kiss his cheek and quietly agree.

“What time is it anyway?”

“It’s 9, you’ve been on it all day. I’m only going to be gone for a few hours but if you’re not up when I get back; goodnight and I love you. Tell the kids I love them too.” He kisses you tenderly and heads out the door into the crisp night air. You watch him grab his car keys from the breakfast bar and the gold plate from its spot by the door.

You roll your shoulders and prepare to get your energetic kids to bed.

“Alright you two little monsters I’m coming to get you!” You hear shrills of laughter as you comically stomp up the stairs; making roaring noises as you go.

As you turn the corner into your son’s room, you see both children dive under the bed.

“I see you!” You drag them both from under the bed, all 3 of you in fits of giggles. You tickle them both until you’re all on the ground, tired from laughing .

“How about a bedtime story?” Quick to their feet both of your kids climb onto your little boy’s bed.

Wracking your mind for a good story to tell, you try to find one in the bookshelf when your daughter pipes up.

“No Mummy I don’t want a book, make one up please?” She bounces excitedly with a sweet smile and who are you to tell her no? Especially when your 3-year-old chants “No books, no books!”

“Alright, Have I ever told you about when I used to be a fisherwoman?” You give a pause and watch both kids dramatically shake their heads.

“No? All right then.”

Deadhorse was a small town, just south of nowhere, that lay along the coastline. It was a fishing town, with no discernible features and nothing interesting to do. There were no tourists here.

If you had the displeasure of being born in Deadhorse, you did everything you could to get the hell out of town.

It was that kind of town. The kind of town that wasn’t on any major map and didn’t connect to the freeway. With a population of 1000, it was relatively sleepy. Everybody went to the same schools and worked in the same places.

The biggest attraction was a beaten up, old pub: ‘The moon and mermaid.’

It was boring and filled with small minded and old people but, it was home and until you could escape, you would the make the most of your situation.

But, it also had it’s perks. Being a sea town there was never a shortage of sea shanties and fire-side tales.

In every small, rural town there are the legends.

Be it myths about harbingers of death in the form of old hags carrying brooms or rakes, or whistled songs from forest depths carried on the wind that lure people in; each town had its story.

For Deadhorse it was the sea.

The sea was a dark and beautiful mistress – calm on the surface but bustling with activity in its depth.

Many a fisherman came into the pub and shared stories of sea creatures who would protect their boats during heavy storms or, recount hearing eerie songs that wrapped around them like the briny air. Though they’d remember hearing the song, they could never recount what it sounded like.

But this wasn’t about them, this was about you.

It was the summer of your 18th birthday, and your life was finally beginning to take shape.

You were going to a big college in the city and you were so close to achieving your dreams you could almost taste them – the same way you could taste the sea brine on the air.

“Pass me the crab cage Y/N?” Your father’s voice breaks you out of your stupor and shake your head. Reaching down, you pick up and hand him the cage. Loose sand shakes itself from the cage and you dust it off your arm.

You loved your parents more than anything, they were kind, hard-working people. They’d worked hard to put food on the table and keep you safe. You weren’t ashamed of your humble beginnings, in the same way that you weren’t ashamed of Deadhorse; it just wasn’t what you wanted.

Fishing was never your dream (was it ever anyone’s?).

“We’re going to have to come in earlier than normal today, Pete called in last night and told us that there’s a storm brewing and the meteorology office just put in a warning to the rest of the guys – storm’s coming in at about 5 so we’ve got to be back by the latest 4. Plus, have you seen the sky? It’s fire red.” He shrugs, throwing the cage into the back of the boat and unties the rope from the harbour.

“Yeah. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky at morning, sailor’s take warning.” He laughed as you rattled off the saying in a deadpan voice.

You and your dad were close in an odd way. You could spend hours together in silence, doing absolutely nothing or working on tasks together. You were always in sync and that’s what you had done the day everything changed.

You fished together, hauling nets and cages with the occasional remark until around 3pm.

The sky, that was previously a blazing red had gone black. As if the sun’s fire had been snuffed out.

If that wasn’t terrifying enough, the sea had gone eerily calm and there was stillness in the air that was choking.

It was the only time you’d seen your father scared. As an experienced fisher he’d seen his fair share of storms, so you knew this one would be huge.

“Let’s head in.”

“Yeah.”

You’d arrived home in the nick of time, as the waves had begun picking up as you headed back in.

It had gotten worse throughout the night, the thunder and waves beating a chaotic cacophony against the small town. Truly, it was the stuff of nightmares and had been one of the worst storms the town had seen in a long time.

But, in the morning, it was as if nothing had happened at all.

Everything resumed as normal.

Except it wasn’t.

It started with the singing.

Every night, just as the sun was setting a mournful song carried itself across the island – seemingly from the depths of the sea.

In the pub local fishermen debated that it must have been the sea itself.

“It’s the storm, brewin’ up all sorts of trouble. You know the sea’s alive. She needs to settle.”

“Don’t be foolish Pete! The sea’s not alive but, what’s in it is. I bet that storm probably woke some long dormant creature.”

“Maybe it’s the whalien.” Everyone turned to look at the new voice; curious to hear about this newly mentioned sea creature that they’d never heard of before.

“It’s this whale that sings at a different frequency to every known whale in the world. Apparently, it’s always singing because it’s lonely. Scientists think it’s probably one of the biggest whales in the world.” Sean was a level-headed, young Marine-biologist – he knew what he was talking about so, they agreed it must have been an amalgamation of all those things.

The Whalien, disturbed by the churning waves must have become scared and was calling out, hoping to find another whale like itself. It was plausible except for the fact that the song sounded entirely too human to be from any animal.

They were all wrong.

You’d heard the song and it wasn’t a whale.

It had to be a siren or a mermaid and to be fair, those that didn’t believe it was a whale were in agreement that it must have been some kind of Siren.

You’d read about them in the library (the only place where there was anything fun to do), you knew about them from ‘Odyssey’.

But that wasn’t what bought you to that conclusion.

2 days after the storm, you were walking along the beach in an area that was seldom travelled.

You hadn’t been searching for anything in particular; just walking. But the glare from the sun, reflecting off something in the sand made you take notice.

It was a gold plate.

It was heavy when you picked it up and to the best of your knowledge it looked like real gold.

There were inscriptions on it but, you couldn’t decipher anything – it wasn’t in any language that you could recognise (not that you were a linguistics expert).

You took it home to look at it later but, for some reason, it didn’t feel right to tell anyone.

The singing started that night.

Describing a siren song was hard. In Greek mythology, the song was meant to be captivating.

Sirens would sing of the loneliness they felt – trapped on their island and of the betrayal of the Olympians and the Muses.

It would lure pirates and sailors alike, who, hearing of these foreign tongued songs, would lose all care and steer into the island. They would be stuck there because their ships were ruined and would eventually perish not because (as is commonly thought) the Sirens would eat them but, because the Sirens couldn’t feed them.

They were immortals trapped on an island that had no need for food but, their mortal companions did.

They would forgo all human needs to hear the Siren song and would die.

This song, however, sounded like a warning.

It was a threat.

You didn’t know how to explain how you knew this; because you couldn’t understand its song and no one else in your small community seemed to have the same experience as you.

One thing everyone agreed on, was that the song was getting louder and seemed to take on multiple voices.

It had something to do with the golden plate. You just knew it.

The louder the song grew, the closer you knew the Siren was to the island – it was hunting you.

By the 5th day, the town had no fish.

Nets were empty and any catches made were often dead before they entered the net. The fish were avoiding the town.

This pushed the fishers into deeper, often unchartered, waters that still yielded no results. Savings were running dry fast and to top it off, the song was so loud that no one got any sleep.

You had to do something.

It was 2am on what would be the 6th day and here you were on the beach, plate in your satchel.

You took it out of the bag.

“Is this a scary story mummy?” Your little girl interrupts your flow, you’d lost yourself for a moment, almost able to smell the brine of the sea; wafting in your face.

Her blanket was up to her eyes and her brother was hidden behind it completely.

You sat on the floor opposite the bed. You quickly got up and picked up your daughter, setting her in your lap and pulling your son beside you.

“It might sound a little scary now but, I promise it has a happy ending. Should I continue?”

“Finish it please.” Your son responds hugging your arm tightly and you turn to your daughter for confirmation.

She gives you a toothy, gap-filled smile and nods quickly.

“Alright, where was I?”

“The plate!” They shout unison.

Yes, the plate.

You tried to hold it up above your head but, it was far too heavy.

Somehow, it had increased in mass (to the point where you couldn’t even hold it up) and was getting warmer, to the point where it soon began to glow white-hot.

“I guess you know that it’s here because it’s never done that before.” The singing had grown quieter and the plate was no longer glowing.

You kept talking.

“I don’t want it. I didn’t mean to take something that’s obviously so important to you, I just found it on the island. I’m guessing you lost it in the storm? I would love to return it to you. It must be awfully important given how loud you’ve been singing. Please bring the fish back. I was the one that did something wrong, no one else and I take full responsibility. You can get it whenever you’d like. Please just bring the fish back.” Honestly, you feel dumb.

Talking to the air, to the sea but somehow, you knew that the Siren was listening.

“Also, you have a lovely voice.”

You left quickly after.

In the morning, or well, the evening, it had become clear that you did the right thing.

The fish and crabs were back, almost as if they’d never left.

“How was today’s catch?” Your mother had asked. She’d been worried for your father. Aware of how tense he’d been since the storm. But his answer immediately put her heart at ease.

“It was good. The sea was kind to all of us today. So, I’m thankful. I also apologise for making you so tense.” Just like that the balance was restored.

But, that night, there was no singing.

This should have meant that you could relax but, you were restless.

The plate was still in your possession.

After hours of tossing and turning, you finally fell asleep.

Only to wake with a jolt.

Your bed was soaking wet. The air heavy with the smell of, salt.

You couldn’t breathe. There was something lying on top of you.

In your alarm, you tried to sit up, only to be pushed back down and what felt like a hand reached around your neck, squeezing a little.

It was a warning.

Your eyes couldn’t adjust to the dark, couldn’t see what was on top of you but you knew.

It was the Siren.

“Y/N.” A hissed whisper next to your ear confirmed your suspicions. The voice that spoke to you was much deeper than the one that sang to you.

Fear shot through you like a jolt of electricity and you tried to scream but then it placed a hand on your mouth.

“Y/N, you have something of mine, I would like it back. If you cooperate, I will let you live.” The voice continued as the siren sat up, straddling your waist.

Please let this be sleep paralysis, please be sleep paralysis.

“I don’t know what creature causes this paralysis but, I am not he. I want what is mine and then I will leave.”

“I need to find it for you, can I get up?” The siren gets up and sits beside you on the bed.

“Do what you must but, if you deceive me, I will kill you and I will enjoy it.” You’re terrified and the Siren knows this, smelling the air around and laughing.

“Human fear, it’s so strange to me. Why are you scared when I’ve said I won’t harm you?” He laughs.

You’re certain this Siren is a man.

It’s only confirmed when you turn on your bedside lamp.

You look back at him and despite how wet he is; he’s beautiful. His large eyes watch your every move, waiting for any sign of deception.

“Stop staring and do your part, human. Do what you promised me. Where is my Aegis?” Despite his hissing and the threats – he sounds tired.

“Here.” You take it from your bag and give it to, he holds it protectively.

“Hey, you’re bleeding.” His eyes are wide as he looks up at you, insulted that you would point out the obvious.

“Why is that your business?” You sigh as he looks at you, unsure. He curls in on himself defensively.

“Wait here.” Honestly, you don’t know what you’re doing. Maybe it’s because his aggression only came from the fact that he was injured or, maybe because you felt like you owed him (you did, after all, accidentally steal his property), you felt the need to take care of him.

Despite his obvious apprehension, he was still sitting on your bed when you got back. Your cat had taken up residence on his lap and was purring up a storm.

“I like your animal, this cat, he’s friendly.” You placed your first aid kit on the bed beside him and his large eyes immediately focused on it, his lips curled in warning.

“Yeah, that’s mouse, he’s a Maine coon. He loves everyone.” The cat meows in response, almost as if he knows he’s being spoken about and snuggles into the Siren’s lap. He shifts his stare back to you and juts his chin towards the kit, prompting you to explain.

“I’m going to clean your wounds, okay? It’s might sting a little but, I promise it’s going to help.”

“Are you an Apothecary? What is this cream? What is in it that will sting me? Is it venom?” He picks up the tube of antiseptic cream and sniffs it. You’re not sure if he’s a nervous talker or is just very curious but, it’s almost cute. As you watch him, curious yourself, you notice he’s a little green.

“It’s antiseptic cream. I’m going to clean your wounds with it and then dress them. You’re going to need to stay out of the water for a while; just until they close.” You clean the wounds, trying as hard as you can to be gentle.

It still hurts regardless, and he hisses at you when it touches his skin.

“How is this poison meant to help me when it burns this way? How do you know it won’t poison me? I am, after all, not of your kind.” That’s a good question actually – he’s clearly not human so how will it affect him?

You pointedly avoid his question.

“How did you find me? What are you anyway?” He smiles slowly; pointed teeth on full display. His dark eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light of your bedside lamp.

“You called out to me, with my Aegis, I followed your call.” He shrugs and goes back to playing with Mouse and you notice the webbing between his fingers.

Pointed teeth bare at you when you apply the liquid dressings a little too heavy-handed in your shock. Mouse only meows in confusion but, doesn’t move from his spot on the sea creature’s lap. You cringe.

“Sorry. What got you so banged up anyway?” He looks at you quizzically, eyebrows furrowed.

“What injured you?”

“It was the storm, I lost my Aegis; the plate you stole, when the waves became rough. It heals me of injuries. You seafaring people used to steal these from creatures like me, mainly because you think it will give you immortality. Or because you want to trap us.” He’s finally calm and you take this time to really take his features in. He’s very slight and shivers a little as the water on his body chills him.

You gasp when Mouse climbs out of his lap and curls up on your bedspread.

“You’re naked.” He looks at you, incredulously.

“I have no need for clothes, I am a sea dweller.”

“Well, you’re going to freeze because you’re wet, and this is land. I’ll get you some clothes and you can stay here tonight and heal up.” He smiles, his jagged teeth on display.

They still scare you a little.

You smile when you realise that both your kids are asleep.

Picking up your daughter, you quietly carry her to her room, hoping that she doesn’t wake up.

Gently placing her in the she snuggles into her pillow, turning on her side.

“I love you, Peanut. Your daddy loves you too.” You kiss your forehead and head back to your son’s room.

Tucking him in, you kiss his forehead as well. “Good night, Honey. We both love you so much.”

You laugh when you think about the first time you met Doyoung.

He had stayed the night, curled up on your bed with Mouse; while you took the sunbed under the window in your room.

He was gone in the morning, as was his ‘plate’.

You didn’t see him again until the summer was coming to an end.

The coastal winds were sending a chill across town and the days were getting shorter. It had been a month since Doyoung had ‘answered your call’; it didn’t feel real.

If it weren’t for the wet sheets and the briny smell in the air of your room, you would have been sure that it was a vivid dream.

In the weeks that followed, you’d spent every night at the beach’s edge calling out to him, the bitter night air whipping against your body and the moonlight casting an eerie glow against the crashing waves – he never responded, and eventually you gave up.

You walk to your balcony and take a seat overlooking the sea.

The waves looked much the same as they did, the night that Doyoung finally came back.

You were heading away to university, finally. You had bought a house, just off campus, with some of your friends and had all your things packed up.

As much as you’d always complained about your small, middle of nowhere, town; you were going to miss it and all the characters that lived there.

But you also wanted to see Doyoung, just to know that he was okay.

The night before you left you walked to the beach again.

It would be the last time for a while that you would get to see the water and be this close to the coast. It was probably the last chance you would ever have to see him.

So, you’d called out to the sea, one last time.

“It’s me again. I’m sure you probably don’t care to hear from me, to be fair, I don’t even know if you can hear me; but I just want to know if you’re okay. I won’t be home for a while because I’m leaving. So, I suppose this is goodbye, unless I see you again.”

The moon casting a white glow on the inky waves as it hung larger than normal in the sky looked the same as seas at home in Deadhorse. No matter where you went, the water always looked like home.

A ‘Super’ moon the meteorology dept. had called it. They’d issued a warning about the high tide to the local fishermen and coastal folk.

And like the tide to the moon, your husband was drawn once again to the water. That’s where he was now;

Somewhere out in the water, he was doing whatever it was that Sirens did. Was he looking at the moon too? Was he thinking of you?

When you and he first got together, you often worried that each time would be the last time you would see him. The call of the sea was powerful, and you feared that it would one day mean more to him than you. Maybe some day he would never come back. But, after 8 years and 2 beautiful children, your mind was at ease.

As selfish as it sounded, you always wanted him to be by your side; from the moment he walked into library and sat across from you, you were hooked.

“What are you thinking about?” You nearly jump out of your skin when wet, webbed hands place themselves on your shoulder.

It rattles your mind for a moment until Doyoung’s smiling face comes into your view, teeth pointed again.

He always turned when he went to the sea. You’d never seen what he looked like in the water but, you’d seen its after-effects.

“I told the kids about how I first met you and I was just reminiscing about everything.” You shrug, leaving out the part where you were worrying about him leaving you.

Doyoung sits beside you and rests his head on your shoulder, making you gasp.

“Ew, you’re wet Doyoung!” He laughs and shakes his head – splashing water droplets all over you.

“I just got out of the water, I’m still a little green but wait until I’m all dry, I’ll be back to normal. The water was great tonight, you should come with me on the next full moon.” He smiles and his jagged teeth show, slowly returning to a normal state. You smile in surprise.

Whenever Doyoung returned to the sea, it was his private time. This was the first time he’d opened the suggestion to you.

“Why now?” Doyoung dries his hair with a towel and wraps his arms around you.

“You’ve always been curious about that part of my life and I think it’s only fair that I share with you.”

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