#but it hurts. and I'm so fucking sick and tired of crying over her. genuinely. it's exhausting crying all the time

[transgender-catboy]

I love my friends

#i think im just going to talk in the tags for a moment. got a lot on my mind #for starters. the fnaf movie comes out soon. really looking forward to that. think its gonna be awesome and amazing and I'm super excited!!! #secondly. waiting on funds so i can buy that mask i saw the other day and some Halloween candy from Walmart #i . want to do little goodie bags for the kids in my building. but im too scared to go up to their parents and ask candy preference and #allergy concerns. so. idk. maybe I'll just save it. I think it's a cute concept but it makes me feel like my mother. #she loved to do little gift things for people. but it was always people that didn't like her. i don't want to be that way #i know my value. i know my time and energy means something. i don't want to waste it on people who don't give a shit. ya know? #not saying the kids are those kinds of people. not what i mean. but just as an overall thing. i don't like being like her. #...yeah. i dunno. you get raised by one person your whole life. you pick up some of their characteristics #i can't sob without sounding like her. safe to say i am a little emotionally constipated. so i seek other means to relieve that feeling. #like yesterday when i threw up. i played it off like that was a blunder on my body. but i know what i did. #hey. at least it's not the other method. right?. .. yeah. okay. i know. not great either #but it hurts. and I'm so fucking sick and tired of crying over her. genuinely. it's exhausting crying all the time #but that's the only way I can get those emotions out #I've tried to do the counseling thing. but other things made that impossible. then i moved. #and i tried the grief thing but instead i just got a talking buddy? he helps me get out of the house yeah. #but we dont talk about her #... i dunno. I'm just here. #guess i waited long enough. now you get a mini secret. every time i make an i love my friends post. I'm reminding myself why I'm still going #I'm usually sitting around somewhere in my apartment (desk couch bed) crying. alone. thinking about you guys. #so uh. thank you. #i love you guys so much. and i don't know where I'd be without you #probably dead. #💖 #vent

[fayeelikefairie]

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.the start of bright star episode:7!♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

"Softness and understanding"

01:57 ━━━━●───── 02:55

◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻

TW:Mentions of not eating,self harming behaviors,crying,cigarettes,neglect,the normal brightst☆r stuff,mentions of calories

Akira walked home,80s music playing in her headphones as she walked the small distance to her mother's apartment. Guilt filled her as she thought about things,the music being drowned out by her thoughts. "Why am I like this? It's just a cheesecake slice? Im so stupid. I probably concerned one of them." She thought as she opened the apartment building door going up the stairs and unlocking her mother and aunts apartment,and entering. With a pet greeting to her cat, Mimi she held him "awww!! Did you wait for mee?" She said petting the cat who purred "awww so sweett!" She put the cat down. Hearing her phone buzz she took it out of her pocket,seeing it was Sora she was confused.

Why did Sora care? What would Sora need from her? She went to her room,awnsering. "Hey Sora! Ya need something?" She asked,smiling.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. Sora felt worry in her heart as she heard Akiras voice "uhm...yeah." she said,trying to sound stotic as always "are you alright? You look sick as hell." She heard Akira let out a deep breath "yep,just.. uh.. tired.." she said with a shaky voice,Like was about to cry. "You sure? You sure you don't have any problems? You seemed nervous about eating,is something up with that?" Sora asked,her worry becoming more and more obvious. Akira felt annoyed,why did she even care "i..I said I'm fine,don't fucking worry about it." She said. Sora heard the sadness in her voice,the tears. "I'm not gonna sit here and let my friend just hurt themselves!" Sora yelled at the phone "I know we only know eachother through tutoring,but talk to me. Please." She begged.

Akira let out a sniffle,a sign she was crying. Sora frowned she hated yelling and doing that to her friends but she needed to make her point. "Y..you . W..why will you tell anyone?..." Sora sighed, a concerned one,not annoyed "nope. I promise you." Akira took a deep breath "o..okay but if you tell.someone.. just.. please dont." Akira begged with a tearful voice. "Hey,hey calm down,okay.. I wont,just tell me.." Akira took another deep breath "okay... uh.. I don't like myself,I don't like my grades,or my brain... I don't wanna eat,I don't Wanna be okay.. food has so much c.." she stopped,Sora listened. "I.. understand in a way.. I don't like food either,. It has to much,I agree. But we shouldn't be counting it. That's harmful,and it'll fucking kill you or hosphospitalize you. You don't deserve that Akira."

Sora said,genuinely "i.. " Akira just cried over the phone. "Let me help you out.. I've been where your at. It sucks. I know it does,and you never wanna get better. But If you wanna live past 16 you have to. You have dreams don't you" Akira replied, "y..yeah to be in a band.. to be famous.." Sora hummed In response. "If you want to be able to do that you have to get better. In all honesty.. I have that dream to,.. we can work to that dream together,yeah?" Sora tried to assure her. Akira let out a small,soft,shaky "y..yeah.. hey.. can you stay on call with me.. I'm sorry if it's all to much.. i..I understa-" Sora replied with "im okay with that. Your not okay and in a right mindset right now. Let's change the topic to something more bright,okay?" Akira said "o..okay uh.. favorite show,honestly.." she let out a soft laugh.

"Promise not to laugh at me?" Sora asked,embarrassment in her tone, Akira hummed in response "mhm.." Sora laughed a little "okay.. okay.. Magical mayaki.." Akira felt herself smile,she gasped "you know that show!? Oh my gosh! I love that show so much!"

#project sekai #project sekai oc #brightst☆r #project sekai fanfic #project sekai fangroup #hastune miku colorful stage #oc x oc #canon x oc #leo/need

[azurethevampire]

I Will Give You A Reason

A/N: Set in season 6, episodes 2-3 (I think at least it was those episodes xD) This piece is quite angst-filled one, so prepare yourself with tissues if you have to. If there is any mistakes to the few words/sentences of Swedish used in this, they are entirely my own as that isn't my strongest foreign language and I didn't use a translator. Also this was written about a year ago when I watched True Blood for the first time.

Fandom: True Blood

Summary: Emily and Pam have searched for Eric across the world. When they finally find the 1,000 years old viking vampire from France Emily's already shattered world seems to turn into dust: Eric, her rock, her best friend, the only father she's ever had, is sick. 

Characters: Eric Northman, Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, Emily Northman (oc)

Words: 2736

•-•-•-•-•

•-•-•-•-•

"Pam, you have to eat." 

You don't look like yourself, she wanted to add but stopped herself just in time. The vampire had been snappier for a few days now and Emily didn't want to make her mad at her. Not that she believed that Pam would really hurt her, even in anger. She had never done so after that one time and that had been when Emily was six and she hadn't known when to keep her mouth shut. 

Well, maybe she still didn't know when to keep her mouth shut —but she was better than ten years ago!  

Pam turned to look at the teenager—No. The young woman, that Emily had blossomed into in the last months despite that the world seemed to grow shittier every fucking day. Perhaps that was the reason why. Emily had lost that soft roundness on her face and her eyes were tired, dark bags under her eyes. Her clothes hung on her, and Pam, for a brief moment, wondered when was the last time the human herself had eaten. 

"I'm not hungry." 

Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead, she sat down on the only chair in the motel room they were in. "Snälla, Pam. You could at least stop lying to me about it - I'm not blind!" 

Pam was about to snap something back, but instead, her hand reached the doorknob. But before she left the room she turned to face Emily again. "If I can't find anything tonight, I'll feed on you tomorrow, I promise. Stay here, don't open the door to anyone and don't invite anyone in." 

Emily let Pam say those words the vampire had said every night although the girl is tired of hearing them night after night. But it seemed to help Pam, to get to remind her of those small yet so trivial rules. So Emily's "I know" echoed in the empty vampire-friendly motel room after Pam had left and closed the door behind her. 

Her eyes spotted the room key left on the small cracked table near the door. In the first months of their search, Pam locked Emily in but lately, the vampire had not taken the keys with her at all. 

And because of that Emily knew that Pam was starting to become suicidal in their search for Eric.

•-•-•-•-•

“I think I found him.” 

Pam has never - as far as Emily’s memory goes back - sounded more… excited? Happy? No, that is not the right word and she knew that. Pam’s voice was flat, she tried to hide the hope that had filled her but Emily felt it. It radiated off Eric’s first progeny and she couldn’t help it; for the first time in months, Emily dared to let herself hope too. 

But there was something else she sensed from Pam. She was sad too, and that made the girl swallow. “But?” When did my voice start to sound so weak? So small? 

Pam’s next words killed something inside of her. 

“Tara is dead. I felt it.” 

What felt like minutes passed and Emily couldn’t say anything, couldn’t move from her spot. Pam was still but there was no denying the glint in her eyes. Emily and Pam had never been the type to coddle each other. Never. 

Still, Emily raised up in her bed anyway, took the few short steps it took to reach the vampire, who had been her only family for six months now, and she wrapped her arms around her, swallowing and blinking back the tears she felt coming. 

“I’m so sorry, Pam.” 

And Pam - beautiful, bad-ass, smart Pam - returned the young woman’s embrace, letting bloody tears run freely, staining Emily’s shirt with red. 

•-•-•-•-•

The plane landed in France the same evening - Pam in a coffin in the cargo hold. 

They flew to the villa in France. Pam had told Emily that she and Eric used to live here before they were forced to go to Shreveport. 

She could see why the two vampires had chosen this place to reside in — even in the night, the garden surrounding the sand-coloured walls of the large building was breathtakingly beautiful. 

Emily had more pressing matters though than to watch the sights. She could feel him. First time in over six months, Emily felt Eric. That familiar flare that had so long been gone from inside her, burned again. No. Not completely familiar. There was no doubt that the vampire she felt was indeed Eric Northman. But his life force, which had always been so strong… it cracked. Like old dry cement. 

Something is wrong, Emily thought as she followed Pam inside, to a spiral staircase going down, down, down.

Emily swallowed. She had a bad feeling. Very bad feeling - and god, she wished she was wrong. She begged to be wrong. That there was simply something wrong with her own powers, and not something wrong with her Eric. 

Wishful thinking, foolish thinking, she knew. Knew because she had felt this same feeling before over the past months - recently more often than she would have wanted to. 

Emily and Pam started to make their way down the stairs, and Emily - her chest tightened in pain. 

Two youngish and beautiful women met the vampire and the empath on the stairs. One of them said something in French. Emily couldn't understand, she had never bothered learning French. Maybe sometime during 'forever' — she had used to think that. Not anymore, not for a long time now. 

She didn't know what the French woman said but she did feel their emotions. Confusion. Betrayal. Hurt. Confusion. 

The final round of the spiral and Pam and Emily saw the room. 

As soon as Emily's eyes fell on him, she felt her heart tighten. She had thought she had felt pain last night when Tara died the true death. She had been wrong. 

Nothing she had ever felt compared to the heart-wrenching, punch-in-the-gut pain that crashed over her like a hurricane when the dark veins creeping up her guardian's chest, the meaning of them, finally hit her. 

And even though her legs felt like boiled spaghetti, Emily forced herself to step closer to Eric. Eric who was sick. He can't be! He's Eric for fuck's sake! But he could be, and he was. "No" pushed through her lips, past the lump in her throat, the word sounding broken. 

And Eric. 

Eric Northman's eyes switched from his first progeny to his human equivalent to a daughter. "You found me."  

“How long?” Pam asked the question that burned on Emily’s mind too. It seemed that Eric was still in the first stage of the Hep-V virus but she knew that that didn’t mean anything. Not because she didn’t know how long Eric had been sick. He could have months left with proper blood sources but then again, if the disease got worse, he could only have days. 

The tall blonde vampire didn’t answer, not right away. He almost looked like he was about to fall asleep. Hot tears began to blind the teenager’s vision as she grabbed his hand in hers. His hand had always been cold. Cooling touch relieving to Emily. Eric’s hand was warm now. This is wrong! Emily’s mind screamed at her. 

“Eric?”

“Can you repeat the question?” 

And those words that seemed so meaningless, so genuinely apologetic, were the words that sent Emily’s tears falling from her eyes. 

“How long have you been sick?” And Emily heard in Pam’s voice that she was crying too. 

“Saw the first signs last month”, Eric said and not once in the time Emily had known Eric had he sounded so weak. So tired. 

“When you were in St. Petersburg”, Emily heard herself say. She and Pam had tracked Eric there - Pam cursing all of the time they were in Russia, how she hated the Russians with her gut. 

Something flickered in Eric’s blue, tired eyes. And even though faint, Emily felt the emotion: surprise. And even if the situation they are in, is fucked beyond belief, the young woman of seventeen found herself smiling, just the tiniest bit. Because one didn’t sneak up on Eric Northman that easily. 

“Don’t act all surprised”, Pam said behind Emily. “We searched the whole fucking planet for you - St. fucking Petersburg, Eric? You know how I hate the Russian people.” 

“Well, I didn’t know you two were gonna come looking for me”, Eric said, eyes moving to Emily whose eyes squinted slightly. 

“Then you were an idiot”, Emily said in Swedish. Another small wave of surprise from Eric. Emily continued. “Why did you keep moving then?” 

“Yes, I want to know the answer to that as well”, Pam said crossing her arms.  

Eric chuckled, although it awfully sounds like a mix of a chuckle and a cough. Too rough, Emily thought. 

“Congratulations, Pam, Emmy-”, and Emily’s eyes were burning with unshed tears again because it had been so long that she had heard that nickname from Eric. “You have outwitted me.” His hand raised to touch Emily’s cheek. “But only because I’m not well.” 

Pam told about Tara, but to Emily’s confusion, Eric didn’t offer words of comfort, didn’t say he was sorry to hear that. Instead, he asked about a stupid bucket game he played in Marocco - the same game Pam had played last night to get the information of Eric’s location. 

“Oh… I liked the bucket game.” 

And Pam was about to snap, she already took steps forward, but Emily beat the vampire to it. 

“What is wrong with you?! You are Eric fucking Northman!” her hands balled to fists, the tears in her eyes no longer coming out of sadness, but anger. “You don’t give up. You fight!” 

“Fight’s over, Emily.” 

“This can’t all be about Sylvie.” 

Emily didn’t know who Sylvie was. But she knew that Eric giving up like this couldn’t be just because of one person. 

“Godric”, Eric stated. “Nora.” Emily felt a tug of pain in her chest, partly her own, partly the vampire’s whose hand she still held in hers. “And yes, Sylvie too.” 

And Pam’s next question made Emily’s heart skip a beat, two beats. Because she had never, even in her wildest worst-case scenarios, thought about that. Not until Pam put that idea in her head when she asked: “Did you contract the virus on purpose?” 

Eric wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do something so… he wouldn’t! but despite her thoughts, Emily couldn’t have said why she was suddenly so afraid of his answer. 

“On purpose? No-” Eric said, shaking his head a little, and Emily felt a relieved breath leave her. “But did I go about my dealings with a devil-may-care attitude? Absolutely.” 

“Damn you!” Emily snapped, but then she burst into tears. She was exhausted - she hadn’t slept since Marocco and even there it was just a few hours -, and the only thing that had kept her from having a break-down had been hope. Hope that she would see Eric again soon. But this reunion had not been the relief she had waited for. She was glad to see him again, but a small part of her wished they never would have found him. 

Because now, she was afraid. More afraid than she had ever been in her entire life - and that was saying something after the torture Edgington had put her through two years ago. 

Eric tried to reach for the girl, but Emily turned away, scooting back in the chair so she sat by his legs. She pulled her knees up, hugged herself tightly and buried her face in her knees as sobs racked her whole body. She was barely aware that Pam had sat on Eric’s other side, trying to reason with him. 

“Don’t do this to us”, Emily heard Pam start sobbing and she turned her head, just enough that she could see Eric and her again - and she didn’t want to. She really didn’t but she still reached out with her hand, and her fingers - still so small and slim in comparison - wrapped around Eric’s large hand the best they could. “Please, Eric…”, Emily sobbed, too. 

“God damn you!” Pam cursed.  

“For more than 1,000 years, the world has been my oyster”, Eric said. 

“And it still can be”, Pam argued. “I’ll do anything.” Emily squeezed Eric’s hand. Me too. I would do anything for you. She wanted to say but the words refused to leave her. 

“I’ve lost my taste for oysters, Pam.” 

“Then find it again.” Emily’s voice came out harsher than she intended and she gained Eric and Pam’s attention. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she uncurled herself from her position. “Du lovade mig”, Emily said in Swedish, desperately, and her voice was thick with emotion. 

Something in Eric’s eyes shifted. Turned softer and sad. “I know I did, sweetheart, but the world has changed since then.” He grabbed Emily’s wrist and pulled her towards him - and even sick, Emily found out that Eric was still so much stronger than she was. She was only human after all - even if it was with a little something extra. Eric’s feelings were clear and honest at his next words as his hand rested on the side of Emily’s face, thumb lightly brushing away her tears. 

“My sweet little Emily”, Eric whispered, his lips forming a quick smile, sad and warm at the same time. “You are gonna go out there. You are gonna grow up to be a beautiful, smart woman, go to some stupid fucking university and find yourself a good, loving human husband. You’re going to have kids and you will tell them stories about their 1,000 years old vampire grandfather… and you will be happy… Do you understand?” 

Emily swallowed, her hand raising on top of Eric’s now-wrong-temperature hand. She only barely managed to croak out the tiniest of “yes”. Even though she knew she would not do any of that. 

“You should go. Both of you.” 

Pam was crying but she was the first to rise from beside Eric and start to walk towards the staircase. 

This is wrong! Emily’s mind screamed as she rose. Virus or no virus Eric was not just any other vampire - he was Eric! 1,000 years old vampire and a viking! Vikings had not just sat down and waited for death to come collect them! At least Emily didn’t think so. No. Vikings, they avenged. Just like Eric had avenged his human family only seven or so months ago. 

As his last act… Emily felt no guilt of thinking about this at that moment, no guilt about throwing someone else’s life to a path to death - as far as she was concerned the other person deserved it. 

As his last act before true death, Eric Northman could take revenge against the person who did this to him. 

“Sarah Newlin”, Emily said, turning back to face Eric again. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Pam turn on her heels a glint of surprise and (oh that traitorous) hope in her eyes. 

“What about her?” Eric asked, his eyes closed. 

“What if I told you that Jason Stackhouse let her live.” 

Eric’s eyes opened, his voice hardened. “He didn’t.” 

“He did”, Pam said, catching on to Emily’s plan. “And she’s out there.” 

“Where?” 

“No one’s seen her”, Emily said. 

“I have to imagine she’s in hiding somewhere”, Pam offered. 

Emily saw Eric’s jaw clench. Then… then, with what seemed like a heavy effort, Eric pushed himself up in the chair and slowly, slower than Emily was used to seeing the vampire’s motions - Eric Northman stood in front of her, grasping her shoulder, as his eyes once again roamed between his girls. 

“Well, let’s go find her.” 

Emily wasn’t naive. She knew that Eric was still dying, but at least now he wouldn’t just sit down here and wait for it. He would go down fighting. 

Just like he had taught her was the right way to go. 

Just like the viking he was supposed to be - just like Eric fucking Northman was supposed to fight. 

So, yes, Eric was still dying but at least now - and maybe it was selfish to think that way, but Emily didn’t find it in herself to care - Emily had a few more days to spend with the man who had taken her in as if she was his progeny instead of some orphan human child with empath powers. 

#true blood #true blood fic #eric northman #pamela swynford de beaufort #oc #eric northman fic #my writing #my fic #true blood oc #oc: emily northman #angst fic

[agustdef]

With All My Heart

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Hoseok x Doctor!Reader.

Genre: Established Relationship; Angst; Fluff

Word Count: 11K

Warning: Angsty. Language...?; Mention of Death; Mentions of mental health struggles

Rating: PG15

Banner Maker: @httpangelicjimin​ who was wonderful enough to remake this one after realized the other wouldn’t work and then proceeded to use it for I Found You.

Beta Reader: @suhdays​ who knew I was in a rush and was kind enough to offer to beta it for me without me asking. 

When Hoseok came home from his last appointment, he found the apartment mostly silent and way cleaner than when he’d left that morning. Probably cleaner than after the weekly Sunday morning routine was finished, which was impressing and worrisome. But also made him hopeful.

After discarding his shoes and jacket at the door, he headed to the bedroom where he found YN already settled into bed. She wore a large shirt – with the words fight me with a leprechaun on front – that she’d probably stolen from Yoongi’s closet during their last visit, her bonnet, and a koala face mask. Her eyes were focused on the TV on the wall opposite their bed and she hummed along with the intro to the anime she was watching.

It was the most relaxed he’d seen her in weeks.

“Hey baby,” he said.

That drew her attention towards him, and she smiled when they locked eyes, though that stopped as soon as her mask shifted. She was happy to see him and had missed him after the day she’d spent alone. Not that she was lonely or anything, but it felt nice to break away from being by herself.

“Hi. You’re home early. I thought you had to work on that big piece tonight?” she said.

That made Hoseok annoyed in an instant. He huffed and rolled his eyes while his fingers ran through his hair. The memory of the evening he had before, and after he finished what turned into his last client filled his head.

“She called and said she couldn't make it. Which was fine, because I wasn't up to working on it tonight anyway. I'm still feeling sick I guess. But, then she kept changing her mind, and when she finally decided to come - and said she was on her way - she didn't come at all. No response to calls or any of the messages I sent. But I was scrolling through the shop's feed while waiting for my other person only to see her at some other shop we follow getting a different tattoo. I just told her that if she wasn’t going to honor appointments and give me the run around, then we weren’t the right fit.”

In response YN frowned. It was clear how annoyed and tired he was, even without the added stress of a wishy washy, client who just thought they could do whatever the hell they wanted when requesting someone’s time. She wanted to knock the girl upside her head, but it wasn’t realistic, and she’d never go out of her way to attack someone. Though the idea of cussing her out if she appeared at the shop when YN was around didn’t seem too terrible of a plan.

However, that wasn’t something that either of them lingered on long because Hoseok sneezed five times in a row and by the third he seemed wiped out.

YN took off her mask and threw it in the trash near her side of the bed before hopping up. She opened her bedside table and pulled out a thermometer, which she quickly freed from its little bad as she rounded the bed to where he stood. Hoseok knew better than to argue so his mouth opened before she even raised her arm to stick it in.

They stood there for a moment staring at each other, until they heard the beep and when YN looked at the temperature she winced.

“You went up so much since this morning. You’re practically at fever levels. Go take a shower and get in bed. I’ll get some stuff for you to take,” she said.

There was no way Hoseok would argue with how he felt. It was like once he was at home and stopped moving his body had started to give up. He felt heavy and he ached a little here and there. His head also felt a little weird, but he chalked up part of that to being frustrated. So, once she stepped away from him he dragged himself to the bathroom.

By the time he finished his shower and pulled on some clothes, YN was already back in the room. She’d had a bowl, a mug, and a glass of water sitting on the table near his side of the bed. And she was unfolding a blanket, which Hoseok recognized as one the weighted ones. It was something that YN pulled out whenever one of them was having a tough time sleeping or in general, and when they got sick. Something about the thing eased the body into relaxation that neither of them had ever felt before.

When she noticed his arrival, she smiled at him and patted the bed. Hoseok moved as quickly as his body would allow him and plopped down onto the bed. Before he could do much else she placed the bowl into his hands.

“It’s a mix of the broths from the soup your mom brought and that Mama Min brought. You are to never tell them that I did this. Or that while both are good they taste next level combined. I will not be killed because I took care of you,” she said.

At that Hoseok laughed, and then drank down the broth. YN wasn’t wrong about it being better combined, which was part of the reason he downed it despite the burn he felt. Naturally, YN chastised him as he did because she could see the pain on his face, but he paid her no mind. Once finished, she replaced the bowl with the mug and one look inside had him sitting it down.

“You know I don’t like that version of ginseng. Why can’t I drink the other one?” he whined.

“Because it’s the kind that helps you the most and it hides the taste of the medicine you hate so much. This is your own fault for being a wimp and not wanting to drink it down by itself. So drink it,” she said.

Of course, he didn’t do it right away. Hoseok stared YN down and attempted his best puppy dog eyes and pout, but was met with an unamused expression that became more uncaring as each second passed. That didn’t deter hum though, at least not for about a minute or so when it was clearly she only grew more impatient with him.

With a huff he grabbed the mug and quickly downed the shot of ginseng and medicine. He winced in reaction to how bitter it was and immediately snatched the glass of water up as YN took the mug from him. Once he’d downed that as well she grabbed all the dishes and headed out of the bedroom.

“Get comfortable in bed,” she called back.

Upon return she had both of their 34oz water bottles filled up and ready for them to drink through the night if need be. Which for Hoseok was often while sick and because she’d caught a little of his cold she too needed a few sips at random times if she woke up.

After giving it to him, she climbed into bed and slid under the blanket. It may have been summer but they tended to keep their room on the colder side, which meant that they wouldn’t overheat just because they slept under them; which was good because YN needed to be under a blanket to sleep.

Getting comfortable didn’t take them long, since they were both so wiped out from their days. And despite Hoseok’s sickness they cuddled together, because unlike him YN continued her dose of medicine until it was gone. She knew she wasn’t one hundred percent better even when the symptoms appeared to have left her completely.

They stayed cuddled together for about half an hour watching what YN had on before he’d come home. Nothing felt tense or awkward in their silence, just comfortable and relaxed.

But as time went on Hoseok remembered the feeling he’d had upon his arrival home. The worry that filled him when he saw how much she’d cleaned by herself in the time he’d been gone. And the hope he’d had at knowing she’d found enough energy to even make the effort to clean that much in the first place. She’d been out of it for weeks and it was the first major sign that something changed. Or that’s what he wished for.

Hoseok turned his head to look at her, well more like assess her face. It was relaxed and she seemed genuinely interested in what was on the screen and not off in her own little world. Though once she realized he was staring she turned his way and his assessment was over almost as quickly as it began.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her brow raised.

For a moment Hoseok debated telling her no, but that didn’t sit right with him. He needed to say something or it would bother him until he blurted it out. Or there was a chance she’d bottle it all up and not say anything at all because she was fine or she didn’t want to dump on him because he wasn’t her therapist.

“How was your session?” he asked.

There was a momentary change in her expression, but she didn’t let it linger for long. That made him even more worried, but he waited for her to say something. Though he knew if she was holding back and if he should push her.

“It was fine, I guess. Less crying than usual. We talked about all my other issues and saved how I was feeling about my mom for last. I think she hoped that by keeping me in a time constraint of twenty minutes I’d be forced to get out the main issues first and avoid going off into tangents. She was very wrong about that and the appointment ran for half an hour longer than it should have. I’d gotten so worked up that it wasn’t wise to try to force me down quickly,” she said.

Hoseok nodded along and reached under the blanket to grab her hand but didn’t utter a word. Just like her therapist he wanted her to let things out at her own pace.

“I mean it’s getting easier, but I don’t know. How is one supposed to process the death of their mother? And it doesn’t help that on top of that it’s dealing with how we were estranged. Knowing that my mix of apathy and deep hurt are valid. That it’s okay that I’m not as torn up about her dying as I think I should be. That I’m not torn up about losing a chance at speaking to the sibling that I never wanted to deal with because he moved back to the US. Dealing with calls from a slew of aunts and uncles who regularly give no fucks about me, questioning why I’m not there, and why I chose not to be heavily involved in the process. Why I could only show up. Why I didn’t stay longer.”

The more she spoke the shakier her voice got and it broke Hoseok’s heart. She was getting better and he knew that, but he always knew it was a lot to overcome. The loss of her only parent, despite their relationship, was something hard to deal with or so he imagined it. It had even affected Yoongi a great deal since he’d been close to her before too, but he recovered faster.

More than anything, Hoseok wished he could find some magic way to lessen the pain and confusion for her, but he felt just as helpless as when she found out. She’d come to the shop when she still had six hours of her twelve hour shift left to go and looked in shock. Without a word she’d run into Yoongi’s arms as he’d come out of his room after hearing Jungkook’s frantic calls. There she burst into tears, and through the sobbing told them that her mother had been in a car accident and didn’t make it.

None of them, except Yoongi, had ever seen her cry that hard and he tried his best to be her rock, but he broke with her. They broke down in the middle of the shop, falling to their knees as they cried together. The boys decided to close after that and just let them cry, comforting them when they could. And at some point they called Beau and Mama Min to tell them what had happened.

From there, they had to wait until they were calm enough to get them in a car to head back to Yoongi’s place. There they were met by Beau and Mama Min, who accepted them with open arms. The sobbing started all over again and they slowly got them to calm down enough to eat and shower. Everyone assumed it was a sleepover kind of situation, so they’d gotten Jin and Taehyung to swing by their places to grab stuff for them.

The entire night was just everyone surrounding YN on the makeshift nest they’d made. She never once let go of Yoongi’s hand and he didn’t dare release hers. And as they slept she cuddled into Mama Min’s side holding onto her for dear life with her other hand.

Seeing her shattered like that was eye opening for Hoseok, and he tried his best to make sure she was okay. Work gave her two weeks off, but when she didn’t bounce back quickly they extended the leave for a little longer. Then when that ran out she used vacation time she’d saved up. That was the start of when she actually made progress in not being a shell of her former self and Hoseok would tell her to take off all the time in the world if it meant that she’d be better.

But, as Hoseok sat there thinking about how he wished there was something he could do to fix things he realized there was something he could at least try to make her feel a bit better. And it would allow him to do something that he’d been wanting to for a while.

Smiling at her he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling away and staring into her eyes.

“We haven’t gone out in a while. So, what do you say about us and everyone going out to the beach for a week? We can do it next week too. Go to the beach house and hang out, have some fun,” he said.

For a moment it felt like she’d say no, especially because she looked so emotional, but then she nodded. And Hoseok watched as a smile worked its way onto her lips, bigger and more genuine than he’d seen in a while.

“That sounds like what I need,” she said.

Happy with that, Hoseok leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before pulling away and snuggling into her. They continued their comfortable cuddly night in and slowly drifted to sleep together. Hoseok’s mind focused on planning things out perfectly until he knocked out.

The day before they were to leave to head to the beach house YN had planned to spend it packing and relax because the journey was tiresome. However, Hoseok had other plans and just as she finished packing her stuff he called her to come down to the shop for the night. Saying no was an option, but he sounded so excited that she couldn’t help but say yes.

So, on a Friday night when she could’ve been in her home eating and playing video games she found herself in Hoseok’s tattoo room by herself. Upon her arrival she’d been told he’d run out for a second and would be back in a bit. And in that case a bit meant thirty minutes or so after she got there.

Annoyed was an understatement, especially when she saw that he read the texts she’d sent asking him where he was. When it got too much, she got up to leave, but the moment she put her hand on the knob she was stumbling back because the door was being pushed open from the outside.

Hoseok – sweaty and breathing heavily – held bags of food and balanced multiple drinks in a tray. His eyes were wide and his mouth open in that uncomfortable mouth breathing way. Like YN could see the man’s uvula clear as day.

For a while they stood there staring at each other, that was until Hoseok regained control of his breathing.

“Were you about to leave?”

“Yes. You asked me to come at a specific time and you’re not here. Then I have to wait over thirty minutes where you open and don’t respond to my texts. How much longer did you think I was going to stay? Especially since you asked me to come here when I planned to not leave the couch until I absolutely had to all night,” she said.

At that Hoseok frowned. Moving past her a little he placed the stuff down in the tattoo chair that was reclined back. Then he moved to stand in front of her, his hands cupped her face. He stared at her expression and saw the slight bags under her eyes and the lingering sadness. She’d done so well for almost a week following his proposal of the beach trip, but the last day or two something shifted.

Her mother’s husband had found a way to contact her and it had thrown her off. Though the conversation had gone well it had brought her two steps back. Hoseok had woken up to her crying in the middle of the night and through the tears she’d managed to say that she felt like she was doing something wrong despite knowing she wasn’t. Despite knowing she was doing what was best for her and her mental state she felt like it was all wrong. Overthinking her decisions needlessly. The next morning – after he’d gotten her to sleep – she apologized and told him she knew that she was right and having a conversation with her mother’s husband that didn’t go horribly or fill her with anger felt off.

Things got better after that, but it took more than a moment of clarity and a talk with her therapist over the phone to get her back to where she’d been before. And that was why Hoseok had come up with the idea to call her into the shop. Well Jungkook and Taehyung came up with the idea to take her out before they all left, but he came up with what they’d do.

“I know, but I wanted to do something before we left. I swear we shouldn’t be here all night and I got that burger you were craving,” he said, a pout formed on his lips.

The usual thing would be for YN to throw the smallest of fits because she felt so tired, but his stupid face was there and she couldn’t say no. Plus she hadn’t left the apartment much in a week and needed the change of scenery even if it wasn’t a major one.

YN sighed. “Fine.”

With her answer and the small smile he saw fighting to take form on her lips Hoseok finally stopped his pouting. Leaning forward he pressed a quick kiss to her lips before releasing his hold on her face and moving over to the food. He carefully removed everything from the bags and then ran to put two of the four drinks in the tray into his mini freezer.

All the while YN stood and watched him; she hadn’t wanted to get in the way of what he was doing. The man could be anal about how things were handled when he was attempting to make some nice gesture and she’d been on the end of one of his glares before. Though she knew he wasn’t actually mad she knew not to push it further. There was no need for her to deal with a pouty baby later because things veered off plan; especially since she’d shown up before he could get back.

“Okay, so I know you were craving a burger and I went to the place you like and got you a double cheeseburger with extra pickles and a large fry. Also, a sprite and a chocolate milkshake,” he said.

Hearing him list the things made something stir inside YN. After giving into him she’d gotten less annoyed, but that hadn’t meant her mood shifted completely. Despite not being actively sad she felt down and having him get her the thing she’d been craving and getting her out of the house brightened her day. The corners of her mouth even turned up in a smile, something that hadn’t graced her lips once since she’d arrived – or all that day for that matter.

So, she watched as he excitedly continued and reassured her that the things she didn’t like weren’t on the burger and that he thought it would be good for them to sit in his room to eat. There was something about another plan of his, but she barely heard him as she smiled and watched him closely. His smile grew as he excitedly spoke of his idea, causing her own to do the same.

Hoseok was mid-ramble when he noticed that she was smiling at him. A truly genuine one at that. It made his heart beat a little erratically, but he didn’t mind at all. YN’s happiness was his priority and it felt good for him to see that she looked happy, even for a moment.

“Should we start eating?” he asked.

She nodded and he moved one of his chairs over to her so she could sit down to eat her food at the tattoo chair. In many cases she’d object, but the smell of multiple disinfectants told her that he’d cleaned the thing multiple times before her arrival. Plus, he’d laid a paper you’d see when you went to the doctor over the seat, so there was an added barrier from the food and the not so cleanly people who sometimes sat in it.

Though her mouth watered at the smell and the visual of her food YN waited until Hoseok was seat in his own chair across from her. He gave her a pointed look that she knew well from all the times he got annoyed at her not just eating and she dug into it without a word.

Not speaking was something they maintained for a few minutes before Hoseok swallowed a bite that he barely chewed.

“Did you finish getting everything ready?” he asked.

She nodded, because unlike him she liked to chew her food quite a bit before swallowing it.

“Yeah. Everything of mine is packed, as well as stuff we need for the beach, most of the snacks, and I grabbed all your stuff but didn’t pack it.”

Hoseok scoffed. “Good.”

At that she couldn’t help but to roll her eyes.

“You could’ve just let me pack it all for you. That way you don’t have to worry about it when you get home. Plus, you’re going to ask me to help when something doesn’t fit anyway,” she mumbled.

“I can back my own stuff. I’m a big boy. Besides who says I’ll need your help this time, I’m not even taking a whole lot with me.”

There was no verbal response to that, just a shake of the head as she gave up on the topic. At the end of the day she knew she was right and that Hoseok would come to her whining about something not fitting right or being unable to zip the bag. And the solution would be to refold something, rearrange how things sat, or make him realize he didn’t need as many pairs of shoes as he packed. And he definitely didn’t need to bring multiple colors of the same chunky, ugly pair of shoes that she hated.

She wished she could burn them but he loved them too much.

From there silence persisted for a bit and then she randomly turned her head to see a sketch on his wall of an anime she’d watched a long time ago. Naturally, that started a whole conversation about it and how much Hoseok hadn’t liked it as a kid. Something about his sister forcing him to watch it and him not liking the main character. Which led to a discussion about other main characters they both didn’t like. It spiraled into the difference between characters made unlikable as a part of their stories and how some were just not great and people played them off as unlikable on purpose. That didn’t stop people critiquing them though. Definitely didn’t stop YN.

As they talked their food lessened until it was gone. Hoseok took the initiative to clean it up and directed YN to the freezer. She grabbed their shakes and sat the one that was clearly white and black down on his side, grabbing a straw and jabbing it into her own cup. Her lips wrapped around it to pull some of the frozen treat up, but she struggled with how thick it was. When she finally got some out she pulled away with a smile.

“I see it’s up to your standards of thick. Sure you don’t want a spoon?” he asked upon his return to the seat.

YN shook her head vigorously and went in for more. Part of her brain hated the struggle, but the joy that filled her each time she finally got some was too great. The thick milkshakes were always the best.

While she did that Hoseok moved to his computer and turned on some music, his usual tattooing playlist blasted through the speakers. He turned it down when he saw YN flinch and then slid his chair back over to the seat. He grabbed his own straw and milkshake and sucked it down. It was thick, but the normal kind. No part of him had the patience to wrestle with his food or drink, so despite how much creamier it was her way he chose not to suffer.

About half the milkshake was gone before he got up from the seat and snatched YN’s from her hand – despite protest – to put back in the freezer. When he turned around he was met with her pouting and he wanted to give it back but they had other things to do as well.

“There’s another reason I asked you to come,” Hoseok said.

“Which is?”

He didn’t respond, just gathered a few things and prepped his small rolling table for tattooing before pushing towards her. There was no time to process what he meant by the action because then he was whipping off his shirt and taking a seat in the tattoo chair.

His intentions were beyond clear.

“Today?” she asked.

“Today.”

“But I-”

“Aht, no buts. You’re ready to do this and you were so excited to get to tattoo an actual person. So, today you’re going to do me and then Yoongi another time. Probably the others too since they’re all babies who can’t be left out.” He rolled his eyes while he said the last bit.

“That’s so many, I didn’t sign up for that. And why now? I’m not prepared for this. I don’t even have the stencil ready or-”

Again she didn’t get far because Hoseok pointed to a sheet of paper on the table that had various copies of the tattoo they’d agreed on and a pair of scissors.

The man had truly taken the time to make sure that everything was set. Which was sweet, but also spiked YN’s nerves. So much that any sadness that she’d felt was nowhere on her mind.

Hesitation was clear on her face as Hoseok watched her and he worried she was stuck amid her sadness, but then he noticed the nervous glint in her eyes. He found it cute that the woman cut open people for a living and was worried about how her tattoo would come out. Even though she caught onto tattooing faster than anyone in the shop and had the steadiest hand of all of them.

Reaching over Hoseok cupped her face and forced her gaze on him.

“You’ll do fine. We chose this tattoo because it was quick and basic. Line work and some shading. You even did it a million times on oranges, lemons, and grapefruit. It’ll be great,” he encouraged.

There was an urge to protest, but YN didn’t. She rose from her seat and walked out of the room. She went to wash her hands and then came back to slip gloves onto them. She lifted the arm rest and placed his arm on it, careful to look around for a good spot. Hoseok was tattooed almost completely on both arms, but there was a spot on his left forearm that had enough space.

From there she was kind of on autopilot. She cut the stencil and placed it on the spot to double check that it would work. Once pleased she set it back on the table and grabbed an antiseptic wipe to clean the area. She spent way too much time on that, but Hoseok didn’t comment on it. Before she knew it she was actually placing the stencil onto his skin and peeling it off, the thin purple lines transferred perfectly.

By then the nerves had returned and she was ready to back down, but then she made eye contact with Hoseok and he gave her an encouraging smile. She couldn’t stop then, she needed to see the tattoo through.

She got the gun and the ink ready, but the vibe felt off. So, without a word she rolled over to the computer and pulled off a glove. There were several clicks before Jonghyun’s beautiful voice filled the space. It was the first song on her surgery playlist and in a way tattooing was like that, so it was the perfect relaxer.

After replacing the glove she took off with another one she got to work. The tip of the needle dipped into the black ink and using her free hand she pressed Hoseok’s arm down and began the tattoo.

The design was a crescent moon – which would be shaded in – and a sun combined. Where the moon stopped lines and dots of varying lengths were used to make clear that it was the sun. Nothing intricate, but still something she worried about messing up.

Her movements were careful and steady, her hand moving easily as she traced the outline of the moon. It took her shorter than she thought even with her excessive wiping, but she wasn’t pleased with the outcome. It wasn’t bad at all, basically perfect. However, she’d been so nervous that the lines were too thin.

“If you want it thicker you can do it. I know Yoongi worked with you on that the last few sessions. I only taught you to start with thinner lines just in case you’re unsure,” Hoseok offered as if he read her mind.

YN nodded, chewing on her lower lip as she went in again. That time her lines were a little heavier and though part of her worried that it was a mistake to make them that thick, by the time she’d finished and wiped the excess she was pleased with it.

Being happy with her outcome meant that she felt more confident, which meant she went into the next part with less worry. She shaded the moon in with vigor and had to mutter a few apologies when Hoseok whined about her being too aggressive. It was just that she got excited and so into the work.

Which meant that she didn’t notice Yoongi when he’d silently entered the room. He stood behind her, though about a foot away so he wasn’t crowding her. Him and Hoseok watched as she finished the shading and went on to the lines to create the sun. Her hand moved carefully as she did and though there were a few curses when she thought she messed up, there were also those lightbulb moments when she realized she could make up the length with a few extra dots. Nothing ruined at all.

Once finished she set the gun to the side and carefully used the other items on the table to clean it. Seeing the cleaned version had her scared it was a mess, but the more she stared at it the more she liked it.

“You did good. How the hell did you get that to curve so fluidly?” Yoongi said, startling her with his sudden presence.

“She was so worried she’d mess up, I told her it would be fine,” Hoseok said.

Involuntarily, YN rolled her eyes. They enjoyed double teaming her on everything, but self-doubt was by far their favorite.

“Let the man see the new tattoo,” Yoongi said, playful nudging her shoulder.

Her eyes widened as she remembered he couldn’t see it well from the angle he was at and she moved away from the chair so he could get up. Hoseok immediately went over to the floor length mirror hanging near the door. He held out his arm and examined it closely – and for way too long – without saying anything. If he hadn’t smiled before he spoke she would’ve thrown up in fear he hated it.

“I told you, you’d do good baby,” he said.

Tension melted from her body at that and Hoseok watched on in joy. Not only had she accomplished her first tattoo, but she also appeared genuinely happy. There was nothing about her that exuded sadness or showed that she was even vaguely in a low place. It didn’t mean she was completely free from the thoughts, but it did mean that she wasn’t caught up in them enough to show any outward reactions. And since she wasn’t the best at keeping her emotions hidden and bottled up that was a win.

From the eye contact he made with Yoongi for a moment the older male also appeared to think so. Flashing Hoseok a thumbs up when YN wasn’t looking.

The first part of Hoseok’s plan was a success.

The trip to the beach was long and started early. They’d rented a twelve-seater van to drive there and alternated drivers. Jungkook, Yoongi, and YN switched out every two hours so no one got too complacent or tired with the six hour drive. It was trying sometimes because of stupid drivers or someone complaining too much, but they made it there without anyone killing someone else.

A true win.

They arrived at the beach house late afternoon and decided they’d spend that night in. None of them had enough energy from the trip to anything and they had a full week to venture out. Plus avoiding the massive crowd on a Saturday night was a win.

Food was ordered in front various places because everyone either wanted something different or couldn’t make up their mind on what they wanted at all. Dinner was eaten and though it started off with minimal conversation they all eventually started talking about random things and eventually it led to talk of what they would do the next day. Hoseok mentioned something about the amusement park nearby, which got YN excited immediately and everyone agreed with that.

However, the quickness in which they all said yes wasn’t lost on YN despite her excitement. Usually they all took forever deciding what to do on any group outing and when they did there was some sort of whining. But everyone had agreed and then went about eating like everything was fine. No questions asked. No adjustments to time. No concerns about being there for so long. Just compliance.

It was something YN planned to ask about and fight against if they were doing it because she wanted to. Them giving in just because it would make her happy because she’d been so down wasn’t something she was okay with. The thought was nice, but she preferred they did their own things if that’s what they wanted. But she didn’t get to ask because everyone finished and before she knew it Hoseok escorted her to their room.

And like clockwork her body felt heavy the moment her eyes laid on the bed. Not even the pretty view from their balcony could draw her in. Which made it easy for Hoseok to maintain control to get her in the shower and then bed in the matter of thirty minutes.

By the time her head hit the pillow she felt refreshed, but like she’d cried for a few hours straight. The kind of tired where you don’t really feel one with the world and everything is almost like an outsider looking in. Though when she looked at Hoseok he grounded her a bit.

He took a few minutes longer to get into the bed after she did, slipping in wearing nothing but his boxers. Which was fine because she was in short shorts and a crop top. Something that seemed to warrant him poking her stomach every so often, which she allowed to happen because she didn’t have it in her to stop him.

Hoseok knew what he was doing too and that he’d pay for it once she slept, though she tended to forget things when too tired. But he stopped his poking and prodding after a few seconds, preferring to pull her close so they were cuddled together. Her leg thrown over him and their faces resting inches away from each other. He wanted to stay up a little and talk, but her eyes were closed and her breathing slowing.

For once she didn’t argue about it only being 8:00pm and thus too early to sleep. She’d say that every time they went on a trip, but more than anything she’d been saying it since after her mother’s funeral. Even when she looked exhausted and mentally not there she refused to sleep that early. So it felt good to see her not do it for once and after placing a kiss on her lips that thought lulled Hoseok to sleep.

Because they’d fallen asleep so early everyone was up at around seven the next morning. Well, everyone except for Jin, Beau and YN. They’d all woken up and ventured out of their rooms at around five almost six and decided yoga was the move. They gathered on the back patio of the house where you could see the beach and got to work.

Yoga was something that Jin and YN did regularly. The hospital had classes for all the staff to take and they’d gone with no intentions to ever do it again, but then realized how good they felt the days after. From then on they went to the classes or met up in a secluded part of a park early in the morning to do it before going out for breakfast or something. Beau joined in once when YN did it at home and then usually join her anytime he saw her doing it. Sometimes even joining her and Jin when they ventured out.

It was a great first moment of the vacation and one of the few times she’d felt so at peace in a long while.

From there they showered, got dressed, and went down to make breakfast. They’d picked up some groceries before getting to the house so they didn’t have to worry about it later.

By the time they finished everyone was up. Food was consumed at an alarming rate and everyone got ready with the same quickness. They wanted to get to the park at opening so they could have a better chance to get on everything. Which led to a lot of yelling and rushing people to hurry up and get to the van.

Hoseok took it upon himself to drive them there and as the rides came into view the closer they got the more excited YN got. She bounced in her seat and almost opened her door before the car came to a full stop.

That was dangerous and with the way Yoongi looked at her Hoseok thought she’d get scolded, but in fact the older man was upset that she tried to cheat. Which confused Hoseok until he whipped the door open and sprinted towards the entrance, YN hot on his heels and yelling about who was the real cheater.

It was like watching two children and goodness did it make Hoseok feel good.

When the others reached them they both stood there with big smiles and holding wrist bands, all of them the kind that were used for those with fast passes.

Hoseok narrowed his eyes at them, but neither of them looked regretful about what they’d done. In fact, they both appeared way too smug.

“What did we say about you two buying everything before anyone gets a chance? It’s not allowed on this trip or any trip,” Beau said.

Yoongi and YN turned to each other and shrugged, then thrusted a wristband into everyone’s hands. Since it wasn’t their first time out with the two amusement park junkies they all knew to get the bands on quickly, as if their lives depended on it. Yoongi had once wrapped Jungkook’s so tight that it limited circulation in his hand and they had to get another.

No one wanted to repeat that.

Without missing a beat they walked towards the workers scanning people in, leaving the others to catch up. Both of them were several feet inside the park by the time the others caught up again. They stood perfectly still and took in the park. One could feel the excitement that radiated off them.

It took Taehyung clearing his throat multiple times before they turned to face the rest of the group. Though that only lasted for a second before they were focused on each other.

“We meet here in four hours?” YN asked.

Yoongi nodded. “Right here and then I kick your ass in everything.”

That made YN scoff but she refrained from any trash talk in retaliation, there was always enough of that during them playing the games. Besides her focus was on something else.

Off in the distance was a ride that was way too high and moved way too fast – by even her standards – but the expression on her face showed how much she wanted to try it. So, without a word to the others Hoseok walked forward, grabbed her hand, and headed towards it. Everyone else went their own way, except for Jungkook and Taehyung who followed behind them. Hoseok felt like he was going to be sick the whole way, but YN and Jungkook reassured him the whole time while Taehyung poked fun at him, though it was clear that was only to calm his own nerves.

Once on the thing they all were ready to shit themselves but pushed through and as the it reached the first drop. YN and Hoseok made eye contact for a second and there was a reassuring feeling that flowed through them, but the next thing they knew they were sailing through the air so quickly it took a moment for her to breathe properly again.

The entire ride there was no moment to relax or get used to it. Even knowing what was to come didn’t make it any easier to adjust.

It was exhilarating.

That feeling is why Taehyung and Hoseok ended up waiting as YN and Jungkook went on again. Neither of them wanted to relive that and the fast pass line wasn’t that long, so they just sat on a bench a few yards from where the line-up started.

“So, are you going to do it today?” Taehyung asked, his voice a bit strained.

At first Hoseok was confused by the question and then it dawned on him what he meant. A different kind of discomfort settled in him at the thought of saying yes and so he shook his head quickly.

“Definitely not,” he muttered.

Taehyung turned to look at him with a raised brow and confusion.

“I thought that was the plan? Get her all happy and then do it? Don’t tell me you’re chickening out?” he teased.

Hoseok reached over and lightly punched his shoulder, a soft – but nervous – laugh escaping his lips.

“I’m going to, just not today. I want to make sure she’s good first. I’d hate to do it while she’s still wrapped up in sadness. That would make the whole thing much more complicated than it already is.”

At that Taehyung shrugged and turned his attention back towards the ride. They sat in a comfortable silence watching it climb high and then drop, looping a few times before it climbed again. It was more nerve wrecking watching it move like that then being on it, but that didn’t mean that Hoseok wished he was on it instead. He never planned to get on that ride again if he could help it.

About twenty minutes or so passed before they both returned and then everyone was off to other rides. They were all their own level of terrifying, but as they ran from ride to ride Hoseok got used to the fear and thrill that came along with them. He’d even agreed to go on one twice, which made YN beyond happy. Especially since she could see the eagerness was genuine. As if him being the one to request they go again wasn’t clear enough.

They continued on like that for a while, though eventually Jungkook wanted to circle back to get on something they’d all said no to. He convinced Taehyung to go with him and then Hoseok and YN were traversing the park alone.

A few more rides after the departure of the others and Hoseok forced a stop for food. Which wasn’t a whole lot and less than Hoseok would’ve liked her to eat, but it was more than she’d had some of the days from weeks before. A win in his book.

Before they went to get on some more rides they stopped to get a dessert, which was ice cream wrapped in a crepe. The park hadn’t had it the last time they’d come to it and that made YN all the more eager to indulge. They reminded her of ones she’d had in Japan when she’d gone for six months to study in high school. They tasted like them too.

“I don’t know if I should get another one now or later when we’re about to leave,” she said.

Hoseok laughed as he watched her devour it.

“I think I saw a stand with it near the entrance so you can get it when we leave,” he offered.

Though she looked conflicted at first, she smiled and nodded after a bit. No matter how practiced she was at eating and getting on rides too much dairy was a mistake. Fifteen-year-old her learned that the hard way.

After food was consumed, they went on a few more rides and then headed back toward where they were to meet with fifteen minutes to spare. The walk was taken slowly and they intertwined fingers as they went.

It was a moment of peace among the chaos and when YN looked at Hoseok with one of the brightest smiles he’d seen in a while he felt near tears. She’d been so happy and never once did her expression falter or her body language shift negatively. There was so much freedom and joy radiating from her and despite his optimism he’d been scared she’d stay shrouded in darkness for forever. So to have that voice in his head silenced because she was there and existing outside of it was just the best thing to happen to him.

Everything wasn’t fixed, but it was better than nothing.

Yoongi was at the meeting point with an irritated Beau who held a large stuffed bear. Most would question why Beau looked that way, but by the shifting that Yoongi was doing and the wide smile it was clear that he’d challenged his boyfriend to a few games and then mercilessly beat him.

Upon seeing a smiling YN though Beau’s expression shifted to mimic the smile on her face and so did Yoongi’s for a moment. However, YN was in competition mode and when he noticed that he was as well.

Not a word was uttered between them as they left their significant others to head towards the games and neither of them said anything about it. They merely trailed behind them and watched as they tried to one up each other.

Who knows how much time passed or how many prizes were handed over to kids or anyone standing nearby before everyone was gathered together watching them. Though it was tiring to stand there and see them go on forever there was also this mutual contentment as they all looked on. It was as if they were all on the same wavelength with how nice it was to see either of them back to some sort of normalcy.

“Has she been like this all day?” Beau whispered.

Hoseok nodded, his eyes never leaving them.

“Yeah. She’s been so happy and carefree. I don’t think she’s thought about it once all this time. And it doesn’t feel like she’s faking it,” he said.

There was a nod from Beau in response and then all the focus was back on them.

YN being that happy that quickly wasn’t what Hoseok foresaw at all, but it was nice to see that the second part of what he planned worked out well. He only hoped that it was doing some actual, concrete good for her mentally and that the last part of everything would go as smoothly.

Four days into their trip YN decided that Hoseok was acting weird. Though weird was something normal for his behavior it was a different type. He was attentive and kind, but also drifted off into his own head a lot and didn’t put up a fight when asked to do something that wasn’t necessarily in his comfort zone. She hadn’t pushed his limits by any means and accepted no when he said it, but for the most he gave in without a second thought.

Of course, his efforts were appreciated greatly, but that was what worried her the most. She knew how down she’d been and how the call from her mother’s husband had changed her. It was clear as day to her how she was acting and she wished she could snap her fingers and stop, but that wasn’t possible. And since she knew that, so did Hoseok and that meant he’d ramped up on trying to keep her at the very least not actively sad. All his free time was spent trying to help and look after her. The trip was just another one of those things and though she jumped at the prospect of being away from home to enjoy herself – and had enjoyed herself – she feared him taking things a step too far to please her.

No matter her mental state there would be no excuse for any damage she could do to his if that was the case. So YN planned to talk to him about it one morning, but she was redirected by Yoongi to get ready. Apparently he wanted to take her out for the day, just the two of them. Something she happily agreed to on the compromise of her going to talk to Hoseok about a thing first, but that was shot down by being told he’d headed out a few minutes beforehand. Which meant she had no other choice but to do as she was told, but with a pout.

Despite her mopey mood she didn’t take long to get dressed. Mostly because when she’d entered the room she found a pair of shorts and one of her long sleeve tops laid out for her. Yoongi promptly informed her he didn’t want her taking forever so he’d done it for her. It wasn’t out of the norm since he’d done it many times throughout their lives because supposedly she moved too slow or always grabbed the one thing in her wardrobe he hated with a passion. After a while she learned to just let it happen.

Once ready to go Yoongi grabbed her hand and practically dragged her from the house. It took some begging and mild threats to get him to not hold her hand so tight and slow down. From there he was less aggressive, but still held her hand firmly in his. She was fine with that because it was a habit from childhood that they never grow out of. As long as his bony fingers didn’t dig into her hand or squeeze too tight she was fine.

During their walk they didn’t speak, which was fine. They both tended to be quiet people and silences were rarely awkward. Walking for ten minutes to the nearby cafe bookstore was nothing in the realm of how long they could be around each other and not utter a single word.

“I wanted us to relax before dinner later. You know they’re all going to get drunk and it’ll be a mess. So, some peace and quiet for now,” Yoongi said once they entered.

That made YN smile wide. Even without the reason she loved the idea of spending a few hours there.

“You sure it’s not because they let you take naps here whenever we come?” she teased.

Yoongi laughed. “That too. A peaceful nap.”

With that she nodded and finally removed her hand from his. She shooed him away to see if any good seats were open and then headed off to buy their drinks. All of her will was used not to stop and look at books that caught her eye as she walked to the counter. The man wanted a nap, but him waiting too long for his favorite hot chocolate wasn’t on the table. Plus, there was something about being inside the place that calmed her so much that she was a bit tired herself.

After she grabbed the hot chocolates she searched for him and was beyond happy to find him at the reclining chairs in a back corner. Not daring to destroy the nice atmosphere of the space she merely handed him his drink and plopped down into her own chair. Her body relaxed instantly. It was asking her to sleep, but she wanted to drink her hot chocolate first. That lasted maybe ten minutes before she and Yoongi drifted off.

Sometimes she didn’t remember how much having a good time and being happy could drain from a person, no matter how much sleep they got.

When they finally woke up, panic filled YN because she’d misread the clock as saying four hours had passed, but it was barely an hour. The darkness only exacerbated that, but she was thankful her eyes adjusted before she shook Yoongi awake.

Since she felt refreshed from the nap the urge to explore books overcame her again. Instead of ignoring it she left Yoongi to continue his napping and looked around the store.

A lot of what did interest her were things she had read, were on her to read list, or by someone who wasn’t the greatest person despite their excellent writing. The things she did find that didn’t fit into that were all so tempting and she wanted to get them all but knew better than to do that. Her to read list was long and she didn’t need a million more books. So, she settled on getting the top three and took pictures of the others to buy at a later date.

By the time she made her purchase Yoongi had woken up and joined her at the register. He appeared rested and much peppier than he had before, which made her happy to see.

“Should we head back now?” she asked.

He nodded and then they were holding hands and walking back to the beach house.

The silence on the way back didn’t exist. Yoongi asked about what books she’d gotten and some other book she’d gotten a while ago that he’d been interested in. She agreed to give it to him and just as they reached the house and she prepared to ask if he wanted the book’s sequel as well he stopped abruptly.

Confusion coloring her face YN turned her head to look at him and was met with a tense expression. However, before she could question it he spoke.

“You’re okay, right? Actually okay, not the fake okay?” he asked.

YN felt a pang in her heart and her eyes watered for a second, but she pushed that all down. She wouldn’t dare make him more worried than he’d already been, especially when there was nothing to worry about.

“I’m okay. In fact, I’m as close to content as I’ve been in a while,” she said.

His entire demeanor changed when she said the word content. It was a signal of sorts. Something that they’d both learned they wanted through therapy. Happiness was great but being content and not so much good or bad was always the goal. As long as they could reach contentment all would be fine.

Though relaxed he didn’t stop staring her down for a moment and then after a firm squeeze of her hand – that she returned – he started walking again.

Inside the house everyone was putting the finishing touches on the dinner they’d decided on for the evening. It was a night in, which meant cooking and Jungkook had said that meant it needed to be an extra meal. So, him, Jin, Jimin, and Namjoon had spent a lot of time getting everything prepped and cooked. YN had wanted to help and even offered once Yoongi and her returned, but they were done and shooed her out to the patio so they could bring the food out.

Hoseok, who she’d seen maybe twice that whole day, pulled her down onto the seat next to him and immediately moved in for a kiss. That elicited some gagging from Beau which was met with a middle finger from both Hoseok and YN all without pulling away from each other.

They did part when the first of many dishes were placed on the table though. And without hesitation – once everyone was seated and Jin gave his go ahead – they began grabbing the things they wanted or moving them in range.

There was just so much. They’d made kimchi stew, bulgogi, pork ribs, fried rice, curry, and braised chicken. And of course, enough white rice that would satisfy even YN.

Bloated wasn’t even the word that truly captured how YN felt by the end of it all. Though happy was definitely a descriptor. They’d eaten, talked, and down alcohol. Jokes and stories were told, laughed about, and denied with intense vigor all around. It was a peaceful moment despite the chaos and watching her family just be together always filled her with such joy.

She could stay like that forever, but of course that was a no.

About thirty minutes after she’d had her last bite Hoseok suggested they go on a walk while they waited for the others to return with the chosen dessert. No was on the tip of her tongue, but he reminded her walking could help her feel better. Plus, he had a look in his eye that reminded her that she’d wanted to talk to him about something before.

So, they kicked off their shoes and headed down the beach. Hoseok laced their fingers together and led her away from the house. At first they said nothing, but then at the exact same time they spoke.

“YN-”

“Can we talk-”

They both paused and looked at each other with wide eyes before descending into laughter. It took a moment or two, but they collected themselves soon enough and continued their trek.

“You first,” he said.

YN nodded. “I want to thank you for all of this. It was what I needed and I’m so happy to have all this time with you and everyone else. Being with the people I loved most and who love me. Having fun that I haven’t had in a while. Having moments where I feel content, even if it’s fleeting. I haven’t had a bad day for the last few days and I haven’t even thought about anything really. And even if I did it was such a fleeting moment that I only barely remember it happened at all.”

“But?” Hoseok said when she paused.

“But I worry about taking advantage of all of you. I know that I’m not and everyone is happy to be here for a good time and to offer all the support in the world. I know that that feeling is for naught. But I realized how much you’ve given into me the last few days and it makes me feel like I may be crossing a line. You’ve had to deal with me being distraught and not myself for weeks. Never able to escape that unless out at work or I’m with someone else. And then you plan this and you give into my every whim. You do things that I know make you uncomfortable. Even if I’m not pushing you on certain things and I know I’m not crossing any hard lines it still feels wrong. And I’m sorry about that,” she said.

That ended in them coming to an abrupt stop. Hoseok released her hand and moved to stand in front of her, his hands moving to cup her face.

“Baby, you don’t have to worry about any of that. You have not crossed a line or made me do anything I didn’t choose to do. I’m fine. Did I agree to a few things that scare me or make me cautious? Yes. Did I do them partly because they made you happy? Yes. But like I said, it was my choice. I wanted to try them and that was an extra incentive. Seeing you smile or be in the moment was the greatest incentive in the world. I wouldn’t change doing those things. And I know you’re worried about what all this or your behavior could have done to my mental health, but I’m good there too. It hurt me to see you like that, but I processed that in therapy. Dr. Seo was more than willing to take me in more than once a month to process all this. I swear to you I’m fine.”

There was clear uncertainty in her eyes despite what he said. Hoseok could see it and though he wished she’d just believe him he knew that wasn’t how the mind worked. Sometimes things took a while to process or a little more assurance needed to be given.

After taking a deep breath he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, one she returned without hesitation. When he pulled away one of his hands slipped from her face as their foreheads pressed together.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

The next few moments happened in a weird space where everything moved too fast and too slow. Hoseok’s other hand moved from her face and he pulled away from her, but before anything could be said or done on her end he was down on one knee with a ring in his hand.

YN had no time to process it before he started talking.

“This week was about making you feel even an ounce of happiness, but it was also about finding the right time to ask you. YN you know I love you with my entire being. How you love yourself, me, and our little family brings me such joy. How you live to be the best you and know that you’re not always going to get it right. How you know yourself enough to know how to handle your problems. You realize how off you’re being and take the time to self-assess, not just because of you but because of me. So you’re not doing anything that could affect me. That could lead to unintentional behavior that could harm me. You grow so much all the time and it feels impossible for you to put forth any more effort than you already do.

“You just make me feel so happy. Doesn’t matter if it’s from watching you be that way, you making me feel that way, or the reminder that I can be happy on my own despite you. That I can stand alone in happiness that doesn’t revolve around you or anyone else. Something I struggled with so much before. You’ve helped so much by just being you. And though I know that we have cemented our relationship already, I still want to do this. It would truly be the best thing in the world if you married me, baby.”

YN had worked through the initial shock and was much calmer than when he’d started talking. Her brain fought to keep up with the words and her heart soared as she took them in. It’s why she didn’t hesitate in responding with a yes.

Without missing a beat Hoseok slipped the ring on her finger and rose onto his feet. He pulled her into a tight hug and whispered ‘I love you’ over and over. In the distance there were cheers from their friends who had watched on from the back patio. She hadn’t even realized they’d turned and walked back towards the house once she’d started talking. But that didn’t matter at all. At least not in that moment.

The calm that she felt mattered. The excitement she felt mattered. The content feeling that washed over her mattered.

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[breakingsomething]

Dawn Station - Part Two

Basic summary: Chase Brody is being kept safe, far away from other people. So he thinks.

Content warnings: gore, body horror, stabbing, emeto, death mentions

Chase Brody is not ok.

Of course he's not. How is he expected to be? Ten people have died, and now he's being told he's next. He's been under police protection for days and judging by the strained snippets of conversation that he's caught from officers, even the others that had been with him are gone. Ten people, they had said. As far as Chase is aware, there were only nine other youtubers who'd been roped into this shit. Who else has this monster that wants them dead killed along with them? Does he even want to know?

He's been in this room for… three days? Four? Fuck, he doesn't remember. All he knows now is white walls, too close around him, with a bed, a tv in the top corner that he doesn't have a remote for, a black bin, a rolling table that's covered in books and other assorted things that he managed to bring with him, and two doors, one of which that leads to a small bathroom and one of which that leads outside. The second door only opens when he's being brought food. No one's telling him anything. He's scared out his mind.

An officer, a pale skinned woman with orange braids and a sympathetic smile, comes in a couple hours after he wakes for the day with breakfast. Toast, cold, with butter slabs and little packets of jam and sugar for his tea. Also cold. "Sorry, we don't have any Weetabix," she tells him with furrowed eyebrows and a sad tilt of the mouth as she clicks the door behind him. "We do have Cheerios and porridge, if you want something more to eat."

It's all he can do not to laugh. "No, thank you," says Chase, in a hoarse voice that hasn't been used in hours. "I want my phone back."

The officer winces. Her eyes are dark, crimson lipstick slightly smudged. Her nametag says "Sarah" on it in violet ink. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, in a voice so soft and falsely sympathetic it makes Chase want to scream. "I don't know if we can do that. We -"

"The others are dead, aren't they?" Chase interrupts. He knows this already. But it's worth saying to see the woman flinch. "All of them. So much for your oh-so-safe "police custody" bullshit."

She attempts to gather herself as professionally as she can, which is seemingly rather difficult. "I'm sorry," she repeats, and something about her tone is more genuine than before. "They are. But I swear to you, Mr Brody, we are doing everything we can to -"

"If I am going to die today," Chase says, interrupting again. "I want to talk to my goddamn family one more fucking time. Please get me my phone."

She stiffens, but gives a jerky little nod. He doesn't smile at her as she leaves. Not much to smile about. But she comes back ten minutes later and wordlessly hands him his slim rose phone, no expression on her face. He manages to upturn the corner of his lips in response.

Once she's left again, he turns his phone on and practically sighs at the sight of his two kids on his lockscreen. Little Connor and Louise, tiny kiddos, dressed up in their pristine school uniforms and grinning cheesily. His heart swells, and he swallows hard as the lump in his throat seems to expand. He can't cry. He's been crying enough lately. To think that two weeks ago, he was ecstatic to be receiving an email from Jack Mcloughlin himself, giving him the opportunity to play his new game's demo early. Look at him now.

Stacy is at the top of his contacts list, but only because he has her favourited still. He's not sure why. It just feels right to have her there. Her picture is a small, grainy image of her face next to a three year old Connor's. He has her looks more than Louise. Louise looks like her dad. She's a daddy's girl. Chase misses her so much it aches, and closes his eyes as he clicks Stacy's number.

She answers almost immediately. "Chase?" she yells, causing him to wince and pull the phone away from his ears. He hears her inhale sharply. "Sorry. Christ, Chase - Where the fuck are you?"

He swallows again, digging his nails into the palm of his hand. His legs are already beginning to bounce. "Police didn't tell you anything, huh," he mutters. "I'm in custody. They're apparently "keeping me safe," but I'm well aware of the fact that the others - Persephone, Rodney, Stanley, and Khia - are. Well." He clears his throat. "Dead."

He says it so matter of factly that you wouldn't know how close he was to tears had you not seen his face.

Stacy shifts, and Chase hears a door slam faintly. Two small voices giggle far off. He bites down on his lip as Stacy talks again. "Yeah. That's… yeah. Chase, I'm sorry. Uh… Jack Mcloughlin's dead too."

Chase sits bolt upright, eyes suddenly wide. "What?"

Stacy sounds alarmed. "I - Yes, did they not tell you? He died maybe two days ago. Same way as all the others. I'm sorry, Chase."

He can't breathe for a moment. Then he's numb and his body settles into cold, unfeeling static.

"Ok," he says flatly. "Great."

"Chase -"

"How are the kids?" he asks before she can finish. He's tired. He's been doing nothing but sleeping and he's tired. "I can hear them in the background, ha. Sounds like a fun time."

He can hear her scratching the space behind her ear. She does that when she's anxious. Nervous habit. She had gotten a little tattoo of a bee there when they were seventeen. It was a dare from their friend Daniel, who had also gotten a tattoo of a crocodile on his left thigh. Chase has a black bear on his right shoulder from the same occasion. When he and Stacy had been together, they would sometimes kiss the other's tattoos and descend into giggles remembering that slightly drunken night back in Ireland. His chest feels tight thinking about it. His eyes glaze over, and he tries to focus on something across the room.

"They're… not great," Stacy murmurs after a moment, making him jump. He had almost forgotten she was there. "Some brat at school told them about - this whole situation. Told them their dad was going to die. Apparently, she made up a song about it."

Chase hisses softly, grateful for another emotion besides grief and missing to focus on. "Fuck's sake. Which kid was this?"

"You know that girl who was making fun of Louise's accent last year and put chips in her hair?"

"That kid again? I thought the school dealt with her."

A sigh. "Apparently not. They came home in tears. I've been keeping them home since then."

Chase shakes his head in disbelief. "Shit, Stace. Can I… can I talk to them?"

She sighs again. "I… I suppose. But - how have you been? I take it its not been great, but are you at least ok?"

What counts as ok? He doesn't know. "I'm not dead yet. So there's something. I guess I can't really say much more than that."

"Papa?" cries a voice on the end of the line, and a grin breaks Chase's face as he recognizes his son, Connor, yelling from somewhere quite close to Stacy. "Is that Papa? Mama, let us talk - Louise, Papa's on the phone!"

Chase can't help but laugh as his daughter also chimes in, two little voices clamoring for his attention. "Calm down, kiddos, there's plenty of me to go round," he grins, pushing his hair back from his face so he can concentrate. "How are you both? One at a time, Louise first."

"Favouritism," he hears Connor sulk, but the boy quiets.

"I'm ok," Louise beams. He can hear her smile, and sees it when he closes his eyes. "I can't go to school cause Megan Penicuik was being mean. We made cookies, though, me and Con-Con! All by ourselves, no help from Mama at all!"

"Now, that's simply not true," he hears Stacy laugh in the background. Chase laughs too, his heart suddenly aching. Something weighs heavy in his chest, but he tries to push it away, feeling sick.

A scuffle on the end of the line, and then it's Connor speaking. "I miss you, Papa!" he cries. "I wanna give you a - a chocolate chip cookie, I have one here." His voice becomes muffled, and Chase hears him chewing. "Yum yum yum. Can we push a cookie down the phone? Like, through the speakers, Mama!"

Chase listens to a small squabble break out, then hears Stacy sigh dramatically. "They're doing just fine," she says, sounding so tired, yet vaguely amused. "I… I hate to say it, but I should probably go. Connor's games club is in half an hour and I haven't gotten ready at all. My makeup's a state." Her voice softens. "Will you be… ok?"

Will he? He doesn't know.

"Stace," he murmurs. His chest feels tight. "I could die. Like, tonight. That's what people are saying. I'm the last one left."

A pause, then Stacy lets out a shaky sigh. "Christ, Chase…"

He gathers his strength. "Listen. Listen, Stace. If I die tonight - I just want you to know how much I love you, ok? Even if we… if we weren't meant to be together anymore. You're one of my best friends, you know? So… take care of the kids. Don't lose yourself. And by god, don't start drinking again."

She gives a choked laugh. "Chase. God, I - Don't fucking die tonight."

He doesn't know how to tell her he won't have a choice.

As soon as the call's ended, he opens up his roommate's contact. He can't stand the echoing silence that seems to go on forever in the minute or so before the ringing starts. He supposes that if tonight is his last night alive, he should say goodbye. Even if it hurts. Even if it makes him feel sick to say it.

He nearly sobs with relief when he hears the line click, and a familiar German accent speak loudly in his ear. "Chase?"

Chase sniffles, laughing softly. "Hey, Henny."

Henrik curses, and something slams. "Mother of God, Chase Brody, do you have any idea - Are you - Fuck, are you alright?"

Good question. "I don't know," he admits, bouncing his leg anxiously, and staring at his chipped black nails. "I mean, I'm… scheduled to die tonight. So probably not. Really, I've been weirdly calm about all this."

Henrik huffs, and Chase can almost picture him getting red in the face, yanking back his hair and staring out the window of their flat with narrowed, pale blue eyes. "They have not done anything about it? Surely it is not possible that a murderer who is killing in patterns cannot be apprehended? You would think that would be easy, especially if you are being held in high security. Motherfucking useless British police. Not that German ones were much better, but Christ -"

Chase cuts him off before he can rant for another five minutes. "How are the others? Are Jackie, Marv and Jem holding up ok?"

Henrik sighs, blowing out his cheeks. "Mhm. Marvin has gone a bit mad. Fucking idiot is spending way too much time online, reading up on your situation. He seems convinced that you are going to die as well. According to Jackie, he spent all of yesterday out of the house and came back saying he had been performing. But Jackie says he had not had any parties scheduled for that day, so he was talking shit."

Chase winces. His friend Marvin is a child's birthday party performer, a magician, and spends a lot of time perfecting fun tricks and illusions to add into his routine. Chase knows how much he enjoys his job. But he also knows that Marvin's habit of spending hours on internet forums and sites, learning things from other performers, can be bad for him. "Christ. I… Goddammit it. How's Jackie coping?"

He hears a microwave go off in the background. Henrik mutters something that Chase can't hear, then keeps talking. "Jackie has been at the gym every day since you were taken in. Overworking himself. He did come round yesterday and, uh, spoke about how scared he was for you. Cried a lot, poor man. I am not good with comforting people, but I tried. He does not know what to do with himself anymore."

This isn't surprising. Chase is well aware of Jackie's habit of overexercising and pushing himself too far when he was angry or upset. "And Jameson?"

Something clatters, like Henrik's rummaging in a cupboard. A fridge opens and slams shut, and then Henrik is back. "He has been round at our flat a lot. Did you know Euan ended things with him? I did not, until he told me the day before yesterday. He was dreadfully upset. The timing was… not great, to say the least. I do not think he is doing too well, but he refuses to accept any of the help I wish to give him. He kept asking about me instead. Really, sometimes I wish he was not such a good actor."

So does Chase. Jameson is never one to be open about his feelings, instead trying to help everyone else first. Chase loves him a lot, but he wishes the filmmaker would be less stubborn and insistent that he was always ok. His heart aches at the thought of Jameson suffering alone, especially now - he and his boyfriend Euan had been so close, as well. The thought that he might never be able to figure out what happened between them hurts. "Me too. God, Hen, me too. Give them all my love though, yeah? Tell Marvin to take some time to do self care, and tell Jackie to take breaks, and tell Jameson to talk to his therapist. And you… don't you overwork yourself either. I know what you're like. Only one cup of coffee a day, dude, remember. Don't make me come over there."

Henrik laughs softly, but there's a sadness to it. "You sound as though you are saying goodbye."

Something stabs into Chase's heart. He tries to catch his breath through the lump in his throat. "Henrik. I'm going to die tonight."

There's a long pause. He can hear Henrik adjusting, rubbing his face and knocking his glasses askew. Maybe he knows his roommate too well. Far too well, maybe well enough that he knows what he'll say next. "There has to be another way."

Chase shakes his head despite Henrik being unable to see him. "No. No, Hen, no. This - this is what's happening, and we can't just… fix it. I wish we could, cause I don't even understand why, and it's so scary, and… God, I wish we could. I have so much left I want to do, and…"

He trails off. Henrik doesn't speak. Chase imagines him pulling the phone away from his face, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his mouth so as not to cry. The image hurts. Chase hurts. He holds the phone tight, aching to be somewhere, anywhere else other than here.

"You know," he says, voice choked as he speaks. "It's ironic how much I wanted to die a few months ago, and now I'm here, and I'm suddenly so scared."

"You are not going to die," Henrik suddenly shouts. There is anger in his voice that Chase knows is not directed at him. "You are not. It will not just all end like that, Chase Brody. I will not let it."

Something hot pricks the backs of Chase's eyes. He swallows hard, his chest tightening, his legs bouncing harder. "Henrik. Henrik, I - I have to go. I have to go. I'm sorry. I love you, dude. You know that? I love you."

"Chase," Henrik practically sobs. "Shit, I love you too. But you are not going to die."

Chase ends the call and throws up in the black bin next to his bed.

-

Night comes quickly, Chase thinks.

He thinks, because an officer comes to take his phone soon after his call with Henrik ends. He's starting to regret hanging up, but it had to have been what was best. Of course it was what was best. No need to make this hurt so much more than it already does. This is something he has to keep telling himself. No need to make this hurt so much more than it already does.

The officers ask what he wants for dinner that night instead of giving him choices. He gets it. It's a last meal. He takes full advantage of it and orders pepperoni cheese stuffed crust pizza and garlic sticks, his favourite, with barbeque sauce and churros. It all tastes like cardboard. He eats it anyway, because he's bored and his mouth still tastes like vomit and if he's going to die, it's only fitting that he goes out with a Domino's in him.

Before he's even finished eating, an armed guard comes and takes him across the building. It's the first time he's left his room in days, and he's surprised to see how dark it is outside, how little people are around. The few people he does see stare at him, some open mouthed with awe, some with sad eyes like a parent trying to tell their child that their pet fish died. Chase stares at the floor. Stares at the gun tucked into the waistband of the officer in front of him. He's scared, and his heart is racing faster than it has in years, and he thinks he's dissociating a little because he doesn't feel real and his fingertips are numb. Adrenaline thrums through his body, warming him and erasing the painful cold. Fuck, but he's scared. He's so, so goddamn scared.

He's taken to an entirely different room, a slightly bigger one that looks nearly the same, but with wooden chairs sat all around the border. There's no TV in this room. "Sit here," one of the officers says, guiding him to the blue covered bed and gesturing for him to sit. He does so, feeling silly and light with panic. He thinks he's going to be sick again. His breaths aren't coming right and fuck, he might faint from the sudden, overwhelming wave of dizziness that's washing over him now.

One of the officers that has just come in walks over and sits next to him. He's in full uniform, a radio on his vest, a bat strapped to his belt. "Are you alright, Mr Brody?" he asks gently, looking at him with kind brown eyes, and Chase sobs with relief for some kind of comfort.

"H-h-having a p-panic attack," he stammers, shifting on the bed to try and feel something, clawing at his skin under his grey hoodie and desperately trying not to cry. "N-need my - my - my asth-ma in-inhaler, p-please, I can't br-breathe -"

He's brought his inhaler, and he clutches it gratefully, clinging to it like a child. The cold button grounds him. Maybe, maybe if he squeezes his eyes shut tight enough, he'll wake up in his bed at home and be able to get up and shower in a bathroom that's not small or lit too brightly and then he can go downstairs to the kitchen to find Henrik half asleep at the table, three cups of coffee in front of him, wearily participating in whatever Chase's dumb early morning joke is, and then he can eat toast that's not burnt or done too lightly and play his music while he writes or goes on a walk outside. Maybe. Maybe.

The armed guards keep watch over him for two full hours.

Chase Brody is terrified.

It's when it hits the two and a half hour mark that he begins to notice anything different. A faint ringing in his ears. He thinks it's his tinnitus and waves it off, simply swatting at the air around his head like that will help at all. One of the guards notices immediately. "Sir, are you alright?"

Chase nods. He's not, but he doesn't need them dithering over him. Unfortunately, the guard doesn't let up. "Seriously, it's important that you tell us what's happening. Anything at all. Anything that could help you."

Well, that's reassuring. "Strange noise," he murmurs, shaking his hair out his face. "I think it's just me, though, I'm alright -"

But the guard is standing, muttering something into the radio strapped to his chest, and is it Chase's imagination, or are more people entering the room? "What's happening?" he asks, but he gets no response, and he's starting to feel strangely dizzy and tired, like something heavy is dragging his eyelids down. "I don't… h-hey, I don't feel too… too well…"

Someone is speaking to him but the world is already blurring, his head light, floaty. "Stacy?" he slurs, trying to get a grip on the bedsheets beneath him. "Someone needs t'... m'kids, they…"

-

Chase Brody is no longer in the same room as he was before.

He doesn't know when that changed. He can't pinpoint the exact moment where the walls darkened and raised with pipes and doors and panels, he doesn't know when his bed disappeared beneath him and the floor became sticky and black, he doesn't know when the bright light of his room became a soft blue glow, lighting up the room from behind him. He doesn't know when the room had stretched both ways into a long hallway, lined with slivers of light through the windows. He doesn't know why, when he stands, his legs nearly crumple beneath him. And when he turns - god, when he turns, and he looks out the enormous windows behind him - he doesn't know why a calming sensation of numbness settles over him, burning his skin like pins and needles.

He is staring out at the vast abyss of space.

It's a blackness he's never seen before. It seems to go on forever, and maybe it does, and there is nothing but tiny pinpricks of silver light of gaseous stars piercing the inky nothingness. Nothing but that, and the ball of green and blue that Chase knows, somewhere in his mind. Earth. Earth, where he is and isn't, where his body should be, where he never left, and what kind of nightmare is this? What kind of sick nightmare, he thinks dizzily, his thoughts chugging slowly as though through a thick soup. Everything is spinning. There is no sound, the world is broken, and the space is fucking endless.

Move, says the tiny part of his brain that still has sense. Get out. Get out.

His footsteps echo on the metal panes of the floor, and he resists the tightening urge in his stomach to vomit.

He doesn't know why this place is familiar.

The hallway seems to go on forever. All the doors along the way to the left have small, glowing panels beside them that seem to demand some type of access keycard, which Chase very much does not have. Eventually he reaches one that he can open, and stumbles into a large room with a table in the centre, the walls covered in photos and clippings that he doesn't bother taking closer looks at. There is only one small window in here, over a sleek black couch that seems to have nearly been shredded right through the middle. The table has a bolted down chair and a large pile of papers next to a cracked laptop that splutters weakly as it asks for a password. The room is too dark. Chase slowly walks through it, wincing at the sound his boots make on the floor, wincing at the silence, heart racing with the promise of another panic attack that he pushes down forcefully, gripping his own wrist for support. This isn't right, screams the universe. This is too familiar. This is too real. This is too familiar to be real.

Chase has noticed that everything in this place, despite its immediate appearance of immaculate properness, seems to be slightly out of place. This becomes more apparent in the room adjacent to the one he'd just been in, a room filled with sealed metal crates and boilers that bubble menacingly from their perches on the walls, a room which has clearly been nearly destroyed. Black claw marks have torn out chunks of the walls, wires ripped from the floor, buzzing weakly and sparking from wherever they were thrown after their violent uprooting. Dark red stains splash across the floor like a tragic painting that makes Chase's stomach upturn sickly. A vent on the ceiling hisses, and the man jumps and bolts, all last dregs of courage leaving him in an instant. He knows this is a dream. This is a dream, nothing is real, nothing is real, it must be just a dream.

"I've gone to hell," he sobs aloud, clamping both hands over his mouth as a cry climbs up his throat. "O-oh my god, I've gone to hell."

This is what you get for being a shitty, alcoholic dad and husband, he thinks, and promptly throws up on the floor next to the fresh bloodstains.

The rooms start to blur. Objects to objects, light to light, black walls and coloured glow and sparks, hissing, echoing rumbles, all becoming one in Chase's mind. He's long gone past the stage of a panic attack; he's in a state of utter numb calm, now. In one room he finds a long, black lighter and holds it tightly in his hands for comfort, twisting it round and round in buzzing fingers just to feel something solid against his skin to ground him. Please, he prays softly, wiping sweat from his forehead, struggling to breathe as his chest tightens and the world seems to grow hotter and smaller. Please, let me wake up, let me wake up from this, please.

And then something is standing behind him.

He doesn't know how he knows. It's just a sensation of silent shock in him, of I am not alone, a stabbing feeling as the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Something is there. He feels eyes on him. He can't - fuck, he can't move, and all the emotion in him seems to be rising to a painful crescendo. I am not alone in here. I am not alone in here.

"Who's there," he says in a small, cracked voice, not daring to turn. It's barely a question. "What do you want from me."

Nothing but a low hissing, and, most frightening of all, a rumbling growl that nearly sends Chase to the floor in a faint.

He has to look.

He has to look.

He looks.

It's an… an astronaut.

Neither of them move, and Chase's grip on the lighter in his hands tightens, trying to find some form of comfort, anything. "Why am I here?" he manages, swallowing back hot bile that burns his throat and makes him gag softly. "Why, why, what nightmare is this? Am I dead? Did the killer get me and this is my hell?"

The astronaut is silent.

Fury bubbles in Chase's chest, overriding the fear for a moment. "Talk!" he shouts, perhaps stupidly, but he doesn't care. "Please! What is happening?"

Then things get perhaps even stranger, somehow. A glowing 2D box of light appears in front of the astronaut, hovering in the air, too quiet until black text begins to appear on it, cartoonishly video game like blooping noises playing with each letter. Chase watches in awe. He's unable to speak.

<TheAnti.chr_v09> You are the Player.

Chase reads the words over and over and over.

"My name is Chase Brody," he says, voice wavering with uncertainty, because something here is wrong, wrong, wrong, so ridiculously wrong, and he hates the way things are clicking in his mind. "I shouldn't - be here. I think I'm dreaming and I want to go home."

The text flashes.

<TheAnti.chr_v09> You are <player_variable_BroAverage>. You are the Player.

Chase feels like he's above his body, like nothing he's seeing is real anymore. "Please let me go home."

<TheAnti.chr_v09> I am <TheAnti.chr_v09>. I am the Anti. You are the player. Player objective: escape. Anti objective: kill the Player. Initialization - Upon game startup, play <soundtrack_opening2>, set spawn and character sprites -

Chase can't take this. "Stop it!" he cries, and he shouldn't step forwards so confidently, but he does, slashing his hand through the air in front of him. "Tell me what you -"

The astronaut explodes.

No. No, it doesn't explode; Chase's mind is taking a moment to make sense of it, to rationalize the way the helmet has shattered and there is nothing but sheer white and glowing green eyes, hundreds of them, underneath, the largest one on the being's neck, splitting open with disgustingly inhuman squelching sounds, and the way the suit has torn and a mouth has opened up on the stomach, a gaping maw with knives for teeth and a slimy crimson tongue, and the way rips open along the material and more eyes open, burning red skin like charred meat, black veins rising under its skin. It hisses and cracks and growls and hums and it isn't like anything Chase has ever seen before, or maybe it is, because he knows this monster. He's seen this monster. And fuck, now he knows why this world is familiar, because he's been here, he's played this game. This can't be real. This can't be real.

"Posttraumatic nightmares," he can hear Henrik saying to him, the man's voice comforting. "Nightmares that occur after a traumatic event and can contain, what is the word… recurring themes that make you experience intense negative emotions. Maybe that is why you are having such strange dreams, my friend. You have been through a lot in these past few weeks."

That had been months ago. I thought I got over those dreams. I thought I got over those dreams.

He's running. His legs are already burning, chest already tight, why did he have to have used all his energy on his panic attack? Is the monster still following him? Chase can't turn to check, and the blood in his veins is racing through his body faster than he's used to, his heart in his ears as he flies round a corner, barely able to catch a breath. This isn't real, he thinks. It's another nightmare. Please, this isn't real, this isn't -

And then something wet is snaking round his chest, pulsing in a way that makes Chase gag, and something sharp presses into the skin on his back and a burst of numbness runs over him like cold water, causing his body to go limp against the alien - because it is an alien, isn't it, he knew this already - behind him. Cold heaviness seeps through his veins, combatting the light weightlessness that the adrenaline was giving him. He tries to cough again, to speak as his lungs empty of air, but the alien only grips his arms tight enough to piece his skin with sharp claw-like fingers. A glance down at his chest, and he sees the tip of the bloodstained rod jutting through his skin. It doesn't really register. A light laugh escapes his lips, because it's funny, really, how he's about to die at the hands of a video game antagonist.

No, he's not about to die. This isn't real. It can't be, it's another bad dream, of course it is. But if it's not real, then what happened to Jack Mcloughlin and the others, all of those… all of…

The world spins.

And the world lights up in flames.

Chase had briefly forgotten about the lighter he'd picked up for support, and now he's putting it to good use; one flick of the switch and the alien is alight as though it had been soaked in gasoline, burning orange spreading across its suit, the crackling drowning out the monster's screeches. Its grip loosens on Chase's arms, and he pulls free, and the universe spins as the rod in his chest slips out like it's nothing, leaving a gaping emptiness in him. Please, he screams, in his mind or out loud, he doesn't know. Please. Please.

Please, wake me up.

-

White light. It floods the whole world, for just a moment, and then Chase's eyes are open and he is gasping for air, hands flying to his chest and feeling nothing but the soft material of his shirt, no pain except for the squeeze of his lungs as he coughs desperately into his sleeve. There are people surrounding him now; the police officers and armed guards from before, helping him sit up, holding a sick bucket in front of him as he throws up the little that's left in his stomach weakly, too much noise but nowhere near as bad as the silence of the Dawn Station. Nowhere near as bad as the hissing creaks of the Anti. Nowhere near as bad as his nightmare, because it was a nightmare, of course that wasn't real - nowhere near as bad as the nightmare that he'd thought was going to kill him.

I lived. I survived the night.

He's had this thought before, but this time, it's met with relief.

-

"You dreamed about the setting of a video game."

"Not just any video game. The, uh… the new Jack Mcloughlin game, Dawn Station. All the people who played the demo… died. I didn't die. The night I was supposed to, after all the others, I - I dreamed about the game. And the antagonist of the game. It's this, uh, this alien thing, in an astronaut suit. Tried to kill me. Apparently it's weak to fire, although I don't remember that from the actual game, maybe it was a secret that wasn't in the demo we were all sent, but I burned it, and it stabbed me, and I got away, not - not in that order. Does that… does that make sense, doctor?"

Dr. Ross scrutinizes Chase for a moment before turning his chair back to face his computer. The sound of his mouse clicking fills the room, off beat from the eternal clicking of the plain white clock on the plain white walls, decorated only with bookshelves and trays of medicines. Chase has never been in a more boring doctor's office. Usually his therapy sessions have more to look at, but this is a different therapist than he normally goes to, and all he can do is fidget with his hands on his lap and stare out the window at the

earth, the stars, the black abyss of emptiness that Chase could get lost in and never be found

setting sun through the trees just outside the building. The doctor's pen clicks, clicks, clicks. It sounds like the Anti's teeth, chattering against each other as it yawns, its maw opening wide enough for a head to be torn right off. Click, click, click. Chase closes his eyes, the repeating sounds like a mantra. He focuses on that instead. It grounds him.

"You have a history of nightmares."

Chase nods without looking. "I was prescribed triazolam by my first therapist. I took them for a year or so without changes except the lowering of doses a couple of times, because I was getting weaned off them. They helped. Nightmares didn't continue after that."

The other man nods slowly. "Hm. I can imagine the trauma of this recent event that you've been through was enough to bring these nightmares back to the forefront of your mind, especially given the contents of this dream in particular. We may have to ease you back onto medication over the course of your next few sessions here, which should be easier, given that it'll be a couple weeks before we send you home. Is that alright, Mr Brody?"

Click, click, click. Chase nods. Sunlight warms his face, and he sighs softly. "Sounds good, Dr. Ross. When will I be able to see my family?"

The man frowns, his forehead creasing. "Hopefully soon, although it will be slightly complicated, given the circumstances." A breath leaves him, and he tilts his head to the side slightly. His white collar digs into the fold of his neck. Chase keeps his eyes trained on that. "And these are strange circumstances, are they not?"

"They are," Chase mutters. He clenches his fists in his lap. "They are, yeah."

He should have died. He doesn't know why he didn't die. He doesn't even know what it was that killed the others. Really, the nightmare he'd had makes sense. It was easily written off as a traumatic event that had brought back old nightmares. Of course there was no way any of it had been real. That's ridiculous. Just ridiculous. He doesn't know why he's thinking that.

His hand trails down his shirt. Underneath, on the skin of his stomach, is a thick scar that hadn't been there before the nightmare he'd had. Right where the rod had pierced his stomach.

Coincidence. Coincidence.

"Do you have any other concerns, Mr Brody?"

"I don't believe so."

"Good."

Click. Click. Click.

#boop writes #jacksepticeye #chase brody #henrik von schneeplestein #antisepticeye #dawn station

[ambivalent-anarchy]

Hurts So Bad... (Part 3)

-

The Week That Flashed By (Part 1/3)

Masterlist

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: For the first time, Peter Parker meets someone he has no idea how to save...

Warning: angst(obviously), mentions of suicide, depression, self-harm, drug use, me just exposing myself

A/N- if you only see Flash as a villain at all times then these chapters ain't for you. Not a lot of Peter this chapter but it's integral to the story so don't skip lol

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

Maybe he was hoping it'd go away.

Maybe he was wishing for the best.

Maybe he was just disregarding and ignoring you completely.

But for whatever reason, it took Peter a week to finally act. A week.

In the grand scheme of life, a week is incredibly short. However, circumstances can always change the way you perceive things.

When you have an essay due, a week seems to fly by. But when you're waiting for the new episode of your favorite tv to come, a week seems to just drag on.

The normal, busy people don't realize is that when you don't have anything to do, and when you're so far gone into the abyss, a week can genuinely seem like forever.

And your week had been nothing short of endless.

You might've finally been done with the physical low, but the mental low was practically just as bad. You could exert energy without feeling like you'd drop if a feather were to touch your shoulder, but your brain was tired.

On the upside, no one bothered you.

On the downside, no one bothered you.

You hated the silence, but strangely that's what followed you everywhere you went. Deafening silence.

You wanted so much for someone to just talk to you. Talk with you. Even if they were lying. Doesn't matter. You just wanted someone to speak. To have some type of change in your life that forced you out of the mundane, redundant, silent cycle you lived in.

Flash Thomspon was your lab partner.

You'd seen him around. He was hard to miss. Always with his jokes and his livestreams. Forever with a smile on his face. Just like Cecilia.

You remember asking her once why they weren't friends. She'd called him obnoxious.

You wouldn't call him obnoxious though, just... loud.

That Monday when lab partners were chosen, you were completely out of it.

Staring at nothing, not making a sound, setting your head down on the table, obviously not wanting to be bothered by anyone.

So when Flash got to your table, he hadn't bothered you. He walked over, simply looked at you for a bit, and once it was clear you weren't moving any time soon, he started on his notes alone.

Which you respected. That meant he was at the very least a bit sensible, if not just lazy.

The next day wasn't much different. You still weren't up for doing anything and Flash still wasn't up to bothering you.

The day after though, Wednesday, that was the day everything changed.

"Hello?," you said into your phone.

"Hey, is this [Y/N]? That quiet chick in a.p chem?"

You chuckled at the beyond simplistic description of yourself. "Uh, yeah this is she. Who's this?"

"Flash Thompson," he responded. "Coolest guy in the class."

You rolled your eyes. "Mhm, and why are you calling my phone?"

"Well-" you heard a bottle open "-we kinda have a project that's due at the end of the week. And, believe me, as much as I love doing duo projects on my own, you need to do something."

His upfrontness took you aback, but not particularly in a bad way.

And besides, you were getting sick of moping. Your curiosity wanted to see where this was going to go.

"Um, okay. So we'll crack down tomorrow then."

"How about now?" You could practically hear the smirk on his face.

"No," you quickly responded. "You mean come to your house right? Hell no."

"Why not?," he snickered. "Strict parents? Or is the pole really just that far up your ass?"

You rolled your eyes once again. You really didn't have the patience for this. "Okay I'm hanging up-"

"Wait! I'll text you my-" Click.

You stared at the wall for a good minute in complete irritation after that phone call. You had to have lost at least a hundred brain cells during that small conversation. The last thing you needed on your plate right now was some guy giving you shit.

A notification on your phone caught your attention.

3069 Oak Street

"Oh so you text me your address and now I'm just supposed to show up at your door?," you scoffed.

-

In retrospect, ringing that doorbell was probably the smartest dumb thing you ever did.

When you told your parents you were going to a friend's house, they just paused and then smiled. Your parents had no problem at all with you going out. They hadn't even asked questions. Heck they encouraged you to go out. That meant you were trying.

But fuck them. You were trying everyday. Trying not to just take the kitchen knife and slit your wrists after every dinner.

When the door to Flash's house opened you immediately noticed three things.

1) The alleged butler he'd been rumored around school to have was nowhere to be found.

2) This was an extremely nice house. Maybe even nicer than Cecilia's.

3) And Flash's eyes were red.

"Yo!," he greeted with an obnoxious grin. "Wassup?"

"We literally just stopped talking like ten mintues ago dude," you responded as you stepped into the house. "And what's with the shirt?"

This idiot actually had a Spider-Man t-shirt on.

"Excuse me? This is drip in the finest form," he defended, hopping onto his couch. "So anyway, the project or whatever. What're we gonna do for it?"

You sighed. "Well, unless I was actually invisible for all the class periods, it's obvious I wasn't paying much attention the last couple of days."

"Yeah I guess," he chuckled. "What was all that about anyway?," he asked, to which you simply shrugged. He squinted at you, but then rolled his eyes and then picked up the remote for the tv. "Oh well, you're better now, right?"

You winced, but you were glad Flash still wasn't looking your way. "Sure."

"Wanna take off your jacket? You're not outside anymore y'know."

And that's where the problem started.

You didn't know why, but you could look over knowing you were depressed. You'd easily come to terms with it. But it was the small things in normal conversations that hit you harder than anything else. Small little suggestions that you couldn't hide it all from everyone. Hell, you couldn't even take off a damn jacket like everyone else.

"I'm fine," you answered. "So... um, about that project?"

"Yeah," he said leaning forward. "You got the instruction papers or whatever?"

You gave him a look, confused. "I never picked them up. I thought you had the papers."

"I don't fucking pay attention in that boring ass class."

"So what was the purpose of me even coming here if we can't even do anything?," you snapped.

He just shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged again.

Your jaw clenched. Cecilia was right. "Obnoxious dumbass..."

You turned to walk back out of the front door before turning back around. "Hey Flash?"

He looked at you and grunted in acknowledgment.

"Were you just crying before I came in or are you just high?"

"High," he said rather quickly. "Why? Are my eyes red?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

"Fuck," he mumbled. "Want some?"

"Nah I'm good-" But he was already gone down the long hallway of his home. "Flash?"

You stood there, waiting for about five minutes before deciding that he wasn't coming back. Great.

So now you could either go get him, leave, or just continue standing there awkwardly.

And due to your lack of better judgment, you did the most classic horror movie move and walked further into a house that you weren't familiar with to go look for a guy you barely knew. If I die, I die, you thought with a shrug.

Walking into the long hallway the first thing you noticed was the abundance of doors. You weren't a stalker, so you didn't bother to look into any, but you could've swore you saw a room full of spiderman pictures and newspapers through the crack of one of them. Fucking weird.

In an attempt not to succumb to your curiosity, you walked faster down the hall. You stopped in your tracks when you heard sniffles. Whimpering? Whatever noises someone makes when they're crying. Someone was crying, that's for sure. And you were also pretty sure Flash was the only one in the house.

'Walk away [Y/N]. This isn't your business.'

But of course you walked closer, and the sniffles got louder. Until you found yourself opening the door and coming face to face with a crying Flash on the floor in the middle of some gaming room.

"Shit!," he yelled, turning away and attempting to cover up his crying with obnoxiously fake coughing.

"Are you okay?," you asked.

"I'm high," he kept repeating in mumbles, desperately reaching for something. "I'm just high, okay? Fuck."

You watched as he continued to search for whatever he was making it seem like he looking for. You wanted to reach out and maybe say something, anything that would make him feel better. But you knew that probably wouldn't help.

After all, it never helped you.

"I'm just... really fucking high right now, alright?"

He seemed incredibly off, even with the squirrelly, rude way he was being earlier. Like he was just trying too hard at something.

You were at a loss for words. You knew it was wrong, but the only thing you could think of was, hm. Rich boy's actually got some issues.

When he finally turned around, his face was dry and he carried a bong in his hands, lighting it and practically shoving it into his mouth in a weak attempt to cover up his unsteady breathing.

"Thought you left," he said, staring at the floor.

Realizing you'd been standing at the doorframe awkwardly, you moved to sit on the floor, opposite to him. "Well, you kinda offered me some weed and then left, I think."

"I thought I heard you say no though."

"I did..." you gulped. "But..I still stayed though."

And now you sat here with Flash and his bong.

He sat back on the side of the chair, his back leaning against it as he blew out the smoke. "Wanna try?," he offered, holding the small object up to you. He didn't wait for you to respond before setting it up again for you and passing it.

Without a word, you took it and breathed the smoke in. You sucked it up and felt it fill your lungs before leaning back and blowing it out, letting out a small cough afterwards. "Thanks."

"Fuck, you're a pro," Flash chuckled.

You shook your head and shrugged. "No. Common sense just tells you how it works, I guess."

"I feel that."

You hummed in amusement.

And then suddenly it was quiet again.

You fucking hated silence.

Luckily, Flash was a talker. Or so you thought.

At school there wasn't a dull moment if he was there. But now, seeing him in his home, he was quiet as a mouse. Contemplative. Searching.

"Say something," you said, earning a confused look from the boy in front of you.

He squinted. "Say what? I don't even know you."

You rolled yours eyes, shrugging. "Look, whatever was going on before I came in here, it's not my business, man. I only said to fucking speak."

Flash groaned. "About what?"

"I dunno," you answered. "I just don't like the quiet. Say anything you want. Just... talk."

"Um.." he looked up at the ceiling. "I got some new shoes the other day." He pointed at the Jordan's on his feet. "My mother got it shipped in from where she's out on business in Bora Bora."

Something about the way he said it made you sure that she wasn't out "on business".

"My butler is out today cuz it's his niece's birthday. She'd be cute enough, if her nose wasn't so big. It's like the wicked witch of the west."

You scrunched up your nose, imagining a younger version of wicked witch minus the green skin.

"Umm, I dunno uh, chocolate chip cookies are better than sugar cookies?"

You snorted at that. Now he was just thinking of anything.

"And uhh, I'm having spaghetti tonight.. and- well I don't know what you really want dude I'm just kinda.. life is just too boring to always have something to say for every second of every day, [Y/N]!," he suddenly snapped.

"Woah dude, chill." You blew out another round of smoke and handed Flash the bong. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was asking for too much."

He held his hand over his forehead. "Nah you're fine," sighed. "It's just- you ask that cuz I talk alot at school right? Yeah that makes sense I guess. I-I'm sorry," he rushed out before going back to the small contraption.

You'd been snapped at alot in your life. Way too many to count. But from those experiences you gathered a small truth; if someone has snapped at you over the smallest thing, they probably have something else going on. Or most likely a couple of things, piled up and ready to blow.

And you could smell that on Flash from a mile away.

"Flash, what's your real name?"

He paused, lifting his mouth from the bong. "Flash is my real name," he lied before passing it back over to you.

"No it's not," you stated, picking up another bag and the lighter up beside you for the bong, no longer satisfied with the loss of flavor. "I don't pay that much attention but I know for a fact that's not your name."

He rolled his eyes, quickly becoming frustrated with the conversation. "Eugene."

"Nice," you said, contemplating your next move. "So.. what does Eugene feel right now? Not Flash, but Eugene."

He reached over each practically snatched the bong away from you.

"Eugene is feeling annoyed, and frankly aggravated because some girl he barely knows is asking too much of him."

"Hey I'm only asking for what you'll give me," you said, throwing your hands in your defense.

"Well what about you?," he accused. "You're always down in the dumps, staring at the wall, looking all depressed 24/7 so how about you start talking? I mean, are you fucking okay?"

"No," you answered blandly. "Not in the slightest. Your turn. What does Eugene feel, Flash? Is Eugene, quote, 'fucking okay'?"

Flash scoffed. "What're you trying to say, that I'm depressed?"

"I never said that."

"Oh fuck that, you implied it!"

"I didn't-"

"You don't fucking know me, [Y/N]," he spat out, throwing the bong on the floor, watching as you picked it up before the water spilt. "You don't fucking know what I'm going through everyday, so please don't be like everyone else and tell me what I am, okay?!"

Were you being rude prying into his life? Totally.

Had you reached the level of nonchalantness with your and practically anybody else's wellbeing that you really couldn't possibly bring yourself to care? Yes.

And was Flash finally cracking? Completely.

"Flash is fake. And obnoxious. And rude," you deadpanned. "I wanna meet Eugene. See how he's doing."

Flash scoffed, looking for a comeback. You could see the expressions on his face flickering like random. Annoyance. Sadness. Want.

You were no psychologist but anyone with a brain could see what he was going through.

The two of you sat in silence again. But you didn't really mind it this time. You were waiting. Even without actually speaking, Flash was telling you everything about him.

Takes one to know one.

"Eugene's aggravated," he finally said, his eyes becoming watery. "Eugene's fucking angry all the time because people only seem to want Flash." He gave you a bitter smirk before averting his eyes to the ground. But you let him. If that's what was easiest for him, then whatever.

"And people assume things about Eugene all the damn time so eventually he decided -what the hell- he'll just give em what they want. And Eugene's fucking pissed because he knows for a fact that if he were to just disappear, no one would fucking care. His old man would just put him in the ground and everyone would be back to normal before fucking dinner." His breath was heavy and you could see mocha skin begin to turn a dark red. "And most of all he's pissed because he's been able to hide for so long and some girl just strolls in and figures him out."

And now here you were just there with Eugene and his bong.

You'd lost count of how much you'd smoked, and you knew he did too. But it didn't matter.

Nothing did anymore.

Not the pressure from your parents. Not the endless cycle of running through all the motions without actually taking anything in. Not even the stupid project that was worth half your grade that'd brought the two of you together in the first place.

Life was full of nothing just in millions of various forms.

Things dressed up and decorated to seem all fancy and important but in the grand scheme of things were just was worthless as you were.

You looked at Flash's home and all you saw was fancy nothing. Wealthy nothing. And you looked at his clothes and all you could possibly see was nothing.

And looking at Flash, you saw a nothing that was attempting to cover up something.

But looking at Eugene, you saw something.

Sadness. Neglect. Pain.

He was completely naked to you.

"You should probably stop," he mumbled, finally opening his eyes and sitting up a bit. "You're looking at me all weird." He reached for the bong, laying it aside once he grabbed it.

"Is that a bad thing?," you asked.

"No," he responded with a small shrug. "...just scares me is all."

You smirked. The only resemblance of a smile you'd been able to make in a long while. "And how do I, of all people, scare you, Eugene?"

You could see his jaw clench. Could see him debating with himself. Even relaxed from the weed, his eyes still darted around the room, and he was shaking his head the tiniest bit. Finally he looked back at you.

"Because -fucking somehow.. you see me-" a tear rolled down his face. "You actually see me. Not Flash... You see Eugene."

His mother's words rang through his ears like a cautionary tale. Real men don't cry. Don't be weak, like your father...

But he wanted to be. So badly he wanted, just for one moment, to be weak and to be able to fall into someone's arms and not act like he was always okay on his own. To not act like he didn't desperately yearn for someone's compassion. Someone's trust.

Flash was fun. Flash was the cool, funny side character in everyone's story. Flash was the picture perfect of everything he wanted to be.

"-And Eugene's a mess," he let out in a small, quiet sob, his expression not moving, though the tears streamed down his face. "I'm just high... that's why I'm saying all this crap. I'm just being dumb and high. Forget all this. I never said anything okay?"

You wouldn't see him break. Not some girl he just met...

Regardless of how he already felt about you.

He slowly looked back up at your face, fully expecting to see pity or disgust. Instead, your face remained neutral like his, and you were crying too.

"I don't think you're a mess Eugene." You sat up straighter, moved a little closer. "Just hurt."

He gave a bitter chuckle. "Isn't basically everybody?"

You shook your head slightly. "No...at least I don't think so. Everyone goes through something- and then there are those people that, in some sick way, want to be hurting.. but with people like us.." You found yourself grabbing his hand, not even thinking for what reason. You just did. "With us.. it's real. And not some temporary problem," you whispered. "It won't ever stop."

Eugene looked back at you again and it was over for him. He felt small. He felt naked. He felt fucking pure.

And then it happened.

You went in for a hug and he went in for a kiss.

But he made it first... and you didn't push him away.

Feeling his lips on yours.. wasn't bad. It surprised you at first, but ultimately it was pleasant.

He sighed against your lips and you could taste the smoke in between the two of you. You hadn't had much experience with guys before. Practically nonexistent if you were being honest, but that didn't matter. Eugene pressed his kiss firmer on yours, and you began to reciprocate his movements.

He held the side of your head lightly as he pulled away, his face growing further apart from yours the slightest bit. He rubbed his nose against yours. You both closing your eyes.

"Stay here with me," he pleaded softly, his breathing slightly erratic. "I-i won't try anything, I swear. I just..." He sniffed and used his shoulder to wipe away at some of the tears on his cheek. "You really see me. A-and I see you, y'know? And we're just-"

You nodded, taking your hand to run through his hair. "Okay," you whispered. "I'll stay."

A small smile started to break through his tears. "Thank you," he mumbled against your cheek before planting a soft kiss onto it.

Your mind was blank. You couldn't think of more than one thing at a time. But you knew one thing; you wanted to be there. That much you were sure of. You still weren't happy. You weren't safe. Just content with this idea of change.

For once, you weren't overly sure of what you were doing. It wasn't routine.

For once, you felt like something was different.

----------Back on the other side of town-----------

You weren't home.

Peter had finished his patrol, swung to your apartment, and you were nowhere to be found.

"No. N-no please don't do this," he pleaded to himself. "Be in the bathroom. Please just be somewhere. Come on, get in here."

He'd already looked through every window available and he could only hope you were in some inside room. Your bed was completely untouched.

"I should've reached out to you. Fuck! I should've done something. Just please be alive..."

He waited anxiously to see if you'd show, even sending a drone to Cecilia's address to see if you were there in the meantime. "I-I'm so sorry I- just please! Be at a friend's house! Something!"

He didn't even realize how much he was shaking. How much your life was in his hands. If you were dead, he'd never forgive himself.

"She's not at the Gulliver residence, Peter. Are there any other places you'd like for me to check?," E.D.I.T.H asked.

"She's somewhere!," he yelled out. "It's one in the morning on a school night. Find her! Please...."

He looked back toward the window. After while he didn't even know how much time had passed. He was just staring. Waiting for you to walk through that door. And when you never came he could only hope that you'd be at school.

"I'll help you," he whimpered. "Just..please. Please just stay alive long enough for me to try."

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

Lmao don't worry y/n won't end up with Flash and this certainly won't end up being a love triangle

Taglist - @eridanuswave, @imahardcase, @jules-and-gemss, @yetchann, @captainamericasdaughter, @starlight-starks, @everydaymj, @rubberducky-jrr, @chiaramrvl, @dreamofaprilsblog, @hello--zuko-here, @spidey-mads, @cuddlefishpeter

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #spiderman x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman #spiderman fic #spiderman mcu #spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker x depressed! reader #hurts so bad #hsb #spiderman x y/n #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fandom #spiderman angst #marvel angst #marvel x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel

[blueeyedheizer]

All Over Again - Matt (part 1)

WARNINGS: mention of a car accident, memory loss

A/N: Here it is ! The first part to my 3 or 4 parts fic. :) I know this trope is far from being original but I wanted to give it a go. Also this was originally supposed to be a one shot but the more I was writing, the more I got ideas so I decided to split it into a multiple part fics. let me know what you think xx

----

Matt was supposed to have been home from practice 2 hours ago. It was almost midnight and you were worried sick, pacing around the house and looking out the window every two minutes. You didn't think much of it at first and figured he had stayed in the studio a little longer to work on more songs, but after an hour you began to worry. You had tried calling his bandmates, but according to them he had left practice on time with everyone else.

“Did he seem upset during practice?” You questioned through the phone, biting your nails anxiously.

"It was a hard day, yeah. He kept on messing up his parts and was a bit more irritable than usual." James explains. You let out a deep, shaky sigh, one hand coming up to rest on your forehead and closing your eyes as you tried to keep your composure.

"Look James I, um- i'm sorry to bother you with this but Alex won't answer the phone either, do you think they might have gone to a pub together or something?"

"Alex went straight to his girlfriend's after practice. I'm sorry love, I really don't know about Matt. But don't worry about it too much, yeah? I'm sure he's fine. You know how he can be sometimes." you nod your head repeatedly, allowing a tear to slide down your cheek.

"Okay, yeah. Yeah, you're probably right. Thanks anyway James." you croak out before saying goodbye and ending the call. You had thought of calling Javed, but you knew it was already late and there was no way his dad would've let Matt in at such an hour. Your heart was beating insanely fast inside your chest and you were feeling like you could break down at any moment, the worst thoughts occupying your mind.

You eventually decided to lay down on the couch and play your favorite movie to try and get rid of the nagging voice in your head. Maybe he just went on a walk to clear his mind and stopped by a pub nearby. He might have met up with some friends there, which would explain why he was so late.

After a little while you heard the sound of the front door open. You immediately shot up, running over the door as Matt walked in. He didn't seem hurt at all, which was relieving. But you were still upset.

"Where the hell have you been?! Do you have any idea what time it is?!" he doesn't say anything and walks straight past you. "Matt, what's going on?!" you call after him as he makes his way to your shared bedroom.

"Why aren't you in bed?" he says coldly, completely ignoring your previous questions

"Because it's fucking midnight and my boyfriend who was supposed to be home two hours ago didn't show any sign of life until now!" you say and he scoffs. "I was worried sick, Matt!"

"I don't have a curfew to be home, Y/N. I've already had a shit day so if you could just fuck off and stop giving me unnecessary lectures I would appreciate it." you open your mouth to speak but close it again. You genuinely didn't know what to say anymore.

"Fine. Maybe I should leave and go have fun on my own somewhere then, since we don't have a curfew."

"Yeah, good. Leave. Maybe I'll finally get some peace and quiet." he spat.

With that, you turn around and walk out, grabbing your coat and car keys on your way. You storm out the front door, slamming it back close behind you and run straight to your car, silent tears leaving your eyes as you do.

You weren't sure how it happened.

Tears were blurring your vision as you drove to your best friend’s. You knew that she would gladly let you in, no matter what time of night you showed up, plus she wasn't the type to go to sleep early. You hated driving at night, but you needed to get some fresh air, you needed to get away from Matt. 

You eventually began to regret your decision of leaving as the fog covered your vision more than it already was with your tears. But it was too late to come back, and you still weren't ready to face him after what had just happened. He wanted to be alone, then he was going to get his alone time. Your hand gripped the wheel tightly as you wiped your cheeks and eyes furiously, but no matter how hard you tried to calm down and focus on the road, the tears would come back and blur your vision.

And before you had the chance to react to what was coming in front of you, you felt a violent collision, and your world went black.

Matt knew something was wrong the moment his dad burst into his room in a panic the next morning.

"Dad?! What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?!" he yelled.

It was barely 7am when he got a call from the hospital letting him know that you had been taken there after a car accident. He was in shock, barely able to let any words out. You were like a daughter to him, so the news were hard to swallow. All he did since he burst into the room was to blurt out your name along with barely coherent words between breathless pants.

"Dad? What is it? What's wrong with Y/N?!" Matt said, immediately jumping out of bed. He grabbed his clothes and put them on quickly, waiting for an answer.

"She got– she in an accident last night. It's bad." he managed to get out.

Matt's heart stopped beating for a moment as he tried to comprehend what he was being told. Everything around him seemed to have stopped as the events from yesterday flashed through his mind. He stared at his dad, speechless, his face suddenly draining of all color as his eyes filled with tears. He was suddenly hit by a wave of guilt and he felt the whole air being knocked out of him. His heartbeat picked up and the room soon felt too suffocating. He couldn't breathe, the room was spinning, his ears ringing.

His dad grabbed his face with both hands to keep him grounded him then pat his cheek slightly.

"Come on now, we have to go. She needs you, son." He said, keeping a steady gaze on him. Matt snapped out of his daze and stormed out of the room, his dad following closely. He grabbed the car keys on his way and they both headed to the hospital in a hurry. Of course Matt’s dad insisted on driving, knowing that his son was in no way able to focus on the road in this state.

By the time they got there, Matt's eyes and face were bright red from how much he had been crying. He was out the door before the car even came to a complete stop, rushing into the emergency section of the building.

He burst through the front doors and begun looking around, trying to find a nurse, a doctor or anyone that could tell him about your condition. A nurse came out of one of the many rooms and he rushed towards her, tears still streaming down his cheeks as he asked where you were.

"Could you tell me her name again?" she asked, gently placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. He nodded and repeated, trying to keep it together. The nurse lead him to the reception, searched through her papers then looked up after a few seconds.

"She's in surgery right now so I can’t let you go see her just yet. We're doing the best we can to keep her alive, but from what I know she got into a pretty bad accident, and this kind of surgery requires hours and hours of work." she continues and he nods, trying not to completely break down in front of her. She gives him more details about the surgery before leading him to the waiting room where your family and some friends of yours were waiting.

three days later.

''It's been over half an an hour...'' Matt finally spoke up, breaking the silence as he paced anxiously around the waiting room. "Someone should be able to tell us something by now.''

''I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, Matt." Javed answered softly in an attempt to comfort both himself and Matt. Matt sighed and nodded before he finally sat down in the space between James and Javed. No one was speaking. Everyone avoided eye contact, too busy being lost in their own thoughts, moving their legs anxiously. Matt however couldn't stay still, but no one could blame him. He had been staying with you every day since you got there, even though you weren't awake, and now that they finally had some news they wouldn't let him see you. Family first.

He fidgeted and bit his lips nervously, the worst thoughts constantly occupying his mind. He buried his face in his hands, more tears falling down his face. Needless to say, no one had ever seen him like this before. He looked extremely tired and sleep-deprived, and the guilt was eating him alive. Javed placed a comforting hand on his back.

"You need to stop blaming yourself, Matt. This is not your fault." he says. "She’s going to be okay."

“It is my fault, J. If I hadn’t come home so late and told her to leave...—” he chokes, opening his mouth before closing it again. "She went out because of me. She's here because of me. If she had died—" he starts, but James interrupts him.

"But she's alive, mate. That's all that matters right now. You can't take back what you said or did, but you still have time with her to make it up."

As he was about to stand up and start pacing around again, Matt's head shot up at the sound of footsteps coming towards the waiting room. In a matter of seconds he was on his feet and your mom was at the door with a small forced smile and wet cheeks, a nurse standing beside her.

''Miss Y/L/N is awake.'' the nurse said. "You can see her, but you all should know that she's showing signs of amnesia." everyone's face dropped as they took in the information. "We do not know whether it is permanent or temporary. She remembers her mother and her name but couldn't tell us today's date, whether it is day, month or year. I just want you all to be prepared in case she has a hard time remembering any of you, which could be a possibility." Everyone in the room nodded then started hugging each other to express a deep relief along with sorrow. After three days of constant fear and sleepless nights, you were awake. But then, there was the possibility of you not remembering them. Matt hugged your mom tightly before they all followed the nurse into your room. His heart started racing as he thought about all the things he wanted to say to you. He didn't think apologies would be enough.

He finally snapped out of his thoughts when he reached the door to your room, his heart aching at the sight of his girlfriend laying on a hospital bed.

You were slightly startled when the door to your room opened again, your nurse walking in along with a bunch of people you couldn't quite recognise as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Your entire body felt numb. You tried to sit further up, but your were immediately stopped by a striking pain coming from your ribs. You lifted your hand in an attempt to scratch your head but you were surprised to feel a bandage under your fingertips and see one wrapped around your wrist. Confused, you realized the upper part of your body was bandaged, but you couldn’t quite figure out why.

"Hello again, Y/N." your nurse smiled "Some people are here to see you. Could you tell me if you recognise any of them?"

Vision still blurry, you frowned and attempted to turn your head to the right. You let out a small groan, the movement triggering an ache.

"Take your time, there is no rush." the nurse says.

Then someone took a seat next to you and grabbed a hold of your hand that wasn't bandaged. You eventually managed to take a proper look at your surroundings, looking around yourself. Your mom was there, along with Javed.

"Um...well, there's mom again. And Javed." you spoke weakly. A small smile curved your lips when you saw him. You two had been friends since 6th grade. You then looked at the two boys behind him. "I don't think I know you." you spoke with a frown." James and Alex's faces dropped a little, but they were kind of expecting it. You weren't as close with them as you were with Javed, so you had fewer memories of them and more forgettable ones.

Then you met the other boy's eyes, the one sitting beside you.

You said nothing while staring at him before realising that he was holding onto your hand which you slowly pried away from him. Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. His nose, his hair, his lips. Then his eyes. You looked into them, trying to find any form of familiarity, but there was none. Why was he holding your hand?

"Y/N?" he says, his voice weak. You could tell he was fighting back tears. You frowned again, lips parting in confusion. You gave your mom a worried glance before looking back at him.

"I...I'm sorry but, am I supposed to know you?"

#blueeyeddean #matt

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-Six

Words: 3.8k

Warning(s): Explicit language, explicit sexual situations, drug abuse, violence, domestic abuse

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I glance over as Emi starts on God, seeing her absentmindedly fumble with her cross as Mick listens intently, a small smile coming to my face. 

She's as enthusiastic about her beliefs as I am. It's a little more comforting having someone around that's on the same page as I am. 

That is until Nikki gets tired of hearing her go on and on about Christ. 

It's probably giving him flashbacks of conversations with Vanity. 

"Can you shut the fuck up?!" He yells back here to her, and she abruptly stops, looking at him. 

"Sixx, you're not even back here, just mind your own business." Mick boldly replies, too tired to fight about it. 

"What did you just say to me?" He cuts his eyes sharply. 

"He said mind your own business! It's not our fault your blood starts boiling and combusts into flames anytime someone mentions God! Shut up and deal with it and stop being a little bitch!" I state and he glares at me. 

A Jack Daniel's bottle is hurtling my way in no time, and I duck, causing it to hit Mick and Emi, soaking them in Jack. 

"Fuck you!" Nikki yells at me. "And you know what?! If God is so real why doesn't he just strike us out of the sky right fucking now?!" 

This sends Emi into a frenzy, grabbing her crucifix, praying, while Tommy and Vince join in on further terrorizing her, dropping their pants, along with Nikki, while they all shout on about how God needs to suck their dicks. 

I'd be offended if I knew God was. He's more than likely just looking down at them, shaking his head, wondering why he decided to create them in the first place when all they're doing is wasting their lives on booze, used pussy, and any drugs they can get their hands on. 

All the sudden, Tommy disappears into the pilots cabin, and within seconds we're doing a barrel roll, making Emi start screaming and crying. 

Once we get level, I'm taking a few deep breaths before coming to my feet. 

"Vivian." Fred scolds me, knowing what's coming, but I ignore him, marching to Nikki, Vince and Tommy, punching them both in the back of the head as hard as I can before slapping Vince with the same energy, Fred and Doc getting in the way before they can come back at me. 

"Fucking bitch!" Nikki barks at me. 

"Heard that one too many times, it's starting to bore me!" I bite back as Doc pulls me to the back of the plane. 

"See how boring my fingers around your neck are gonna be when I get ahold of you again!" He yells after me, Fred shoving him into a seat. 

"Maybe you'll kill me this time and do us both a favor!" I reply. 

"We have a gun at home just put it in your mouth and fire a-fucking-way!" 

"I would if I didn't know it'd make you so freaking happy, you sick junkie!" 

"God forbid you do anything to make me happy!"

"I sacrificed my dancing and my schooling to make you happy!" I throw at him.

"You threw out your chance to go to school and do what you were passionate about for me when I never even wanted you to do that! I wanted you to go to school, I wanted you to keep dancing but you didn't because you were too much of a pussy to leave 'cause you thought I'd break up with you!" 

"And we see where that fucking got me, don't me?! Married to a sick man who has no qualms about screwing his wife's best friend for over a year in the house he bought for her, in the bed they share!" 

"If that sick man didn't marry such a selfish, evil, farm fresh cunt from hell he wouldn't have felt the need to step out on her!" 

"You stepped out on me for drug love!" 

"I stepped out because I was bored with you and she fucked good!" He's venomously snapping at me. 

I want to say, "trust me, I know the feeling!" but decide not to. 

"Just be sure to mention that to our lawyers when you get back from Japan because I'm sick and tired of being married to you!" I shout. 

"Fuck you!" He screams. 

"Fuck both of you!" Doc snaps at us, heaving heavy breaths. "Now, I've had it, dammit!" He screams. 

We're all silent for a moment, before I'm glaring at Nikki. 

"See what you did, asshole?!" I accuse him. 

"What I did?!" He yells back, brows furrowing.

"Yes, what you did, since the only thing you're good at is stressing people out!" I shout at him. 

"I stress people out?! I stress people out?!" He starts laughing humorlessly. "I turned to fucking smack to escape your stress inducing bullshit, you delusional, rabid cunt!" He barks at me as Fred tugs me to the bathroom before I can get the last word in, locking me in until it's time to land. 

By the time we get to Fort Lauderdale, we've both calmed down enough to tolerate each once again, which is good considering paparazzi is on us like flees to a dog. 

"Vivian, Nikki!" Press shouts as cameras flash, Nikki reluctantly grasping at my hand as Fred clears a path in the people to car. 

When they see Vince, Tommy, Mick and Tansy behind us, they go after them next, giving me and Nikki time to duck into the car. 

"Geez." I sigh out, fixing my hair as Nikki moves across from me the second the door shuts. 

He leans his head back, cursing under his breath, raking a hand down his face. 

"You okay?" I ask him, genuinely, and he sneers, his eyes still closed as he catches his breath. 

"No, Vivian, no, I'm not okay." He huffs out with a sharp scoff, and I rub my lips together. 

"It's hard on me, too, you know. You aren't by yourse--"

"--Bab--Vivian, just shh." He catches himself before he says, "baby," and my heart tenses up in my chest. 

"Would you rather me scream at you and start an argument?" I ask him and he sits up, looking at me with smeared, running eyeliner, circles under his eyes, and ghostly skin. 

"I'd rather you just keep your mouth shut." He states, fumbling with his boot, pulling some tar, a spoon and a syringe out. 

"Oh, you aren't serious..." I say to him, raising a brow. 

"Me,Tansy, Izzy, Andy, Michael...don't act like you haven't seen someone shoot up before, Viv. If it makes you pussy out just close your eyes. I'll be done in a few seconds." He mumbles, about to start heating it in the spoon. 

I do just that, until I decide I'm not sitting around and let him kill himself anymore. 

I go to snatch the syringe and lump of smack away from him before he can stop me, opening the sunroof and throwing it out, going for his syringe next. 

"Stop!" He barks at me, guarding it, the both of us ending up on the floor of the limousine. 

"Nikki!" I scream, fighting with him to get it, but a sharp pain is soon shooting through my pointer finger as the needle stabs through the underside of my finger and out the top. 

It was by accident, being that he wasn't even holding the needle. 

"Motherfucker!" I scream to myself, Nikki's face paling further at the sight, as he lays underneath me while my tears are rolling down my cheeks as stinging pain spread through the nerves of my fingers, followed by the buzzing of the micro-amount of heroin on the tip of the needle that pierced my skin. 

I hiss as I pull it out and aim the needle at the car's carpet, getting rid of the shot, holding my bleeding finger as I sit up, Nikki still looking sick as I get off of him. 

"That shit wasn't cheap." He tells me, pulling himself up.

I don't pay him any attention, my finger starting to throb. 

He stares at me while I have my little pity party, before he takes a long sigh and grabs at my hurt finger, making me sniffle. 

"It's not like it went through the bone, Viv." He says dismissively, although he still holds to my finger as if trying to make it better. 

"Just shut up." I snatch away from him, frustrated.

"You shut up." He replies in the same harsh tone. 

"You fuck off." I kick my heel into his knee and he grabs my ankle and tugs at me, causing me to slide into the limo floor again. "Nikki!" I kick again with my other foot, this time, missing his crotch by mere centimeters. 

He slides to the other side of the seating to get away from me. 

When we stop at the next light, I'm reaching for the door handle and opening it up, causing him to pounce on me, and slam the door as I open it, yelling, "goddamnit, Sixx!" pinning me under him to keep me from opening it again. 

We both take heavy breaths, looking at each other...he smells repulsive, but I've missed the presence of his close proximity. 

The door opens suddenly, Doc and Fred looking down at us. 

Apparently we didn't stop at a red light, but our destination.

We both look up at them like guilty puppies, piled on each other, Fred, in particular, eyeing me like a hawk. 

"We're here." Doc informs us as we pull ourselves out of the car, and I brush off as Doc and Nikki walk ahead of me and Fred. 

"Don't say a word." I tell Fred.

"Wasn't going to." He assures me.

"It wasn't what it looked like." I say next. 

"Never said it was." He replies.

"Yeah, but, I know what it looked like, and--"

"--Viv, I'm not saying a word about it." He reassures me as we walk into the venue to see Steven, Slash, and Izzy sitting on the stage. 

Stevie sees me and makes a beeline for me, making a point to hug me. 

Steven was like Vince, but a hell of a lot more genuine and wholesome. He just loved love, affection, flirting, and women--especially women.

"Duff's really upset over what happened, Viv." He tells me in my ear. 

"I'll talk to him." I reply with a slight nod. 

"I don't know if just talking it out is gonna help much of anything, babe." He says lowly and I let out a breath. 

"I'll talk to him." I repeat, brushing off his warning. 

When I get on the bus, Duff's got his shirt off, shuffling through his bag, glancing at me. 

"Hey." I say to him.

"Hey." He mumbles back, grabbing another tshirt to put on. 

"Steven said you were still pretty upset about last night." I tell him, stepping a little closer. 

"Not with you...just...the situation." He explains in a low, frustrated tone. 

"Well, do you wanna talk about it?" I offer. 

He looks at me, letting out a breath, licking his lips.

"You've already said you guys are getting divorced, so, it's not like it really matters." He shrugs. "Just having a little trouble pretending like he didn't damn near kill you, but..." he trails off, seeing the look on me face before saying, "I'll get over it, Viv, alright? Don't worry about me jumping on him again or anything like that." 

"I'm not worried about that." I assure him, grasping at his hand, tugging him closer to me in the aisle, a small smile on his lips as his hand runs through my hair, our eyes locked. 

"I love you." He tells me, my arms wrapping around his waist. 

"I love you, too." I grin, and he presses his lips to mine, sweetly, before I'm pulling away. 

"Alright, your show starts in an hour and a half." I inform him. 

"Okay." He says dismissively, kissing me again. 

"Duff, we gotta go." I giggle, his lips kissing at my cheek, then my neck. 

"We will." He says against my skin, chuckling. 

"If you're late, Axl's gonna kill us both." I remind him, kissing him again. 

As always, one thing led to another, and then…

"Duff," I whimper out, my bare back wet with sweat from the humidity in the Florida air, my thighs spread as he pushes his fingers in and out of me on the table of the empty tour bus--my dress discarded to the floor, leaving me in only my heels since I wasn't wear a bra or panties, specifically prepared for this moment. 

The wet sounds of his fingers toying with my soaked pussy reverberate off the walls of the bus, only making the ache in me more hungry. 

His tongue swirls around my nipple, and he bites it teasingly, making arch into him, his fingers plunging deeply into me, purposely brushing that spot. 

I runny fingers through his hair as he goes to my other nipple, doing the same to it, making me sigh out in pleasure. 

He kisses my lips before grinning, taking a step back to look between my legs as if admiring me, his bare torso tensing with each breath in, his hand raking over his blonde hair. 

I pull my lip into my mouth, placing my heel on his chest, gently pushing him to sit down across the aisle, and I look at him smugly as he watches me, his hand palming at his crotch. 

I turn over to my hands and knees on the table, arching my ass up and my face down before reaching my hand underneath me to rub at my clit, watching over my shoulder as he takes heavy breaths. 

Two of my fingers tease at my entrance, and I moan out as they slide into me, my walls tightening around my digits as pleasure prickles up my spine. 

He keeps his eyes glued to me as I move my other hand to my clit, my toes curling as I eventually bring myself to orgasm, but I don't have time to recover before Duff's hands are grabbing my hips and his tongue is lapping at my center, sucking at my clit from behind. 

I gasp, my hand reaching back to hold his face to me, my body moving in rhythm with his tongue. 

Moans and whimpers come from me, and he pulls away for a moment, only to pull me into the aisle and push at my back until I've got my hands on the floor, completely bent over as he gets a better angle at eating me out. 

I nearly scream at the sudden accessibility he's got, on his knees, lips and tongue going to work. 

"I'm gonna come." I gasp out and he presses one more kiss to my clit before two of his fingers thrust into my cunt, making my eyes roll back at their demanding pace, curling to hit against my g-spot. 

He stands up, never pulling his hand away as the other hand holds at my hip, leaving to run over my ass cheek for a moment as I begin to spasm around his fingers, my legs shaking as cum runs down them. 

He pulls his fingers from me and I'm standing and turning to face him, sucking them into my mouth and he curses under his breath as I keep them in my mouth, my hand unbuckling his belt and pulling his hard cock out of his jeans, wanting him down my throat at the sight of precum beading at his tip. 

I keep my control, letting his fingers from my mouth as I'm licking my lips and rubbing my thighs together. 

I sit on the edge of the table, my legs spread, my hand between my legs as he steps to me, grabbing his prick and rubbing it against my sensitive folds. 

"Fuck, Vivian." He says softly, smile on his lips as if he still can't believe he's sleeping with me. 

I just grin at him and pull him down to kiss me. 

I cry out when he takes the time to push into me, hitting as deep as he can with a few more inches to spare. 

"Make me take all of it." I tell him after he thrusts a few times. 

He watches my face as he slowly inches it further and further into me, his tip hitting my cervix and pressing against it, making it give way little by little until he's buried in me to the hilt and I feel like he's in my stomach, tears in my eyes from the painful pleasure. 

"This is how deep I want you to go when you come." I tell him, sweat beading between my breasts and he watches it, leaning forward to lick it off my skin. 

"You want me to come in you?" He asks me, knowing the answer but wanting to hear me say it. 

"Yes." I nod, gasping. 

"Why?" He asks and I look down, his shaft disappearing into me and coming out glistening with my juices. 

"Because it feels so good." I reply and he grabs my jaw, his tongue meeting mine in a sloppy, passionate kiss as he picks up his pace. 

I grab his hand and guide it to my bruised throat. 

He almost pulls his hand away but stops when I look at him. 

"You're not gonna--fuck--hurt me." I assure him, my hungry pussy being fed the way its needed, making my eyes roll back and my lids close as my head tilts back.

He slowly grasps my throat, harder and harder, and the sensation sends sharp pleasure straight to my clit. 

My fingers go to play with it, but his fingers move mine from his way, staying in fast rhythm with his thrusts.

"I'm--" I can't finish what I'm saying before he moans out with me tightening around him, further wetting him with my juices as I finish

Within a couple more minutes he's breathing out, his dick twitching before he fits all of his length into my cunt and my body's being christened with his hot cum. 

Once I cool down and clean myself up, I'm going back to him. 

I pull my shirt back over my head as his hand runs up and down my back, his lips catching on the space between my shoulder blades before the fabric of my shirt can cover me, making me laugh. 

"Duff, we--" 

"Dude, we eat on that table!" We hear Stevie pipe, and turn to see him and Izzy looking at us in horror, by the door, where we're sitting on the table. 

"So did Duff, apparently." Izzy says with a crooked smile, cigarette smoke cascading past his lips as he finds it amusing. 

"Sorry." I say to them, quickly getting dressed as Duff gets up to pull his pants on. 

"We didn't see anything, don't worry. We just waited for the screaming to subside." Izzy lets out. "Axl's wondering where you guys are."

"Of course he is." I roll my eyes. 

"Not for that reason. I think he wants to talk to you about Tansy." He adds. 

"Tansy? What about her?" 

"What do you think?" 

"She's not going to rehab until she wants to." I immediately know what he's referring to. "And being that she's not enthusiastic about living, I doubt she cares whether she dies or not." 

"Well, Axl's all worried and googly eyed and gross." Izzy huffs out. 

"Plus, she's our friend, too, and we've all been trying to talk to her about getting some help." Steven tells me, next.

I get my shoes on and step past them to the door. 

"See ya in a few." Duff tells me. 

"See ya in a few." I reply, smiling at him, before going to find Axl.

The irony of anybody from Guns being worried for Tansy due to her drug addiction was exactly that: ironic. 

But I don't blame Axl for not wanting to see the girl he was miserably in love with (well, obsessed and unhealthily infatuated with) on the brink of her own final destruction. I guess because I'd been there with Nikki, myself, and knew how scary it was--even if big, bad, mean machine Axl refused to admit he was scared, I knew he was.

"Have you seen Axl?" I ask Doc as I pass him by, and he furrows his brows. 

"Might check their dressing room, I think." He replies and I nod. 

"Oh, and I'm sorry for mine and Nikki's fight earlier." I say before he can walk off. 

"Don't worry about it, Vivian." He nods a little as I offer a small smile and head to the guys' dressing room. 

The ginger isn't in there and I groan, heading to Mötley's dressing room to check in there, coming face to face with Sparkie. 

"What the hell are you doing in here?" I ask him, cutting my eyes. 

"Waiting for Nikki to get back from the bathroom...what about you?" He replies smugly. 

"Wondering why you're back when Nikki and Axl have both made it clear they don't want to see you again." I state. 

"The bitchy redhead isn't getting in the way of my business." He says, referring to dealing to Nikki. 

"You're so sick." I hiss out in disgust, turning to leave. 

"I'm kinda wanting to add a few drops of fuel to the fire, ya know...tell him about you and Duff." He starts, and I tense up, slowly looking at him. "End the last show of this leg of the tour with a bang." 

"He won't believe you." I try to say it confidently, but my voice cracks just slightly. 

"I don't think you're giving him enough credit, Viv. Sure he's high a lot of the time, but it's not hard to believe when almost all of your time is spent with Duff in some form or fashion--not to mention you lied about your friendship with him from the start, so…" he points out. 

"What gets you off about seeing people in pain? If you're not helping them destroy themselves, you're making things a lot worse for their life." I grit out. 

"I'm not making things worse for his life by telling him about your inability to keep your legs closed. You did--well, still are doing--the crime, I'm just giving him a heads up about it because he's my friend, and my friend needs to know what kind of snake his wife really is." He remarks and I grind my teeth, turning to go again, but he grabs my wrist. 

"Unless she wants to persuade me to keep her secret?" He suggests, his cruddy eyes traveling up my body like they always do. "Last chance, Viv." He adds. "If he finds out, it'll completely shatter him. You don't want that on your hands, do you?" He keeps on, stepping closer to me, his arm sliding around my waist slowly as I stand still, frozen, as my heart pounds in my chest. "It'll just take a few minutes, and then you can go on your merry way, and I won't say a word." He grins, the tip of his nose touching mine, his chapped lips grazing mine as the door opens, revealing Nikki. 

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #gateway drug

[creekqueen27]

Control (Pennywise x Reader) 3

Pennywise/human form pov.

The familiar beat flows from the radio, a smirk on my face as I play around with my food, singing to the radio and dancing in my seat.

Hit It!

Nah, na na na nah

Here comes the hot stepper, murderer

I'm the lyrical gangster, murderer

The car travels towards the edge of Dexter, interstate 95 visible to the right. Countless cars zooming down the popular highway.

Pick up the crew in-a de area, murderer

Still love you like that, murderer

A very lit up house comes just into view, without a doubt it's the destination for tonight. People are standing outside, so tiny from this far away.

No no we don't die, yes we multiply

The car finally arrives on the pull off for the house, everyone immediately getting out and stretching our legs. My eyes glance at everyone taking them in. A familiar face causes me to double take, and the words leave my mouth so fast I can't even think about them.

I breathe out a laugh when I see her, the girl from the barrens, standing and flirting with some guy.

(Her outfit and hair)

Extraordinary, juice like a strawberry

Money to burn baby, all of the time

"Yo, Roman, you already got your eyes on a girl?" A voice from the left side of me tears my attention away from the barrens girl with a laugh. How pissed would she be if I got her in bed and then she found out it was me? I can't help but give her one last look before telling the guys I'll catch up with them later. I need to find out what she's doing here so she doesn't fuck my night up.

....

Reader pov

The volume of the music is so loud, you can nearly feel the bass. Multiple parked cars litter the front lawn, some beginning to spill over into the back lawn. The medium sized, three story house wouldn't be able to see what's coming even if it were to slap it in the face with an explanation. I feel eyes on me as I turn and see a guy in a dark colored t-shirt staring at me with a smirk.

The intensity of his gaze makes me a little uncomfortable, angry and moist all at once.

I'll take my time with you, handsome. I return the smirk, looking him over with satisfaction before looking back at the tall, somewhat muscular guy standing in front of me. I fake a shiver, pouting up at him. "I'm kind of cold.." I say quietly, shyly looking away. Almost immediately I'm covered in his jacket. As he starts to lead me inside, I glance in the direction of the cute guy who was staring at me before, only to find him still looking at me but now he's standing alone against the car where his friends used to be. I'm forced to look away as I walk up the steps and into the house. The music is even louder, the atmosphere is hot and care free. Dancing bodies fill nearly all free space on the ground floor. A few couples are scattered on the stairs and the second floor. Some doors that are visible are open, showcasing different rooms.

"Wanna drink babe?" I hear close to my ear; I nod as I look up at the guy who gave me his jacket, his skin a beautiful shade of dark mocha. I accept the drink as I continue to study my surroundings and form a plan for feeding.

________________

Pennywise pov

I've been watching her for hours trying to figure out what she's going to do. If she doesn't do something soon, I'm just going to start my feast with her. I despise having to wait when I'm starving. I look down at my watch, mentally setting a timer for her before faking a laugh for the girl trying to convince me to take her home with me. I continue to keep an eye on her, my patience growing thinner the longer this girl talks. I catch her eye for a split second. She laughed at something that guy said and dances closer to him as he whispers in her ear, moving his hands to her hips and pulling her against him just as the girl in front of me tries to hook her leg around my hip and touch my chest. I push her off me roughly, having enough of this waiting game. I make my way through the crowd straight towards her, keeping my eyes on her the whole time.

Reader POV

I let the guy pull me against him, the alcohol taking a slightly stronger affect than I'd planned, as I see a familiar face standing in the crowd staring me down.

"That your boyfriend?" The guy holding me asks as pointing directly at him. Just as I'm about to answer, someone takes my hands in theirs. I turn and realize that I'm eye level with someone's lower chest. My eyes slowly look up at the familiar face of my apparent admirer.

"Hey, can I talk to you?" He asks with a gorgeous smile, looking down for a second shyly. I can't fight back the smile that breaks across my face as I nod and follow him through the crowd, still holding hands. He leads me to a door in the kitchen and opens it, revealing a dimly lit basement. Even though I'm in no danger what so ever, my heart skips a beat in slight fear. The guy suddenly chuckles and looks down at me as he tightens his grip slightly and leads me down the stairs, before shutting the door behind us. If I were paying more attention, I would have heard him sliding the lock across the door.

The dim light made it difficult to make out everything. A few things were clear; a couch, scattered pillows, chairs. Typical creepy basement. I wrap my arms around myself as I turn to the tall brunette. He comes to stand in front of me, looking down at me. Intensely. I squirm slightly after a few moments as I can't hold his gaze.

"Um.. what did you want to talk about?" I can't believe he's having this effect on me. I was literally here to kill. Now I'm a nervous high schooler again.

"Why are you here?" He asks, inching closer to me as I begin inching away from him, towards the wall, confused and uncomfortable. I stare up at him silently. He sighs, annoyed.

"I know you aren't deaf. And I know you can talk. You have wasted enough of my time. What. Are. You. Doing. Here."

He asks, venom in his voice. I can't seem to find my voice, pure confusion fills my mind. Do I know this dude? "Yes, you know me. Have you forgotten me already?" He chuckles darkly. What the fuck!? This guys crazy

"I'm not crazy, you just scream your thoughts." He says as he rushes towards me, I instinctively jump back, hitting the wall as my fangs defensively show themselves. He grabs at my wrists as I jump and bite at his neck. He shoves me away from himself, and I immediately move to attack him again. I barely knick his skin before I'm thrown at the bottom of the stairs. On instinct, I turn and run up them, jerking the door open-.. pulling at the door frantically trying to turn the knob. Hands grab my hips and lift me as I scream. The grip on my left hip intensifies enough to force me to cry out as the other hand clamps down painfully against my mouth, muffling all sound from me. I fight against the tall male as he half way drags me down the last few steps. Suddenly, I'm slammed against the wall, hard. Hard enough to hurt me. How is he this strong? He can't be human. I struggle against his grip, failing to overpower him as I realize my feet are far off the ground due to him holding me just above his eye level. I look down at him a split second after I hear him giggle accompanied by the quiet sound of bells. I open my eyes and am met by a clown with fiery red hair and glowing eyes. The same eyes that I saw a couple of nights ago when I was feeding. Realization washes over my face, and he notices.

"Now, little girl, I am sick and tired of waiting for you to do something. I'm starving, and I don't want you to get in my way again-" he says, but I cut him off with a scoff.

"Me get in your way??" I nearly laugh in his face. He stares at me, blankly so I continue. "Why are you following me? And, starving, really? You stole half my fucking food just the other night!" Anger begins rising. He simply just smiles at me, making me angrier.

"They were tasty." He chuckles and shakes a bit.

I growl, fighting against him. He shakes his head at me. "You're not going to get away unless I want you to. I haven't exactly decided what to do with you just yet. I could have much use for you..." He taunts, eyes raking down my body slowly.

"Fuck off. Shouldn't you be at some kid's birthday party?" I spat in anger. He quickly meets my eyes.

"You have no idea how much I wish for that." He says, genuinely. I sigh. Who is this clown..

"Oh! Well, I'm pennywise the dancing clown." He states with a wide grin. My eyebrows raise as I study him.

"I'm -name-..." I say quietly, holding his curious gaze as my name leaves his lips in a whisper so quiet it's almost inaudible. I wiggle my right wrist a bit, the tight and harsh grip causing a bit of pain. His eyes leave mine for half a second to glance at the movement before easing up on his grip slightly.

An unknown amount of time passes, the two just staring at one another. "Do you tell people that your names pennywise when you're not dressed as a clown?" I ask quietly. He grins a bit, shaking his head as he simply states 'Roman'. The silence takes over the basement once again, the muffled sound of music the only thing filling the air.

"Are you going to kill me?" I finally ask the question that's been begging to be asked. His gaze suddenly intensifies. I swallow hard, realizing the true potential danger that I could be in.

"Are you here to feed?" He speaks finally. My voice is lost as I silently nod my head. "Good. Follow me." He says, morphing back into the handsome brunette while walking to the steps. I rub my wrists before slowly following him. He leads me through the much smaller yet very drunken crowd, people knocking into us roughly. A few stumbling people separate us and block me from getting through. Just as I think I'm stuck, arms encircle my body and lead me away, keeping me close to them. I don't have to look at them to know it's pennywise, Roman, whoever. The hand on the small of my back encourages me to climb the staircase leading to the second floor of the house. About halfway up, he moves his hand to drape his arm over my shoulders while still leading me up.

He's not seriously going to try to take the entire house by himself..

"Too risky, too many problems. We need to get them to the basement first." He says as if reading my mind. I glance up at him as he walks to a door with a sock on the knob. Muffled sexual moans can be faintly heard as he turns to me and winks before rushing both of us inside and closing the door quickly. We're met with the site of two guys and a girl in bed, drunk and only slightly startled. I look up at pennywise as his eyes glow, and suddenly a huge snake crawls upon the bed, all three screaming and scrambling to get untangled from one another. Pennywise inhales deeply, seemingly pleased with.. something. "Bon appetit, mademoiselle." He says before nearly prancing to the naked trio and attacking. I stand, stunned and still until the potent irony smell of blood hits my nostrils, sending me into a near frenzy. I grab the girl trying to get to the door and slice her neck open, gulping the warm smooth blood, immediately silencing her gurgled screams. When I drop her, I see pennywise already finished with his two. I look up at him as he stalks over to me, bells jingling quietly. "How do we get them into the basement?" I ask, eager for more. He smiles down at me, eyes glowing brightly as I giggle up at him.

I guarded the back door, pennywise stood at the front. His eyes never stopped glowing as everyone from the second floor drunkenly stumbled as fast as they could down to the first floor, leaving everyone confused and startled. People were bumping into each other, screaming as all kinds of horrible things started appearing, terrifying everyone. Pennywise and the creatures basically hearded the group into the kitchen and down the stairs into the basement. I fed on a few brave souls who tried to escape by me. No survivors. His words echoing in my head as I drop the freshly drained body, dragging the two bodies to the door and tossing them down the stairs as I follow pennywise into the basement, him locking the door behind us. I could feel the adrenaline rush into my veins as I waited for the clown to pounce into the crowd before attacking on the opposite side of the group. The feast lasted nearly half an hour. Eventually we made our way to the ground floor of the house and sat down to relax.

"Should we burn this place down?" I ask while watching him light a cigarette in his human form.

He glances at me, shaking his head. "No, they're all in the sewer." I don't speak, trying to figure out what he means. "I made them go to the sewer. I have a few more in depth tricks up my sleeve than your little cosmetic ones, leechy." A bit of spite in his tone as he sits on a chair.

"Um.. okay. Fuck you too, at least I'm not a thief like some circus freaks." I stand to walk out of the house, movement behind me alerts me to him following me.

" I'm independent. You must be just a child, you are entirely dependent on me." I glare at him while he continues. "How are you going to get home? You live in Derry right; that's a hell of a walk from here." I sigh, it's not like I can walk home with blood all over me. "Exactly." He smirks. "After tonight, we're even for the barrens. But you still need my help." I roll my eyes at him.

"Why are you helping me if you hate me?" He stares into my eyes, biting his lip.

"You have the potential to be very useful to me. And you will be indebted to me for tonight. If it weren't for me, you'd have been burned at the stake by now." He holds his hand out, his eyes switching between my own and his outstretched limb. I hesitantly take it, the contact sending a small jolt of what seemed like electricity through my body. The sensation of flying-or falling.. or floating- comes over me as everything goes black.

_______________

Pennywise pov.

She immediately falls unconscious at my touch. She must not have much experience with other creatures, so naive to the world. I search her memory, finding her home and teleporting both of us there. I find her bedroom while snapping my fingers to rid her of any and all evidence of this evening's feast. As I lay her down, I can't help but admire her beauty. From the gorgeous facial features.. the rich and creamy hair color, it's lovely texture.. her full chest, nearly bursting out of her shirt.. the way her entire outfit compliments her so very well..

I shake my head, ridding myself of the thoughts. I teleport to the sewers under Derry, seeing the clothes and scattered remains of the newest victims that safely arrived as I intended. I sigh, the girl creeping her way back into my mind. This has never happened before, she must have some rather important meaning in my life. I soon decide to teleport myself into the rather large, some would say mansion like, house where I normally reside during the time between mass feeding periods. As I lay in the California king size bed between the expensive silk sheets, my mind wanders to my favorite hunting ground.. Derry.

______

Requests are always open 💕

#pennywise x you #pennywise x reader #pennywise #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgård icons #bill skasgård #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgård edit #bill skarsgård gif #bill skarsgård smut #vampire!reader

[massivedrickhead]

Home: Chapter 8/8

And here's the final chapter. Thanks to those who reviewed and reblogged, especially those who did it consistently, you're the best :)

Read from the beginning

Read on fanfic.net

I do not own Pitch Perfect or Harry Potter or any of their characters

Epilogue

Beca arrived back in Hogsmeade on the night before the one year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Hogwarts was hosting a memorial service honouring those who had fallen and celebrating the victory they'd won. Beca still wasn't sure how she was gonna face it.

She felt sick and shaky as she walked around the picturesque village. She had a room booked in the Hog's Head booked for the night, and she was eager to get there so she could have a drink and settle her nerves. It took a glass or two of Firewhiskey to get her through the day now.

As she made her way to the inn she passed by a new statue that had been erected in the centre of the village square. The statue showed what appeared to be a Hogwarts student with their wand aimed at some unseen foe. The student's long hair was flowing behind her, her face held an expression of determination.

She didn't remember it being that way, but she figured no one wanted a statue that showed children cowering behind a broken pillar.

The student was stood on a plinth that had 'To those who fought and died at the Battle of Hogwarts' engraved on it. Below was a list of names.

Beca found hers quickly. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached up to brush her fingers against the engraved gold lettering.

'Chloe Beale, 17.'

The list was made up of over 50 names with their ages, all of them had died fighting against Voldemort and his followers. There were no Death Eaters memorialised on this statue, she saw.

She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and made her way to the Hog's Head.

She really needed that drink.

The inside of the Hog's Head was dark and grubby and busier than she'd like, but it she knew it was still considerably quieter than the Three Broomsticks would be. She was in too much danger running into people there, and she wasn't ready to face her friends yet.

"Hey, I have a room booked for two nights," Beca said, approaching the bar.

"Name?" The gruff barman asked, opening a large book and looking down at the list of names.

"Beca Mitchell," she replied.

His eyes flicked up from the book.

"Student?"

"I was. I'm not now," she said. She could feel her hands sweating and her stomach turning.

He grunted and seemed satisfied. She let out a sigh of relief. She was tired of people asking her about the battle. She had to relive it every night in her dreams, she didn't want to talk about it when she was awake.

He dropped a key on the bar in front of her. "Room 12," he said.

She pocketed the key but didn't leave the bar. "Can I get a double Firewhiskey?"

He poured out her drink. "On the house," he said.

"Why?" Beca asked, her hand in her bag, ready to pull out her money.

"Kids that fought in that battle don't pay for drinks here," he said.

"How do you know I fought?"

"You've got that look in your eye," he said.

She drank the Firewhiskey in one swallow and felt immediately better. The fire spread down her throat and into her stomach, burning away the sickness and anxiety that had settled in her since she'd arrived.

He poured another for her. "Take it easy with this one," he said, screwing the lid back on the bottle and replacing it on the shelf. "Carry on drinking it like that and you'll do yourself some damage."

"The damage is already done," she said, tipping the glass back. "Thanks for the drinks."

She climbed down off the barstool and made her way up to her room. Carrying her trunk and empty owl cage with her. Newt was out hunting and Beca didn't expect to see him for a few nights. He always found where she was though.

It was only 10pm but she changed into some pyjamas and climbed into bed. The bed was small and the mattress was lumpy, but Beca didn't mind.

The Firewhiskey had done its job, and Beca found she could think about Chloe without it causing her too much pain.

She pulled a photograph out of her wallet, and curled up on her side watching it.

It was a photo of her and Chloe, taken during that first blissful summer they had spent together.

The two were laughing and hugging and just basking in the joy of being together.

"I miss you," she whispered, wishing Chloe could hear her. Wishing she could respond.

She woke up the next morning with a stiff neck from the bed, and a dull ache in her head from the Firewhiskey.

The carriages to take them up to Hogwarts were leaving Hogsmeade station at 11am, so Beca showered and dressed and made her way back down into the bar.

She didn't feel ready to do this. She didn't want to see Hogwarts again, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to see her friends again. The last time she'd seen them was at Chloe's funeral, and although she'd replied to the occasional letters they'd sent, she knew she should have made more of an effort to keep in touch.

"You after some breakfast?" The barman from last night asked as Beca sat up on a stool.

Beca shook her head. "Can I get a coffee?"

He nodded and flicked his wand. The coffee maker in the corner started rattling and a few seconds later a cup of lukewarm coffee slid across the bar and stopped in front of her.

She took a sip and tried not to grimace at the taste.

The bar had a few people in it, but it was pretty quiet so she easily heard the tinkle of a bell as the door to the inn opened.

"Beca?"

Beca turned and saw Stacie standing there.

"Hey," Beca said, feeling a rush of anxiety mixed with a sudden desire to cry. She had missed Stacie a lot, but she was afraid she'd be mad at her for not keeping in touch.

To Beca's relief, Stacie crossed the room quickly and pulled Beca into a hug.

"Shit, it's good to see you," Stacie said, closing her eyes as she felt Beca hug her back, tightly. "I've been worried about you."

"Sorry," Beca said, not ready to let go yet. "It's… It's just been hard, you know?"

"I know," Stacie replied.

"How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't," Stacie said, their hug finally ending. "But you weren't at the Three Broomsticks with the others so I figured if you were anywhere it would be here. Now," she placed her hands on Beca's shoulders so she could look into her eyes, "how are you?"

Beca gave a small laugh and shook her head. "I'm fucking terrible," she said.

"Yeah," Stacie said with a sigh, "I figured as much."

"How are you?"

"I'm okay," Stacie said. "I get nightmares a lot. The occasional panic attack. You know, you're standard PTSD stuff. But I've been working through it all with my therapist, so it's better than it was. Plus I got a job at St Mungo's and they're training me to be a Healer which is pretty cool."

"That's awesome, Stace. Not the PTSD stuff, but the therapist and the Healer stuff. I'm so proud of you," Beca said, genuinely happy for the first time in a long time. Stacie had always wanted to be a Healer throughout their school years, but since none of them had been able to take their N.E.W.T.s it was harder for them to get the jobs they wanted. She knew Stacie and Aubrey had gone back to do their exams but Beca hadn't wanted to. She wasn't really sure what she wanted to do anymore anyway.

"Thanks," Stacie said, grinning. "What about you then? What have you been doing with yourself?"

Beca looked down at her watch and saw it was 10:40. "We should get going," she said.

"You'll fill me in later?"

"Yeah," Beca said. "There isn't much to tell though."

"I still wanna hear about it," Stacie said as they walked out of the Hog's Head and towards Hogsmeade station. "Aubrey and the others are meeting us there."

Beca nodded but was starting to feel sick and nervous again.

She wasn't ready to see the castle again.

She wanted to turn around and walk back to the Hog's Head. She wanted to grab her stuff from her room and disapparate. She just wasn't sure where she wanted to go. She still hadn't found home.

But as her steps began to falter, she felt Stacie put a hand on her back.

"It'll be okay," she said, as if she was reading her mind. "I was really freaking out before I went back to do my N.E.W.T.s but it was fine. Just focus on all the good memories you had there, not the bad ones."

Beca nodded again, because she didn't have it in her to answer.

She didn't want to say that the happy memories hurt just as much as the bad ones because they reminded her of what she had lost.

Just past Hogsmeade station she saw crowds of people who were waiting to be taken up the castle. Hagrid was there, helping groups of people into the carriages which would be pulled along by the Thestrals.

With a jolt in her stomach she saw a group of people with red hair before realising they were Weasleys.

She needed a drink.

She greeted Aubrey and Jesse and her other friends without even being really aware of it. She didn't feel present anymore. She felt like she was watching from the sidelines as she climbed into a carriage beside Stacie and the others.

The others were talking loudly but Beca couldn't focus on what they were saying. She was thinking about all the other journeys she had taken in these carriages. With the exception of the one after the battle last year, Chloe had been in all of them.

Always happy, always excited, always endlessly chattering.

Tears filled her eyes as she stared out of the window, trying to forget.

She felt someone tapping her foot, and she looked down to see Aubrey sitting across from her, tapping her foot lightly with her shoe.

Beca's eyes met Aubrey's and she saw they were also full of tears.

"I miss her too," she whispered, just loud enough for Beca to hear. "Every day."

Beca nodded and swallowed, trying not to cry properly. She felt immensely guilty that she hadn't reached out to Aubrey this whole year.

Chloe had been Aubrey's best friend since they were little kids, they'd grown up together.

"I'm… I'm sorry," Beca choked out, her voice barely audible.

The others seemed to notice something was happening and fell silent.

"I'm sorry," Beca said, louder this time.

"Stacie, switch seats with me," Aubrey said, her voice wavering. "Please."

With difficulty, Stacie stood and swapped seats with Aubrey, so the blond was now sitting beside Beca.

Aubrey took Beca's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Don't say sorry," Aubrey said. "You don't have to be sorry, this wasn't your fault."

"I tried to keep her safe," Beca said, crying hard now.

"I know you did," Aubrey replied.

The memorial service passed by in a blur. Professor McGonagall had stood in front of them all and had talked about the battle.

She spoke about the victory they had won, but also about the losses they had suffered.

She read a list of the names of everyone who had lost their lives and then a two minute silence was held which even Peeves had observed.

Other professors and even the Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt made speeches, but Beca wasn't really listening.

She wanted Chloe. She needed her. It was so unfair… so monstrously unfair that Chloe wasn't here anymore and Beca couldn't stand it. She'd spent the last year travelling around the country, using the money she'd made from selling her family home to stay in pubs and inns and even some muggle B&Bs, trying to outrun these feelings. She'd kept herself numb with Firewhiskey and whatever other alcohol she could buy, and had become adapt and mixing up sleeping draughts so she could sleep without fear of dreaming.

But now she was sober, and back in the only place she had ever called home, and she couldn't run anymore.

She wasn't the only one in the room who was struggling to hold it together, she knew that. The Great Hall was full of loss. Heavy with it. It touched everyone in the room. And Beca tried to remind herself that she wasn't alone. She still had friends that cared. Friends that didn't blame her for what had happened. Friends who felt the same pain she did.

But despite all of this she felt alone.

She had grown up without any kind of love in her life. She'd never gotten anything but cold disdain and hatred from her father and she'd never had friends until she'd gotten to Hogwarts.

Chloe had been the one to show her what love really felt like. Not just romantic love, but the love that comes from friendship and acceptance. Stacie had shown her too, and so did the rest of the friends she'd made, but Chloe was the one who'd singled her out on that first journey to Hogwarts. She'd recognised her surname, known what that meant, but befriended her anyway. Without Chloe she knew Aubrey wouldn't have spoken to her. She wouldn't have joined Flitwick's choir and wouldn't have found herself a group of friends that felt more like family than her own father did. Chloe had shown her what home felt like.

And now Chloe was gone.

Suddenly people around her started applauding and Beca realised the last of the speeches had finished.

"Hey Becs?" Stacie asked from beside her.

"Yeah?"

"Can we go outside? Please?"

"Yeah," Beca said, noticing the way Stacie's breathing was a little quicker than it had been. "Yeah of course." She took Stacie's hand and guided her through the crowd of people that were beginning to stand up from their benches and mingle with each other.

They made it out of the Great Hall and into the grounds and were soon sitting on the slope of grass beside the lake.

"Sorry about that," Stacie said, trying to regain control of her breathing. "I'm not big on crowds and being back in there was rough. Sort of brought it all back."

"That's okay," Beca said. "You don't need to be sorry. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Stacie said. "This just happens sometimes. Thanks for getting me out of there."

"No problem," Beca said.

"You keep disappearing," Stacie said. She tapped Beca on her forehead. "In there."

"Yeah," Beca said. "I don't mean to. I try to stay out of my head as much as I can but it's been hard today. She's just everywhere, you know?"

"I know," Stacie said. "She was really special person. And I know she loved you as much as you loved her. And I can't pretend to know how much it must hurt, but I just wanted to say you aren't alone, Beca."

Beca wiped her eyes and nodded, trying not to cry fully.

"I mean it," Stacie continued. "You're my best friend. I love you and I miss you. And I'm here for you, okay?"

Beca swallowed hard. "Thank you," she choked out. "I miss you too, Stace. And I love you too. I'm sorry I've been such a shit friend this year. I just ran away. I thought it would help. I'm sorry." And she started crying again but this time more from the guilt of abandoning her best friend for the past year. Stacie put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

"Hey, shh, it's okay," she said. "Don't apologise. You're grieving Becs, there's no wrong or right way to do it. Listen, where are you staying now?"

"The Hog's Head?"

"No, I don't mean like, right now. I mean, like where are you living?" Stacie asked.

"Oh, um, nowhere I guess," Beca replied

"What do you mean?"

"I've just been traveling around the country this year. I tried to find my Mom's family but from what I've found out they all died before I was born. I guess that's why she was alone when she died and why I ended up in a foster home," Beca said. "But I found her grave at least, and some pictures." Beca sniffed and wiped her eyes again before she continued. "I don't really have a home anymore Stacie. I've just been staying in pubs and inns trying to figure out what I want to do."

"So what do you want to do?" Stacie asked.

"Get wasted mostly."

"Beca," Stacie sighed.

"I know. I know, it's fucked up. I know it isn't healthy. But I just… I miss her so fucking much. And when I drink enough I can stop thinking about her," Beca said, her voice sounding ragged now. "I just want her back."

"Of course you do," Stacie said, squeezing her close again. "Look, I wanted to ask you something."

"What's that?"

"I want to move out and get a place of my own. I love my parents and everything, but I feel like it's time to, like, take the next step. And I wanted to know if you wanted to move in with me?"

Beca was so taken aback she pulled herself out of Stacie's arms so she could look at her. "Wait, what? For real? Why would you want to live with me?"

Stacie let out a slight huff. "Loads of reasons. Number one, you're my best friend." She started ticking them off on he fingers. "Number two, I miss you and I miss living with you. Number three, you're suffering and I hate that you're doing it alone. Number four-"

"Okay," Beca said, cutting her off. "Okay, I get it. Are you sure about this Stace? I don't have a job or anything yet, and I have money from my dad but it won't last forever and… I'm not the same. I'm… I feel so angry now. I don't want you to see that side of me."

"You think I'm the same as I used to be? I'm angry too, Beca. And I'm scared. A lot. I get panic attacks and nightmares. Did you know that during the battle Aubrey, Jesse and I ended up trapped in a corridor in the pitch black with a bunch of snatchers? One of them had used that Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder without realising it would stop them from seeing too, and they started just throwing out killing curses in a panic. They killed each other but it was only pure luck that they didn't get us. I need to sleep with a fucking night light now," Stacie said, looking angry for the first time all day. "None of us are the same anymore. The battle fucked us all up."

"I'm sorry Stacie," Beca said, feeling immensely guilty again. "I didn't know."

"It's okay," Stacie said. "So, what do you think? I can't do this alone, and I want to do it with you."

Beca hesitated. "Are you sure about this?" She asked.

"More than sure," Stacie said.

Beca took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, allowing herself a smile.

"Yeah? You want to?"

"I want to," Beca said.

How could she say no? Stacie was offering her what she'd been searching for. Stacie was offering her a home.

The End.

#home #pitch perfect au #au #Harry Potter au #hpau #bechloe #bechloe au #bechloe/harry potter au #bechloe/hpau #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch pefect #pitch perfect fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #beca #chloe #Beca x Chloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #stacie #stacie conrad #Aubrey #aubrey posen

[hyunnielix]

The Night We Met

Based on the song ‘The Night We Met’ By Lord Huron

Hawthorne and Miss Robichaux's Academy become intertwined, helping each other by learning off one and other. However, you learn about Michaels plan and have to bid him a farewell unable to support him through his decisions.

Pairing: Michael x Y/N

Warnings: Best-Friend!Michael, Painful Angst, Heartbreak, Choking, TW: Physical Abuse, Toxic relationships

Word Count: 2k

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

“Familiarize yourselves with each other briefly, shortly dinner will commence,” Cordelia announced re-explaining the current situation as if you were stupid, she wore all white with a classy but overdramatic cape to signify how she was the Supreme.

You sat wedged between Zoe and Madison as your small coven sat on the multiple couches spread around the, you almost wanted to call it a study, books filled the shelves all the way up to the ceiling. It was definitely an acquired taste with an outdated fireplace along with a twisted metal staircase leading to another compartment of the enormous place.

Your whole coven was waiting for the warlocks, who seemed to be taking their sweet time arriving. This was their damn academy you’d think they would be a little bit more professional.

“Punctuality, males have none do they?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes while you fiddled with your hands that were placed uncomfortably on your lap. You tended to become bored easily so sitting for long periods of wasted time was definitely not your forte.

You were the most hesitant towards the intertwining of both the academies, not wanting the males with their inflated ego’s and cocky attitudes ruin your reputation and your coven’s. 

“Y/N watch your tongue around them, although we are farther superior than their kind we have to honour the truce we have recently agreed to,” Myrtle scolded you, her orange crimped hair moving as she shook her head adjusting the glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose, pushing them up slightly.

“You wouldn’t want to start a world war three already, would you?” Madison deadpanned, removing her gaze off her nearly perfect manicured nails to side-eye you as a smirk grew on her face.

“Depends, I’m in the mood for a little hell-raising,” You arrogantly smiled at Cordelia, tilting your head as if to test the waters of her tolerance.

Multiple pairs of shoes clicking against the tiles caught your attention, a short man donning a top hat and maroon black cape stood before all of the warlocks who were dressed in proper tuxedos eagerly waiting to be let in, you assumed he was the chancellor.

“Ariel, Behold,” Cordelia introduced, gesturing to enter the room as all of your fellow witches arose from their seats getting ready to probably playfully entice them and flirt their way to death.

Unphased by all of the males, you slithered your way to the back corner of the room, you back hitting the books on the way down to the floor letting your body collapse with exhaustion.

Trying and failing at keeping yourself entertained, you closed your eyes letting out a frustrated sigh as the noise of chattering started to get on your nerves.

A cough broke you from your trance, Gaze starting at a pair of shiny black shoes you followed up the figure to be met with a strawberry blonde haired blue-eyed prince charming look-alike.

“Being unsociable at a gathering isn’t lady-like,” He observed a ghost of a smile on his pinkish tinted lips as he leant over you almost intimidatingly.

“Is that all you came to say?” You questioned, peering up at the warlock with blatant uninterest while balling yourself up even more uncomfortably.

“Sorry, how rude of me I’m Michael Langdon,” He introduced himself, holding out his hand for you to reach for, like a gentleman.

Taking his hand in yours, he helped pull you up from the floor the personal space was almost non-existent as you began to introduce yourself to him.

“Y/N, L/N,” You replied, furrowing your brows in cautiousness unable to hide the faint blush on your cheeks, you weren’t used to people paying attention to you.

Fast forward to today, eavesdropping was something you casually did and definitely weren’t proud of but in some cases, it had previously saved you from the peril of this godforsaken world. 

Noticing Michael’s absence from dinner, you decided to follow him loosely after he passed the dining room, confused to as why he would be going to the surface at this time of night.

The atmosphere was freezing, the wind brushing up against the trees and fresh air entering your lungs almost made you feel normal.

Hiding by the entrance of the academy, Michael paused gazing over his shoulder, for a second you stopped breathing surely thinking he had spotted you.

Continuing on, he began to skip towards a figure in the distance who was significantly shorter than him, squinting you tried to identify them without any luck.

Sneaking in the opposite direction, you decided to make a bolt towards the trees as it would give you enough camouflage and noise range so you could hear the both of them.

“Oh my boy, look at you, you’re skin and bones, you’re wasting away do they even feed you?” She asked, releasing him from the tight embrace they currently shared.

Michael smiled a true genuine joy-struck expression on his face, you hadn’t seen that smile in ages. You guessed the woman dressed in all black was someone precious to him from his childhood that he never spoke about.

“I’m fine just tell me you took care of the problem,” He fretted, placing his hands on both of her shoulders desperately praying for a good outcome, the predicament he was in had caused him more harm than he bargained for.

“Your problem is now an overstacked country barbeque, you can bury him in a shoe box if they can find him,” She rambled on, laughing a bit as relief flooded his face.

Letting out a small gasp, you covered your mouth petrified that you would accidentally give away your position. Who did they kill?

“Good, these people are the only ones who could pose a threat to me, once I become supreme I can destroy them from within and eliminate their whole fucking coven, then the road is clear for what I'm supposed to do.” He passionately spoke, his eyes nearly igniting with fire as he tried to reassure himself and his ally. 

You didn’t understand why wouldn’t he tell you, that's what being best friends meant right? Keeping secrets from each other was beneath the both of you or so you thought.

“So stop worrying, look how easy it was for you to win their trust and get into their school,” The woman exclaimed, convincing him that everything was going according to plan.

Eyes widening and having heard enough, you scrambled to your feet making a bit more noise than you intended to do whilst trying to escape being unnoticed. Gaining both the attention of him and the woman, you continued to sprint for your life back to the academy.

“Y/N?” Michael whispered, sighing once he saw your fleeing body before returning his gaze to Ms Mead.

“I’ll take care of her,” He muttered, reassuring her before taking off after you.

By the time you had returned to the academy, everyone was asleep but the thoughts racing in your head prevented you having some piece of mind.

You knew Michael had seen you, it was only a matter of time before he came to talk to you. Sensing his presence, you stood up refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Y/N, what you heard, I was going to tell you eventually-,” He scratched his head, awkwardly smiling hoping that you would understand.

“Stop it, You can’t do this.” You warned, paralyzed in the spot you were in. Your brain was screaming at you to leave but your body stayed put.

“We could be together, rule together,” He explained, furrowing his brows as your reaction astounded him, he was not expecting this from you.

He was being naive again, it was one of his many faults.

“You don’t understand Michael!” You shouted, the sudden outburst making him take a step back unaware of your assertive side. You had never raised your voice at him once in the time you knew each other.

“I’m not betraying my whole entire coven, my friends and family just for you.” Your chest heaved, head dizzying as you tried to calm yourself down so you could suppress the oncoming panic attack, your hands were already shaking and sweaty.

To him, those words felt like poison on his tongue, he almost flinched before reciprocating with an even more heartbreaking sentiment.

“Am I not worth it?” He seethed snarling in your direction, unclenching his fist as he didn’t want to hurt you, trying to control his bubbling anger.

“Because I’m sick and fucking tired of being told I am nothing, you don’t understand how hard it is with everyone underestimating me and having to deal with the constant abandonment of people I care about,” He raised his voice as almost as if he was scolding you gesturing with his hands almost violently.  

“In the end, they always leave,” He bitterly stated, his icy blue eyes softening as he left you completely and utterly speechless.

You tilted your head feeling pity- or was it sympathy for him? Half of your mind was fighting against all the reasons you should stay and the other half was creating new outcomes for the same deadly choices.

“I’m sorry, but I have to let you go, that is my final decision.” You shakily exhaled, backing away slowly from him your gaze focused elsewhere as you didn’t want to see his reaction to your rejection.

“But I love you,” He pleaded as if he could use it as an excuse for all the wrongdoings he was going to commit. 

Clasping your hand over your mouth, you couldn’t help but let out a cry allowing the pent-up overwhelming feelings wash over you. Tears ran down your flushed cheeks as he pulled you into his chest allowing you to use him as comfort.

“Why must you do this to me?,” You questioned, banging your fist against his chest until finally pushing him away from you almost disgustedly.

“You’re the antichrist, you’re incapable of love,” You regretted the words that came out of your mouth, but nothing could take them back it didn’t take you long to connect the dots.

“How do you know that?” He inquired, resting his hands by his side as he clenched his jaw looking down almost in shame.

He had been acting up for months, being secretive as well as muttering Latin words during the night that once you wrote down realised were satanic ritual spells.

“This is just another manipulation tactic,” You mumbled on, trying to believe in the words you were saying.

“No, Y/N you can’t possibly believe that,” He argued, his chin trembled not wanting to take another step or he believed it would scare you off. 

“You want to take over the world, exterminate society and every single living human or supernatural being with a family who is worthy of being loved just like you were,” You hissed, any hint of remorse for him disappearing in the snap of your fingers.

“Were?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly he was looking even more broken with every word you uttered.

“Don’t make this any harder for me,” You exhaled, refusing to wipe the remnants of the tears off your cheeks while you stared blankly at him.

“Even if I did take you with me, you don’t deserve to live,” He laughed almost psychotically, striding towards you his eyes flickered black his demeanour had changed in less than a second.

He reached out, clasping his palm around your throat he began to put immense pressure on it lifting your body weight in the process you dangled from above, struggling to breathe as you fought against his grip, letting out choked cries.

“M-Michael, please you don’t need to do this,” You forced out, he was cutting off the circulation around your body.

“Oh but I do I’m the anti-christ remember darling? That’s exactly what you called me am I not correct?” He asked, leaning his face closer to you so you could feel his breath.

“You’re not the Michael I used to know-,” You cried out, barely holding onto conscientious he finally released you, your body collapsing like a house of cards on the floor head lolling back as you tried to stay awake.

Bringing your hand up to feel your throat, you whimpered the last thing you saw was his face but instead it was pasty white, cracked and unhuman like. A face of a demon.

#ahs #michael langdon #michael langdon smut #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x fem!reader #ahs murder house #ahs apocalypse #ahs coven #ahs season 8 #ahs season 3 #cody fern #tate langdon #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon smut #michael ahs #ahs hotel #ahs8 #ahs spoilers #michael langdon fluff #ahs fanfiction #michael langdon fanfiction #evan peters #evan peters smut #evan peters imagine #madison montgomery #cordelia goode #zoe benson #kyle spencer