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internalsealpanic · 3 years

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Of Midnight Smoothies and Murder Mysteries

Summary: Sneaking out for a movie turns out to be a bad idea.

A/n: So... this was supposed to com out on Halloween then I confessed about thirst then my priorities shifted. Well, since I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving this is just extended Halloween. It would be funny to do a Thanksgiving thing with the Batfam. Thanks to @littleredwing89 and @lucy-roo for proof reading this crack. Thanks for @ereawrites for the encouragement. And thanks to @littleredwing89 for the mood board. (I love you my dear enabler.) Also “[ ]” will indicate characters speaking in a different language. I sadly could not find grammar stuff for the language so you will have to bear with me. This is still part of the Merc! Reader series.

Warnings: Gore, a lot of blood, dumb bickering, Dick being a cute dork, and snake bleps.

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"Aliens don't exist," You huff around your thoroughly chewed straw, swirling the radioactive green smoothie Dick insisted that you try. You debate on whether to take out the bag of confectioners sugar you bought and pour it in. Dick makes a noise, indiscernible with his own straw in his mouth. You cast a glance at him only to see his neon blue smoothie spurting out of his nose. Your snort quietly, the noise hidden by the rustling of grocery bags against your bouncing leg but based on the way he’s pouting at you, Dick clearly sees your lack of sympathy and takes offense. You shrug at him.

Brushing the liquid away with the sleeve of his denim jacket, Dick levels you his best batglare. You give him an impassive half-asleep response of ‘hnnn’ which just gave him flashbacks about talking to Bruce. You’re entirely too focused on the fact that the blue of the smoothie is still alarmingly stark even against the blue of the denim. “You’ve met Superman, right?”

You roll your eyes at his piss poor attempt at intimidating you and pinch your straw between your thumb and index finger, trying to break apart the clumps of ice preventing you from getting more smoothie. “-Met is a strong word-” You drawled causing him to sneer. “Just say he kicked your ass six ways to Sunday like a normal person.”

“I fought him.”

“You got your ass beat-” You glare at him sticking your green tongue out at him and in return he sticks his blue tongue out at you. It was true but he didn’t have to say it. This is always how your long-held arguments start.

“Besides, aren’t you and Slade metas?” He breaks in after a long moment, instantly cutting off the possibility of weeks of not talking to each other. You smile balefully at him. “Precisely.”

“What? How does you being a weirdo disprove aliens?”

You make an affronted sound through your nose but launch into your explanation in your professorial voice. “The guy’s gotta be some kind of meta and he probably just came up with the Krypton thing afterwards. It sounds cooler, yanno?”

Dick looks up to the smog covered Gotham sky, leaning back against the solid brick pillar behind him. “Well, why can’t he be an alien?” He says dreamily tracing unseen constellations with his right hand. You briefly remember him mentioning stargazing with his parents when he was younger. There is something warm in the memory even if it wasn’t yours. You look down at him, eyebrow ticking. “Ok genius, tell me why there would be aliens that look exactly like us?”

“Why not?” He says grinning at you. The sterile lighting of the grocery store light filtering through smudgy windows highlighting his features. The shadows highlighting the shape of his cheekbones and the dimples forming at the edges of his cheeks. When had Dick gone from cute to handsome? You shake your head, avoiding his smiling corscian blue eyes.

“Becaaauuuuuse, dipshit, that’s not how evolution works” You bite out.

“What about convergent evolution?” He offers casually and your tongue freezes. A light flickers in his eyes and his pretty mouth twitch up into a laugh when you fail to respond. “You forgot about that, didn’t you? HA”

“I regret this conversation.”

“HA”

“Superman fanboy” you accuse, jabbing a finger into his chest. Dick giggles either from your weak deflection or the fact he’s ticklish, either way, your stomach does somersaults.

“Just say you’re wrong.” He says grinning, the divots formed by his dimples becoming more apparent. You feel Yasiri’s tail flick across your collarbone, her body coiling up in response to your irritation. Your mouth curls too but the irritation doesn’t quite boil over as you expected it to, not when Dick smiles at you like that. There’s a strange twisting in your stomach. You aren’t sure what it is but you’re pretty sure that you don’t like it. You blow out a breath, sound caught between a tired laugh and a long-suffering sigh, and pick your grocery bags before getting up.

Not even 5 seconds after you resolve to abandon him, Dick’s already by your side, falling into step with you bumping his shoulder against yours in a placating gesture. Yasiri slithers from the skin on the base of your neck to hiss at him. Dick smiles at her unfazed despite the clear and present danger. He pets her without much fuss from your usually ferocious snake. You make an amused noise at her compliance.

The walk is spent in easy companionable silence. The kind you two settle into when Dick knows you need to settle down. You were a sore loser when it comes to arguments but so was he, so you tend to let the other work through it. You grimace at your lightly scuffed shoes. They weren’t expensive or flashy or even one of a kind but they were comfortable, reliable, and most importantly they were from Mr. Wintergreen- Uncle Wintergreen, he insisted. The fact that he’d taken the time at all made your stomach flip-

Your stomach dropped. Your throat and mouth felt dry. The scent of copper permeating the air as you stared at the red puddle beneath your white shoes, a severed finger poking at you.

"Y/n?"

You must have stopped abruptly. You turn to Dick mechanically and see his face crumple into worry. Before you can rush out words of dismissal, your ears tune in to the sounds of a haunting melody. Yasiri rattles around your neck once again leaving the safety of your collar bone. Your head swivels mechanically towards the old theatre. Dick looks at you curiously, concern flashing in his eyes when another scream erupts from the theater. You both stiffen, spines straightening. Eyes blown wide, your feet take you toward the theater.

Dick falls into step with you.”You’re not seriously going, are you? You’ve- Didn’t we just watch a horror movie?”

“You seem to be going the same way.” You point out, side-eyeing him sharply, the sour look on your face not betraying the anxiety cloying at your spine. In the corner of your eye, you can see Dick huffing and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m Robin.”

“And I kicked your ass just 2 days ago and served it on a silver platter while quoting the one and only Arnold Schwarzenegger,” You grin absolutely, unequivocally unapologetic.

“I was protecting civilians!” He protests, throwing up his hands theatrically.

“Iieerrelevant~”

Dick opens his mouth to contest your point but there really was convincing you on that. His face screws up and being the gracious loser that he is, he sticks his still neon blue tongue out at you. You, being the graceful winner that you were, stick your radioactively neon green tongue at him in answer.

You continue to bicker about the merits of his heroism on the battlefield 'til you reach the front of the theater. You tuck your grocery bags behind debris by the entrance making sure to keep them well hidden. Dick wants to point out that they’ll probably be gone by the time you two are done but Yasiri was staring at him like she was about to strike at him for real this time.

It- It wasn’t hard to get into the building. Dick held out his hand to you as you climbed over another set of debris. You take it. You thank him clumsily. He bows to you a gremlin smile spreading across his face. You sneer but give him a sharp smile in return.

It’s dark. The absence of light is thick. It makes the sounds of your heartbeats uncomfortably loud. You swallow. You trace your finger along your skin, the hilt of your knife falls easily into your hand. You trace your finger on your other arm and hand the knife to Dick who shakes his head. You shrug and let it melt back into your skin.

“You have a tracker on you, right?”

“No-” You eye him, cutting him a look of disbelief. “I-”

“Relax, I have one too.” You deadpan.

Dick sighs. “You’re dad’s paranoid too?”

“So is yours” You snip, hackles drawn.

“Bruce isn’t my dad.”

“Slade isn’t mine either.”

“Mentors?” Dick offers placatingly.

“Polite way of saying bossy prick, I guess.” You roll your eyes but concede.

“I mean I don’t know about Wintergreen but Alfred taught me some manners.” Dick shrugs, folding his arms behind his head somehow relaxed despite the thick scent of blood in the air or maybe this was how Dick was when he was nervous.

The truth was Wintergreen had attempted to teach you manners but he’d run into quite a few problems. The first being that you were a terrible student. Sure, you caught on quickly when you could but anything you didn’t gravitate towards didn’t hold your limited attention long enough to make an actual impact on you. Now that in of itself was fixable with the right kind of bribery. The other problem was less so. Your mentor, if you could really call him that, was a rude bastard. Long story short, you’ve never seen the point, much to Wintergreen’s chagrin and Slade’s amusement. You were, however, a master of mouthing off.

“Shouldn’t we call back up?”

You flick your eyes to him, uselessly, but based on the shifting of the body beside you he somehow got the message. “Go ahead, if you wanna explain to big daddy bats why you’re hanging out with me, sure.”

Yeah. That wasn’t an option. There was, of course, a silent understanding that bats probably knew about your little hangouts but still.

You pad the walls with your left hand while your right was gripping Dick’s sleeve, white-knuckled. You cringe every now and again feeling the walls slick with what you weren’t eager to investigate. You strain your ear to listen for odd sounds but mostly to see if Dick, as you suspect, is echolocating.

“How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Silently echolocating?”

Dick snickers. “I am not. You do know B isn’t an actual bat, right?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot he was just a furry.” You sneer. Dick snorts a sound caught between amusement and offense. He clearly respected Bruce. Not the same way you respected Slade, maybe, but you understood how larger than life the Batman was even if he was the biggest pain in your ass by far.

“Do you really have any room to make fun of my mentor when yours has ‘Stroke’ in his name?”

“I have plenty of room, probably. Why not echolocate to check just how much room I have?”

“Listen here-”

The opera music floods the silent hall, sharp and clear. You feel the air around you catch fire and your fraying nerves. You turn your head to Dick. Despite not being able to see him, you know his mouth flattens and his brow wrinkles the way they do when you two agree to do something incomprehensibly stupid. This time you do not argue or question or even complain. You simply go forward.

A scream, messy and jagged, tangles with the smooth crispness of the opera music. It makes your stomach turn almost as much as the idea of who or, more appropriately, whatever was behind it. You were familiar with the cruelties Gotham’s monsters were capable of. You have, after all, worked for quite a few.

But this?

This pure, uncut agony in that scream? That was just something you could not stomach. You feel Dick flinch at the sound, almost jumping out of his skin. You squeeze his arm once, then twice, then twice once more. You feel his hand on your wrist, reciprocating the gesture. You smile at him reassuringly not knowing whether it would make things better or whether he can actually see it.

Neither of you is particularly good at dealing with people’s pain. That might not be the right word for it. Neither of you coped well. You absorbed too much of it. You were, however, much better at hiding it. Not that you could fault Dick on that. You didn’t even attempt. For Dick, humanity was a part of the job. Compassion? Kindness? That was to be expected of a hero not derided. To uphold that in the face of Gotham’s worst, that took strength.

Strength, in your case, was directed elsewhere. Something bone-breaking, more visceral. You suppose that was the problem with keeping company with survivors. Perpetually dancing on the brink of death robbed you of something but you haven’t exactly known any other life besides this.

The end of the hall is light by bright lights, sterile white, the kind you only saw in clinics. Your head runs through the catalog of Gotham’s rogues, possibilities of which utter psychopath could possibly be doing this.

“We should call the cops.”

Not really really paying attention, you nod. You should probably. You grip the handle of your knife, flexing your fingers nervously, as another scream cuts through the air. Dick’s body curls, recoiling at the sound. The sound, this close, was enough to make you twitch.

“Can’t we just text them?”

“What do you think this is? Canada?”

“Ok, fair but make sure to tell them you’re Dickle Grayson.” You tease, smiling way too easily considering the creepy atmosphere.

Dick crosses his arms over his chest.“And summon a media storm?”

“It would get the police here faster.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” Dick wishes he could wipe the absolutely smug grin off your face. “We need to back up. You know, in case, he can hear us.”

“I mean you are the one unarmed here.” You say, waving your arms at him.

“No, I’m not. I have my bird-a-rangs.” Dick preens, taking them out from some pocket hidden in his jacket.

“Bird-a-rangs.” You echo, raising a brow.

“Yup. Bird-a-rangs.”

“You are officially- no, you are legally not allowed to name things.”

Dick makes an offended squawking noise.“Oh, come on! Still not as bad as Sharknado.”

“Take. That. Back. Heathen.”

“Make me.”

Both of you still. Yasiri unfurls from your collarbone, her tail rattling. You spin on your heel. Your knife swings out in a wide crescent of light. Thick crimson splashes across your face. At the end of your knife was a person- no, it was a person in the past tense. It makes a small cry when you wiggle the blade planted in its throat a fraction. Otherwise, it ignores the fact that it is, in fact, bleeding out from its jugular. It’s thick, clumsy limbs reach for you. Your stomach rolls. The thing in front of you, the mangled approximation of what was once a person, is lurching towards you. You think you sneer in disgust but your face is far too numb to tell.

“Dick! Just call the cops!” You snarl, panic rising audibly as more bodies emerge from God knows where. You kick the one to your front off to the side, shredding its neck. It takes everything in you not to vomit. In the corner of your eye, you see Dick type as he kicks another one away. You two back into each other as the bodies close around you, cutting off all the exits. You roll up your sleeve tracing a blood-soaked finger over the lines of your tattoo and producing another knife. Dick pulls out his bird-a-rangs.

Dick landed blows but they weren’t hard enough to maim or be fatal. Even if he was to hit them with the sharp bird-a-rangs, he would still aim non fatally. Slade would kill you if you fought so inefficiently or maybe he would just taunt you. Either way, you didn’t care much for Dick’s squeamishness right now as the bodies kept getting back up. As far as you can tell, you’re doing them a favor.

The first wave of bodies rushes towards you. Their limbs jutting towards you clumsily. You swing your blade, vicious and precise. You feel metal clash against flesh, against bone. Blood coats every available surface on you. You hear Dick squawk and you don’t really need to turn around to check that he’s also covered in it too. The spray of blood makes the air thick with the scent of copper. The blood on your skin burns.

“Duck!”

“Goose!” You shout, ducking and slashing down at a row of bodies and legs. You hear his bird-a-rangs slice through the air cleanly and land on one of the creature's shoulders. You let out a huff of air thinking of all the more permanent places it could have landed. He throws a few more hitting them in the face.

Dick launches over you, using you as a springboard. You grunt and he winks at you like a showman. His foot predictably lands an impressive blow on one of the creature's faces. You two regroup back to back immediately after he lands.

Your eyes widen a fraction when a hand from out of nowhere grabs at your face catching you off guard. Your breath catches when you feel a hand at your shoulder pushing you down. A fist makes contact with the creature’s swollen face and it takes a moment for your mind to realize that it’s Dick’s hand on your shoulder and Dick’s fist making contact with the creature.

“Thanks,” You mumble, straightening yourself out. “I had it.”

“You’re welcome, Pookie.” You flush as Dick winks at you. “You know I literally have your back.” He teases. You groan bending back into a fighting stance.

“When we get out of here alive, we are working on your sense of humor.” Dick chuckles at that, making your muscles ease. “Says the person who shouted ‘Goose!’.”

You land every blow with every intent to make it fatal. Dick is still sticking to his nonfatal method. Normally, it was pure joy to watch Dick as he fights. The sheer control he commands over his muscles was awe-inspiring. Despite his size, he’s able to land blows just as powerful as yours. He would truly be terrifying if he were to be anything but himself.

These bodies. They’re too alive, too much. The next wave comes at you more fervently with more bodies. Another wave of nausea hits you when hands grasp at your arms. Your stomach tries to twist out of your abdomen. You try to wrench yourself free. You pull and twist and thrash, only succeeding in getting yourself pulled in deeper.

“Dick!” You cry reflexively. The coarseness in your voice lets the fear spill all over your vowels.

Dick’s corscian eyes widen with a flash of panic. To Dick, you and death were two separate lines running on parallel tracks next to each other, never quite crossing and never belonging to the same headspace. Completely mutually exclusive as far as he knew. But right at this moment, right as you’re about to be swallowed whole by the crowd of misshapen bodies, he watches those lines slowly intersect. Dick doesn’t know where his heart has leaped to.

“Y/n!”

The world resurfaces in a surge of bright white light. Some small part of you is really hoping that Dick is, for once, right about the alien thing. Quietly you draw in a calming breath. It’s shallow not wanting your chest to rise too much to give away your consciousness.

The opera music is blaring in your still ringing head which isn’t helped by the wannabe opera singer belting his lungs out. Thankfully, that means he’s distracted. You move your limbs checking. Everything seems to be intact AND you seem to be tied up to someone instead of something which was either good or bad depending on who it is.

“Mornin’ sleepy head” Dick mumbles quietly, sounding relieved. You click your teeth in irritation.

“Morning, Disco Stick. Any chance you magically woke up with a plan or were you just taking a beauty nap?”

“I don’t need one and sort of.”

“Well shit, we’re screwed then.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m sorry which of us is running around doing somersaults when they’re assaulting criminals?”

“In my defense, flipping makes my kicks land harder.” Which was true but you were feeling snippy. “It also gives them much more time to dodge or counter.”

“Killjoy.” You roll your eyes, smiling. You know he’s being cute and pouting. Given this is really not the time considering there is a man butchering another man a few feet away from you while singing bad opera. You really did stumble into a horror movie. “Please tell me you called Batman or the police.”

“Both.”

“How?”

“Some of us are good at multitasking.” Dick chirps proudly leaning against you. You scoff judging just how tightly the ropes are bound around you.

“Well, you are good at being insufferable while still breathing.”

“Isn’t that part of my charm?”

You snicker accidentally tugging at the binds around you. You hear Dick wince likely from what is a bruised rib or, heaven help you, a broken one. “Sorry.�� You whisper low and small.

Shit. What if he had a broken rib. Shit. Shit.

“I’m ok, Hon.” Dick laughs making sure to lay the Delaware accent thick. It makes your chest feel warm even though everything else in you was freezing from dread. You snort. “Fine, bleed out for all I care.”

“Awwww don’t be like that.” You sigh. You hate how weak you are to his puppy dog eyes. You can’t even see it. You decide to change the subject instead. “So what are the odds that we’re escaping if we break out of their bonds now?”

“Not high.”

“Even if I get Yasiri to gently inject him with poison?”

“Please tell me you didn’t bring poison to our hangout.”

“I mean. Do twinkies count?”

“No.”

“Ok, fine. So we’re stalling then.”

“Pretty much.”

“I hate this.”

“You were the one who started heading in.”

“Why didn’t you stop me then?”

The man at the surgical table turns to you with a whimsical flourish as the body on the table goes limp. No, not limp. Docile. You have just witnessed a person become a body, you think numbly. The way the fight so easily left its limbs made you shudder, feeling the fight in your own limbs fleeting out. This isn’t how you want to die, not by the hand of a madman. At least, not until you’ve put your own demons to rest.

“Look who’s awake,” He drawls, his voice slimy and all the vowels coming out at the wrong pitches. Dick shifts the two of you so that he’s angled slightly in front of you. He squares his shoulder trying to make his lean form look far bigger than it actually is. You smile at his attempt to be protective because deep down you both know you’re the more intimidating one and you’re the one who can take more punishment. Your power and training have those pleasant side effects.

You see him draw closer making you snarl. “Come any closer and I swear I will rip your throat out.” You are surprised at how even the threat came out but the distilled ferocity you had put into it didn’t quite show, likely blunted by the fear pooling in your stomach.

“Don’t worry I’ll make you perfect too. I promise.” He reaches past Dick, grabbing you by the back of your neck. The grip on you is bruising and callous. He forces you to bow your head and look down at the bloodstains on your clothes. The browning blots of red stain your white Wonder Woman shirt. You swallow. You felt like a lamb being dragged to slaughter. Dick, likely without thinking, bites down on the man’s wrist.

The man pulls away with a cry, cradling his bleeding wrist. “Are you ok?” Dick asks, spitting blood out, eyes shiny with concern. You gulp down air before nodding. Dick presses closer to you reassuring you. Shaken, you press back, careful not to press hard enough to hurt him.

Your floundering mind comes to one conclusion. You can’t let him touch Dick. You use your strength to shift your positions so that Dick is completely behind you. Dick tries to move you back but you plant your heels preventing him from even inching.

The man grabs you by the collar of your shirt, pulling you off the ground. You hear Dick’s breath hitch. His heart rate kicks up and so does yours. Fury burning in the man’s eyes. “WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?” He screams, shaking you. “NO. NO. NO. MY- I’M- NO! PERFECT. I NEED- I NEED TO BE PERFECT.” Somehow the spit flying in your face grosses you out more than the blood probably drying on your face. It’s only winning by a small margin though.

Bile is rising in your throat. Still, you grin, sneering and taunting. “Trust me you didn’t need help in the department,” You jeer. Dick squirms behind you. Urging you to stop. You don’t. “You think those pisspoor excuses for creatures you sicced on us were perfect. HA!” You can feel Dick shaking his head behind you. You nudge him assuring him you’ve got a plan. You did. Sort of. It’s more of a goal really. Take his attention off of Dick.

“[Y/n, please no. Don’t do this. I know what you’re doing. But I can take it. Moon, please.]” Dick pleads, voice hoarse and desperate. ‘Shion’. Moon. The endearment glances of your ribs like a well placed kick to the chest. You don’t let your eyes flick to him. “[Which us is meta here?]” You whisper back in broken Romani. You cringe a little knowing just how badly you butchered the sentence. Dick makes an affronted noise. “Cham.” You whisper quietly, trying to shape your vowels and consonants correctly. Dick’s breath catches. Sun. Sure, the endearment seemed inadequate, too succinct, when compared to how much you care for him but as of right now it will have to do.

The man shakes you again dragging your attention away from Dick. Your smarmy grin cuts across your face as if you’re not pissing yourself from fear. A large hand grabs your face. Your entire body braces itself for your neck to be twisted but it does not come. He tilts your head back side to side. “You’re going to need a lot of work.”

Your heart stops. Dick thrashes behind you. You want to elbow him. You want to scream at him to stop fucking moving but you’re entire body is numb. Your eyes flick to the man, no, the body on the table. It is breathing and writhing in agony. Your breaths pick up. You- you don’t- you can’t-

You hear a crash and the fall of debris on a dozen bodies.

“B!” Dick shouts distantly. The grip on your collar disappears. A black clad fist hangs in front of you. Your eyes trace up the arm in front of you only to be met with the scowling face of the Batman. You swallow nervously while Dick lets out another enthusiastic ‘B’. Batman makes quick work of your ropes, all the while glaring at you for what you don’t know. Maybe somehow he knows this whole situation was your fault.

Once released, the first order of business, at least for Dick, is to throw his arms around Batman’s shoulders. Awkwardly, he reciprocates your friend’s affection. The hold he has on Dick cannot be mistaken as anything but protective. You find humor in the fact at how obvious their familial connection is yet they deny it. A teasing remark rises up your throat but is abruptly shoved back down by Batman’s unrelenting glare. Was he born glaring?

“What are you doing here?” Less of a question and more of a growled accusation.

“Careful, his rib might be broken.” You stumble out dumbly. Dick glares at you but compared to Batman’s it looks more like a pout which is, again, hilarious. Batman loosens his grip on Dick and apparently, this is now the time Dick chooses to realize that his mentor (read: dad) is trying to turn you into ash with a scowl.

Dick peels away from him stepping in front of you. He widens his stance to shield you from the larger man. Dick feels an odd surge of protectiveness and he’s not about to let B attack you, especially not after what just happened.

They stare each other down. They seem to be having a silent argument. You want to cut in but you’re afraid you might actually turn into ash with the intensity of Batman’s gaze.

The loud blaring of sirens mingle with the still playing opera music in the background as a tidal wave of police officers and paramedics rush in.

-----

You pestered the medic to let you stay with Dick.

“So, what do you plan on doing?” Dick asks, leaning against you pointedly ignoring the paramedic's instruction to be careful. You let him lean into you. You know he needs all the comfort he can get. You rest your head against his hair, placing a kiss on his scalp. Dick doesn’t comment afraid that you might withdraw if he teases you too much.

“Maybe grow out my hair,” You joke, pinching a lock of hair between your fingers. “Might as well considering how grounded I’ll be. Well, if uncle Wintergreen has anything to say about it.”

Dick extricates himself from your shoulder and turns to you with a pensive look. Tilting his head, he looks at you appraisingly, wrinkling his brow. You can’t blame him. He’s never seen you with long hair mainly because you’ve never let it get too long. Too much of a hassle, too much of a health hazard.

Dick places his jacket over your head, draping it over you like a wedding veil. You chuckle at him, barely able to keep the smile off of your face.

“How do I look?” You joke twining your fingers around the cloth. You think you see Dick blush but it was probably just the cold. Dick coughs poorly disguising his laughter. He covers his mouth, depriving you of his dimples. “ Like you’re going to get married in a jean pants suit. I have dibs on walking you down the aisle.”

You tilt your head. Your smile tilts along with it. “Nah uncle Wintergreen has dibs on that.”

Dick huffs, his shoulders sag in disappointment. It’s the closest he was gonna get to being your groom, he thinks.

I want you waiting for me at the end of the aisle. The thought makes your heart twist. You swallow it along with the huge lump in your throat. “You can be my last dance though.”

You concede. Dick brightens a little at this but not by much.

“You sure Deathstroke wouldn’t mind?”

“This implies he’ll show up. He’s a busy man.” Dick laughs at that. Genuine and very Dick. This time you don’t fight the smile off of your face.

You smile at each other and laugh. A million unspoken sentences hang between the two of you.

This love of yours is reckless.

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a/n: Thanks for reading. Also yes I did have to include good dad Bruce and bastard mentor Slade. I only have one braincell and it is dumber than shit.

tag list: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical, @ereawrites

#dick grayson #robins #batboys x reader #batboys #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dc x reader #dc fanfic

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rocorambles · 4 years

Text

The Time Godzilla Was a Wingman

Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Female Reader

Genre: NSFW, Fluff, Smut

Summary: A shared love for Godzilla brings the two of you together, but neither of you realize just how close you’ll end up being OR two nerds fall in love

Warnings: Attempted Rape/Non-Con

Your body is vibrating with excitement despite it being 10am on a Sunday morning. Usually you would be still dead to the world at this time on any other weekend, but today isn’t any ordinary day. The nearby movie theater is playing a rerun of an old Godzilla movie and the nerd in you immediately bought tickets when they were released. Unfortunately, none of your friends were interested in waking up before noon to see an old monster film, so you make the trek by yourself. Once you arrive at the theater, you step in line for food and drinks. You’re debating what beverage you want to get with your popcorn when you see a familiar spiky head in front of you. “Iwaizumi-san?” The taller figure turns around at his name and, although surprised to see you, he politely greets you.

There’s an awkward pause after that. Both of you are in the same class and you’ve seen each other around school, but you haven’t ever really spoken to each other. You’re thinking of how to continue the small talk when you notice Iwaizumi is looking down at your hoodie and you blush. Like a true dork, you’d decided to wear your favorite pale pink Godzilla hoodie and you want to sink into the ground. This is not how you wanted one of the most attractive guys in your class to see you outside of school. You quickly drop your gaze down to hide the red decorating your cheeks when you see similar Godzilla graphics on the black long sleeved shirt Iwaizumi is wearing.

All of a sudden any nervousness dissipates and your eyes sparkle as you grin at the ace. “Are you here to see the Godzilla movie too?” Iwaizumi is slightly taken aback by your sudden change in attitude, but at the mention of his favorite character and the sight of your animated face, he also grins and nods. You both start exchanging favorite Godzilla movies, favorite enemies, favorite parts of each movie...the conversation is continuing at a rapid pace when both of you reach the front of the line. Iwaizumi asks if you want to share a popcorn and you agree as you split the cost and rush over to get good seats for the movie. The theater is relatively empty and you both settle down next to each other, still continuing your monster-filled conversation until the movie begins.

The credits roll and if it’s possible, the two of you are even more impassioned than when the movie first began as you make your way out of the theater, breaking down the details of the film piece by piece. There’s a slight lull in your conversation as you two stand outside the theater. You don’t want to stop discussing the film with Iwaizumi, but you also don’t want to keep him for too long. You’re about to bid farewell when Iwaizumi breaks the silence first. “If you’re not busy, do you want to continue this conversation at the cafe around the corner?” You beam as you enthusiastically agree and the both of you continue to chatter over cups of coffee and sandwiches. The topics widen from just the film and you begin to learn more about each other, enjoying the company of the other. Time flies by and your hangout comes to an end as Iwaizumi realizes what time it is and tells you he needs to go to practice. You continue your dialogue as he walks you home and when he drops you off in front of your house, Iwaizumi asks if you’d want to watch other monster or Godzilla movies together in the future and you gleefully accept the offer.

Just like that, a surprising but close friendship begins. It starts off with just movie hangouts, but soon enough the two of you are studying together, eating lunch together, and walking to school together. Being around Iwaizumi so much means that you also get to know Makki, Mattsun, and Oikawa and as you become closer with the group, you internally chide yourself for ever being intimidated by the group of silly boys. Little do you know that when you’re not around and it’s just the four of them in the locker room, Oikawa and the Makki Mattsun duo are relentlessly teasing, but also scolding Iwaizumi for not making a move on you yet.

“Iwa-chan! It’s so obvious you like her and you’re not going to find another girl that likes Godzilla as much as you. You better lock her down before someone else snatches her away.”

“Shut up, Shittykawa!”

“He’s right, Iwaizumi. Y/N is really attractive. I’m pretty sure I saw her get confessed to today. If you’re too slow, she really will be taken and who else is going to put up with your gorilla like attitude?”

Iwaizumi spikes a volleyball at Mattsun’s head. “We’re just good friends,” says the sharp-eyed ace. He glares at Makki as the chestnut-haired boy scoffs at his words, but the teasing comes to a halt as their coach shouts at them to get back on the court.

A few weeks later, you go to cheer on Iwaizumi at his volleyball match. You had seen a few of the Aoba Johsai volleyball matches before you became friends with Iwaizumi. Which girl in your school hadn’t? You’d gone with your girl friends and you can’t deny that you had enjoyed watching the athletic toned figures move on the court. But after getting closer to Iwaizumi, you find your eyes drawn only to the ace and you can’t seem to look away from his toned arms, the passion in his eyes, and the sweat that drips down his neck past his collarbone....You shake your head clear of the increasingly indecent thoughts as you focus on the game and you cheer loudly with the rest of your classmates when the boys take home another win. You happily hum to yourself as you make your way to the locker room where you’d already agreed to meet Iwaizumi after the match, but your movements are forcefully stopped by a firm grip on your wrist.

Confused, you turn expecting to see one of your friends when an unfamiliar face greets you instead. It’s a much taller boy wearing the jersey of the team that Aoba Johsai had just beat and your heart begins to race. You try to jerk your hand away from him, but his grip only tightens and you wince at the vice-like hold. “Get off me, asshole!” You glower at him as you quickly scan the area to see if anyone’s around, but the stadium has pretty much cleared out aside from the players who are still washing up in their locker rooms. Panic spreads within you and you begin to desperately fight back to escape the aggressive stranger, but he uses his much stronger frame to slam you against the wall and you are momentarily stunned by the impact. Your head is throbbing and you begin to cough as he begins to squeeze your throat with one of his hands. “I heard you’re dating Seijoh’s ace. It pisses me off that he won the match and gets to go home to his pretty little girlfriend. I’m going to show him what losing feels like.” Black spots are beginning to cloud your vision as you fight to breathe, but you feel disgustingly wet lips slobbering down your face and tears leak out of your eyes at the feel of a rough hand sneaking under your shirt, brushing the bottom of your breasts. With the little air that you do have, you instinctively call for Iwaizumi, but it comes out little louder than a whisper and your assaulter cruelly laughs. “Your boyfriend isn’t coming for you, bitch. So just try to enjoy this or it’s going to be really unpleasant for you.”

Just as his hand begins to fully grope one of your breasts, his body is thrown off of you and you gasp for breath. Still a little dazed, you frantically try to figure out what is happening and relief rushes through you when you see a familiar tanned figure standing protectively in front of you. You reach out to him, but pause at the rage you can almost feel rolling off of him. You’ve seen him irritated, especially when Oikawa is involved, but this is a different level of pure unadulterated anger that makes you shiver. He starts storming over to the body of your assaulter and it’s the raising of his arms that spurs you into action as you fling yourself around his back. “No, Iwaizumi! You’ll get in trouble or even suspended. They might not let you play volleyball anymore if you hit him.” A few seconds pass before the tension leaves Iwaizumi and he’s gathering you into his arms. He gives one last look at your attacker and tells him he better not get anywhere near you again, before he carries you away to the now empty Aoba Johsai locker room.

He seats you on a metal bench and kneels on the floor in front of you as he examines the bruises around your neck and quickly checks the rest of your body to make sure nothing else is injured. Satisfied that you’re otherwise fine, he wraps his arms around your waist and lays his spiky head in your lap as he begins to sniffle. Alarmed, you stroke your hand in his hair, coaxing his head up to look at you and you try to comfort him as you see tears begin to well in his eyes. “Hey, I’m the one who should be crying! Please don’t cry. You saved me, Iwaizumi. I’m safe because of you.” “But you almost weren’t.” “What almost happened doesn’t matter. It’s what actually happened that counts and I believe I owe you a thank you. You want to come over and marathon some Godzilla movies?” Iwaizumi smiles up at you and you both spend the rest of that night in front of your TV, laughing and talking while Iwaizumi presses an ice pack to your injured neck.

Both of you are just as close after the incident, but the dynamic has shifted. You find yourself stammering and blushing everytime Iwaizumi’s body accidentally brushes against yours and you remember how when you were being touched intimately by your attacker, all you could think about was how you wished the person performing the actions was Iwaizumi instead. Iwaizumi can feel his heart fluttering when he feels the warmth of your body near him and he remembers how a possessive rage had filled him at the sight of another boy touching you and how he wanted to be the only one to hold you like that. But your feelings for each other remain hidden until one day Iwaizumi is asking you to go to another movie with him and you agree as you always do. However this time Iwaizumi pauses and says, “I want to go to the movie on an official date with you. Not just as two friends.” Your smile threatens to break your face with how wide it is as you lean in to kiss him on the cheek and that’s how the two of you begin dating.

This is the first relationship for both of you and you both approach it tentatively. Emotionally and mentally, nothing has really changed, but it’s the physical aspect that leaves both of you a little hesitant. Months pass and you never go pass a slightly heated make out session. You begin to feel a little self-conscious and wonder if Iwaizumi doesn’t find you attractive enough to take it further. Iwaizumi on the other hand is smitten with you, but he knows how special sex can be for girls, especially if it’s their first time, and he doesn’t want to push you past your comfort zone. The two of you dance around the topic and never directly address it as you continue to hold hands and sweetly kiss each other. But a long conversation with your girl friends and their encouragement for you to take the initiative if you’re ready emboldens you. Iwaizumi is supposed to come over to your place this weekend to hang out and you’d timed it perfectly with your parent’s business trip, leaving the two of you alone in the house. You slip on the black long sleeved Godzilla shirt Iwaizumi had worn the first time you guys had ever hung out and take a deep breath before mustering the courage to slide your panties off, leaving you completely bare underneath your boyfriend’s shirt. Satisfied with the way you look, you wait.

Iwaizumi knocks on your door, holding a bag of snacks which he promptly drops on the floor as he stares slack jawed at you. You quickly grab his wrist and drag him inside, locking the door behind him before shyly playing with your hair, unsure of what Iwaizumi thinks about your outfit. Iwaizumi drinks in the sight of you in his shirt. His eyes take in how the neck opening is far too large for you and reveals your collarbone and a sliver of your shoulder. They trail down to the way your hands swim in sleeves made for much longer arms than yours. And finally they land on the way your legs are fully on display for him as you clutch the hem of his shirt to keep your most intimate part covered. He can already begin to feel arousal flickering inside of him, but he gently grasps your jaw, tilting your head to look at him. “Babe, I need you to tell me exactly what you want. I want to make sure you’re completely sure about this.” He sees a hint of nervousness in your gaze, but it’s mixed with determination as you move forward until you’re chest to chest with Iwaizumi. He bites back a groan at the feel of pebbled nipples rubbing against his torso. “I want you to take my virginity and then after that I want you to keep on making love to me and fucking me, Iwaizumi.” Reassured by your confirmation, he leans down to lovingly kiss you before holding out his arms and growling, “jump”. You leap into his arms and with your arms interlocked behind his neck and your legs wrapped around his waist, you continue locking lips with him as he brings you both to your bedroom.

Iwaizumi gently lays you down on your bed and hovers over you. Your breath catches at the hungry look in his eyes as he stares at you like he wants to devour you. He roughly catches your lips with his, nipping at your bottom lip until your mouth opens and his tongue is tangling with yours. You squirm in his hold. You’ve made out before, but the intensity of this is new and your heart races as your nails dig into strong shoulders to anchor yourself. He pulls away, a thin trail of saliva connecting the two of you before he continues his attack on your neck leaving a trail of mottled purple down the column of your neck. You cry out from the intensity and the slight pain, but you can feel a burning desire building within you at the thought of Iwaizumi painting you like a canvas and marking you for everyone to know who you belong to.

As he continues sucking and biting your sensitive neck, his hands begin to lift up the shirt you’re wearing, but his brows furrow when he feels nothing underneath. He stops his ministrations to look down and growls at the sight of you completely naked, no bra or panties, and his cock twitches at how vulnerable you look sprawled before him, while he’s still completely clothed. He practically rips the shirt off of you in his haste to have your body completely on show for him and sits back on his heels, drinking in the view of you. No one has ever seen you naked before and your self-consciousness has you attempting to cover your breasts and pussy as much as you can with your hands, but strong hands stop you from moving. “Don’t hide from me, baby. You’re beautiful.” You nervously look into Iwaizumi’s eyes and your heart soars at the love you see shining in his eyes.

He worships your body and you writhe underneath him as he leaves no inch of your skin untouched. Fingers graze you, his tongue, lips, and teeth trace across every inch of skin they reach and a fire is raging inside of you. Iwaizumi takes one of your hardened nipples into his mouth and sucks while fingers fondle the other nipple and you moan. “Fuck, baby, you sound so good. Keep on making sounds for me. Let me know how good I’m making you feel.” The room fills with your incessant moans and the wet sounds of Iwaizumi lathering all his attention on your fleshy mounds. You’re so distracted by what’s happening that you don’t notice a rough hand beginning to descend further down your body until you keen as a long digit slides into your dripping hole and begins to gently thrust in and out of you. You’ve never had anything inside of you before and you lose yourself in the foreign pleasure. Broken pleas for more spill from your lips and Iwaizumi slips another finger into you, curling his fingers as he continues his in and out motions. When he enters a third finger, your eyes shoot open and your mouth falls open when he brushes against something inside of you. Iwaizumi smirks as he relentlessly teases that spot over and over again until you see stars and your walls quiver around him, clutching his fingers so tightly as if they want to forever be filled by them. He gently continues toying with your now sopping cunt until you shiver and softly push his arms away. Completely removing his hand from you, he hovers over you again to affectionately kiss you before finally stripping off his own clothes.

You’ve seen Iwaizumi shirtless before and you appreciatively eye the veins running down your boyfriend’s toned arms as he removes his shirt and you subconsciously lick your lips at the sight of his tanned torso, but your mouth goes dry and your pussy clenches at the sight of his pre-cum glazed cock that’s revealed when he removes his boxers. Your lower mouth throbs with a desire to be stuffed full, but you nervously bite your lips wondering if something so big can really fit inside you. Sensing the slight change in your mood, Iwaizumi hovers over you, stroking your face. “I’m going to take it slow. But I need you to let me know if you want me to take it even slower or completely stop, okay?” You nod and he moves to slide on a condom before repositioning himself until you feel the tip of his hard length prodding where you want it most. He slowly pushes in, stopping every inch or so while attentively rubbing your pulsing clit and flicking one of your nipples with his tongue to distract you from the discomfort. It’s a tight fit and you feel more stretched than you ever have, but with Iwaizumi’s steady pace and his pleasurable distractions, you’re soon letting out broken whines as you tighten around his cock, milking him for more. He finally bottoms out inside of you and you both groan at how perfectly you fit together. It’s like you were made to take him and only him. “Can I move, Y/N?” You frantically nod your head and let out a high-pitched scream as he almost fully pulls out before ramming himself all the way back into you. You hardly recognize your own voice as you claw at Iwaizumi’s back as he pounds into you. A lewd symphony fills your room as his balls slap against you, your pussy squelches with every movement of Iwaizumi’s hips, he grunts and heavily pants, and you let out a beautiful vocal scale of “more, harder, faster”. But the performance is nearing an end and you finish first, your back bending into a curve you didn’t know was possible before you slump back down to the bed, exhausted. Iwaizumi isn’t far behind and with just a few more desperate thrusts, he harshly grips your hips and buries himself as deep as he can go into your spasming heat and cums.

You both lay there for a bit. Iwaizumi has rolled you both onto your sides so he can cradle you in his arms and stroke your back and hair as he softly praises you. You nuzzle into his comforting warmth and smile fondly into green eyes. “Hajime, I’m glad you were my first. Thank you for taking care of me.” Flustered by your use of his first name, Iwaizumi stills for a second before he’s pulling you even tighter into him, a toothy grin overtaking his face and you both continue to lay there, feeling whole in each other’s arms.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu fic #haikyuu writing #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #aoba johsai #haikyuu x reader

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penaltbox · 4 years

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everything comes back to you - dylan holloway

a/n: aka the fic that took me forever to finish, or better yet, the one where dylan plays tour guide and you both get more than you bargained for

if you like it let me know! we love to get some feedback :)))

word count: 6.4k

“Where the heck is this place?” You wonder out loud, looking at the little campus map in your hands and turning in circles. You should be exactly where you were supposed to be, but for some reason you couldn’t find the right room.

You were most likely transferring to Wisconsin after taking a gap year and going to the tour solo was something you thought you could handle. It was proving much more difficult than expected though. You swear under your breath and study the map again.

“Hey, are you lost?” You hear a voice ask next to you.

You jump a little but you’re met with a soft smiling blond who looks harmless despite how big he is. If a puppy could have a human form you were pretty sure this guy was it. You feel yourself smile back almost instantly.

You hold the sheet up, feeling a little embarrassed, “yeah just a bit. I’m supposed to have this campus tour but I seriously cannot find the room for it.”

“Do you mind if I-?” He gestures to the paper, “I’m Dylan by the way. Not trying to be weird or anything.”

His cheeks start to turn red as soon as the words leave his mouth and you can’t help but think how ridiculously cute he looks. Maybe academics and campus life weren’t the only good reason to choose Madison.

“Of course! Trust me, the help is appreciated,” you hand the paper over and bite your lip as he reads over the page.

He frowns a little at the page and then turns to walk down the hall. He gets two steps before he freezes and looks over his shoulder, “come on. I think it’s right over here.”

You take a few quick strides to catch up with him and realize just how large he really is once you’re right next to him. You try to look him up and down quickly without getting caught, just to take him all in. He turns down a hallway you hadn’t even noticed before and stops in front of a door.

“Uh oh,” he mumbles, looking at a sign placed on the door.

“Uh oh what?” You ask, starting to panic a little.

He points toward the paper sign. ‘All tours cancelled today. We apologize for any inconvenience.’ Your jaw drops and you stare for a minute, willing the sign to say something else. You were here for the next few days and now you suddenly had nothing to do? How could they just cancel like that?

Dylan winces next to you and awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, “did they send an email or anything? It seems weird that they would just cancel so randomly.”

You sigh and feel yourself deflate a little, “I don’t know but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. My whole plan was to go on the tour today and then revisit a couple places I really liked tomorrow so I could be sure this was the place to go to.”

Dylan feels guilty for some reason that you’re being let down like this and he has this odd feeling in him that he needs to fix it somehow. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and sees a couple messages in the group chat that give him an idea.

“How about this - what if my friends and I give you a tour? You’ll get a way more honest experience from us since we go here and then you’ll still get to see the campus?” He offers, the corner of his mouth starting to turn up.

You glance up at him, weighing the pros and cons. He seems nice enough and he has been helpful so far. But he was also a boy and his friends might not be quite so nice. Worst case scenario, you could possibly get murdered, right? But best case… well he and his friends could be amazing and be the first people you meet at the school. You decide to go for it despite your worrywart side yelling at you to think twice.

“You would do that? I don’t want to interrupt your day or anything.”

He smiles then, a big one that makes you gasp in a breath at how cute it is, “not at all! We didn’t have any plans. I just stopped over here to grab a couple things but I got a little sidetracked when you looked so lost. Let me call them.”

You nod quickly as he taps on his screen, lifting the phone to his ear. There’s a loud greeting on the other end that makes Dylan pull the phone back a little before he gives his pitch about needing help with showing this ‘poor girl who got lost’ around campus. You couldn’t help but laugh as you hear those words come out of his mouth. He offers a few ‘mhm’s’, ‘yep’s’, and finally a ‘cool, hurry up’, before he’s off the phone and smiling back at you.

“I’m just gonna warn you now that whoever shows up will probably be way too loud and if they make you uncomfortable with how outgoing they are then just tell me. I’ll get them to back off,” he says, scratching the back of his neck again. It seemed to be a nervous tick for him.

You’re not sure how a boy as physically intimidating as he is could be so endearing, but it works for him. It’s easy to reply to his mild warning with, “I think I’ll be able to handle it. I have a younger brother and he’s always been a handful.”

Dylan laughs at that and leads you back the way you’d originally come from. He walks outside and not two steps down the staircase does he hear his name shouted from a little ways over. A blond boy that seems to possibly be a bit taller than Dylan is headed your way and your eyebrows knit immediately.

“Are all your friends giants like you?” You mumble, thinking he didn’t hear it, but you were very wrong.

Dylan laughs and elbows you gently, “we’re not that big! You’re just short.”

Your face flushes immediately and you throw a playful smirk his way. It’s returned quickly enough that butterflies erupt in your stomach and you have to refocus on this new boy heading towards the both of you. He gives Dylan a quick fist bump before looking over at you with a big smile.

“Hi, I’m Shay and I’ll be your tour guide today,” he says, a level of confidence rolling off him that you wouldn’t have expected from his goofy appearance, “has Dylan here been polite so far or do we need to kick him off the tour?”

You glance over at the boy next to you who already looks like he’s about ready to fight the one who just showed up, but he only shakes his head.

“We’re fine, Shay. You’re just here for moral support, not to scare her away,” Dylan says with a roll of his eyes.

Shay laughs and gives you a quick wink, “don’t be fooled. I’m the fun one in our group.”

You blush a little and nod, feeling a little nervous. Would these guys actually be nice and show you good things or should you have just figured things out on your own? You’re about to tell the boys to just forget it when Dylan pulls you back to the real world.

“Did you have a degree in mind? We could show you the main building for whatever it is,” he says, his tone patient enough to make you sigh and relax.

“Actually,” you smile, “I do. Biology.”

“Oh so you’re like smart smart,” Shay says, his eyebrows raising as he looks between you and Dylan, who lets out an annoyed sigh.

“We’re not idiots, geez. Just come on,” Dylan shakes his head and starts heading down the sidewalk.

You follow quickly, trying to keep up with his long strides and he seems to notice. He slows down half a step and gives you a little smile that makes you grin right back, but you look away just as fast, too.

“So your main building is probably this one right up here,” he points, still fighting off a little smile.

You glance up and freeze in place, taking in the big building and how pretty it looks. What you don’t notice is Dylan watching you as you take in just one of the many spots on campus he wanted to show you. The awe on your face has him staring and he has to blink hard to get out of his own head. He just met you. He couldn’t be creepy and scare you off already.

A quick glance over to Shay has him blushing as the older boy smirks at him before tapping away at his phone. Although Shay doesn’t say anything, Dylan knows he’d been caught in the act. He wants to move on quickly to hide himself from being embarrassed all over again.

Dylan sets out on a mission after that: find every place in Madison that would get you to make that face again. He couldn’t help but think how pretty the look was on you and he’d do just about anything to see it over and over again.

You spend the whole day following these two giant dorks around and they make you laugh so much your stomach hurts by the end of it. You’re sitting on top of the half wall in front of the Kohl Center, looking around at everything when you take a deep breath and let out a big sigh.

“Uh oh, is that a good thing?” Shay asks from your left, eating the last scoop of fro-yo from his cup.

“It is,” you look over at him and smile, “I love it here. I don’t want to have to leave in two days.”

You turn your attention to Dylan on your right and find him looking at you already. You give him a once over and smile before looking down at the empty cup in your hand.

“Do you want to do something tomorrow? I have a workout in the morning but I’m free around lunch,” he speaks up and you know he’s not talking about including Shay.

Just as you guessed, the taller blond stands up with a quick clear of his throat, “it was super awesome to meet you. I hope you love Wisconsin as much as we do, and uh, I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you. Get home safe.”

You thank him and give him a hug before he gives Dylan a nod and starts to walk down the street. You can’t help but laugh and turn towards Dylan.

“He’s a little odd, huh? Like super nice and friendly, but wow, that’s a personality,” you bring up, trying not to sound mean or anything.

Dylan laughs with you, cancelling some of your nerves, “oh he’s something. We aren’t sure what to do with him most days, but we like him nonetheless.”

“Thank you by the way,” you say, your voice dropping lower as you notice the sun starting to set, “I really appreciate you guys going out of your way to show me around today.”

“No problem. Hopefully you got a good feel for everything, and that offer is still up for doing something tomorrow. If you want that is. You don’t have to if you don’t want or if you’re not comfortable with it or anything. I don’t want to overstep,” he rambles, his cheeks starting to dust a little more pink.

You bite your lip, shocked that this cute boy was getting flustered around you of all people. You decide to save him some of the pain of whatever is scrambling through his head and you gently bump his shoulder with yours.

“Hey,” you mumble, catching his attention, “I’d love to.”

His eyebrows shoot up and his smile makes your stomach flip a little, “yeah? There’s this cool spot close to the capitol with the best burgers in town if you like that kind of thing. It’s called Dlux if you’re a menu checker.”

“That sounds amazing,” you respond, your smile matching his, “I don’t know how I’ll repay you for this weekend. This town is unreal.”

He shrugs, looks happy as can be, as he tells you, “I think hanging out has been plenty of payment. Anyone that can give Shay a run for his money with witty responses is good in my book.”

He uses Shay as a reasoning but there’s a feeling in the pit of his stomach that says maybe it’s something else. There was something about watching you fall in love with where he lived, where you’d be living, that had him looking far more at you than at the city he’d been in for months.

The two of you repeat the cycle the next day, getting burgers for lunch that are delicious and going all around town. Dylan watches you take pictures and answers as many questions as he can. He manages to find an open door for the main building your classes would probably be in and he has to take a deep breath and look away at one point when you’re just staring in awe at everything. He didn’t know what was going on with him.

He can’t believe that he’d run into someone like you and had so quickly become enamored. He spilled to the boys that first night, due to some prodding from Shay, all about how cute you looked and how much you loved their everyday places and things.

“Guys, I think I’m in love or something. Holy shit,” he mumbled, his mind racing after that second day with you.

The boys give him a hard time, of course, but Dylan rolls with it. He wasn’t sure how you’d made your way into his life so quickly but he really hoped that weekend wasn’t the last of having you around him.

Your days blur by and before you know it you’re packing up to head home. Dylan makes sure he has your phone number and snapchat before you leave, claiming that he’d need it in case he saw something he thought you might like.

You swear the weekend had to be some kind of fever dream. This cute boy came out of nowhere and spent three days making you feel welcomed and at home in a place that had stolen your heart. How could it get better?

—

“Would you stop checking your phone?” Mike asks, glaring across the table at Dylan.

He rolls his eyes in response but sets it back down, “why don’t you worry about yourself? You’re always checking on your girl, too.”

“Oh, so she’s your girl now?” Ryder asks, his tone immediately teasing.

“No, come on. I met her once and we hung out a couple times. Knock it off,” Dylan defends, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Except I saw the way you looked at her. You’re in so deep,” Shay teases, reaching over to try and rub Dylan’s cheek, but he’s quick to smack his hand away.

He has to laugh it off otherwise he thinks he might explode. Shay’s quick to pull out his phone and pass it around to the other guys, all of them laughing and picking on Dylan. Mike finally hands it over and he sees what they’d be looking at.

It’s a picture of Dylan standing right next to you as you look up at the science building for the first time. Dylan has a soft smile on his face and anyone who looks at it can tell Dylan’s completely smitten in that moment.

“I’m in trouble, huh?” Dylan asks, a little laugh spilling out.

He runs his hand through his hair as he sits back and looks at the picture again. He knew he had it bad, he could tell, but he definitely wasn’t giving it up. Things were only getting better as time went on.

—

“Dude, are you good?” Ryder asks, smacking Dylan’s arm as he walks with his nose shoved into his phone as they head to practice.

Dylan smiles at him, completely oblivious, “what do you mean? Of course I’m good.”

“You are sick,” Ryder laughs, “are you guys still texting? Have you guys left each other alone at all?”

Dylan’s shrugs and finally pockets his phone, but stops when he sees an ice cream truck parked near the ice arenas. He grabs his phone again and sends you a snapchat that makes Ryder start howling with laughter when he realizes what’s going on.

“You’ve still got it so bad, oh my god. I’m telling the whole team now. Enough of just our group knowing,” he says over his shoulder, continuing his path towards LaBahn.

Dylan rolls his eyes, knowing anything he says to Ryder won’t stop him from running his mouth to the team. If Dylan was honest he didn’t really mind. He’d enjoyed his time with you and now you both were almost constantly sending each other snaps of things you thought the other would like and you’d even had some lengthy FaceTime calls.

Dylan is met with a round of interrogation the second he steps into the locker room and all he can do is glare at Ryder. The boys want to know more about this mystery person that had Dylan so wrapped up but he’s not giving much info. He tells them your name and where you’re from, but that’s about all he’ll give them. He thinks he’s fine until Shay picks up his head with a smirk.

“Is this her?” He asks, turning his phone and showing off your Instagram, though he knew exactly who you were.

“Stop it!” Dylan snaps, hurrying over to the older boy and trying to steal his phone away.

Shay can’t help but laugh as he turns to look at his brother, “you weren’t kidding, huh? Holloway, you’re fucked. Just ask her out already.”

“Just relax, every single one of you!” He warns, but there's no threat behind his words by any means and it only makes the boys try and rile him up more.

Dylan’s blushing furiously by then and he shuts off the screen on Shay’s phone, setting it above him in his locker stall. Dylan shuffles over to his own stall and pulls out his phone to send you a warning.

‘If you get a bunch of followers on insta and they’re all my teammates then I’m so sorry’

‘Uh oh who spilled the beans? 😂’

��Shay of course. Are we surprised?’

‘Not at all. Have fun at practice!’

Dylan finds himself smiling at the phone again and he can’t even help it. You remembered when his classes and practices were most of the time by now and he really liked that for some reason.

“Let’s go, lover boy,” Ty yells across the room, “you can call her later but for now you’ve got hockey and the boys.”

Dylan tries his best to wipe the smile off his face but it’s not as easy as it sounds. The boys run him a little harder than they usually would but it doesn’t seem to break his mood at all. It starts to be contagious though, and the team ends up skating a couple extra laps for goofing around and having too much fun.

It’s not until Dylan’s in his room that night, attempting to study, that you send him a snap of the sunset at your place. He decides he needs to FaceTime you again right that minute.

“Hi,” you answer, not expecting the call, but not minding one bit. You hated to say you missed him but you kind of did. The thought alone gives you butterflies that you tried to ignore.

Dylan smiles at the screen and leans back in his chair, “you can’t keep sending me cool pictures of places in your town if I’m not allowed to come visit.”

You hear the flirty tone he strikes up right away and smirk, “I never said you couldn’t come visit. I mean I am dying to come visit Madison again so we can trade a trip for a trip.”

“So let’s do it,” he says, plain and simple, “you could even stay here if you wanted to. Then you don’t have to pay for a hotel. I can sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your own place. But I think I might have to visit before too long,” you shake your head.

“Next time we have a little break I might have to head your way then. I already know at least one pretty thing in that town since you live there,” Dylan says, not even sure where the confidence was coming from.

You blush, ducking your head a little before looking up to find him blushing a bit too, “you better watch what you say or you’ll get yourself into trouble.”

“Maybe I want some trouble if you’re involved.”

“You better be careful what you wish for,” you warn him, but the banter has you buzzing with excitement.

“Think I already got what I wished for, so we need to get you yours next. Now get up here and visit,” he laughs, but he thinks it’s most likely just talk.

You were probably busy and as much as he wanted you to visit, he didn’t want to sound pushy or anything. He’d had a lot of fun with you and he thought you had fun with him, too. He remembers something that might even sweeten the deal some more.

“Hey,” he says quickly, “you remember that coffee shop we went to when you were here last?”

You smile and nod quickly, “I was just thinking about that place yesterday. It was so good.”

Dylan can’t help but soften a little when he sees you smile like that, “they have a new drink out. It’s a seasonal thing but I tried it and it’s really good. I think you’d like it.”

“Let me look at my plans for the next few weeks and let you know, okay? I can probably squeeze in a visit. Maybe I’ll even get to see you play,” you mention, trying to play it off, but you really did want to see him play a game.

“You want to come see me play?” Dylan asks, trying not to sound too overly excited, “that would be cool. I could get you a ticket.”

You nod quickly, having to press your hand to your cheek as you try anything to suppress the grin that always takes over your face when you talk to him, “I’d love to come see you play and see more of that city. I had a pretty damn good tour guide last time.”

He bites his lip and nods, thinking of a good response, “well they’re all private tours now. You’ll have to submit an application to get the same guide you had last time.”

You let out a laugh and shake your head, “you got it. Just tell me where to sign.”

Dylan steals your attention for a few more minutes, soaking in the time he gets. He knows you’re just as busy as he is, or at least pretty close to it, so he tries not to waste your time. You delay getting off the phone as long as you can, but your mom calls for you to come downstairs and even Dylan hears her beckon you.

“I’ll see you soon?” He asks just before you disconnect the call.

“Very soon hopefully,” you smile, knowing you couldn’t wait much longer to go see him.

—

Your hands are shaking as you raise your fist and quickly knock on the big door in front of you. You’re well aware of what’s waiting on the other side and you’re so excited to see him again that you can hardly contain yourself.

The door swings open and reveals a blond boy, but not the one you’d been wanting to see. Regardless you give him a big smile and hug him back when he leans in.

“Shay, how have you been?” You ask, holding him at arm's length and eyeing him suspiciously.

He laughs and pulls you inside, taking your bag for you, “I’m doing just fine. I think the real question is how are you? You look a little nervous.”

You feel your face flush and your eyes go wide, “stop, do I really? Oh gosh, I can’t do this.”

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before Shay locks an arm around your shoulders, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Why are you and Dylan so much alike? He’s nervous too, don’t worry.”

The confession doesn’t make you feel any less rattled but you’re quickly being walked through the only semi messy apartment towards a closed door off to one side. Shay wastes no time knocking and pushes the door open to reveal Dylan. He looks over, a shocked expression covering his face quickly, and he looks like he’d been pacing in the middle of the room.

He sees you tucked under Shay’s arm though and doesn’t even consider yelling at the older boy for barging in. He smiles right away, a soft one that makes you realize the trip was worth it, and he heads your way.

“Hi,” he says quietly, holding his arms out for a hug.

You dip out from under Shay’s arms and put your own around Dylan’s neck, hugging him tight, “hi, I’m here.”

You hear Shay groan behind you followed by the thump of your bag hitting the floor. You can’t help but laugh as the door closes behind the two of you, giving you some alone time. You figure Dylan is ready to pull away, but instead squeezes a little tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You can’t help but run your fingers through his hair, finally getting to see him in person rather than over the phone.

“You are here. You’re coming to the game tonight, right?” He mumbles, still leaving himself practically attached to you.

You have no complaints about it so you reassure his question, “of course I am. I can’t wait to see you and the boys play.”

Dylan finally stands up, pulling his phone from his pocket and checking the time, “ah shit, I need to get changed. We have to head to the rink soon.”

You fight the frown that tries to make its way onto your face over him leaving so soon. You had him for the next two days before you really had to say goodbye. He tells you to make yourself at home, putting your bag on his bed before heading to his closet.

You sit on the unmade bed and look around, taking in all the little pieces that made it his room rather than just a plain four-walled-space. A couple pictures, a Wisconsin hockey banner, and a shoe collection that earned your envy all catch your attention. Dylan turns around, a dress shirt in one hand and a tie in the other.

“Do these match?” He asks, holding the two things a little higher.

You glance between them and nod, “yeah those look good. No tie might even look good.”

He considers it for a second and then turns to put the tie back, giving you a little smile, “okay, no tie it is. Ready to meet the monsters? I need to get changed.”

You laugh but follow him quickly to the door. You were honestly excited to meet his friends, especially if they were all as friendly as Shay was. As soon as Dylan steps out of his room he stops and you can seem him shaking his head at whatever he’s seeing.

“You guys all just happen to be changed and out here ready to go at the same time?” He asks, leading you to believe everyone had crammed into their living room at once and you were guessing it wasn’t because they were ready at their usual times.

“Some of us weren’t sucking face and actually got ready on time,” you hear one voice say loudly, but a smack quickly follows it.

“Be nice,” Shay reprimands the person and you find yourself peeking out from behind Dylan. He stays in place, almost like he’s protecting you, but Shay sees you, too, quickly calling your name, “come say hi. I’ll introduce you while lover boy here gets his shit together.”

You look up and find Dylan’s cheeks have gone deep red and he gives you an apologetic look, mumbling, “I’ll be right back. I swear I’ll be fast.”

Suddenly he’s stepping away and heading for the bathroom, leaving you with four pairs of eyes on you. You know who they are but you hadn’t formally met them yet so you opt for a little wave.

It doesn’t take long for them to get you to sit down, introducing themselves and then peppering you with questions. You thought Shay was loud before but then you realize the whole group of them together was even worse. They’re all funny though and make you feel comfortable so quickly that you don’t even mind the seemingly endless stream of questions as you sit on the arm of the chair Shay takes up.

The group suddenly goes quiet and before you can ask why a hand presses onto your back, causing goosebumps to shoot up your spine. You smile up at Dylan and find him giving you one back. The boys start to whistle and jab at Dylan, calling him names until he gives them a leveling glare. Something about the look makes your stomach flip and you have to look away, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I’m ready when you guys are,” he says to the group, but barely takes his eyes off of you.

The boys, including Dylan, get up slowly and start grabbing things to take with them, hats and AirPods all included, but Shay stays in his spot next to you before tapping your leg. You look down at him and smile, letting him know you were listening.

“I need to show you something,” he says, causing your eyebrows to pinch in confusion, “I just think you might want to see this.”

You open your mouth to argue but he hands his phone to you, showing you the picture he’d taken the first day you all met. The one with Dylan standing next to you with that soft look on his face that told you everything. You can’t help but smile as you look it over.

Shay clears his throat a little, “I’m just saying, I called it that day.”

You nod, sending the picture to yourself, “yeah on his end. You missed it on mine though.”

“Did I?” He asks, finally standing up and starting to walk away.

You watch him walk off and you can’t help but wonder what he meant. You don’t have to wait long before your phone pops up with a notification. Shay must have noticed you send the first picture to yourself because he’s sent a second one. This time it’s one from when you’d first got there that day and Dylan had all but swallowed you into a hug.

He’s behind you then, his arm coming around you as he pulls you back against him. He sets his chin down on your shoulder and looks at the screen with a laugh, “in case you haven’t noticed, Shay manages to document every part of people’s lives with pictures and videos. Guess you’re officially part of the group now.”

You can’t fight the smile or the blush that take over your face then. Dylan diverts both of your attention and hands you his apartment key, explaining how to get to the rink, where your ticket will be, and where to wait after. You take it all in, nervous to have to meet him somewhere you’d never been, but a quick kiss on the cheek before he leaves has you more flustered than anything else.

You’re instructed to make yourself at home, though it’s quickly countered by Ryder with a joking ‘don’t go in my room’, so you stick to the living room until you need to get ready to leave. Dylan was right about getting to the rink though. It was an easy trip, just go down to the end of the block then hang a left and keep going until you see the big arena. You really couldn’t miss it.

You have to explain to the ticket window that a player had left you a ticket and by this point you were pretty sure the redness on your cheeks was just going to be permanent when you were in Madison. The girl hands your ticket over with a tight smile, one you don’t miss because it’s accompanied by her giving your appearance a once over.

You’re quick to bolt away from the ticket window and head farther into the arena. It takes you a minute to find your seat but when you do you let yourself look around. It was a pretty impressive arena but you’re much more worried about watching the boys skate around on the ice. It only takes you a minute to find Dylan and you can’t take your eyes off of him after.

The game goes by far more quickly than you wanted it to, but on the bright side you’d get to see Dylan finally. You wait in the lobby, constantly wringing your hands from nerves, watching as one group after another leaves the arena. You feel like you’re doing something wrong by waiting there but he’d specifically told you to wait inside until he got done after.

You feel silly by the time the place is virtually empty, but none of the arena workers seem to be shooing you out. You’re about to turn around and leave when you catch sight of Dylan and Ryder heading your way. The smile on your face is quickly matched by Dylan and Ryder is quick to nudge him. He gives you a wave and heads outside while Dylan makes his way to you.

He reaches for you right away, pulling you into another big hug that you knew you were going to get way too accustomed to over the short time there. You let yourself relax into him though, taking in the fresh smell of body wash that was coming from him.

“How was the game?” He asks softly, barely pulling back so he can look down at you. You’re sure he doesn’t realize it but he’s gently rubbing one thumb up and down on your hip as he holds them and it gives you instant butterflies.

You smile and nod as you respond, “it was really good. You guys are awesome to watch.”

“Do you maybe want to take a quick walk with me?” He asks suddenly, seemingly nervous about it.

You’re curious what could be so urgent but you agree, trusting whatever crazy idea he’d come up with. You have to bite your lip to keep from grinning like a crazy person when he steps away and takes your hand, tugging you along behind him.

It’s almost unreal how easy it is for the two of you to fall into step with one another and keep an easy conversation going. You feel comfortable around Dylan and he seems to relax around you in a way he didn’t before with the boys around. You’re not sure where he’s taking you but you go along anyways.

“Is this the point where you take me to a weird part of campus and murder me?” You joke, looking up at him as you wander the streets of Madison at night.

Dylan snorts and shakes his head, “no, I have no plans on ever letting you get hurt. If anything I’ll make sure you stay extra safe while you’re in town. It’s just a couple more minutes but I think you’ll want to see this. It’s a place I end up at a lot.”

Your heart hammers a little harder knowing he was taking you somewhere that meant a lot to him and you seem to pick your pace up a bit afterwards. You realize that he’s taking you closer to the water now, which had been blocked off mostly the last time you’d been there due to construction on the terrace.

Your suspicions are right as he leads you to the end of Lake Street and hooks around a building, landing the both of you on a bench that looks out at Lake Mendota. It’s dark out but there’s still so many lights reflecting off the water.

“I love it,” you mumble, very aware of Dylan putting his arm over your shoulders. You easily lean into his side before turning your attention back to him and smiling.

He returns the expression, “I’m glad you came to visit. I was a little worried I might have been bugging you too much and you wouldn’t want to come.”

“No, I’m really glad I came. I think I finally got what I wished for,” you start off, referring back to the FaceTime that had convinced you to return to the city.

“Oh you did? What is it?”

You blush hard then, turning to look out at the water again, “I like being here. I don’t mind having you here with me either.”

Dylan tries hard to keep his cool but it’s harder than he thought, “I’m such a sucker.”

He laughs and it makes you laugh a little. You were both goners and you knew it all too well. He reaches over, gently grabbing your chin and making you look at him. You hear him mumble under his breath, ‘I can’t wait anymore’, and suddenly he’s kissing you softly.

Your head spins a little and you lean into it, feeling like you can’t get enough of him. You finally need to catch your breath, pulling back, and leaning your forehead on his. You aren’t sure when you fell so fast for Dylan but you definitely did and he seemed to be feeling the same.

“I can’t wait to see every inch of this city,” you whisper.

“Well it’s a good thing you’ve got the best tour guide around,” he quips, leaning in for yet another kiss.

#dylan holloway #mine #my writing #wisconsin hockey #hockey fic #college hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #edmonton oilers

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rendezvousrenjun · 4 years

Text

our playlist. | j.jaehyun

✩ In which each song represents each pivotal moment in your relationship with Jung Jaehyun. ✩ romance + angst | 6.2k words | beware! some cussing :(

Jaehyun loved to learn more about the world. The dork inside him always questioned the most mundane things; Where do phobias come from? What would happen if there were no moon? Can you ever stop loving someone? Being an idol, there were multiple times he missed the regular everyday hobbies he used to partake in. Nonetheless, hands on experience and opportunities given to him by his company would always be something he would be grateful for. His dream would always be first priority, everything else could follow after.

His company encouraged him to film another “Daily Jaehyun” vlog (although he’d prefer to call them “Yuno Time”) for the holiday season as a gift for all the nctzens. He always enjoyed taking his time filming them, as it basically meant being able to relax and spend some time on himself-- besides the fact that there was a camera or two.

He had asked Johnny what would be interesting enough to film; Johnny responding with “they’d be happy with anything you do.”

And yes, sure, they probably would -- but Jaehyun wanted this to be special. Something special he could do. Not even for himself but for others. It was the season of giving after-all. A couple hours of listening to music and pondering on his bed later, he decided he wanted to vlog himself volunteering to encourage the nctzens to do so too.

That’s when he met you.

⌜ OUTTA MY MIND - Monsune ⌟

It was right before the sun started to set when you receive a call from SM entertainment. They ask for permission to film at the nursing home you worked at, which caught you off guard. You were in the midst of organizing the files of care home patients -- and no one really calls around this time -- so you ended up jotting down all the information on a folder. To say you were surprised that such a well known company wanted to stop over at this specific care home would be an understatement; but you made sure to relay the message to your manager as well as the rest of the staff members.

Suddenly the tan dry walls seemed to be splattered with a different type of sunlight -- the transition from day to dusk blanketing over you and your colleagues’ excitement.

The frost on your car window was still intact early in the morning when you show up to work. Funnily enough, everyone else had arrived as early as you. The day began as it always does -- checking stats and arranging breakfast for your designated patients. You hear your manager greet two people about two hours in. They set up cameras in the main halls and public spaces in order to capture all the action without disturbing the elderly.

Unfortunately it still caused pandemonium, and one certain patient was particular in expressing their unsettling feelings about this.

“What’s happening? You think being here is some type of sick joke?” He spits out in disdain. “What’s with all these cameras, huh? Gonna capture us in wheelchairs and pissing ourselves?”

You begin to feel guilty. But considering that there wasn't anything you could do now, hearing your manager discuss that some van would be here any time now, you lower yourself to the upset patient.

“You know what they say,” your eyes stare into his with utmost sincerity, taking both of his hands in yours as you crouch to make sure you weren’t talking down to him, “the more the merrier. I’m sorry to put you in such an uncomfortable situation sir, tell me anything you need and I’ll be sure to take care of it right away -- really anything -- it’s just that this publicity could really help this clinic, you know? And -- I really want to raise the donations this year to fund your guys’ equipment -- this could be the perfect opportunity, so what’dya say? Just for today let’s bare with the cameras, hmm?” You rub your thumbs over his palms to calm him down a bit more.

You don’t even realize Jaehyun had already walked in and started vlogging his greeting of your other colleagues because you’re so focused on the smile the grumpy old man genuinely gave you now.

“Ooh, baby, let me get you into my life

Ooh, baby, I can't let you out of my sight”

As cheesy as it sounds, Jaehyun was completely enamored by you the moment he laid eyes on you. The way you were comforting the old man, the way you spoke with such hope towards him, the way your entire presence seemed so gentle; maybe he just caught you at the right moment but you immediately made him feel some type of way.

His camera is still focused on his face, and it captures the way he melts in adoration over you, dimples and all.

Your mind totally blanks out when you look up at him smiling like that and at you.

“Hey, nice to meet you both. I’m Jaehyun, um-” he bites his lip to stop himself from smiling as wide when you reciprocate one back at him, “what could I do to help?”

You end up being Jaehyun’s guide the entire time, not like you didn’t mind. Because you did not mind AT ALL. He just follows everything you do, listening to your instructions intently, trying his best; something you found admirable.

On the inside, Jaehyun is absolutely dorking out at the way you passionately explain things to him, all the procedures and what most volunteers do. He stares at your mouth and the way you form words, or when you scrunch up your nose when he says something jokingly. He almost forgets that he’s volunteering because he’s having so much fun working with you. Oh? Organizing files? Piece of cake. Preparing adult diapers? No problemo. Checking medication schedules? Sure! Speaking to the elderly about taking their insulin shots? Okie dokie.

You notice that he’s staring sometimes, thinking he ain’t that slick, and when you do catch him his cheeks flush a bright pink and he clumsily swings his head back to fight back his embarrassment. You enjoy how he’s taking what you’re doing seriously; he even nods at your tangents about the importance of taking care of oneself, or the proper way to track your sugar levels.

Which Jaehyun then realizes he’s been neglecting his camera and points at it to declare, “you hear that nctzens? Take care of yourselves and others around you, okay??”

You end up facepalming with both hands to resist secondhand embarrassment.

You don’t notice the day pass by so quickly, in fact none of the people at the nursing home did. Jaehyun’s appearance filled them with joy; one of the grandmas even remarked that Jaehyun’s handsome face extended her lifeline -- which caused all the residents to burst out laughing. When the cameras are put away and shut off, you’re upset that such a great day is over. Jaehyun says goodbye to you last, as you send him off from the entrance.

He skips about five steps down the pavement before he hesitates taking the next. You watch him turn around and take long strides towards you by the door.

“Don't even know you

But I can't get you outta my mind”

“Hey..” he breathes out in a polite chuckle.

“Hey…..”

“So uh, I know I kinda asked you a bunch of questions about you earlier and I hope I wasn’t intruding your privacy--”

“You weren’t!” you cover your mouth with your hand since you’re surprised at how fast you cut him off, “I mean, you really weren’t, it was nice.”

“Um, well, I forgot to ask about something else.” he starts biting the inside of his cheek to fight his own nerves. “But may I have your number, y/n?”

“I've been waiting for the right time

To let u know that i've been looking for you all of my life”

⌜ you are luhh - cover by Frank Ocean ⌟

Jaehyun really wanted to take you someplace nice for your first date but options were, unfortunately, extremely limited.

In a way, there were multiple restraints to taking you out properly. He wanted to pick you up, but he didn’t own a car. He wanted to bring you some place where he could show you off, but instead he had to find somewhere with as little foot traffic as possible. He was also apologetic about the fact he asked you to come out after your shift and at night when it was dangerous.

It was around eleven at night when Jaehyun had asked if you guys could meet up at a downtown music shop on the outskirts of town. You have never heard of this particular one before, as it seemed to be an individual-owned business.

Entering the shop, hair a bit messy from getting off work, clothes smelling a tad like hand sanitizer-- you are greeted by the soft music playing inside the shop. There was certainly a retro-ambiance that glowed from within: orange light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, little key-chains on a rack, a jukebox stored at the back of the shop, and vanilla scented candles looming over a couple of the vinyl shelves.

Jaehyun watches the way you make your way over to him in the back. The atmosphere adding to your appearance makes him breathe out a soft “wow”.

“Sorry we couldn’t meet up earlier.”

“Jaehyun I’m just glad you wanted to meet me at all.”

His eyes smile at you as his grin spreads across his cheeks. You restrain yourself from pinching them.

“I love this place, it’s like a new little world.” Your eyes move around the room as you talk, walking over to see some of the CDs.

“Right? Honestly I can’t believe it hasn't blown up yet since the owner is such a cool dude too.” He follows you over to the CDs where you excitedly point out your favorites.

You guys naturally get along well, enjoying each others’ company without much thought. It was such a relaxed environment, all the nerves from the start were replaced with wholesome butterflies. The way Jaehyun talked about music was so endearing to you. He was so passionate about his work that it made you respect him even more than you thought possible.

“Oh!” Jaehyun interrupts himself to pull out two matching keychains with tiny vinyls on them, “look what I bought for us! Sorry if you think it’s a little much-”

“AHHH I love them! They’re so cute! Were they handmade? And there's one for each of us…” You pout at how cute the gesture is, genuinely touched.

Jaehyun took note of your expression, saving it in his mind.

“So many things have taken place before this love affair began

But if you feel more like I feel

Confusion can give way to doubt”

Maybe it's delirium from lack of sleep, or the fact it was one am, but Jaehyun really wanted to dance with you. Although he hesitates at first, his impulsiveness takes the best of him and he pops the question.

You listen to the slow rhythm of the song, and move your head to nod “yes” to the beat.

“Tell me what it is

What it is, no need to make believe

Look beyond your world

Try to find, find a place for me”

It was supposed to be awkward but why did you feel like you were about to fall asleep in his arms? You were supposed to be embarrassed for basically embracing as you guys slow dance to the beat in this empty music shop, but you weren’t. You were comfortable. And Jaehyun really liked this feeling.

It was ironic. He was unsettled because he was comfortable with you: your scent, your arms around his neck, his around your waist, your warmth. He plucks up the courage to whisper the question you both have been anticipating into your ear,

“Do you think we could officially be together?”

You don’t move from your position in his arms, his mouth slightly grazing the side of your ear. You take a few seconds to think and he respects the time you take.

“I think we’re going too fast.”

His body stops swaying to the song playing so he could pull apart from you and see your face.

“I don't want this moment to get lost.” He takes hold of your arms, squeezing them gently, then making eye contact with you again. “I know we’re going too fast--” he bites the inside of his cheek, “but I don’t know when the last time I felt this way was, or if I’m ever going to feel this way again.”

You stare at him. He’s so straightforward it makes the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

“--and being an idol and all--” he pauses to collect his thoughts, “it’s so hard to maintain relationships out of the industry you know? But y/n,” his tone lowers, “I’d understand if you wouldn’t want to get into a relationship with me. Because I’m telling you now, it’s hard. It will be hard. And I sound like a crazy person right now because we’ve only gone on one date but I really really like you.”

You burst out laughing because the butterflies in your stomach wanted to escape so badly, and there was tension building in your lungs. Jaehyun lets go of your arms, flustered by your reaction.

You take his palms again and interlace his fingers with your own.

“Jaehyun I like you too. Although I’m a bit hesitant, I really like you.”

“I’ll try my best y/n, I promise.”

“Cuz when you're at your best you are love

You're a positive motivating force within my life

Should you ever feel the need to wonder why

Let me know, let me know”

⌜ --star. - Nadin Amizah⌟

The first time you entered Jaehyun’s dorm you expected it to be extremely chaotic. But then again, you really didn’t know much apart from what the members had posted online on their daily channel.

It was like any other dorm. It wasn’t exactly messy, but it wasn’t spotless either. It just seemed like the next run-of-the-mill shared apartment complex where people lived. It did, however, have a distinct smell. Coffee? Men’s deodorant? A slight hint of fabric softener -- or was that the soup that was boiling on the stove? It was heavy mix.

Your first instinct was to go to the kitchen as Jaehyun was locking the door. An auntie was stirring the soup and was quite startled at your appearance.

“I’m so sorry! I couldn’t help but come over because it smelled so good…” The auntie, followed by Jaehyun, started laughing at your charm.

“Auntie this is y/n.”

“I’m Jaehyun’s friend, nice to meet you.”

“Girlfriend actually--”

You look up at Jaehyun in surprise, the word actually leaving his mouth for the first time. Taeil walks into the kitchen at the sound of the word as well and greets you happily.

“See I told you not to worry about the members.” Jaehyun whispers as you two make your way towards his bedroom. Once you’re inside, you sit at the edge of his barely made bed and lean over towards his piano to play a single note.

“You want me to play you something?”

“You sure? You don’t have to, we could just chill now.”

Jaehyun grabs some of the red wine in his little refrigerator and hands it over to you, then sits at the keyboard to brush over the keys.

“Lend me your palm

I have brought you a star

As bright as who you are

But not enough as lovely as what you are”

Listening to Jaehyun play so effortlessly, the way his fingers glide and shift between keys while concentrating on the sheet music made you realize how he shined as an artist. You’ve always known he was talented (guiltily listening to all his covers on Youtube at least ten times on repeat), but you are always hypnotized whenever you see it live. His voice mixing into the melody was so fucking beautiful it made you emotional. He was just so fucking beautiful.

“WHY ARE YOU CRYING??!!” He abruptly stops playing to twirl his chair over to you who’s currently bawling after finishing about half a bottle of wine. He takes your face in his palms, wiping your tears with his sweater, concern evident in the crinkles of his forehead.

“Jaehyun… you, you….you’re a star! Just so talented! I can’t handle it!” You look him dead in the eyes with tears springing up again at this drunken confession.

He’s overwhelmed with your red cheeks and the passion you have to continuously proclaim how amazing his voice is. It really means so much to him hearing this from you. He keeps staring at your mouth babble on about how he deserves recognition -- the entire world even -- and he can’t help but melt.

“Whisper me a kiss

You can draw me your dreams

It’s safe inside this tiny house

Where we both understand of who we are”

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and you stop talking just to gasp.

“dUH you beautiful MAN!” You throw your arms around his neck sloppily and he smiles while he presses your lips together for the first time, tasting the wine from earlier. It’s sweet and soft and meaningful. Just like you.

You try to lean more into him but you end up almost falling over from the edge of the bed.

“I might have to return you to the sky tonight

But now it feels like you make everything alright

I might have never told you but with you

Feel like everything is right”

⌜ Thank You - JUNNY⌟

It’s been exactly one year since Jaehyun and you have been dating. Surprisingly no one has caught you guys yet, other than your closest, most trusted friends, and of course, the NCT members. Unfortunately, your boyfriend was doing promotions for their new comeback all day today. You were extremely proud of him and really happy that he was living out his dream, it was just a tad tiny bit disappointing you couldn’t make it to any of stages since you were at work all day as well.

Not seeing each other in person was something you both had to get used to. It was difficult when both of you wanted to be comforted, or do things together. But for the past year you guys have been staying strong for so long, it was just the normal in your relationship. It often led to multiple miscommunications here and there, but in general, you two were going steady.

You had sent Jaehyun a happy anniversary paragraph the moment you wake up, excited despite knowing well enough you weren’t going to see him today.

↬ Baby! Good morning! I hope your promotions do really really well! You’re going to do so well today. Know I am always proud of you, my precious star. I can’t believe it’s already been a year together. I hope it turns into two years, or five, or maybe… fifty? AHAHAH I miss you! Stay Healthy! Happy Anniversary. I love you.

You constantly checked your phone throughout the day to see if he replied to the message, but he didn’t.

Even when the television in the nursing home switched to a music network where Jaehyun was performing you wondered if he didn’t even have time to send a quick text while he was getting ready throughout the day.

You knew you shouldn’t complain. He was busy. You were busy. But busy enough to not even greet you? Wasn’t that a bit much?

Nevertheless it puts you in a bad mood for the rest of the day, all the way to the car drive home, and all the way to your bed. You check your phone one last time right before twelve am strikes, and decide to sleep it off.

The next morning you wake up to your phone ringing continuously at around three am.

↬ 14 Missed Calls from ‘My Star’

↬ 25 Text Messages from ‘My Star’

↬ Incoming Video Call: ‘My Star’

You press accept, rubbing the sleep from your eyes to try to adjust to the bright light of your phone in the pitch black of your bedroom.

“I just wanted you to know

For you I have my gratitude

and so much more

Every one of your messages

I be reading inside”

“Y/n….” Jaehyun was sobbing on video call and you were genuinely confused for the first minute or so because your body hasn’t adjusted to what was happening yet. “I’m so sorry for not replying--” he starts sobbing again, “you must’ve been so sad oh my gosh….”

You straighten up so you could see Jaehyun’s face on camera and your heart drops at him feeling bad for not replying. “Jaehyun! Today was your comeback! You should be happy!”

“But I didn’t even reply y/n! I’m such a terrible boyfriend!”

“Hey…. shhh…. It’s okay. Well, to be honest I was pretty upset, but I know you didn’t mean to leave me hanging.”

“But I did! I even left you on read, oh my gosh I’m literally the worst.”

“Hey! Stop disrespecting yourself like that. You’re here now that’s what matters.”

Jaehyun sniffles and starts wiping his tears and begins to regulate his breathing again.

“I prepared a video to send you of me singing -- thank goodness I took it a couple days ago or else it would’ve sounded terrible now.”

“Oh really? Is it in our chat?”

“Yea I sent it on messages, basically I just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me. And that I’m so happy I met you by chance because I really wouldn’t know what I would do without you. Literally -- showed me another perspective on life and you are always supporting me. You’re so beautiful inside and out baby I-” he starts choking up again, “I love you.”

“I love you too Jaehyun. Now go to sleep! You must be so tired oh my goodness! How long were you calling me for?”

“Are you sure? We can stay up and talk about your day, it’s really okay.”

“No it’s not okay go to sleep babe, I can feel your sleepiness from here.”

“You know me too well. Goodnight mwah baby. Again, I’m really sorry and I miss you.”

“Mhmm.”

You ended up watching Jaehyun’s video singing you a song. He begins by saying how he thinks the lyrics really resonate with him, followed by Haechan and Johnny shouting behind him.

“I’ve been listening

to you from the start

Thank you for today

Tomorrow yesterday

Every day and night

I wanna thank you

for believing

I’ve been listening

to you all along

Put it to my faith

I just feel amazing

Every day and night

You make me feel alive

Thank you for your love”

Now it was your turn to bawl.

⌜ Mad - Ne-Yo⌟

No relationship is perfect. No matter how hard you and Jaehyun tried there was always some sort of barrier. Or some unspoken rule. At first you thought it was the lack of time both of you had for each other these days.

You, being busy taking care of the residents in the care home. Jaehyun, busy preparing for his world tour.

“Oh baby this love ain't gonna be perfect, oh no (perfect, perfect, oh)

And just how good it's gonna be

We can fuss and we can fight

As long as everything's alright between us

Before we go to sleep”

At some point you realized you couldn’t rely on Jaehyun completely anymore.

You had just witnessed the old man who had grumpily refused to be caught on camera just over two years ago, pass away. This was the most difficult part about your line of work, and you really just wanted to be held and be told it was okay. However, when you showed up at Jaehyun’s dorm he was asleep on his bed after a long day of practice. You wanted to wake him up to talk to him about how hard it’s been for you lately -- and you did. You wanted to be selfish and talk about it because it’s something that’s been snatching your insides.

“We fight in this war, baby when both of us are losing, oh, whoa

(This ain't the way that love is supposed to go)

(What happened to working it out?)”

When he woke up he wasn’t too happy. Snapping crankily at you because he had a bad day at practice and that he was extremely tired. Initially, you were stunned. Was this really the Jaehyun who promised that he’d try his best? You wanted to be considerate, you really did. But eventually you start to feel like you were less important and less loved in comparison.

You questioned whether your problems were even valid enough to talk about with him. Ever since that day you questioned everything you said before telling him anything. Always the one supporting him. Always the one to lend a shoulder.

You two were stressed and tired all the time. You wanted to communicate with him, you really did, but the opportunity felt like it never came.

“Let’s break up.”

“What?”

Jaehyun was in the middle of his rants, the only thing he did when you two saw each other in person nowadays. You sat at the edge of his bed, the same place where he kissed you for the first time. Except this time instead of playing the piano he was playing with your heart.

“And now as I'm yelling over her, she yelling over me

All that that means is neither of us are listening”

“You never listen to me anymore. I’ve been trying to communicate with you but all you ever talk about is your fucking tour. Don’t get it twisted -- I’m proud of you. I’ve always have been. But what about me --” you finally snap. You can’t stop yourself from breaking down right there.

Jaehyun is silent. He doesn’t hold you. He’s in shock. Was this really how you felt? This whole time? He just let this happen to you?

“You’re not going to argue with me? Say anything?”

“I can’t argue with someone who's already made their decision. I told you that it was going to be hard, I thought you expected this? What happened to all the promises huh?”

“Oh? Promises? We’re talking about promises now? Where were you when I needed you most? When was the last time you comforted me for once? Huh Jung motherfucking Jaehyun?!”

Doyoung could hear the yelling from his bedroom and decided to check up on you guys to make sure nothing too bad was happening. When he interrupts you two arguing, you take this as an opportunity to get up and leave.

“Fine! Leave! I’m leaving tomorrow morning anyways! Have a good life y/n!” Jaehyun basically spits out of his mouth, ears red, venom pouring out through every word.

“But baby can we make up now

'Cause I can't sleep through the pain (can't sleep through the pain)”

None of you sleep that night.

⌜ Hearing Your Voice - Omar Apollo⌟

Seeing Jaehyun so at ease on national television, or just on promotional photos on Twitter or Instagram hurt you more than it should.

It’s been a month since you two broke up but it still feels fresh. You still loved Jaehyun. However, him not even messaging you once after your fight was absolutely ridiculous to you. What was he expecting? You running to him at the airport like in the movies? So what? You could apologize? There’s no way you were in the wrong though. It was just hard. Knowing he didn’t care enough to call.

Halfway around the world Jaehyun knew he fucked up bad. But he tried to ignore it. He wanted to enjoy being with international nctzens and exploring the world with his members. Everyday held something fun, although he had to admit he would zone out in some of the interviews, he really enjoyed his time out.

“I got time, what you expected?

Sleepless nights, felt disconnected”

It was when he got back to his hotel room every night where he realized how empty he felt at the end of the day.

He couldn’t sleep alone. Although, you never got to sleep with him often anyways. It was something he truly regretted -- not being in your company enough. It was too late now though. His competitiveness and pride got the best of him. He lost you and that was that. He didn’t make you happy anymore and you probably didn’t even think about him as much as he thought about you. Damn. Thinking about you like this. It was a lot.

“But that's not fair

You got everything I need

Used to call me constantly”

He misses you. Like crazy. So much he would even dream about what your voice sounded like, or what your hands felt like to hold, or all the times you were there for him. All the times you put in effort and went out of your way just to see him. Or the smile you would put on for him so he wouldn’t feel bad about forgetting something. He used to do that too. When did it go wrong?

“It don't make sense to me

But I'm fantasizing 'bout hearing your voice”

It doesn’t make sense. He should’ve been content with what he has, his dream was always a top priority, but why did it always felt like he was always forgetting something? No matter how many days passed, or how many sleepless nights went on, you were always lingering around him. Haunting his thoughts every second he was conscious -- even unconscious.

He saw you everywhere he went, hell, he couldn’t even look at stars without thinking of the way you called him your’s. He worried about you so much he thought he was going to die.

He wanted to hear from you again. Talk to you again. But he didn’t. He was too stubborn for his own good.

Despite all of this, you did not know. You were blinded by your own assumptions about how Jaehyun was probably out with somebody else.

The only time he heard of you was when Doyoung approached him asking him if he knew how you’ve been these past few months. In which Jaehyun could only bitterly laugh, obviously still hurt from hearing your name. But it was more self-harm than harm from you: he’s doing this to himself. Jaehyun recollected himself quickly though when he noticed Doyoung remaining stoic.

Doyoung puts his hand on top of Jaehyun’s knee and looks back up at him.

“Jaehyun. I know you are hurt right now, but y/n got in a car accident last night, and I think right now, more than ever, it’s time for you to swallow your big ass pride and just go to her. Stop playing the victim when we all know you were the one neglecting her in the first place.”

“I'm not confiding in

What's really here”

Everyone has a realization so powerful it basically breaks them at some point in their lives. A realization so daring to cross one’s mind. This was Jaehyun’s:

You were now his top priority.

⌜ Nothing - Jeremy Passion⌟

↬ Report: NCT Jaehyun leaves Worldwide Tour early for unspecified reasons.

“There's not much, not much the world can do

To keep me away from you

I am committed to make sure

These dreams we have come true”

You feel your body’s soreness the moment you wake up from your hospital bed. It was late at night, the humidifier and flowers next to your head, while the window that presented the night view was on the other. You feel something tickle your left hand, so you try to extend your neck to look.

At the edge of your bed, was Jaehyun. Your hand was clutched in his as his hair fell near the tips of your fingers. He was sound asleep, sitting in such an uncomfortable position. This was a dream, no way Jaehyun could be here right now.

But you move your fingers to feel the tuft of hair, and to your surprise, this was real. His eyes flutter open and he raises his head to look at you in person for the first time in months. You retract your hand agonizing slow in order to put yourself through any more pain, but Jaehyun gently clutches your palm again. He starts rubbing it against his cheek, and you choke up at his touch.

You didn’t want to melt so easily under his touch, but it all felt so familiar. He doesn’t break eye contact with you when you simply stare at him, expression unreadable. He moves your knuckles from his cheek to his lips, where he presses a warm kiss, warm tears falling in the process. He holds your hand with both of his as he silently sobs into it.

“Why are you here? I thought we both agreed we were broken up.” You try to steady your voice, but there was an underlying quiver to your tone. You do not have the strength to remove your hand.

Jaehyun grips your hand tighter, his breath exhaling “sorry” repeatedly over it. You can’t hold yourself back anymore.

“It’s like you never listened to me!” You yelp out between broken cries, “and it hurt to know that the person I thought I would’ve spent forever with just left me in the dust like that! Everyday I wondered, ‘no way he could’ve done that -- not my Jaehyun.’ But you did--”

He reaches over to hold onto your arm now, trying hard not to hurt you any further but wanting you closer to him.

“You know what? I spent all my life taking care of other people and I thought, maybe this just once you were going to take care of me.”

His sobbing gets increasingly louder, hearing those words fall out of you. He buries his head into your shoulder gently, your arm still lodged in between his chest and arms. It was an uncomfortable position, but he wanted to hold you. To hold you properly this time.

“Wait -- I just realized -- I’m upset with you right now but what about your tour?”

“Don’t care. I miss you. I’m sorry. Really sorry. Really sorry…” He keeps mumbling apologizes into your shoulder.

“Honey, we'll make it

Nothing can stop us, nothing can stop us now”

You cave in and peck him on the top of his head, “I’m not forgiving you right away okay? It’s going to take some time for us to heal and communicate properly this time.”

“But this time nothing is going to get in the way for how I feel about you.”

“How can you say that so surely?”

“Because I love you and I’d do anything to make you feel safe with me again.”

“I've been blessed with the privilege

Of loving you, babe”

⌜ Day 1 (Brooklyn Session) - HONNE⌟

“When I first met you, it just felt right

It's like I met a copy of myself that night

I don't believe in fate as such

But we were meant to be together that's my hunch”

You told Jaehyun that getting a white couch was going to be a bad idea but you guys ended up getting one anyways. Turns out, despite the stain-potential, the one he picked was so comfortable to the point you two often fell asleep on it.

You join Jaehyun on the couch as he flips through one of your photograph albums. Your arms sneaking around his torso to hug him from behind.

“I got lucky finding you

I won big the day that I came across you

'Cause when you're with me, I don't feel blue

Not a day goes by that I would not redo”

“You’re looking at our album?”

“Mhmm” Jaehyun hums back, eyes admiring the shared pictures you two have taken over the years.

“Oh you know what would be really good right now? If we listened to ‘our playlist’ so we could be extra nostalgic HAHA!”

“Should we?” Jaehyun flips to the next page, “man I still can’t believe you added the song that reminds us of our breakup on it…”

“Oh shhh… it’s a good song.” You get up to play the playlist on your guys’ home stereo. “If we didn’t break up that one time we wouldn’t have gotten this far yaknow?”

“You’re right baby.” He pulls you back to the couch to sit next to him, placing the album between the two of you.

“I still can’t believe you took a picture of that red wine bottle.”

“But that’s not any red wine bottle, y/n. That’s the first kiss red wine bottle.” He flashes his timeless dimple at you as the two of you fond over the memory.

“I could barely remember our first kiss.”

“I can kiss you now if you want?”

“what--”

Jaehyun wraps his right hand around the nape of your neck as the other one gingerly makes its way to your left cheek. He places his soft lips against yours, leaving the taste of his peach lip balm on you. There’s a cold sensation pressing into your skin, reminding you of the silver ring that matches yours placed on his ring finger.

“You'll always be my day one

Day zero when I was no one

I'm nothing by myself, you and no one else

Thankful you're my day one”

1K notes · View notes

mummybear · 4 years

Text

The Sinners

This Is Day 12 Of Roleplay May

Words: 3155

Warnings: Smut, Swearing, Rough Sex, Spanking Teasing, Blow Job Under A Desk, Sex On A Desk, Edging, Orgasm Control, Roleplay, So much dirty talk..... Think that’s it.

Characters: Priest Dean, Priest Sam, Nun Reader, Unnamed Priest, Friend Of John’s (George).

Parings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The Winchesters and the reader are called to investigate murders at a church, but when Sam solves the case before Dean and the reader leave. What will they do? Now that they finally have a little alone time, will they take advantage of the situation?

This was some of the hardest and most strange acting you’d ever had to do since you’d started living with the Winchester brothers, maybe even since you’d first started hunting. But here you were, walking around this massive beautiful church, taking in every one of the locals who looked on respectfully.

Sam had quickly found out that this particular church had recently been remodelled, although if you would’ve shown up before checking, that would’ve been immediately obvious. Which is what had led the three of you to to easily conclude what had probably angered the spirit after such a long time.

You were dressed as one of the sisters, blending in surprisingly well, trying to remember everything you could from the film sister act, since that was the only form of reference you could call to mind. The brothers had sent you in a day ahead of them, they were due to turn up at any time now, joining as two new priests.

Turning the corner and you take another set of steps down, heading down to the dungeon where people were known to have seen the ghost. Dean was certain that the ghost was most likely to have been a bishop, who had died here in the late nineteen hundreds and whose body had been discovered in the basement. Things had become increasingly serious lately, ending up with two nuns and a priest being murdered in the basement, which is why the three of you had been called by an old contact of John’s, George, since he had known something was seriously wrong. He was someone who’d assured you that this wasn’t just some made up ghost sighting.

Your hand hovers over the iron blade, which is hidden just under your skirt, with the gun holster that you have fastened to your thigh. The door slams closed behind you and your heart starts beating wildly in your chest, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you carefully pull the knife free and you whirl on the closed door. But there’s nothing there, you can’t be sure but there’s every chance it’s the ghost. Adjusting your grip on the knife, you slowly walk a little further inside.

The musty smell hits your nose stronger the deeper that you go, holding your arm over your mouth and nose as you walk while keeping a tight grip on the blade. Then you reach the final chamber of the basement, proof that way back in the day this place had been a torture chamber of some kind. There were thick chains and shackles hanging from the walls, thick and dark blood still visible on the surface. There were also signs of blood on the floor still, from the bodies that had recently been found.

Beside you was a large sturdy table, with a few dusty books and piles of papers on top. There were a few old and broken windows on the floor, that were leaning against the wall. Your distraction is short lived, when you hear something that makes you stop in your tracks.

You hear heavy footsteps behind you, echoing off of the basement walls, causing that shiver to roll through your body all over again. When you turn this time your knife is poised to attack, however the person behind you is faster and catches your wrist in his hand and tuts.

“I think you need to work on your aim there, sister”

There’s no mistaking that voice, hearing it every morning you wake up and every night you go to sleep. Grabbing your knife from your hand, he flips it skilfully before handing the handle back to you and you can almost hear the smirk on those plump lips. His torch shines in your face so you have to squint a little, but the light quickly moves away shining on your body.

“Glad to see you could finally make it, father Winchester.” you smirk up at him, licking your lips when he leans in closer and your back hits the cold stone wall behind you.

He looks fucking amazing, you had no idea this was a kink of yours, not until Dean was stood in front of you dressed in it.

“I was doing a little research last night and I found out a very interesting little fact about the murders that have happened down here in the last month.” Dean reveals keeping his voice low.

“Oh yeah, what’s that then?” you ask quietly, feeling him press his body closer to your own.

“So get this, turns out the priests and nuns around have been getting a little too familiar. Sexually,” he grins wiggling his eyebrows, you can’t help but laugh at the massive dork in front of you.

You have your own idea of where this is going but you play along anyway.

“Really? Well I can’t say I blame them father.” you practically purr, slipping your hands inside his jacket, letting your fingers glide slowly down the thin black fabric covering his firm chest.

Dean’s smirk grows as he bites into his bottom lip, “Is something on your mind my child?” he asks with a slight change in his voice and his free hand not holding the torch gently grips your hip.

Licking your lips you nod slowly, looking up into those gorgeous green eyes.

“Yes, there is. All of last night I had some very impure thoughts about you. I may have even let my fingers wander.” you answer seductively, feeling his grip tighten as he growls your name in warning.

“Such a bad little girl. I thought we had this conversation last week, you don’t touch what’s mine, especially when I’m not there. Did you come?”

His question takes you by surprise, even though you probably should’ve expected it.

“Yeah, I did. Made sure I moaned your name though, just like I do every time, even if I did have to be really quiet about it.” You smile cheekily, knowing that you’re pushing all of the right buttons when he drops the torch on that large table beside you and his hand pushes under your skirt.

“You’re fuckin’ killin’ me here sweetheart, you wait until I get you home.” Dean groans, brushing his fingers over your wet but covered slit. You roll your hips against his hand as his lips just barely brush yours, “it’ll take a little more than a few hail Mary’s to save you here, safe to say you’ve earned your spanking today, don’t you think sister?”

“Whatever you think is best. You are the boss.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t think about that last night really sweetheart.”

Feeling his phone vibrating you slip your hand inside his jacket and pull out his phone from the pocket, unlocking his phone you smile, humming under your breath. You look back up at him and show him the message from Sam. “Looks like we have some free time baby, perhaps you should just punish me right now,”

Gripping your jaw roughly he presses a firm kiss to your lips, your hands fist in his jacket when he pushes your panties aside and two of his thick fingers slip inside your opening.

“I want you to meet me upstairs, in that empty office. But first, I’m gonna get you close and you're not gonna come, are you?”

“No father, I'll do whatever you want,” you gasp as he curls his fingers inside you and drags your bottom lip between his teeth.

He chuckles in the back of his throat releasing your lip, “of course you will my dirty little sinner. Maybe you’ll finally learn to do as you’re told.” Dean grunts when you move your hand over the bulge in the front of his pants. Kicking your feet apart. his fingers speed up and he adds a third, causing your begging whimpers to fill the echoing space around the pair of you, you cling to Dean tighter when the heel of his hand rubs perfectly against your clit.

Your chest is heaving and your blood is pumping hard in your ears, “Dean, please stop.” you whine desperately, feeling your pussy starting to clamp down around his insistent fingers.

“Pretty sure you can do better than that, can’t you sweetheart? I dare you. Give me even more reason to spank that ass red.” he growls as your head falls back against the wall, fighting every single part of you that’s desperate for release.

You cry out loudly when he finally removes his fingers and you slump against his chest, hearing the lewd sounds he makes sucking his fingers between his lips, licking and sucking your slick from the thick digits.

“You’re lucky you’re so fuckin’ sexy. Now, be a good girl and meet me upstairs and I might let you finish.”

You lean back against the wall to support yourself, when he finally releases you and grabs the torch, throwing you a quick wink he leaves the basement. Your head is spinning, only Dean had been able to wind you up this way. His voice always drove you almost as mad as those skilled fingers of his, not to mention his perfect thick cock which always had you begging him. You were nervous about doing this, but the excitement by far outweighed your nerves.

The minutes tick by and you regain your breath and readjust yourself, quickly exiting the basement. You slowly make your way towards the office Dean had told you about, smiling politely and nodding your head at the other sisters who pass you, doing your best not to show that you were rushing.

You see him sitting at the desk when you start making your way towards the room, he looks up as you walk in and you meet his eyes.

“Father, I heard you wanted to see me,” your voice is so innocent and quiet, Dean has to suppress the groan that’s threatening to leave his chest.

“Yes I did. Please, come in sister. Close the door behind you,” that filthy smirk on his lips is the polar opposite to how his voice sounds. Bowing your head you do as he asks and lock the door behind you. “Skirt up. Spread your legs and bend over my desk for your punishment.” he instructs you, keeping his tone even and his voice quiet.

You can’t help but smile, when you see the pile of stuff he’d quite clearly swept off of the desk as soon as he’d got inside the room. You watch him as you pull the skirt up your legs slowly, until you have to ease it over your ass and up around your waist. Seeing him stand from the chair and walk around the desk, you bend over the cold wood and spread your legs, hands gripping the other side when you feel his large warm hands smoothing over your ass cheeks.

“Forgive me father,” you whimper, hearing him groan behind you when he squeezes your ass cheeks roughly.

“Oh baby girl, this will help. How many do you think? Is ten enough?” he rasps voice much rougher than before, all you can do is moan into the table, feeling the arousal shooting straight to your core. “Answer me, you know the rules!” Dean demands, as a hard smack connects with your skin.

You manage to muffle the scream of surprise behind your hand, not missing the chuckle that it pulls from the man behind you. “S-Sorry father,” you whimper as your grip on the table tightens, “Whatever you say is right. I trust you,” you breathe out shakily, dropping your forehead onto the table as the second slap comes down just as hard on the other cheek, pulling a shaky moan from your already parted lips.

Dean quickly rips your thin panties from your body and tucks them into his back pocket.

You cry out against the wood, rolling your hips back into his hands, the next three slaps are against the same cheek, just as hard as the first. Your whimpering his name as his hand smoothes over the tender skin. You can feel yourself sweating against the table, stomach clenching and your pussy fluttering around nothing. He quickly evens out the slaps on your other cheek, three hard slaps coming down in quick succession on the other side. You have to stop yourself from clamping your legs together, when his fingers slip easily between your dripping folds.

“Such a good girl for me baby, look at that sexy ass. So fuckin’ pretty, all red for me baby.” he groans loudly. Your ass feels like it’s on fire in the best way possible, every nerve ending in your entire body is at attention. You’re so close already, with the way that he’s been edging you and you know he knows it. “You doin’ okay baby?” Dean asks gently, bending down to press his lips to your ass.

“So good, so good Dean” you whimper breathlessly.

Your entire body clenches and your eyes squeeze shut when he slaps your pussy, nowhere near as hard as the ones on your ass but it feels amazing nonetheless. Quickly followed by another sharp slap, which almost makes your legs collapse beneath you.

“You did so good baby, so fuckin’ perfect.” he praises you, pressing gentle kisses to your skin, his tongue running through your sensitive folds.

There’s a knock at the door as Dean helps you up from the desk and presses his lips to yours, “Under the desk, i promise we will finish up as soon as I get rid of them,”

Sighing you lower your dress and slip beneath his desk, whimpering when the heels of your feet press into your tender ass. Hearing the door unlock as you get as comfortable as possible.

Dean takes his seat at the desk, careful that when he pulls the chair in he doesn’t hurt you.

“Come in,” he calls just as you get an idea, sliding your hands up his thick thighs and you quickly unbuckle his belt as the door opens.

Dean’s legs fall open and his muscles tense when you unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper.

“Father Winchester, I’m sorry to interrupt. I was told you might know, I was just wondering if you’d seen sister Y/N, she seems to be missing,” the young priest asks nervously, as one of Dean’s hands slips beneath the desk and pushes into your hair.

You tug his pants and boxers down just enough to release his thick length, holding back the moan when you seal your lips around the head of his cock.

“As far as I’m aware she had to leave. Family emergency,” Dean explains quickly, biting his lip when you take him as deep as you can.

Dean’s fingers tighten in your hair when you start to bob your head over him, sliding easily up and down his length, enjoying the way that his free hand is clenched around the arm of the chair. “Oh, my apologies sir. Sorry for bothering you, I’ll leave you to your work.”

Dean realises that he suddenly doesn’t trust his voice, with a stiff nod of his head, he holds up his hand and the young man leaves.

The second the door closes, Dean pulls you up from the floor and presses a rough but chaste kiss to your lips, “Fuck I love you,” he groans standing from the chair.

“Love you too baby, we should do this more often,” you grin, pulling your skirt back up around your waist, loving the way he licks his lips watching every bit of new skin that’s revealed to him.

When Dean pushes you back, he lifts you, dropping your ass carefully onto the desk. Pulling you right to the edge, he lines his cock up with your entrance and slides right inside your wet heat. Your legs hook over his hips as you lean back on your hands.

“Just might have to take you up on that sweetheart,” he groans watching his cock slip inside you and back out with every slow thrust of his hips.

You throw your head back as your climax starts to build all over again, “Fuck, so close” you whine, as your lips part, “Have I been a good girl father?” you question behind your moan, as Dean slams back inside you.

“Oh you’ve been such a good girl for me sister, let it go when you're ready. Come all over my cock,” Dean growls, feeling your pussy clench around him, your whimpers slowly getting louder.

“Look at me,” he finally demands, as he picks up a more brutal pace and his hand presses over your mouth. You look at him breathing hard and fast behind his hand. Your entire body shivers, your eyes start rolling as your body aches and arches.

You scream his name behind his hand, sweat covering your clothed bodies. Your entire body shaking as you fall apart around him.

Dean pulls your shaking body against him and your arms wrap around his neck, your forehead drops against his shoulder, clinging to his back tightly. Dean pulls your legs higher, those strong fingers digging into your thighs and you know he’s getting close, hips are stuttering and his grip on you is unyielding.

“Fuck, you feel so good, my dirty girl. Gonna make me come.” Dean moans loudly against your shoulder, teeth dragging across your skin.

You press your lips to his ear, “You make me so wet Dean, come on baby do it, fill me up.” you pant breathlessly, as your knees dig into his ribs. Dean whimpers, his grip on your thighs tightening when he finally lets go and his orgasm hits him hard, his hips slow down.

Neither of you wanted to let go.

Then Dean’s phone starts ringing again. Finally Dean pulls his softening cock from inside you, a whimper falling past your lips as you sort out your clothes, already missing his touch.

“Sammy, calm down!” Dean laughs quietly, nodding although the younger man can’t see him, tucking his cock back in his pants, you help him do them up as he continues to talk. “Yeah, we’re on our way. Okay, yeah. We’ll see you soon,” Dean replies, before hanging up the phone.

“He’s panicking isn’t he?” you ask with a smile, your breathing finally returning to normal.

“Oh yeah, big time. I am the big brother right?” he chuckles, watching the way your smile only grows, “Filthy fucking mind, you have.” Dean grins, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

“Right, I’ve got the dirty mind father.” you smirk, sliding off the desk with a pained whimper. “You’ve got a lot of ass kissing to do when we get home Winchester, literally.” you warn him playfully, straightening his collar and brushing down his jacket.

“Oh with pleasure sweetheart, now let’s get out of here.” Dean winks, unlocking the door, with you following dutifully behind him.

Tags: @chewie-redbird @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @dylanholyhellobrien @desireepow-1986 @emichelle @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @deanwanddamons @simsadventures @charmed-asylum @nicole-lynne @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @defenderrosetyler @emilyshurley @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @mylovelydame21 @sunshineandwings86 @peaches009 @captain-shannon-becker @heimdoodle @plushpyrate @winchester-wifey @fandom-princess-forevermore @flamencodiva @hobby27 @akshi8278 @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967 @screechingartisancashbailiff @maddiepants @spnfanfic-reblogs @holylulusworld @mrswhozeewhatsis @sonofabringmesomepie @mrsjenniferwinchester @hhiggs @pisces-cutie @trina44sb @heartsaved @matsumama @adoptdontshoppets @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore

Pond Tags: @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nichelle-my-belle @notnaturalanahi @deanscarlett @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @samsgoddess @frenchybell @scorpiongirl1 @deandoesthingstome @deansleather @curliesallovertheplace @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @quiddy-writes @babypieandwhiskey @supermoonpanda @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @memariana91 @plaidstiel-wormstache @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @becs-bunker @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @evilskank-inthemegacoven @maraisabellegrey-blog @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @bennyyh @clueless-gold @deanwinchesterxreader @winchester-family-business @there-must-be-a-lock @just-another-winchester @cas-backwards-tie @winecatsandpizza @firefly-in-darkness

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bidoldaccount · 3 years

Text

Erase All The Downsides - One

Intro

Word Count: 3,042

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Lisa Braeden (Temporary)

notes: cigarette use; anxiety; pining; singer Dean; No Ben

"Which one should I wear tonight?" Dean looked away from the mirror and looked at Lisa thoughtfully. The two dresses she was holding up were so vastly different from one another. In her right hand was a floor length red dress, covered completely in sequins. He could tell it would show off a lot of her cleavage, the dip in the chest would go to her sternum. In her left hand was a navy blue color, with lace sleeves, that puffed out on the bottom.

"I like the red," he said, smiling softly at her.

"Hm, me too," she kissed his cheek as she passed him in the bathroom. He returned his gaze to the mirror, putting the finishing touches on his hair. His hair was already fine, and Charlie would tease at it later, so this process was pointless, but he needed something to do so he wouldn't fray his nerves thinking about all of the people that would be at tonight's event. A few of the strands that he had carefully teased fell out of place as Lisa threw her top at him, smiling playfully at him in the mirror. He turned with a lazy smile, leaning against the bathroom counter and watching as she undressed. Her body was slim and her short height made her look smaller than he already was. Her hip bones jutted and her stomach was completely flat, the tightness of the dress showed this off, a thin line from top to bottom. Dean kissed her cheek when she was done dressing, leading the way out of the bathroom.

A cab was waiting for them outside when they walked out. Charlie, Dean's unofficial publicist, Benny, Dean's official manager, and Sam and Jess were already waiting for them at the venue. Paparazzi were swarming outside, buzzing and flashing, talking at them as they walked in. Dean kept his hand on Lisa's lower back, smiling politely, raising his hand in greeting at some. Lisa smiled as brilliantly as she always does, not shying away from the flashing cameras. She was a lifeline in social situations, her beauty and amenable personality life a safety blanket. She steered conversations as easy as breathing, and Dean's social anxiety always relied on that.

Meg Masters had started singing in 2013 and she skyrocketed to fame in the early months of 2015. Dean had met her around 2014 and they got together occasionally to write music together. He had his hands all over her second album and, likewise, she wrote half of his third. Dean genuinely liked her personality, so it wasn't a shock to him that he was invited to a charity event she was hosting. Everyone was dressed in their best, floor length evening gowns and pressed suits. Dean fiddled with the button on his jacket as they were directed to their table.

"Aren't you guys going to Florida this weekend?" Charlie asked, drawing Dean's attention away from all of the strangers surrounding them. The question was directed at Sam, who was sipping casually from a glass of champagne. Dean's not sure where he got it or when.

"Yeah, we're visiting Jess's sister, she had her baby so we're going down to meet it," he said.

"It?" Dean questioned with a laugh, "Sam, it's a baby, not an it," he said.

"Yeah, don't do that in front of my sister," Jess said with a soft laugh. Sam rolled his eyes and gesticulated.

"You know what I mean, I forget what it was," he defended.

"It's a girl, you dork," Jess said with an amused roll of her eyes.

"I sincerely hope you two wait a few more years to have kids, I'm surprised Sam has kept Bones alive this long," Benny said.

"Okay, says the guy who fed his dog chocolate yesterday," Sam said.

"It was an accident!" Dean relaxed in his chair a bit as they fell into an easy rotation of banter and light conversation. Meg took the stage twenty minutes into their arrival and began talking about tonight's purpose. She was raising money for the local LGBTQIA community, specifically geared towards mental health resources. She looked very passionate as she spoke, and Dean clapped when she finished. There were a number of people lined up to speak, half advocates and the other half teens from the community itself.

Dean got a glass of wine thirty minutes in, and it eased the tension in his throat. He kept his hand on Lisa's leg, trying to ground himself in the feel of her, trying not to squeeze too hard even though it was getting harder to anchor himself to her and all he wanted to do was squeeze harder. She gave him a look when his third glass of wine arrived, not judgemental, but definitely warning. Sam was talking about some new book Charlie loaned him, dissecting it with her, and Benny was talking to Lisa about the last speaker that was just on stage. Dean couldn't hear a word of it. He was sinking into his skin, and he was a second away from surrendering to it.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he whispered in Lisa's ear as he stood. She gave him a slight nod before returning her attention to Benny. Dean clenched his jaw and blinked a few times as he walked to the bathroom. Maybe he could sneak out for a smoke before the next speaker came on.

The bathroom was sparsely in use when he walked in. He ducked into the first stall he saw open and took a second to just breathe. He couldn't unclench his jaw, but his body felt a little more secure. He was still floating somewhere outside of it, but it wasn't as bad in this smaller space where he could press his back against the stall door and dig his feet into the ground.

He did his business and washed his hands with minimal anxiety, but his breath started to catch as he walked out. He stood still just outside of the door, looking across the room at their table. His friends and his girlfriend were all conversing without a care, he knew all of them had their own set of discomfort and anxieties, but he also knew they flourished in social situations. Benny was the only one who suffered like he did, but he was distracted by Charlie and Lisa. Dean knew he was fine, so he ducked over to the kitchen area. He was directed to the back door by one of the waiters and instructed to prop it open. When he pushed through, the air hit him hard. He sucked in a lungful as he propped the door open with a brick.

He gulped down the air with needy satisfaction, walking a few steps away from the door and settling with his back to the wall. His pack of cigarettes was a bit crumpled coming out of the pocket of his slacks, but he saw that none of the sticks were damaged when he pulled one out. He smacked his pockets in search of the lighter, sticking the cigarette between his teeth to free up his hand. He dug into his pants pockets, finding nothing but flimsy, expensive cotton. He grunted in panic as he searched his jacket pockets, almost ripping the inside in his haste to find the lighter that he obviously left at home.

"Need a light?" His breath hitched before he even looked up. Her eyes were soft and dim in the faint light of the alley.

There were times when Dean got that itch under his skin, that need to not be the one in control, where would think about this moment. The moment he was under the weight of her gaze again. After the first few months, when the panic attacks and the excessive crying calmed down, after he could breathe normal again, he thought the effect had worn off. Like a detox from a drug he didn't know he was taking. He thought the temptation would disappear. Obviously that is not the case, because here he is, sighing into the warm evening air, already feeling utterly intoxicated in her presence.

She looks almost the same. Four years later and she is just as beautiful. Her black hair fell down to her shoulder blades, pinned back because she hates it in her face, naturally wavy with a little product. Her eyes still make his heart stutter, worsened tonight but the shock and the guilt. They peer into him, reading his every thought, understanding his every emotion before he even feels them. He can't bring himself to look away, all he can do is hope that he doesn't look as shocked as he feels.

"I'll trade ya," her voice was just as he remembered it, if not a little deeper, she had probably been drinking, her voice dropped a little when she drank champagne. It took him a second to realize that Castiel was gesturing at the pack of cigarettes sticking out of his pants pocket. He probably looked like such a mess, with his clothes ruffled from searching them, his button up slightly yanked out of the waist of his slacks. He shut his mouth and swallowed hard as he pulled the pack out and offered them to her. Cas took them with a soft smile, taking one stick and handing it back. He didn't dare touch her, even though he wanted to. There was a guilty feeling creeping up his spine with how badly he wanted to touch. She lit hers first then offered him the lighter. The smoke seeped past her lips in smooth clouds, twisting and disappearing in the air above her. The lighter was warm from her purse, and he would bet anything that it smelled like Peach gum.

"Thanks," he muttered before lighting his own cigarette. Castiel smiled at him without responding verbally. The color of her lipstick stuck to the cigarette as she pulled it out of her mouth, her chest rising as she inhaled, then sinking as she pushed the smoke out.

"You doin' okay? You looked pretty far gone when you came out," she asked, holding her cigarette as she always has, her wrist bent with her palm up, the cigarette a slight flick away from falling from her middle and pointer fingers, elbow resting at her hip.

"Just, um, having a rough time with anxiety. Too many people, too much noise, I was feeling a bit out of body," he explained, unable to look away from her. He was afraid to look anywhere other than her eyes but he couldn't help looking down at her dress. It was a silk, a deep emerald green, reaching down to the floor. There was a slit at the right side, draped open around one leg. He had to look away when he got there, that guilt twisting in his gut again. She was watching him still, and his cheeks flared up under the attention. "I wouldn't have expected to see you here," he said, trying not to flat out ask 'what the hell are you doing here?'.

"Yeah, I run a shelter for teens, specifically for lgbtq+ teens who need a safe space. We have on campus counselors who work pro bono," she explained. He remembers her talking about that. It's been a few years but that passion is still in her voice. "I'm speaking later so I guess I'm glad I ran into you now. I'm sorry if I blindsided you, I know it's been awhile since we've seen each other," she said.

"Yeah," his collar got tighter as he glanced down at the ground, unable to hold her stare and not buckle beneath it.

"Am I making you uncomfortable? I can leave you alone, I would pass on the speech if it wasn't something so important," Cas took a step back, putting more space between them. Dean tried not to let his breath hitch again.

"No, no, I'm just," he blinked hard a few times, trying to clear the fog of shock and anxiety from his brain. "You're not..." he paused, swallowing on a dry throat. She waited patiently as he took a slow drag of his cigarette before finding his voice again. "You're not making me uncomfortable," he said.

"Okay," she took a step forward, still a respectable amount of space between them, maybe an arms length away, but that arm's length felt like an anchor, bringing him back into his own body. He's startled that she still has this much of an effect on him. "How have you been? You look like you haven't slept much," she looked away from him with that thoughtful tilt of her head, then added, "I'm sorry, I'm talking like I still know you, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, it's just surprising how well I can read you still."

It's surprising him too, though it really shouldn't. She has taken him apart piece by piece then carefully reassembled him, adding pieces of herself to make him whole.

"No, you're right. I haven't been sleeping too much recently. We're making plans for a new album and I'm anxious to start performing again. Isolation will do that to you, I guess," he shrugged.

"I understand, you've been on a break for about a year, right?" She asked. He looked up again, his cigarette pausing halfway to his lips.

"How'd you know?" He asked.

"I check in, see how you're doing," she shrugged one shoulder. The thought of it almost makes him fold in on himself. The thought of her pulling up articles of posts about him and his career, all of the things he's done without her. He shakes that thought away, the guilt squeezing.

"Yeah, about a year," he nods in response.

"So, what is it? Stage fright? You've been offstage for over a year, there are bound to be some kinks while you find your rhythm again," she said.

"Yeah, that's what everyone else is saying too," he took another drag, trying desperately not to look her in the eyes again, in fear that he won't be able to look away.

"Meaning that's not what you're afraid of. So what is it?" There it is again. She's too good at reading him. He sighed softly, flicking the ash burning tip of the cigarette.

"The last time we went on the road, I started doing bad shit, I was playing my best onstage because I was doing my worst offstage. I'm afraid that I'll fall back into it once we start up again," the confession rolls off of his tongue easily as soon as he makes eye contact again.

"Do they know?" She asked.

"Just Benny, I've been too ashamed to tell anyone else besides him. I didn't even really mean to, I just got too drunk one night and it all came pouring out," he said.

"You don't have to be ashamed of falling into a rough patch. People make mistakes and people do bad things, especially when it messes with the chemicals in their brains. If anyone tries to make you feel ashamed for having a hard time, then those aren't the people you want in your corner. I'm glad you told Benny, because now when you go back on the road, you'll have someone looking out for you, who I'm sure won't judge you if you stumble a bit. But, you have to tell him if you get that urge again, if you start falling again," her voice was so soft but so sure and firm.

"Yeah, I don't want to go through that again," he whispered.

"That's good, Dean. I'm proud of you." A shiver ran up his spine as those words left her lips. Goosebumps rose on his skin and he couldn't help the little shake that shot through his knees. The guilt was rising. "I should go get ready for my speech, but," Cas paused as she looked at him, something hesitant in her eyes. He could only imagine what expression he had on his face. "It was really good to see you, Dean." She tossed her cigarette on the ground and crushed it under her heel as she reached into her purse. It was a bittersweet feeling that ran through him when she pulled out two sticks of Peach flavored gum. She offered him one and he took it because he is weak. She didn't say anything else as she walked away, back towards the door where he had set the brick.

When Cas was gone, Dean fell back against the wall with a soft exhale, allowing the air in his lungs to rush out. His face fell with the closing of his eyes and he didn't realize how boneless he felt until he almost slid down the wall. He caught himself with a stutter, steadying his body on shaky legs. He brought the gum up to his nose and inhaled the artificially sweet scent. The smell of it sent a shiver through him, he felt utterly disgraceful shivering at the smell of a piece of gum, but he didn't have it in him to care. He slipped the stick into his pocket, beside his slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes.

With a deep inhale, he straightened out his suit jacket and started tucking his button up back into his slacks. His hips stuttered when he realized he was half hard, his eyes shutting as he stilled. He finished tucking his shirt back in, he ran his fingers through his hair, and stamped out his cigarette before walking back inside.

"You were gone awhile," Sam remarked when he sat back down at the table. Dean sank into his seat, pressing his hands lightly to his thighs, feeling the soft material of his slacks.

"Yeah, the noise was getting to me, I ducked out for a cigarette," he said with a nod of his head.

"Damn, I should have gone with you before the next speaker," Charlie said, her nose scrunching.

"Too late," Lisa gestured to the stage with a small smile. Dean looked over and steeled his expression as Castiel went waltzing on, effortless in her demand for everyone's eyes. He's absolutely positive that she doesn't realize the power she has over any room she walks into. Dean's view of her is obscured by Lisa moving her head and the guilt in his stomach makes him turn his head towards the table.

"Is that?" Benny's question goes unanswered as she starts speaking.

Yes, yes it is.

"Good evening, everyone, my name is Castiel,"

#Destiel #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Castiel #Sub Dean #Dom Castiel #Female Castiel #Dom/Sub #Pining #Lisa Braeden #dean x castiel

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mimiplaysgames · 3 years

Text

Terra Week Day 3 (Dreams/AU)

Summary: Terra hears stories about Xehanort during his apprenticeship. Everyone has something to say about his face. | Word Count: 3,954

Read on AO3

A/N: For Terra Week 2021! You can find that account on Twitter!

~*~*~*~*~

The Tenets of a Master, Ch. 3

To Dream is to risk. To risk is to show bravery. To show bravery is to embody strength. To embody strength is to Dream.

In the middle of construction, Radiant Garden looks as though it’s been dealt an iron fist. Some neighborhoods need their roofs replaced and there’s now what they call an automatic trigger alarm system that is run by motion sensors. They are still clearing rubble from the streets on the west side. The east looks good as new, slowly filling back up with tufts of flowers.

Terra has never been inside Ansem the Wise’s castle (well… him, not him anyway) but it used to be beautiful. It used to stand on brick and alabaster stone, graciously presenting a giant clock mechanism that made it look Grandfatherly, a home away from home, carefully placed gears running three pendulums. Now the remains are held up by pipes. Cranes pull up missing spires that have fallen off. The only part truly original to the castle is still that clock piece. Grandfather had a rough night but at least he’s cleaning up nicely.

Ven jogs to keep up with Terra’s strides. “I saw you talking to Naminé last night,” he says.

“You saw right.”

“I’m worried.”

Terra is worried, too. Aqua, not suspecting anything, is leading the way up the stairs to the front entrance.

“You’re going to have to distract her for me,” Terra says, keeping his tone hushed.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Stall her when you get the chance.” At which Ven rolls his eyes. “Just for a short while.” Checking to see if Aqua has turned her head, Terra pretends it’s a casual conversation. With a (painted) smile, he says out loud, “Race you to the top.”

Ven groans and lags behind.

At the top, Aqua greets one of the guards, a tall and meaty man with waist-length dark braids and slick sideburns that might as well be shaped by the edge of a knife. Terra has to push aside the question if this is one of the men who had kidnapped people for the sake of Xehanort’s experiments— the people he will meet today are not the same as they were. He has to remember that.

“Terra,” she says. “This is Dilan.”

Dilan. Terra doesn’t recognize that name.

Speaking of, Dilan takes one glance at Terra before bursting into laughter, haughty and rich.

“Aeleus,” he calls, his tone piercing like lances. “Come and see whose Somebody has finally decided to grace us with his presence.”

Aeleus. Nope, not this name either.

Ven cowers behind Aqua when a head of orange curls appear around the corner.

If Dilan is tall, Aeleus is a beast, a walking fortress with muscles bigger than Terra’s head. It’s impressive enough to make Terra keep Earthshaker close at his fingertips. Aeleus has what looks like a permanent scowl—so woven into his skin that when he smirks, no other muscle moves with it. It must be the eyebrows, but it leaves Terra wondering if he’s going to get his nose caved in at any moment. These men do have reasons to hold resentment, after all.

“I’ve given up on expecting a visit,” Dilan says when joined by his comrade. Two gatekeepers. “And I hardly ever expected to… feel this much when I would come upon your face again.” He grins and its equal parts amused and hurt.

Aeleus grunts in agreement. He crosses his arms and Terra swears it makes him grow another inch.

“If I may,” Dilan continues, “there have been quite the corrupted experiences in our history.”

Terra steps back. Corrupted. Before he can feel too sick, he feels a gentle hand on his wrist, Aqua stepping near him as she waits for his cue.

“I’ve carried such regret since,” Dilan says, hands wrapped behind his back. “I watch every face that passes by this castle, and at the end of each night, I’m left with this vacant pit in my chest, asking myself if we ever shared a shred of self-awareness, would we have pursued our dreams differently?

“Now that you are here,” he presses, angling down. “I realize it matters not what you remember of that time. I know when I see that shackled look in your eyes. I am not alone in this. For that, you’ll have no choice but to share the weight of that debt forever.” He smirks. “What say you, Aeleus?”

Aeleus measures Terra with his eyes. His voice is deep and as dense as rock. “You’re puny.”

Dilan spits into another bout of laughter.

Their roast of him eases Terra. He doesn’t know these men, and they know less of him, but they have a mutual friend called Burden, sharing the cheer. Aqua gets the message that all is fine, and lets go.

“Well...” Terra starts, too self-conscious of the way he speaks. The sound of his voice must be entertaining for Dilan, who’s containing himself. “I’m here to make some things right. Can we come in?”

Dilan sustains a grin and raises a hairy eyebrow, nodding off to Aeleus in some silent conversation. “Did you really think you can have access without telling us the secret password?”

“A password?” Now he feels like a dork. “Can I have a hint?”

“You can give us your heart,” Aeleus says, and Dilan can’t control himself any longer.

With a clap of their hands, the castle doors open, and they spread apart to let Terra and his friends through. Terra has to wonder if normal will ever bless him with its visit ever again. If he could be normal when he hears of others’ stories, when some jokes hit too close to home.

“Come back to train,” Aeleus says, giving Terra a hard knock on the shoulder that pushes him forward. “You need more muscle.”

The castle doors shut behind them with controlled weight, cutting off Dilan’s lingering amusement with a bang. Terra is left with hot ears, massaging his biceps to see if he’s gotten smaller.

“I think they like you,” Ven says.

Pipes line the crooks between the walls and the ceilings. Like a respiratory system, it steams and churns, pumping humid life into the castle. Some of the halls are dark. Parts of the floor are chipped and if not, grimey. They have a long way to go before it looks pristine.

And Terra apparently has spent years here. But nothing gives him that spark. Nothing makes his stomach turn or drops a loaded bout of nostalgia. The very thought of having lived here sounds like an alternate reality that was never recorded, so at best it’s just a story, at worst a lie.

“Soooo…” Ven says to Terra, hands casually behind his head. “Does this place bring back any memories?”

Aqua scoffs. “That’s an awful question to ask, Ven.”

“You mean you’re not curious?”

Terra groans. It’s not the invasive nature of the question, but the fact that he asked Ven to lay low about this mission not several minutes ago and here he is nearly sabotaging it. He flicks Ven at the ear.

“What? I just want to know!”

“I don’t,” Aqua mutters.

Stars. Terra’s pocket buzzes with notifications from his Gummiphone, but he ignores them. Now’s not the right time.

A man steps from around the corner, knee deep in a long, white lab coat with coiffed wrist cuffs and a folded handkerchief on his collar. He walks so quietly that they don’t hear him approach. Clean cut except for the hair—too clean, actually, and brushed over the front, like linen pulled too far to one side of the table.

“Master Aqua,” this man greets with a bright and timid smile behind the curtain. “How pleasant to finally meet you to face to face.”

“Likewise, Ienzo.”

Ienzo. Terra only recognizes it because Aqua keeps in contact with him.

Likewise, when Ienzo looks over her shoulder, he lights up.

“I’m Terra.”

“I can tell.” Ienzo clears his throat. “Pardon, I shouldn’t be so forward, but… You look so much like him.” He clicks his tongue. “I shouldn’t have said that, either.”

“It’s fine,” Terra says, though it’s not.

“I-I can show you around the castle.” He adjusts his collar. “It may seem unhomely now, but I assure you, it warms up in time.”

It’s already too warm.

“This has been home for you for a while, right?” Aqua asks, a plastic quality to her voice as if she’s trying to patch things up. Nothing needs patching though. It’s just awkward.

“Since I was a child.” Ienzo glances back at Terra. “May I say something?”

Everyone has something to say. Terra considers researching a magic spell to alter his face. “Sure.”

Ienzo tightens his collar again, the knot knuckling into his throat. “I really admired him. Xehanort.”

It doesn’t feel like a punch to the stomach but more like his breath was sucked out by a hand after it slapped him in the face. “Um…”

“I don’t mean to be rude. Or forward.” This guy apologizes too much. And will choke himself if he doesn’t stop. “But for some time, ever since I’ve heard word of who you really were, I wondered what it would be like for the two of us to meet. I held no expectations. And yet… Everything about you is so foreign to me.”

There goes Aqua again, standing near and giving Terra gentle notice that she’s there. There goes Ven, gawking up at him and being completely unsubtle about how the conversation has turned.

“Everything about this place is foreign to me,” Terra says, trying to be polite and failing at somewhere closer to aghast.

“I apologize.” Ienzo turns his nervous ticks to his wrist cuffs, effortlessly attempting at cutting off his circulation. “I suppose you could say Xehanort was a profound presence in my life.”

When Ienzo finally catches on to what he’s doing to his clothes, he exhales and puts his hand to his face, thinking deeply, maybe about a time in an alternate universe where lies and stories were real. It makes him look like a child.

“You would have been,” Terra says, keeping himself sweet, “very young when you met him.”

Ienzo nods slowly. “I was a child and taken in to study. Science was a language he spoke with ease and I wanted in every way to emulate that when I grew up.”

Terra can relate. “Was that hard on you?”

“Not in the beginning.” Ienzo slowly finds some courage with every word. “He wasn’t kind… Not like you are. He was polite, however, and he was focused. If anything, Xehanort had a sort of quality that made you believe all the possibilities were in your grasp. No matter what they were, or your age, or level of intelligence. He was magnetic. I grew up thinking I was capable of anything because of his support.” Ienzo stares down at a small puddle building up from the steam. “I wanted to impress. I believed in what he believed, and never once did I think—I justified everything I did. I did not know about you. And I am so very sorry.”

“I get it,” Terra says softly. “He made you feel like you were worth the time and effort.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

And it came with a cost. Terra doesn’t need to say it, and neither does Ienzo, a quiet acknowledgement passing in the moments they nod and paint a smile between them.

“I appreciate you giving me the time to release these thoughts,” Ienzo says. “I’ve struggled with them for some time, especially after waking up again.”

“Happy to help.” Actually it hurts, but Terra can deal.

“Now I must reciprocate my efforts.” Ienzo turns to Aqua. “You are looking for your Keyblade.”

Aqua, for the second time that day, lets Terra go. “Did you find out anything new?”

After a moment, he says, “It is blue. Before you raise your hopes”—he lifts his hands in defense—“neither of us can recall what Xehanort has done with it. I don’t believe I have ever seen evidence of it during my time as a Nobody. We are regressing quite a few years in the past.”

“Oh.”

Ienzo blinks. “I was uncertain if I had dreamed of it, but when I was a child, I would take walks around the castle at night. A ritual I felt I needed in order to sleep. One of those serendipitous nights, I had walked past Xehanort’s personal office.” He glances at Terra, opens his mouth to say more, then thinks the better of it and addresses Aqua instead. (You, but not you.) “He had left the door open. He was studying a large object, electrifying it and concocting different spells to get it to react. I want to say it was blue, but I was not certain what I was looking at.”

They all stare at him in silence.

“He was… toying with it?” Aqua asks.

“I am not sure.”

“Maybe he was trying to activate it?” Ven says.

“Perhaps.”

“How was he that night?” Terra asks, a distinct acidity to his throat and so help him stars, he might just spit it out in the next minute. It’s natural to hold your friends’ Keyblades. This is different.

“Frustrated,” Ienzo says. “I almost want to say that he was on the verge of giving up, as though it had given up on him.”

“That makes it sound like he was attached to it,” Aqua spits.

“That is a possibility. But whatever it was, it didn’t want to work with him.”

Aqua smirks and lifts one elegant shoulder. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Let me escort you to our records room.” Ienzo gestures with an arm to the hallway behind him. “I’ll show you some of his earlier journals. Perhaps there is a mention of it?”

They start ahead except for Terra, who waits until they move several paces before they noticed he opted to stay behind.

“Actually,” Terra says slowly, finding opportunity here and swallowing the acid down. It’s going to take at least two meals to remove the taste. “Being here and listening to all of this makes me a little dizzy.”

Anything involving discomfort with her friends set off panic with Aqua. “Are you okay?”

Ven gives Terra a warning glare.

Robin Hood would have tweaked the truth for the better good. What a horrible thought, stars, Yen Sid has got to be humoring Aqua in getting Terra prepared for his Mark of Mastery.

“I’m just overwhelmed,” Terra says. She believes him.

“Maybe you should step outside.”

Ven puffs out.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Terra says, pressing Ven with a glare back. Have my back. “I won’t be gone for long. I want to be around to help you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aqua says, checking his eyes for signs of exhaustion. “Get your rest.”

It’s that easy and yet Ven walks away defeated. It shouldn’t take long. All Terra has to do is pull out his Gummiphone and find—

“Naminé.”

She’s back near the entrance. Thank the stars she prefers to use full sentences and could direct him where to go to meet her. When she sees him, she signals to be quiet and gestures for him to follow her. They go down a different hallway, one that is much more well kept than the one Aqua and Ven are taking. They pass by labs this way, some filled with computers, others with flasks, half of a library, and infirmary beds. Nothing so far that looks menacing or painful, but maybe Terra is overthinking the whole Xehanort-tortures-people legend. Or maybe the castle is designed to hide such things.

She takes him to a room with a recliner and several computer screens that are running some diagnostics about the security systems outside, and closes the door behind them.

Someone is already waiting here.

“Riku?”

“Terra.”

“What are you doing here?”

Riku holds his waist and draws out a long exhale, like a tired schoolteacher. “Ven was worried.”

“And spilled the beans.” Terra scoffs.

“And spilled the beans.” Riku smirks and it lightens up his whole face in a way that only fits with him. Terra never has to take anything too seriously for too long when he’s around Riku. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

A mixed feeling of anxiety and relief wash over Terra like a lumpy massage on his shoulders. “I don’t mean to do this in secret.”

Riku shrugs. “I would have.”

“I need to say something,” Naminé says, her arms wrapped around a lineless notebook. Even when announcing to a room, she keeps herself soft and small. “I’m not entirely confident about this.”

Riku snorts.

“How is that funny?”

“It’s not, I’m sorry.” After noticing how she’s staring at him with utter confusion, he waves at her. “You’re a lot more capable than you give yourself credit for.”

Unconvinced, she sighs and motions to the recliner. “Please get comfortable, Terra.”

“What is this going to look like anyway?” Riku leans on the dashboard behind him, a ghostly light silhouetting him like a grim reaper on guard.

Naminé pouts. That same light gives her an eldritch glow, illuminating her white dress. “I’m going to attempt to connect Terra to Xehanort’s memories.”

“Nam,” Riku says, crossing his arms, suddenly serious. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Attempt.”

“Xehanort is dead.”

“But memories stay with you,” Terra objects. They do. He can play them in his head, over and over. He already has for years.

Eraqus lives as long as Terra can replay his voice.

“From what I understood,” Riku says, leaning on his thighs, “you don’t remember being Xehanort. So how can you connect to his memories?”

But death is a one way door.

“He was in my body,” Terra says. However, that Riku is skeptical of this suddenly makes Terra uneasy.

“Would you say you were bonded with Xehanort?” Naminé asks, so quiet it’s a shy whisper, afraid to ignite a bomb with the soundwaves of her voice.

“Does irreparable damage count?”

“That may hurt you in the long run,” she says, pulling a stool aside Terra and opening her notebook on her lap. “What I mean is, the memories we share with other people form the bonds. They link together, like chains.”

Chains. Terra winces.

“You choose who you bond with, in all the decisions you’ve made in the past,” she continues.

In some way, Terra has chosen to bond with Xehanort, hasn’t he? He chose to confide in him, and he carries the shackles all these years later.

“But you are trying to access memories you’ve played no role in,” Naminé says. “There is nothing to link between the two, except for the body.”

“That isn’t enough?” Terra sits on the recliner. It’s stiff and unyielding, but he leans on his back and looks up at the monitor, illegible script running numbers upside down.

Riku groans.

“If you were still carrying Xehanort with you,” she says, “I think I could have made an artificial connection there.” Slowly flipping pages, she grimaces until she finds a blank slate. “Kind of like I used to do. I can create false memories. I can break chains and rechain them. But I cannot propel you to a time you did not exist.”

“I did exist,” Terra says softly.

“What she’s trying to say,” Riku says, getting up on his feet and pacing,“is that you’re doing what Sora did before he disappeared.” Sora, a warning to keep you from getting lost in the woods. “I’m not comfortable with this.”

Naminé splays out crayons on the nearby table: one orange, one blue, a green and a red. She looks sickly. “But Sora went too far.”

“So,” Terra starts, obviously a fool even to himself, “you mean if I don’t go as far, I can be okay.”

Naminé fiddles with her fingers. “I can’t guarantee that. I don’t know what you will end up seeing.”

Terra pauses. He’d be testing the limits of chance in putting Aqua and Ven through this grief again. It’s hard to imagine—Aqua getting the news of something happening, choosing not to cry in front of people she doesn’t know. Robin Hood would have made better choices.

But Aqua would grieve anyway if she goes through those books, picturing no one else but Terra doing all those horrible things. He’s heard some of the stories: the screaming at night, the monsters, the disappearances that start with the children and later swallow the entire family, where neighbors never see them come home again. Xehanort happened to all of them.

“I don’t mean you will disappear.” She lets loose a nervous chuckle.

“But I could go nuts,” Terra says with a painted smile.

“That’s why Ven asked me to be here,” Riku says, that edge of his sanded out some. “I’ve lost count how many times I’ve beaten Xehanort. Or Ansem. They’re the same really. I don’t think you’d be too much of a hassle.”

“Well, thanks,” Terra says, and Riku replies with a fisted nudge on his shoulder.

What’s the fun in playing the game if you already know the outcome? Terra doesn’t know why he’s thinking that way, but he’s absolutely stupid for taking the gamble. There’s no way Yen Sid seriously considers him for Mastery.

And Aqua would grieve anyway.

“I don’t want to let it come to that,” Naminé says, eyes on the floor.

“Are you going to make me watch Xehanort?” Terra asks.

“That’s up to you.” She starts with red. “I can’t make you do anything without writing memories for you.”

“Should let his heart guide him?” Riku asks.

May your fickle, sickly heart be your guiding key to oblivion and all the ridiculous delusions you hold dear.

“It’s a safer way to approach it,” Naminé says, not nodding but not shrugging either.

“Why am I not surprised.”

Terra doesn’t know why she sounds so insecure about her skills when he’s heard nothing but amazing things. “I suggest letting your mind move with your feelings,” she tells him. “Don’t force a thought, and don’t get lost in the emotions. Just sit. Does that make sense?” She taps the crayon to her chin.

“It does.” Terra counts his breaths. In three, out five. In five, out seven. Xehanort. He doesn’t know what to think about Xehanort. Hatred is useless. Revenge is futile. Anger will sabotage his way to Mastery. While Terra has tried his best in his meditation exercises, he’s only done them for the sake of earning good marks in his classes. Settling down, not thinking, relaxing—those are things Terra’s never claimed to be good at, especially lately.

Xehanort walked through these halls with Terra’s body. Should he try and picture himself instead? In the same lab coat Ienzo wears? With white hair, most likely. And definitely too much hair gel.

“What’s it going to be like?”

“A dream,” Naminé says, her crayon drawing loops on the page, though Terra cannot see what it is.

“It already feels like I’m dreaming,” Terra says, watching the ceiling ebb and flow with running lights from the computer monitors behind him. Ever since he stepped in here, it’s felt like he lived a lifetime away from home. No start, no ending, moving pictures that he loses as soon as he blinks. Nothing stays, like waking up and forgetting a whole night.

“I have to warn you,” Naminé says, her voice quieter, “I may have to unchain the memories you want linked together if it gets too hard for you.”

And there, in the midst of wondering if he’s ever going to get this right, he thinks of a white door he’s never seen before.

#kh terra #terra #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #dilan #aeleus #ienzo #namine #kh riku #i'm so exhausted it feels like I'm sprinting #my fic

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imagine-jjba · 4 years

Text

the jojos when they first meet you!

jonathan ;

he’s very open to talking to you! he noticed you sitting by yourself during his school days. you looked lonely, so he decided to talk to you so you didn’t feel too lonely.

of course, he was very interested in what you had to say. he was taken aback when you started talking. your voice was beautiful, to him. he was very attentive with what you had to say when you finally talked back.

he found you to be stunning, really. he’s a very kind soul, after all. wanted to spend his time with you for as long as he could, before you two had to get to your own classes. though, he made sure to keep what you said in mind, just in case you two had talked again.

he’s very polite when he talks to you as well! always calls you by proper names (or, at least tries to) and always refers to you how you’d like to be referred as. he’s bound to forget sometimes, though. he likes to create little cute nicknames in his head to better remember a person. might slip up once or twice.

he also thinks that you have a beautiful name! he’ll say that you do, maybe as a brief compliment. but when you push him farther on the topic of him calling you cute, he’ll go silent with a flustered face.

jonathan would make sure that you feel a little less lonely, maybe tell a few jokes that he knows of, or let you talk to him about your feelings. he’s a very nice man and offers this to everyone he knows, even in passing conversations with those that aren’t so nice to him. he just wants to make you comfortable.

when he finally says he has to leave, he’ll definetly be sure to mention that you can always hang out with him anytime you want to. he’s always open to new friends!

joseph ;

if you were doing something he didn’t like (probably something he was jealous about), he would make sure to say it loud and clear. everyone around you (including yourself) would be able to hear how judgemental he would be.

however, if you were just by yourself, he would just try to start a conversation so things weren’t awkward. it really would depend on the setting where you two would meet. in this case, we’ll go with you meeting him in an american restaurant.

if you were outside, he would mention how cold/hot it was.

if you were inside, he would probably find you to be pretty and would want to flirt with you. so, the natural course of action for him is to come up to you and make some weird conversation.

starting a conversation with this guy is a lot harder than you’d think. he’s outgoing in a confidence sense. he isn’t afraid to speak his mind, which is why he can tend to be a bit obnoxious sometimes. he also takes interest in things such as the latest and weirdest movies and comics. he also always knows random information about the things he likes. he’s definetly use it in conversation.

once you get past the beginning stages of talking to him, it’s quite simple to hold a conversation. he’ll go with the flow of it, following a lead that you give him. if you mention that you like something that he doesn’t have much knowledge of, he’ll ask for your opinion on it. he’s good at talking, but he’s also good at listening.

once you two nerd out together, you’ll find yourselves lost in the conversation. soon, time feels like it had gone by so fast. when you need to get going, you make sure to get joseph’s name. he’ll also find his own little ways of catching you again.

jotaro ;

jotaro doesn’t start conversations with strangers on the street. he’ll only do it if he absolutely needs help with something. you would be the one to most likely start a conversation.

of course, he wouldn’t respond too much for basic chit-chat. he’s not a talker, really. he’d most likely be irritated that you’re even talking to him in the first place. he tends to find others very annoying.

however, if you started talking about something that he enjoyed, his interest would start to peak out. he wouldn’t sound as angry or as irritated. especially when it comes to science related things. he’s always been fond of science and nature, ironically.

depending on how much you know about science, the conversation could either be mostly dead or skyrocket from there. if you knew facts about nature that not many others did, jotaro would be impressed with your knowledge. after all, he didn’t think that any normal person would just know all these things. good thing you’re not as “normal” as you seem!

he starts to talk about his own little facts about nature and science. although it’s unnatural for someone to be so interested in talking to him, he finds a sense of familarity in talking to someone about his interests. like his grandfather, he’s als a nerd. you just have to hit the right cords and he’ll get started.

when he has to go, you make sure to give him your phone number. it’s the least you can do when he’s so interesting. of course, he says that he doesn’t want it, but at least you don’t see him throw it away. he makes sure to keep it with him, just in case he actually does want to talk to you. (he does, he just isn’t sure if it would be socially acceptable to want to talk to someone who he’s only spoken to once).

josuke ;

he’ll most likely talk to you while you’re at school! you’ve been grouped together for a project of some sort, most likely related to math.

if you’re interested in math, he’ll try to follow along with what you’re saying, but he’ll really have not much of a clue. if you’re not interested in math, you’ll pretty much both be stuck together. you two would have to study a lot!

delving into the former path, he’s very interested to work with someone who’s good at this. school is boring, but you somehow make it seem interesting (and a bit cute). from his perspective, math is just things for nerds, something that he isn’t interested in. however, he seems to learn a lot from you.

after you two start talking about other things besides your project, you start to connect. you realize that he’s just a lovable dork, really. he’s very laid back and will also go with whatever you want to talk about, but will also give his two cents. though, he’s very respectful about what you’re saying. not like his dad, in any case.

he also likes to talk about his friends and how much he appreciates them. he says that he wants to treasure them and it’s very sweet to you.

eventually, he ends up dragging okuyasu into the conversation as well. you three start talking eccentrically about things you recently bought and such. depending on your hobbies, josuke might say that he even takes an interest in them!

once you two have to leave for your next class, you pack your things and get josuke’s phone number. after all, you’ll have to talk over the phone for more details about the project, right?

giorno ;

you’re apart of tean bucciarati, so of course you’ll meet him when bucciarati brings him in. you’re not very interested in talking to him at first, as all the others were. but when your capo said that you should respect that he was there, you decided to talk to him.

once you introduced yourself, you were planning on ending it there. however, something caught your eye. it could have been the way that he styles his hair or the ladybug charms on his shirt. you’re not sure about it yet, but you do have some interest about his appearance.

so, you ask him about these quirks in his appearance. he’s very polite and uses proper language, which is very weird to you. it sounds nothing like the way mista or narancia might speak to you, or the way that bruno might coddle you like. he’s understanding in the way that his appearance looks. he doesn’t fuss over it and diligently explains whatever you’re interested in.

after this, he asks you a question that you’re not really ready for. maybe it’s something about your appearance as well, or maybe it could be about why you’re in this gang in the first place. of course, depending on the level of importance to you, you could either explain these things to him or not. he’s a listener more than a talker, but he does have his way with words.

when you two are talking, he finds that you seem interesting. the way you seem to carry around your confidence is, in a way, amusing to him. it sounds like you know what you want, to him.

you don’t speak that much when you first meet him. it’s sort of awkward, in a way. you’re not very sure what to say, but when you do come up with something to say, you’re very confident in your words. you want to be sure you’re saying something that’s not hurtful in anyway.

you two finally stop talking when one of the other members of the team cuts in, starting to make small talk with the blonde. you let them have at it, of course. stepping back, you sit farther in the back, the perfect spot to watch him carefully.

jolyne ;

you two met in prison, of course. you were placed in the cell next to her, so you could hear her talking, whenever she did. after being there for a couple of hours, she started to talk through the walls, just to see if someone would respond to her.

you most likely wouldn’t ignore her after a few times. you’d be bored as well, so you might as well have a listen to what a fellow inmate has to say. she seems like she’s thinking about things, maybe ways to escape? you don’t have much hope for that, but at least you have something to not bore you.

you start talking back to her, finding out things about her that you wouldn’t expect for someone in prison. she tells you why she’s in prison in the first place. she’s not ashamed of it, anyway. but it sounds very interesting, so you ask for more details about her case.

when she tells you more about it, she seems nonchalant, like she’s tired of telling the same story over and over again so, you tell her your story. after all, it’s only fair, you decide. it’s not like she’ll find it more interesting than her story.

turns out it is more interesting to her. she’ll start to ask you questions about it. and you answer. she can get nosy about it, but once she realizes that you’re uncomfortable with a certain topic, she’ll leave it alone.

you two don’t talk about much else after that, but it’s nice that you got to talk to someone about your situation and why you ended up in jail in the first place. it’s a burden lifted off your shoulders. plus, you’re somewhat interested in figuring out what the girl on the other side of the wall looks like. you’ll definitely have to talk to her some more. she’s a very interesting gal!

#jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo kimyou na bouken #jonathan joestar #joseph joestar #jotaro kujo #josuke higashikata #giorno giovanna #jolyne cujoh #x reader #jonathan x reader #joseph x reader #jotaro x reader #josuke x reader #giorno x reader #jolyne x reader #headcanons

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itzagothamcitysiren · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Family

Well, this is the last part of this part. I’ll be starting to work on the next one soon. I have so many different ideas. First though, today after this, I’ll be posting a mother’s day fic I wrote set in this. It’s set in the future (when Jason’s dead). It’s not really spoiler, just a cute little three-shot I wrote before writing this actual story. I’ll be posting the soonish after I pro-read it one more time :)

Never Wanted to be Here pt.7

Normally if you had told Jason Todd he was allowed to stay home from school for an entire month he would’ve been beyond excited but surprisingly this wasn’t the case. He was bed ridden practically the entire time and on top of it still had to keep up with his school work. And he still hadn’t been allowed back on patrol. His bullet wound was the least of his concerns as his boredom was the highest pain in his life at the moment. He was disgusted that he was actually looking forward to going back to school soon.

Alfred had finally allowed him to get out of bed, as long as he kept up with his work and out of the cave. It was an unfair compromise in Jason’s opinion but he took it anyway, desperate to stretch his legs a bit. He currently found himself sitting in the living room, watching a marathon of reruns from Impractical Jokers, one of his all-time favorite shows. He snacked on a bag of chips he sneaked from the kitchen, keeping an ear out for Alfred, who would surely kill him if he caught him eating junk right before dinner.

Just as Mur was about to get his eyebrows shaved off, he heard the front door open and Alfred greeting someone. He rolled up the bag and slipped it behind a pillow, craning his neck around to see if he could sneak a peek into the hallway. He raised an eyebrow when he heard Grayson’s voice. He and Alfred were talking one another, Alfred asking how their flight was. Their? It was then when he heard Halley’s soft voice answer him.

“Long, but not terrible.” She laughed, causing Jason’s hears to perk up in curiosity.

After the run in with Deathstroke, Dick had taken Halley back to Titan’s Tower. The girl was too overwhelmed to stay at the manor, Dick told Bruce the night before they left. She appreciated Bruce’s hospitably and understanding but the feeling of being a burden and the guilt of dragging them into her issues were ringing too loudly in her head.

Jason jumped out of his skin when he heard Dick say he was going to go talk to Bruce and then two sets off footsteps heading towards the room he sat in. His eyes widened, quickly checking that the bag of chips was securely hidden. Pretending to be fully invested in the show, he acted surprised when Alfred entered the room with the girl in question right behind him.

“Honestly, Master Jason, I don’t understand how you can watch this tomfoolery.” Alfred’s sharp voice made him jump again. Jason turned to look at him and Halley, rolling his eyes. The butler turned from the TV, looking at the girl. “Dinner will be ready shortly, young Master Jason will be a respectable host until it is ready.” Alfred said to the girl pleasantly before shooting Jason a warning look and heading back to the kitchen.

Jason rolled his eyes after the butler when his back was turned, along with sticking his tongue out. He wouldn’t dare to when he was looking. His face softened when he heard Halley giggle. He looked at her oddly, never hearing her laugh so lightheartedly before. Dork, he thought when she blushed when noticing his eyes on her. Clearing her throat she motioned her hand towards the TV, the strange antics happening on the screen catching her attention.

Jason outreached his hands to the empty spot next to him, silently ushering her to the couch. As she sat she crossed her arms against her chest, quirking her lip up as a man with his hair and eyebrows shaved off appeared on the screen, his group of friends gathering around him laughing as they held up a driver’s license up. The photo of the man in his current appearance was terrifying but everyone found it hilarious, including Jason, who was snickering in at the screen.

“What is this?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“The greatest show ever, duh.” Jason said as if it was obvious.

“Debatable.” She shrugged.

Jason cocked up an eyebrow this time, turning his attention to her. She stared at the screen seriously, trying to find what was funny about torturing your friends with over the top pranks as the preview for the next episode began. He couldn’t help to take note in how good she looked. Not that he was checking her out. But no, good in the sense that the bruises from being beat to shit by her asshole father were now faded and it appeared that none of the cuts scared. She looked lighter. Even with the serious look on her face, she seemed not as stressed out and uptight as compared to when he first met her.

“What?” She asked, not having to look to feel Jason’s eyes on her.

Jason shrugged, trying to play it cool. He turned back to the TV, reaching underneath the pillow and pulling the chips back out. He munched on a couple offering the bag to Halley. She refused them politely, not wanting to spoil her dinner. She’d been craving Alfred’s cooking after the first few nights of Starfire’s and the endless amount of take-out the Titan’s ordered. She never much noticed it when she first moved in, just thankful to be taken care of. But once you tasted Alfred’s cooking there was no going back.

“So you just visiting or-,” Jason muttered, biting on his lip, pausing to wait for her answer.

“Dick wants me to try again. You know being normal, or as normal as one can be as Bruce Wayne’s ward.” She said with a sigh, looking at her lap.

Jason nodded, shoving another chip in his mouth awkwardly. He chewed loudly, swallowing before turning to look at her again, “And do you want to?”

Halley looked up at him, fidgeting with the hem of her oversized black and grey stripped sweater. She was nervous of coming back, not sure if it was the right thing to do. She’d caused them a lot of trouble and she wasn’t the happiest here. She felt miserable actually but she also wasn’t in the greatest head space. She was concerned for Dick, worried about her father, and paranoid Batman wasn’t trusting of her.

But being back at the tower, something felt off. She couldn’t quit tell at first. Of course she was missing Alfred and his cooking. She felt like she had bonded with the older man; he was kind and made her feel like a normal kid. But she knew that couldn’t have been the only thing throwing her off from being in the tower. The thought of school did cross her mind. She didn’t particularly missed it but she found herself googling more about the French Revolution, as she had just started learning about it in her History class and she wanted to know how it ended as if it was some story in a book. She also never got to properly thank Bruce for all he did for her. He took her in, adopted her, forging it but still, people knew he now had a daughter and she just left him to come up with an explanation as to why. She loved the Titans but it just didn’t feel right going back.

“I want to try again.” She nodded, giving him a short smile.

He nodded, ending the conversation there, turning back to the TV again. The pair watched the next episode in silence. Well, silence besides Jason laughing at every gag. Halley smirked here and there but it wasn’t until the very end when the guy she now knew as Sal was forced to go around kicking kids out of a pool. She didn’t know why it made her laugh so hard but it did. The look on his face when a mom question why he was kicking her son out just hit her in the gut and she found herself wiping a tear away from her eye as her and Jason laughed together.

“I see Master Jason has already corrupted her.” Alfred’s voice rang out, startling the two teens out from their fit of giggles. Jason cursed, earning a verbal slap on the wrist by the butler. Jason quickly tried to shove the bag of chips out of view but it was too late. He’d been too distracted by the show and it finally getting Halley to laugh out loud to have heard Alfred enter the room. Alfred eyed the bag, silently telling Jason he was disappointed but not surprised. He noticed the bag missing from the cabinet earlier when he was cooking. Looking less than impressed, Alfred spoke, “Master Bruce requests you show Miss Halley downstairs, he’d like to speak with the pair of you before dinner.”

“Like downstairs, downstairs?” Jason asked, thrown off. Bruce was inviting her down to the Batcave?

“I do believe that is what I said, Master Todd.” Alfred rolled his eyes, only ever calling the Robin’s last names when he was losing his patience with them.

Jason stood up, turning the TV off not wanting to hear it from Alfred. He jerked his head towards the door, urging the girl to follow him. She gulped, quickly catching on to what downstairs meant. She felt her hands sweat as she trailed behind Jason down the hallway past the grand staircase, vaguely remembering her way around the manor. She’d never been down the hallway he turned down though, leading her to a library. He held the door for her, shutting it once they both stepped in. Jason felt nervous too, seeing as he hadn’t been allowed downstairs in nearly over a month now. Walking over to the piano, he hit the right keys, noticing Halley’s raised eyebrow. When the secret doorway disguised as a bookcase slide open, she jumped back before smirking.

“That’s so cliché,” She looked at him before following him through the doorway. She looked back as it closed behind them. The sound of water running and the smell of stone entering her senses. Rocky walls surrounded them as she walked behind Jason down a metal spiral staircase.

“Yeah, well so is Bruce.” Jason chuckled, smiling at being greeted by the familiar Batcave he grew to worship so much.

“It’s literally a cave?” She almost questioned, not containing her smile as it came into full view. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the tall walls and high ceilings. Below the walkway stood a hanger that held the Batmobile, Batplane and a couple of other models of vehicles. After escaping the warehouse as it exploded, she had gotten to ride in the Batmobile, but her tiredness and injures had gotten to her and she had passed out in the back seat, waking up the next day in her room upstairs. She hadn’t gotten to see any of this than.

Her mouth hung open as her eyes continued to scan the large cave, her eyes stopping on a giant life size, statue of a t-rex and an a ridiculous oversized penny, along with other trophies of Batman’s adventures. Her eyes stopped on what she heard Dick called the Batcomputer, because of course that’s what it was called, as Jason grabbed her arm and began leading her down the walkway and towards where Bruce was standing next to Dick. Lining the wall along the walk had glass displays with different Batsuits and even some of Dick’s old Robin ones. She grinned when she saw the famous Robin leotard.

“Pretty cool huh?” Dick walked over to her, a proud smirk present on his face as he watched her eyes trail over the suits.

“Yeah,” she whispered. Looking at him teasingly, she jerked her thumb back to his old Robin costume. “You seriously wore that?”

“Hey, don’t hate,” Dick scoffed, placing an arm on her lower back and guiding her towards Bruce.

He sat in front of the large screens of the Batcomputer, overlooking different security videos displaying what appeared to be people loading and unloading boxes into trucks at the docks. Bruce had his chin resting on his hand before looking from the videos and towards the two teens he called down. Raising from his chair, Halley noticed how he was dressed in his costume minus the cowl. He made his way over to Jason and Halley as Dick led them to him.

“What’s that?” Jason looked at videos still playing before nodding towards Bruce.

“Our mission for tonight.” He nodded, giving his signature smirk when he saw Jason’s eyes widened in excitement. Alfred gave Bruce the okay on Jason’s injuries, the wound looking worse for wear at first and healed nicely. He’d still have to be careful but he knew Jason was getting antsy and was ready to get back in the field. He turned his head to look at Dick, then down to Halley. “I want you three to eat well, it may be a late night. Bane’s got a new shipment of Venom arriving tonight. I want to get to it all before he gets it out on the streets. Come down as soon as you’re so we can get ready to head out.”

“Wait,” Halley whispered, eyes raising to look at Dick. Did she hear Bruce right? “The three of us?”

“Surprise!” Dick exclaimed, giving her a wide smile.

Bruce shook his head at his eldest, opening his mouth to explain, “Your skills would be an asset to this team,” He said motioning between himself, Jason and Dick. “That is if you would like to join us. I understand if you’re not ready to go out into the field.”

Halley bit the inside of her cheek. No one’s ever complimented her abilities before and to have Batman be the first person to, she couldn’t help but feel thrown off. They must’ve thought she didn’t want to with the look on their faces due to her taking a few moments to process what Bruce just offered her. He offered her a spot on his team. She wanted to try at a normal life and by agreeing to this, all cards for that would be thrown off the table. But did she really want a normal life? She didn’t want to just go to school and come back to the manor and do nothing. What would she do with her life? She knew she’d get bored without some short of action. The handful of missions she went on with Dick and the Titans over the years made her think that maybe she could become a hero, like Nightwing and Batman.

“But I don’t have anything to wear.” She managed to say lamely. There was no way in hell she was she going out in her father’s suit.

“Got you covered,” Dick said breaking the silence, eager that she was saying yes. He crossed his arms against his broad chest, looking proudly at himself. He’d been working on this for the last week when she first came to him asking if she could go back to the manor. “I wanted to surprise you so I didn’t tell you I was making this. Kori helped with the sizing and stuff like that. I was going to make it look like a miniature Nightwing costume and you could’ve been like my sidekick, I thought it was a good idea, but the death glare Kori gave me when I suggested it told me it that was actually a bad idea.” He laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You think,” Jason snickered, raising an eyebrow at the former Robin.

Halley laughed to at Dick. Thank God for Kori, she thought. Rubbing her arms with her hands nervously she watched as Jason then walked over to computer, smirking as he was mentally preparing for the mission. He turned his attention to his suit in its case, feeling the adrenaline already start to begin.

“Well, while you finish this up,” he started with a wave of his hand, “I’ve been coped up in this place for a month so I’m going to go stuff my face so we can head out.” He said walking past them. As he walked past Halley he stopped, patting her shoulder playfully, but she could sense he had some sort of sincerity to him, “Welcome to the family, dork.”

Halley blushed as her eyes followed him as he disappeared back up from where they came. Turning back to Dick who began leading her to show off the new costume real quick before they joined Jason upstairs. She couldn’t contain the smile from spreading across her face. Halley barely heard a word Dick said as he stopped them in front of a case that showed off the outfit. She took in its appearance, eyeing the clean Kevlar armor, staring down every detail.

“I take it, I did a good job.” Dick’s voice cut her out of her trance.

“Yeah, you did good.” She beamed, teasingly. Without warning she nearly tackled him into a hug, but he was strong enough so that she didn’t knock them over. Dick was only frozen for a minute before returning the hug. They’d been close but hugs from the girl where extremely rare so he enjoyed them when he got them. He only had been hugged by her two other times before. When they pulled away, she said thank you, looking up at him with big eyes.

“Your welcome,” He smiled back, before leading her away and up the stairs. “Like Jason said, your family now. I mean-I already considered you family but now you’re like officially apart of the Batfamily-,”

Halley rolled her eyes at him as she was brought upstairs and towards the dining room. Jason was already pigging out, being chastised by Alfred for his terrible table manners. Dick’s voice didn’t stop either, somehow managing to shout out different name ideas for her while still scoffing food down his throat.

“She is not calling herself Nightbird,” Jason exclaimed in disgust. “She’s not your sidekick! She can probably kick your ass,”

“What’s wrong with Nightbird? You like that name right?” Dick defended shooting Halley a look to back him up.

Halley pulled a face as Alfred set a plate down in front of her. Her face wasn’t at the food and Alfred knew that. The pair shared a grimace, both having the same opinion of Dick’s name choice without having to say it out loud. She dug into her food, trying to think of a way to put it nicely, “it’s okay,” She managed to say, avoiding eye contact with him.

“You don’t like it!” He sounded so betrayed.

“It’s not that I don’t like-,”

“You don’t have to baby him, Halley.” Jason cut in. “He’s a big boy,” He raised his fork to his chin, thinking. “No, you need a kick ass name. You’re basically a crazy deadly assassin, you need to sound terrifying.”

Digging into her food she couldn’t help but smile to herself as the boys argued over what her code name should be. Any doubt she had about coming back here was gone as she just let herself enjoy the family meal, chuckling as Dick insisted that his names where way better and more appropriate than Jason’s. Munching away she had begun tuning them out, not worried about her name for now. It wasn’t that important and it would eventually come to her. As she cut another bit of steak though, her ears perked up at as something Jason said caught her attention.

“That,” she pointed her knife at him with wide eyes,

“Nightshade?” Jason questioned, looking at her excitingly,

“Yeah,” She nodded, eagerly, but somewhat faltered, at the memory the name brought up. It wasn’t a terrible one, just not exactly a great one. When her father was teaching her about poisons, he said they were a woman’s weapon, for the incapable, But Halley didn’t agree. Poisons were strong and gave you a subtlety that guns and knives couldn’t. And she remembered admiring how beautiful certain poisonous plants had been, the shades of purples and blues in the Nightshade plant being her favorite.

“Well it still had night in it so I’m satisfied with it,” Dick shrugged, trying to hid how annoyed he was that she liked Jason’s idea better.

“Nightshade,” Jason repeated, getting used to the way it sounded. Teasingly, he leaned forward finishing the last bit off of his plate. “Eh, I don’t know, I think you’re too much of a dork for it. I don’t know if I’ll let you take my idea.”

“Too late, it’s mine.” She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. “You can’t just take it back,”

He chuckled, pushing his seat out, so he could go down to the cave and get ready. He shot them both a look telling them to hurry up before leaving the room. Halley quickly stuffed her face with the rest of her steak pushing her own chair out and racing after Jason. She was now more than eager to get out and actually see the city. Dick watched after the pair of them, eyebrow cocking up as he saw her race to reach Jason in the hall in the doorway. She said something he couldn’t hear and couldn’t help but be curious due to Jason’s loud mock laugh, before he saw the new boy wonder playfully punching her shoulder.

“Am I the only one slightly concerned about the trouble they’re going to get into?” He nodded towards the doorway, looking up at Alfred who had come to collect the teen’s plates. Their bubbling friendship, if you could call it that, clueing in on Dick.

“No you are not, Master Dick,” Dick looked up as Alfred responding, finishing off his own food before now rushing to follow after the two teens.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x oc #red hood #red hood x oc #dick grayson #dick grayson x sister!reader #dick grayson x oc #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing fanfic #bruce wayne #batman fanfiction #batfam x reader #batbros #deathstroke daughter

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Fractal Scarring

[Broadway Kids]

FINALLY THIS IS FINISHED. two days to write 12,000 words? that’s so shameful :/

also i hate writing in present tense

Word count: 12,029

Prompt: “And just WHERE do you think you’re putting your hands?” “Don’t you hurt a single hair on her head.” “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

Tw: Abuse, waterboarding

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

The sound of the doorbell ringing rudely interrupts the heated kiss between Lynn and her girlfriend, Estelle. Lynn pulls back with a growl of frustration, waiting a moment before leaning into Estelle again.

“You’re not going to get that?” Estelle asks.

“No need,” Lynn says dismissively. “It’s probably just the Amazon guy.”

“What did you order this time? More sneakers? Special energy drinks?” Estelle says teasingly.

“Oh, hush,” Lynn bats at her. “Just because I’m a coach doesn’t mean everything revolves around sports. You, for example.” And then she leans in again, locking her lips with Estelle’s and falling back into the warm, buzzing trance of kissing.

And then the doorbell rings again.

And again.

And again, until it was going off every second in a rapid fire cacophony of chiming.

“Persistent Amazon guy,” Estelle observes.

“Oh my god!!” Lynn yells. She rips off the blankets, nearly exposing her girlfriend’s own naked body in the process, snatches her robe from the bathroom door (although she had considered flashing the solicitors to scare them off), and marches to the front door. There was a glass window at the very top, but was too high to see who it was, so she had no idea who was ruining her time with her girlfriend until she yanks open the door with force.

“Sue?!”

Her student blinks at her from the stoop, trying very hard to not look at the white robe she was swathed in and put the pieces together. The way she clears her throat and then proceeds to say absolutely nothing didn’t help the situation be any less awkward, either. A halo of raindrops from the drizzle falling from the grey-blue sky twinkles on the crown of her head like dozens of silver spider eyes that seemed to stare straight through Lynn’s fluffy covering.

“What-” Lynn finds her voice, although it came out tight and strangled from embarrassment for a moment. “What are you DOING here?! How do you know where I LIVE?!”

Shrugging nonchalantly, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, Sue says, “Chris knows a guy.”

THAT Lynn didn’t doubt. She wonders if this “guy” was Billy Nolan or her father tracking her or someone else entirely. Feeling like there were several more eyes on her, Lynn shifts uncomfortably and pulls the laces around her stomach even tighter.

“Why are you here?” She demands with her Coach Voice. It made Sue jump, but then she realized that it wasn’t in fear like she was hoping, but some sort of jolt of remembrance.

“Oh! Right!” Sue looks over her shoulder. Dismayed, Lynn saw that Tommy was there, too, but he was halfway hunched in his Jeep, fumbling with something. “Miss Gardener, you are the most trusted adult we know. Something happened- something really bad, and we need you.”

Usually, Lynn would instantly mount the problem that one of her students was facing and bring it down, but right now, she really rather be mounting something else and be brought down on a bed, so this was not her top priority at the moment. If none of her loved ones were dead, then she really didn’t want to hear it.

“What about your PARENTS?” Lynn says, shooing Sue backwards. “Go to them!”

“No, Miss Gardener, you don’t understand!” Sue cries. “It’s Carrie!”

Lynn froze.

And, at that moment, Tommy pulled out a bloody, beaten Carrie out of the backseat of the Jeep and into sight.

“Bring her inside.” Lynn says without a shred of resistance. “Sue. Tell me everything.”

------

“How do I look?” Tommy asked. “Good? Good enough? Christian-like?”

Sue giggled. “You look great, you dork. There’s no need to worry. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It absolutely IS a big deal!” Tommy squawked.

It really was, Sue had to admit. It was the first time Carrie White was EVER having people over at her house.

She said she had begged her mother for hours, swearing up and down that she would be the best daughter and never ever complain ever again if she could have her friends over, and her mother had finally relented. So, now Tommy and Sue were parked outside a cottage as old as time itself. It’s swathed by tendrils of ivy climbing their way towards the roof that was missing several shingles and splotched with patches of emerald green moss. The weathered wood is a chalk color, paint peeling and flaking off, and black peppering along its breast. The windows are tinted a deep brown and covered up by drapes, many of them cracked. The yard was a sea of weeds and the walkway leading up to the house was lined with deceased trees; their ebony branches bore no leaves. The very age of the cottage is shown in its deterioration.

This was no place for any child to be raised.

Withered brown leaves rustled in the ghostly wind. The street was almost silent, if not for the wailing gust, the crackle of fronds, and the gentle rumble of the Jeep’s engine. Black tires trampled over the dead blades scattered on the edge of the poorly-kept street, the crunching of their filaments like bones beneath a hammer. A flurry of brown leaves swept across the windshield.

The couple slid out of Tommy’s car after Tommy checked his neatly-combed hair for the tenth time. He was acting like he did the day he met Sue’s parents for the first time in junior year, which was actually quite polite of him to do so. He was taking this very seriously.

Above, the sky was awash with low churning clouds. Towering trees with ebony branches reached down far, almost blocking the way. Their naked twigs grabbed like fingers, clawing at their faces as they trekked up the driveway. The brittle limbs snapped and fell as kindling onto the ground when brushed away. They too cracked beneath footfalls as Sue and Tommy made their way up to the stoop, across the cracked sidewalk and through reaching snarls of weeds sprouting from the overgrown yard. The porch creaked beneath their weight, and for a split second they feared it might cave in, but the old wood held together firmly despite its age. Tommy knocked on the door; there were cracks inside the frame and the hinges were green. It looked like it would fall over if the curved door knob was yanked too hard.

There was a shuffling sound from inside and the tumblers of a locking mechanism fell away with a grinding crack. When the front door was pulled open, the hinges protested with a deafening creak, sounding as though the rotten wood was splintering even as the heavy door scraped along the floor. Carrie peered out at them like a lime green macaw in a tunnel of darkness in the overalls she was wearing, beaming.

“Hello!” She greeted eagerly. “Come in!”

They stepped inside and entered a world that reeked of religion.

Wall-to-wall there were crosses ranging in various sizes and made of many different materials. There were wooden crosses, metal crosses, crosses made of twigs twisted together and crosses created from woven tangles of barbed wire. Among them were pictures of Bible scenes, like The Last Supper and Noah’s Ark and Jesus doing something with a staff and water- or was that Moses? Sue wasn’t very up to speed on Christianity, so she didn’t know exactly what was going on, but the bearded dude was definitely doing /something/ with water.

Aside from the paintings and crosses and some candles, there didn’t appear to be any other decorations. No photos of Carrie as a little girl, no potted plants, no big wooden letters spelling out “WHITE” on the wall- there were only religious adornments.

Carrie led Tommy and Sue through the cramped front room, passing a closet door and a small circular table with a single red candle on it, and into the living room. The smell of baking bread wafted strongly in this room, flowing from the nearby kitchen. A large crucifix was poised menacingly over the ancient fireplace mantle, Jesus’s face frozen in a permanent expression of agony. Each rivulet of blood, every cut opened up on his skull from the Crown of Thorns held so much detail that it almost looked like a real person nailed to the giant wooden cross instead of just precisely carved plastic.

There’s no TV, not that either Sue or Tommy were surprised, so the scuffed, fraying leather sofa taking up a large space in the room was just sitting in front of the fireplace with only a grotesque crucifix to watch. The coffee table in front of it held a Bible that looked like it would crumble into dust if picked up and a well kept nativity set of baby Jesus’s birth. It was probably the nicest thing in the living room, maybe even the entire house, with all the animals shined to perfection and the humans not bearing a single scratch upon their porcelain flesh. There was also a washed out velvet lounge chair with intricate golden designs across the fabric, where a woman sat sewing an article of clothing and watching the new arrivals intently.

Mrs. White was as mangy as her daughter, but not quite as filled out as Carrie was. She was thin and bony, with sunken facial features and spindly fingers like the hands of a skeleton. Tangles of chocolate brown hair were tied up in a messy ponytail, revealing her pale, narrow neck to the light of the several lit candles around the house, and Sue and Tommy both concluded that Carrie must have gotten most of her features from her father because she looked nothing like this banshee of a woman dressed in a grey-blue gown sitting before them. The only noticeable thing they had in common were their brown eyes, which were so dark they were nearly black. Mrs. White’s were piercing, yet tired and haunted, and she was looking at Tommy and Sue like she already hated them.

This woman had done terrible things that tormented her, Sue could tell.

------

“That definitely sounds like Margaret.”

Sue and Tommy’s head whip around, but Lynn’s whips faster. She stares at her girlfriend, fully dressed, standing in the hallway spitting out into the rest of the house from the master bedroom. Her blonde hair is combed neatly, leaving no evidence of...things...having been going on. Her grey eyes are troubled.

“You know Margaret White?” Sue asks.

“Who are you?” Tommy says at the same time.

“Estelle Horan,” Estelle answers the nosy teenagers. “And, yes, I knew her.”

She strides across the floor and into the living room. Carrie is lying on one of the couches, expression pinched even in unconsciousness. Sweat is beaded on her forehead and she breathes raggedly.

“How do you know her?” Sue prods further.

Estelle looks at her, then says, “I was their neighbor.”

A beat of silence passes. A pin dropping would be the loudest sound in the room. And then-

“WHAT?” Lynn yelps.

Estelle gives her an amused look. “Did I never tell you?”

“No!”

“Oh.” Estelle shrugs. “There wasn’t ever a good time to bring it up. And I’ve tried to put it out of my mind…” She trails off, a haunted expression flickering in her eyes, like something had shaken her. She looks at Carrie’s frail, bruised body and frowns. “I--never thought she would live this long.”

Lynn gets a terrified look on her face. She didn’t exactly like showing so much fear and weakness around her students, but she couldn’t help it. There’s no way Carrie’s life was as bad as everyone was making it out to be. There’s no way she had suffered so much for so long and she hadn’t done anything to help her.

“What-- what do you mean?” Tommy asks softly. His expression is a mix of horror and rage and his fists are clenched tightly at his sides.

Estelle reaches out and gently touches Carrie’s head. “Everyone in the neighborhood knew of Carrie’s treatment. But nobody did anything. And then, one day when I was seventeen, Carrie came up to me while I was tanning. She was five? Maybe six? Anyway, she-” She laughs, “-she pointed to my breasts and asked me what they were. I told her and she said she wished she had some and then said how good girls wouldn’t. She said that her mother was ‘bad when she made her.’ Margaret called them ‘dirty pillows’ or something stupid.”

Tommy snorts. Sue elbows him lightly. Estelle shoots him a quick, agreeing smile, then continues.

“Then her mother came out and snapped at her to come back inside. Margaret called me a whore, I called her a cow- I was a very mature and polite seventeen year old.” Estelle chuckles. Her expression soon darkens, however. “I could hear--her screams--from inside the house. After Margaret dragged her back in. Carrie started screaming and crying so loud that I could hear them from outside. Everyone started coming out, but--” She sighs, looking ashamed. “--we didn’t help. Not after the meteor shower. We all ran.”

“Wait-” Sue says. “Did you say ‘meteor shower’?”

“Yeah,” Estelle says. “These rocks just started falling from the sky, but they only hit the White’s house for some reason. It was so weird.”

Tommy and Sue exchange looks.

“Carrie mentioned something about stones…” Tommy says.

Estelle furrows her eyebrows. Lynn kneels down next to her and takes one of her hands, not caring about secrecy around her students anymore.

“Sue,” She says to the girl, “continue the story. What happened next?”

------

“Mama,” Carrie said, and the sound of her voice startled both Sue and Tommy. They don’t know why they had assumed Carrie would sign at home; her mother didn’t exactly seem like the type to put up with sign language. “These are my friends! Tommy and Sue!” She beamed at them both, radiating with pride. Her voice was so sweet and youthful.

“Hmm,” Mrs. White merely said. Her hands are still working a needle and thread through the pale purple fabric, and Sue can see muscles rippling beneath the skin.

Tommy stepped forward first, gathering his shoulders up into a straightened position and marching smoothly across the room. Carrie skittered after him and stood beside one side of the chair, and then Sue followed.

“Tommy Ross,” Tommy extended a hand and flashed a dazzling smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Mrs. White looked at Tommy’s hand with visible disgust, but she shook it firmly when Carrie nudged her arm. She did the same with Sue, but with less reluctance. Sue guessed that she probably had something against men, which was something she never had a problem with, there were MANY reasons to hate men, but this woman looked like she wanted to chop off the penis of every male in existence and violently choke them with it.

Or, perhaps, do something even worse.

“It’s nice to meet you both, too,” Mrs. White finally said in a voice that could crack an iceberg in two. She sized Tommy and Sue up silently, sneering at Sue’s skirt, which barely reached her knees, but didn’t comment about it. “It’s so...wonderful...to see my precious angel with people she can trust.” She lifted a hand and Carrie eagerly ducked her head beneath it. It was quite cute to see her blissfully get affection, but Sue got a feeling of uneasiness in her stomach when she noticed that the action made Carrie look like a trained dog. And Mrs. White was her owner.

“Carrie is a lot of fun to have around,” Tommy said, and Carrie grinned brightly at him. “Your daughter is amazing!”

“Hmm,” Mrs. White said again. She looked at Carrie and a smile tugged on her lips. “She is, isn’t she?” She patted Carrie’s cheek. “Run along, my darling. Go play.”

Carrie nodded and her face scrunched up adorably with giddiness when she got a kiss on the forehead. She jumped up a moment later, darting past Tommy and Sue and to the staircase. She waved to them to follow her eagerly, grinning her head off and doing a little dance on the first step.

“We’re coming, we’re coming!” Sue laughed as she and Tommy walked over. “Calm down!”

They ascended the stairs, and Sue could feel Margaret’s burning gaze scorch holes into her back with every step she took.

The first thing Sue and Tommy noticed upon entering the bedroom were the bars over the window.

Carrie’s room was plain. Plain cream walls, plain scuffed hardwood floor, plain white bed sheets and blankets (no pillow, as she had once mentioned before). There was a nightstand next to her bed with a lamp and a small Bible on it and a splintering bookshelf with very few books set up neatly. A chest at the end of the bed had ribbons of colorful fabric overflowing from the closed lid and a desk had a current sewing project spread out over its surface. A small table in the corner held a few old stuffed animals stacked neatly in a fuzzy pyramid.

“Welcome,” Carrie signed with a grand gesture with outstretched arms. She spun around once, looking around her room, then centered to Tommy and Sue again with a sheepish expression. “I--don’t know what to do now.”

Sue tilted her head, not understanding her hand movements, and Tommy translated. It made her pause in thought- what WAS there to do at Carrie’s house? There was no TV to watch movies on or teach her how to play video games like Tommy usually did. The place was actually quite...boring. Sue couldn’t bear to live in such a bare place.

“Sorry…” Carrie lowered her head in shame.

“Hey, no, it’s okay!” Tommy said quickly. “No worries!”

Sue looked around, trying to find something that would hopefully ease Carrie’s tension. She spotted the piece of fabric on the desk, which was a plum color with frills along the breast. She nodded at it.

“That’s pretty.” She said.

“Oh!” Carrie skittered over to it. “Thank you. It’s not finished yet, but it’s going to be a dress!”

Tommy translated her signs and Sue smiled. “Do you make all your clothes?”

“Most of them,” Carrie nodded.

“That’s so cool!” Sue said.

Carrie blushed. “Thank you.” She lightly brushed her project. “I can--teach you how to. If you want.”

------

“And then we started sewing,” Sue says. She stares into the cup of water Lynn had gotten for her with a deeply troubled look.

“I made a scarf.” Tommy states in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“It was supposed to be a sweater.” Sue manages a giggle, although it was tight and slightly strangled.

Lynn wants to smile, she really does, but as she is pressing a wet rag to a welt on her young student’s stomach, watching blood seep into the white fabric, such an action feels impossible.

If Carrie had looked worrisome when Lynn first saw her, then the removal of most of her clothes has only increased that concern tenfold. The few injuries that had been visible when she first got there were bad enough, but the skin on her torso and back were splattered with impossibly dark colors that were split open in the center of each mark, like she had been beaten with a thin object. Cuts and scrapes marred her tanned skin, which was now horribly pale.

Carrie is stripped down to the black shorts and white tank top she had been wearing underneath her green overalls, which were stained in her blood (not that it was much of a loss- those things were hideous). Her face is tight with pain and all her muscles were tense as if she wanted to run, but couldn’t. Each breath she took came out shallow and ragged.

There’s too many wounds. There’s too many injuries on her little body. She isn’t going to live. Carrie will die.

A touch on her shoulder brought Lynn out of her morbid thoughts. She looks up to see Estelle, still kneeling next to her, a worried, but “I’m here for you” look on her face. She leans against her and a sick feeling settles into the pit of her stomach. Her mind is a jumbled mess, a tornado of disconnected thoughts and overwhelming stress.

Sue takes a deep breath and all eyes turn to her again. She pries her gaze away from her cup, rests her head against Tommy’s shoulder for support, and begins the story again.

------

“WHAT is THAT?” Carrie signed.

“IT is a SCARF!” Tommy declared defensively, holding the long piece of red wool fabric as if it were a live snake. “And it’s very stylish!” He flicked it around his neck and lifted his nose in a very haughty, pompous manner. Carrie flopped backwards, giggling and kicking her legs in the air. Tommy looked delighted at her reaction.

“I thought we were making sweaters…” Sue said, blinking down at the misshapen purple blob in her hands. Carrie giggled louder.

She giggled and giggled, such a pleasant, relieving sound.

And then the bedroom door opened.

And a thunderous voice that could shatter a glacier spoke up.

“What is going on in here?”

Tommy, Sue, and Carrie all jumped and twisted around to see Mrs. White slithering inside, growing bigger and more menacing with every step she took. Tommy and Sue both straightened up, trying to look like model guests, while Carrie scrambled up off of her back and to her feet. She was still beaming, however.

“Hello, Mama,” She greeted sweetly. “I was just teaching Tommy and Sue how to sew! They’re not very good.”

“I made a scarf,” Tommy said, holding up the droopy ends of his silly creation for Mrs. White to see. She looked at it as if it were the serpent that had bewitched Eve. “Also, oi! Rude!” He poked Carrie in the leg, then glanced up at Mrs. White again, like he was saying, Look at how good I am with your daughter! Look at how nice I am to her! Please like me!

“Hmm.” Mrs. White merely said. She looked very suspicious of all three of them, even her own daughter. She looked around the room like she was searching for a shred of impurity that would give her a reason to throw Tommy and Sue out. This process, however, was halted when Carrie hopped forward and latched onto her arm.

“Mama, I finished the dress,” She said. She bumped her head against her mother’s shoulder and smiled up at her.

She really does love her mom. Sue thought. But does Mrs. White love her back?

“Did you?” Mrs. White said, half distracted. She was trying to not take her eyes off of the guests, Tommy the most in particular.

“Mhm!” Carrie ran and grabbed the dress she had finished while she was giving the sewing lessons. She presented it to Mrs. White proudly. “See?”

Mrs. White delicately ran her bony fingers along the stitching and frills. Then, she looked up and smiled at Carrie. “Very good, darling.”

That smile flickered away, however, when she looked back to her daughter’s friends. She frowned at Sue, who was rigid next to Tommy. She wasn’t trying to suck up to her like he was.

“You.” She said. “What are you making?”

“Oh, uh--” Sue looked down at the malformed, barely-sewn sweater flopped pathetically in her hands. “A-a sweater.” She wanted to kick herself for stammering. Why was she so nervous around this lady? “I think?”

“My scarf is better.” Tommy muttered, then flashed a smile at Mrs. White. She blinked at him slowly. Even she was curious about his adamant attempt to get on her good side.

Mrs. White sniffed. The edges of her eyes crinkled in distaste. “Maybe you should try lengthening that skirt. You’ll be burning in hell in no time looking like that.”

Sue stiffened. She suddenly felt like her clothes were paper thin--or maybe not even there at all. Mrs. White was staring at her like she had just finished having sex with every man in the entire world and was currently dripping semen all over her floor. Sue struggled not to squirm as silence descended upon the room.

At her side, Tommy’s mouth was half open in shock that an adult would talk to a kid, especially a guest in their house, like that. He kept looking from Sue, to Mrs. White, and then back to Sue, conflicted on whether he should defend his girlfriend and risk Mrs. White hating him even more or not say anything and have Sue possibly hate him (but she wouldn’t hate him. if it were him essentially being called a man slut, she would probably be too scared to say anything, too).

Mrs. White was stood up straight and she looked like she was trying very hard not to smirk. She may be thin and ragged, but she was alight with disgust, like a flame that would never go out. Beside her, Carrie was rigid, but didn’t seem very surprised by her mother’s comment. Her head was lowered, dark eyes flitting towards Sue with an apologetic look. And then, she moved, slotting herself between Sue and Mrs. White.

“Mama, Sue is the nicest girl I know.” She said, and Sue felt a flutter of guilt inside her stomach. At one point, she had participated in all the teasing Carrie got. She had been in on schemes to humiliate her and had looked at her like she was the most awful creature to ever walk the earth, and Carrie knew this, she had known it, and yet she still defended her. “If she doesn’t go to heaven, then heaven is wrong.”

Crack, went something in Mrs. White’s head.

Carrie noticed it first, the way her mother’s twisted expression twitched and rippled on her face like a melting wax mask, the way a diseased light flickered behind her eyes, the way her nostrils flared with a silent breath, and then Sue and Tommy followed. They could see it now, too, how Mrs. White still had the same look on her face as she had when she insulted Sue, but just slightly lopsided. It was like a wrinkled photograph cut from a magazine or a blurry movie still. There was something awful swimming behind those beetle-black eyes, and Carrie had accidentally awakened it.

Sue wondered for a fleeting second if she were infected with the same parasite as her mother.

Carrie was very tense, so much so that Sue could see the muscles in her neck bunching up and popping out painfully. Her knees were shaking and a bead of sweat ran down the side of her face slowly. Sue and Tommy had both seen her scared before, but this was nothing like the fear that came from bullying at school or being called on in class or getting humiliated somehow.

Carrie looked terrified. Genuinely terrified. Like she thought she was going to die.

“Carrie.” Mrs. White said calmly, but they all still shivered. The weight of the fury in that one simple word--Sue hoped she would never have to hear anyone say her name like that. She might as well have called her daughter ‘Disappointment.’ “Dear. Come here.”

But Carrie didn’t move. Her breathing starts to become more ragged.

“No, mama,” She whispered, and Sue had never heard so much fear in her voice before.

Twitch, went something on Mrs. White’s expression.

“M-my friends--” Carrie went on shakily, trying to give a good reason for her to talk back. “Th-they’re here. C-can’t we wait…” But her words trailed off into meaninglessness when she met her mother’s sharp gaze and she fell into helpless silence.

Mrs. White stretched her neck to the left and there was a series of pops that reverberated around the room. She seemed to be swelling up like a venomous snake.

“Hey--” Tommy leapt to his feet, the tail of his sweater-scarf wagging lazily in front of him. “It’s not Carrie’s fault. She was just being a good friend.”

Mrs. White snapped her smoldering gaze over to Tommy, and that was enough to send him slamming right back to the floor in a rigid sitting position. Sue had never seen him obey so much like a trained dog before. It was horrifying how much this single woman could strike so much terror into all of them.

“Carietta Nancy White.” Mrs. White hissed, her voice dripping with icicles. “I will not tell you again.”

She knows she could just grab Carrie. Sue realized with a twist in her stomach. She wants the satisfaction of Carrie obeying her.

Carrie moved slowly, dragging her feet as if they were weighed down by chains, head bowed in a submissive way. The moment she was in reach, Mrs. White snatched her by the forearm and dug her nails in so deep tiny jewels of blood bubbled up around her fingers. Tommy twitched at Sue’s side, like he wanted to jump up and tackle Mrs. White, but his nerves were holding him back.

“I’m sorry…” Carrie whispered, although Sue doesn’t know if it’s directed to her and Tommy or to her mother. She’s briskly guided out of the room a moment later, so fast that she actually clipped her forehead on the doorframe, but Mrs. White doesn’t stop to let her recover. Their footsteps shuffle and stomp down the hallway, down the steps, and then disappear downstairs.

Silence.

Sue and Tommy waited for yelling, crashing, banging, fighting to break out, but there was nothing. They could only hear the distant sound of Mrs. White’s voice, but neither of them dared to move to listen closer. They just sat there in Carrie’s room, surrounded by scraps of colorful fabric and sewing needles, not speaking a word.

Mrs. White came to get them five minutes later. Her eyes were filled with disgust and hatred and her mouth was twisted in a sneer.

“Get out.” Was all she said in a voice filled with malice.

Sue and Tommy leapt to their feet and scampered out of the house with metaphorical tails tucked between their legs as fast they could. Mrs. White followed close behind them, like the devil on their heels, until they were out on the stoop. She slammed the door so hard Sue was surprised the entire house didn’t come crumbling down and they heard the sound of a lock clicking into place.

Silence.

“That...was eventful.” Sue said.

Tommy doesn’t answer. He just began to pace up and down the front walkway, crunching gravel and pebbles underneath his shoes.

“Tommy?”

“We have to do something.” Tommy blurted.

Surprised, Sue said, “What?”

“We can’t just leave her in there!” Tommy said, then quickly quieted his voice. He looked around. “We have to save her.”

Sue knew they had to, even if the thought scared her. She wouldn’t be able to sleep that night knowing Carrie was probably thrashed for the skirt her friend had been wearing.

The two of them wait a moment, then sneak around the side of the house, romping through overgrown weeds and grass and knowing full well that they’ll get hell rained upon them if they’re caught. Tommy peeked in through a back window with a crack in it and saw the fleeting figure of Margaret ascending the staircase, giving him and Sue a chance to slip in through the back door and re-enter the house.

Being inside that place felt wrong, like they were intruding on sacred grounds. But the house was anything but sacred, especially with the muffled sniffles echoing from somewhere they couldn’t see.

Sue and Tommy ducked into a small closet that was cluttered with moth-eaten blankets and boxes. They were at the end of the main downstairs hallway and it was dark enough for them to crack open the door and peek out without being seen. There, they waited, peering out of the barely-open door. Sue’s back was just starting to hurt from hunching over when footsteps stomped down the staircase. She and Tommy watched as Mrs. White unlocked what they thought had just been a coat closet, reached in, and pulled Carrie out.

“I’m sorry, Mama!” Carrie blurted instantly, as submissive as always.

Mrs. White answered in a low rumbling noise. She dragged Carrie into the den and out of sight.

“Mama, please talk to me.” Sue and Tommy heard Carrie beg. “Please, I’m sorry! I just-- they’re my friends and I don’t like when people are mean to them. I’m sorry, Mama. I shouldn’t have talked back to you.”

Mrs. White snorted. “Friends.” She repeated the word as if it were a curse. “They aren’t your friends.”

“They are!” Carrie said. “They are, Mama! And they’re really nice, too, you’ll see!”

Mrs. White huffed out a breath and Sue thought she may be shaking her head. “Nobody is friends with you, Carrie. You don’t have friends. You know why.”

Sue winced. That felt like it was needlessly cruel to the poor girl.

“No, Mama,” Carrie said, this time much softer.

“If I told them what you are--what you can do, they’ll run for the hills. Or worse: they’d lock you up and use your gifts. But me? I’ve always accepted and loved you the way you are, my sweet girl.” Mrs. White crooned. “You’re different, Carrie. And you know people love to destroy what is not like them.”

“I don’t have to be,” Carrie said. “Tommy says I can be whoever I want!”

“Oh. That BOY.” Mrs. White said with great disgust. “You know how boys are, Carrie. Do I need to remind you of your father?”

“No, Mama.” Carrie replied with a shudder in her voice.

Sue and Tommy exchanged looks. They had both wondered on their own about Carrie’s father, but neither ever brought it up to her. By the sound of it, whatever happened to him wasn’t very good.

“They’re good, Mama,” Carrie was saying when focus was brought back to the conversation. “I promise! I’m sorry for talking back, but Tommy and Sue are good people!”

“They’ve entranced you,” Mrs. White said, not even listening to her daughters. “They are imps sent from the devil!”

“No, Mama!” There’s a rustle of fabric and the scuffing of feet against the floor- Carrie must have been standing up. “They aren’t! Don’t you dare say that about them! They’re not imps, YOU are!”

The sound of a hand smashing against flesh filled the house; Carrie’s body fell backwards into sight on her stomach. She’s frozen in shock for a moment before pushing herself up on her hands. A second later, one of her legs was grappled and she was dragged backwards into the den, screaming and clawing helplessly at the floor.

It was like a scene ripped straight out of a horror movie.

“Mama, stop! Stop it, Mama! I’m sorry!”

“You’re going to repent, you vile little beast--”

Another slap reverberated through the house, followed by a sharp yelp reminiscent of a puppy getting its foot stepped on.

“Mama! Mama, no! Please, no! I’m sorry!”

“You must be washed clean of the filth they put on you.”

There’s the sound of fabric scraping against the floor that traveled into the kitchen. A clatter of a body being thrown into a chair echoed from that room, followed by a stern, “Stay.”

“Mama, please,” Carrie pleaded. “I don’t want to, Mama, I don’t want to be cleaned--”

Sue heard the sink running in the kitchen. What was going on?

A hand yanked her head backwards by the hair. Water hit the over her face cloth- small drips and then a heavy torrent. It flooded into her nose. She instinctively opened her mouth to gasp for a breath, and the water poured in. Her heart was racing, and her whole body was frozen. She could feel the freezing water trickling down her throat. She tried to toss her head to escape the torrent, but she couldn't even twitch. The only part of her that was moving was her chest as her body fought frantically to cough, to escape, to breathe, to survive.

“Don’t like that, do you?” Mama’s voice was crowing as she lifted the cloth. She smirked at the way her daughter gasped for air, taking in quick, rapid breaths to soothe her lungs. “No, you don’t.” She felt her shake her hand beneath her hand. “Admit it, my darling. Admit that that boy and girl are sent from the devil and dirtied you. Admit it and it will end.”

Desperate to retain at least a shred of her dignity, Carrie said, “No.”

The cloth drops back down over her face with a wet plop.

She felt the moment the water hit her lungs this time around- there was a lot more poured over her. There was a sickening chill, so at odds with the burning pain. And then her arms and legs were tugging against the ropes as sheer panic enveloped her. She wasn't thinking of twisting her wrists to try to free them; her arms moved of their own accord, tearing the skin. She wasn't thinking of kicking out with all her strength; her legs jerked and tugged against the restraints, wrenching their own muscles. She wasn't thinking of trying to get away from whatever was pinning her down; her body writhed and shifted as panic and fear pulsed through it.

When Mama lifted the cloth again, water was spit up from Carrie’s lips. She lowered it, not giving her much room to breathe. She whined sharply, pathetically when she just inhaled a wet rag.

“Please, please, Mama...” Carrie begged through breathless sobs.

“Tell me the truth. Admit it. You know you want to. You want to damn their souls to hell for cursing you.”

“No, Mama, I don’t--”

Carrie cut herself off with a horrid gag and water rushed down her throat, choking her.

Dying. Dying. Dying. She could feel it. Her very bones were vibrating with the knowledge that she couldn't survive. That oxygen, held away from her by nothing more than a piece of fabric, was still too far away for her to reach. That every frantic heave of her chest was drawing the water further and further down, pulling in more and more liquid.

Every fiber of her being wanted to fight, was trying to fight, but it wasn't a fight she could win. There was nothing she could do.

Unless…

“I--”

Carrie’s squeal ended in an intense dry heave that twisted her stomach so badly she began to feel nauseous. Her head spun and the crying was adding to the extreme pain that infected her chest and abdomen.

“Mama--”

A whimper, a whine, a keen of helplessness as Carrie’s limbs began to go limp.

“I do!”

The bowl clattered to the ground. Mama removed the rag from her face, stared deep into her teary eyes.

“What was that?”

“I--” A weak sob shook Carrie, “I do. I do want to send them to hell. They made me dirty.”

She thought she’s having to lie to get out alive, but her mind is too fuzzy to know for sure... Maybe she does want them to burn for all eternity in hell.

“You do?”

“Yes, Mama. Yes, Mama.” Carrie bobbed her head rapidly. “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry. I should have listened.”

Mama knelt down beside her and began wiping her face off with a dry cloth. When fresh tears streamed from her eyes, she gently dabbed them away. Carrie couldn’t help but press into his touch.

“Is this the truth, Carietta? Are you really sorry?”

“Yes, Mama,” Carrie said with a sob. “Yes, yes, I am. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

“Good girl,” Mama crooned, continuing to dry off her face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes, I’m glad you know to tell the truth, but that doesn’t change what you did.”

Ice cold fear shot through Carrie’s veins.

“I took your gun.” She was desperate now.

“You still have to be punished, little jade.”

She lets out a whimper.

“You know what you did.”

The dry cloth is put over her face.

Water sloshed above her.

She wanted to say she was sorry. She was sorry. She was so sorry. She wanted to be a good, obedient daughter. She wanted to make Mama happy. She wanted her to be proud.

Drip-drip-drip

The cloth soaked up the water, slowly this time, to drag out her punishment. Carrie took a shuddering breath of air, fills her lungs as far as they can go, fills them so full she feels like they’re going to burst.

Mama’s voice echoed.

You need to be punished

The water soaked the cloth. The cloth clung to Carrie’s nose as she inhaled, clung when she exhaled, and the panic exploded in her chest. Water slid down her throat, over her neck and into her hair, over her shoulders. So cold it burns.

She’s drowning. She’s dying. She’s suffocating.

Screaming.

Her throat hurts. There’s no air in her mouth, in her lungs. She can feel the water trickling into her nose. Can’t breathe. No air. No air. No air.

The ropes on her arms loosen and then are gone. She wanted to die. She can’t breathe past the panic in her chest. She was shaking. She was dying. She wanted it to end.

Oh god, please keep pouring. Please. Please. Please. You can kill me right now.

But then the faces of Tommy and Sue and Miss Gardener flash in her head and she thought, Do I really want to die?

Sue and Tommy didn’t think anything could get worse than Mrs. White waterboarding her own child, but then she raised a wicked-looking switch when Carrie lurched out of the chair she had been punished in. She coughed violently and slipped in the water coating the kitchen floor, falling to her hands and knees, but jolted forward as the switch swung down at her. It just barely missed her left leg.

“I’ll thrash the devil out of you!!” Mrs. White screeched.

Carrie catapulted herself over the dining room table to get away from her and her switch. Sue and Tommy watched as she clambered over the top, scattering porcelain plates and cups, before tipping over in a very ungraceful landing. After hitting the ground, she scrambled up again to flee, but her mother was already upon her.

“Ma--!!”

Before she could get the word completely out, the switch connected with her back with a horrible CRACK.

Carrie doesn’t scream, but she does whine sharply at the burning sensation that had to be blazing through her shoulder blades, even with her shirt on. She scampered around like a mouse below Mrs. White, as she had easily been sent to her knees by the blow. She’s fidgeting and fumbling, trying to speak up without sounding pained, as that would make her seem even weaker.

“Mama, please, I--”

Another lash streaked across her lower back and Carrie gritted her teeth through the pain. Her fingernails claw and catch into the floorboards, but she would have much preferred splinters uprooting her nails than this beating.

“Worthless girl! When will you learn to obey me?!” Mrs. White roared overhead before cracking the switch against her daughter’s waist.

Carrie’s arms gave in and she toppled over onto her side. She squirmed helplessly, pushing her heels against the ground in an attempt to get away, mouth agape as she watched Mrs. White raised her arm yet again.

“Mama--”

This time, Carrie does scream.

She does scream because the switch lashed right across her belly. Her head threw itself backwards, knocking her skull against the floorboards, but it’s not enough to lessen the searing sensation burning itself through her midsection. For a moment, she can only choke and cry out, but then the incomprehensible wail turns into words.

“MOMMY, STOP IT!! PLEASE, MOMMY, STOP!!!”

But Mrs. White doesn’t stop. She just kept on lashing her daughter until blood is soaking through green overalls and Carrie is a shuddering, whimpering ball at her feet. Even then, she does not stop.

Not until a voice cried out.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!!” Tommy barreled out into the den, absolutely fuming and seeing red. It surprised Sue, who had been recording the abuse on her phone in shocked silence. She followed after him quickly.

“Don’t you hurt a single hair on her head.” Tommy warned. His fingers were clenched and shaking, teeth bared, eyes alight with rage.

“Tommy,” Carrie coughed out weakly.

Tommy looked down at Carrie and his eyes softened instantly. He looked anguished about how he wasn’t able to go to her, not with Mrs. White poising the switch over her back.

“I’m here, Caz,” He murmured. “I’m here.”

Carrie made a feeble whimpering sound. She tried to look up at him, blinking through tears and water and sweat and blood, but she was exhausted from the beating and her head flopped uselessly to the ground. She panted heavily, trying to curl away from her mother.

“I thought I threw you both out.” Mrs. White said.

“We would never leave Carrie.” Tommy said. “Not so devilish now, huh?”

Mrs. White snorted. “You think this proves anything? I know what you people are like.”

“I got what you did on video,” Sue said, holding up her phone. “Just so you know.”

Mrs. White laughed an awful laugh. “Oh, you empty-headed whore,” She cackled. “You think evidence is going to change anything? Everyone in the neighborhood, new and old, have heard Carrie’s cries for years and they have never done anything. Not even when police are called. Nothing is ever done, and you want to know why?” She smirked wickedly. “It’s because nobody cares.”

Sue felt a sinking feeling of dread. Would really nothing be done to save Carrie even with video evidence?

“I care.” Tommy said. “Sue cares. So does Miss Gardener.”

------

“I do,” Lynn murmurs, gently touching one of Carrie’s hands. Tommy and Sue both give her tight smiles, then Sue continues telling the story.

------

Mrs. White rolled her eyes. “No you don’t! You’re lying!” She nudged Carrie with her foot and Carrie moaned weakly in response. Her daughter rolled over slightly, blood squelching beneath her, and gave her her full attention, even after being beaten to a bloody pulp. “I’m the only one who cares about you. No one will ever love you except me. You’ll always be a monster to everyone else.”

Sue shivered. It sounded like some kind of chant or curse, like something Mrs. White had repeated this to Carrie several times before.

Carrie whimpered. She craned her neck slowly, wincing in pain, and looked at Sue and Tommy desperately. Mrs. White nudged her again, prodding her foot against one of the cuts along her lower back and making her look back at her.

“She’s not a monster.” Sue spoke up, glaring at Mrs. White.

Mrs. White barked a laugh. She looked down at Carrie quivering beneath her. “Is that what you’ve made them think? That you’re just some shy, innocent little mouse?” She laughed again and turned her blistering gaze back to Tommy and Sue. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourselves into, children.”

What did she do? Sue thought. What has Carrie done to make her own mother call her a monster?

And will she do the same thing to us?

“Don’t you DARE talk about Carrie like that!” Tommy growled. “You have no right!”

“I have every right,” Mrs. White said airily. “I am her mother.” She spread her arms in a grand gesture. Droplets of sparkling red blood twinkle on the edges of the switch she was still holding. “And I am just trying to cleanse the little devil he put inside of me.”

A tense silence descended upon the den, only broken by Carrie’s soft gasps and sniffles.

“Who?” Sue asked quietly, reluctantly.

Mrs. White began to pace around the room, swinging the switch at her side and sending blood flying through the air in glittering crimson arcs. “I didn’t want him to put it in me. I tried to fight him.” She said.

“Mama, please don’t,” Carrie begged weakly. She covered her ears and curled up tighter.

“But he didn’t listen.” Mrs. White hissed, ignoring her daughter’s pleas. “He made me enjoy it. Satan gave him sin and, in return, he put a devil child inside of me.”

Oh. Sue realized with a jolt. She was raped.

Mrs. White shook her head. “I don’t hate Carrie. Far from it. If I did, she would be long dead.” She looked down at her daughter with a strange look in her eyes. “I just...have to cleanse her. Remove all her sin.” She tilted her head like Carrie was a new plastic body to decorate the crucifixes with. “And then--she will be--perfect.”

There was something very, very wrong with Margaret White. And Sue didn’t feel safe being around her any longer.

How could Carrie live with such a mother?

Mrs. White looked up at Tommy and Sue, scrutinizing them. “Does that make sense?”

Sue nodded a tiny bit and Mrs. White gave her an appraising look. Tommy, however, only fumed even more.

“What the fuck?” He seethed. “No! Not only no, but HELL NO!” He glared at Mrs. White. “You are fucking psychotic! You can’t treat people like that! Why did I want you to like me? You’re insane!”

Mrs. White glared right back at him. “I should have known you wouldn’t understand. Men.” She nudged Carrie, who tentatively removed her hands from her ears. “Why don’t I show you why purification is necessary? Carrie, my darling little creature, show them.”

Carrie doesn’t move. Mrs. White exasperatedly rolled her eyes and grabbed her by the top of the head, throwing her to Sue and Tommy’s feet. Carrie landed with a heavy thud and a soft grunt. She looked up at the pair with guilty black-brown eyes so eerily like her mother’s. Sue shivered, finding it difficult to look at her anymore.

“Go on.” Mrs. White waved a hand.

“No, Mama,” Carrie whispered. She tried to make herself as small as possible.

“Why not?” Mrs. White smirked. “Is it because you know they’ll hate you for it?”

Carrie whimpered. Fresh tears stream down her cheeks. She began to rock herself back and forth on her knees.

“Look at that,” Mrs. White mused. “She doesn’t trust either of you at all. How sad. Some great friends you are if she can’t tell secrets to you.”

Sue felt a smudge of betrayal streak through her. What was so important that Carrie couldn’t tell her and Tommy about? Did the best friend's oath she once made them take mean nothing? She looked to Tommy to see his reaction, but there wasn’t a hint of hurt on his face. He squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes at Mrs. White.

“It’s her business,” He said. “She can tell us when she’s ready. I wouldn’t admit anything while being pressured, either.”

I should have reacted like that, Sue thought with a twist of guilt. Not immediately assume Carrie is a bad person. She looked at Mrs. White. She’s...so cunning. And convincing. It’s scary.

“Tommy,” Carrie gasped from below. She gripped tightly to one of his pant legs. “Tommy, it hurts.”

Tommy dropped to his knees in front of Carrie and bundled her protectively in his arms. Blood smeared against his clothes, but he doesn’t seem to care much. Mrs. White watched with a murderous look in her eyes.

“Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.” Tommy whispered to her soothingly.

“And just WHERE do you think you’re putting your hands?” She spat.

Tommy glared right back up at her. “I’m protecting her from you.” He said.

“Foolish boy,” Mrs. White shook her head. “You don’t know what she could do to you.”

“Carrie would never hurt me.” Tommy said.

Mrs. White laughed. “That’s what you think! But she could! She easily could!”

“Mama,” Carrie wheedled.

“Release my daughter.” Mrs. White said. “This instant.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes at her and said, “No.”

Mrs. White’s face twisted in fury. She gripped the switch in her hands tightly and, for a moment, Sue worried she was going to strike Tommy with it.

But she didn’t.

She didn’t move.

“Mama, please stop.” Carrie begged. She had her head twisted around to stare at her mother. Most of her wounds have stopped bleeding by now; dried blood clashed horribly with her green overalls.

“You devil,” Mrs. White hissed lowly.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Mama.” Carrie whispered. Her body had gone worryingly cold in Tommy’s arms. Her voice was the sound of dead leaves rustling against pavement. “Please don’t make me hurt you…”

Mrs. White was stiff in her spot, arm half raised. The muscles were contracted tightly beneath her skin. Why wasn’t she moving? Was she scared of Carrie? And if so...why? Carrie was anything but threatening.

The next words Carrie spoke made her mother go deathly pale.

“I’ll bring the stones again.”

Mrs. White staggered backwards, eyes wide. “You wouldn’t.” She whispered.

Thunder rumbled deeply, then cracked across the darkening sky outside like a warning. Lightning flickered in through the tightly-drawn drapes, illuminating Carrie’s eyes like ebony flames, and Sue realized they weren’t as black as she thought. There were hues of amber and red-brown, and they glowed intensely in her skull. Her gaze was hard and cold.

“I will, Mama.” Carrie said. Her voice was drained and dry; she sounded so tired. “If you touch them-- If you dare--” She was shaking like a newborn baby goat in Tommy’s arms. She looked up at her mother with the same diseased light that had been in her mother’s eyes. “I will bring the fire down on you.”

Mrs. White dropped to her knees, falling like a bird with broken wings. She clasped her hands together and began to pray loudly, although her words were wavering and slurring together. She rocked back and forth, shaking her head like she was trying to ward off sinful thoughts from worming their way into her brain.

Carrie sucked in a sharp breath, her body shuddering in an awful, bone-shattering way. Her head flopped limply onto one of Tommy’s shoulders, panting heavily. Sweat was soaking her brow and a feverish expression contorted her face.

“Tommy,” She gasped weakly.

“Grab her.” Sue ordered. “Grab her, Tommy! Let’s go!”

Tommy scooped Carrie up into his arms and ran for the door, Sue tailing right behind him.

Mrs. White did not stop them.

------

“And then we got in the car and drove here.” Sue concludes with a frown.

An uncomfortable silence descends upon the house, only broken by the pattering of rain on the window and low rumbles of thunder. Tommy shifts closer to the couch, casting Carrie yet another worried glance. His gaze practically screamed, Wake up. Please wake up.

“That can’t--that can’t be true,” Lynn whispers. Her breath is caught in her throat in horror. There was just no way. No parent could possibly be that cruel to their own child. She didn’t want to believe it.

“It is.” Sue says sadly. She slips her phone out of her pocket and hands it to Lynn. Estelle leans over her shoulder to see. A video is displayed on the screen. With a quaking finger, Lynn presses the play button.

And it all fell away.

Hope that the story wasn’t true, hope that Margaret wasn’t as bad as Sue and Tommy made her out to be, hope that Carrie wasn’t getting brutally abused this whole time, right under her nose, and she never did anything to help her.

Because on the screen, clear as day, is Margaret White lashing her young daughter with a whip-thin switch, splattering blood everywhere. And the agonized yowls of Carrie will echo in her ears, haunt her nightmares, for years to come, always reminding her that it was very, very real.

Lynn’s vision blurs and she realizes she is tearing up. She blinks and claws away the tears hopefully before anyone would notice, trying her best to be strong, trying to not let her facade fall and reveal that she was actually horrified. Horrified and sickened and shocked and livid. She would not let her mask fall, and not just because she was supposed to be a tough-as-nails gym coach that would make numerous students vomit during Suicides and never flinch when bones broke savagely during games. But because she has to be strong for Carrie’s sake.

And then she looks up and sees blank onyx eyes peering at her blankly and tears cloud her vision all over again.

“Carrie!”

Tommy is the first one to react, lunging to his friend’s side in an instant, nearly falling face-first into the rug in the process. He clasps one of her hands with both of his.

“Carrie,” He says again, this time quieter. “How are you feeling?”

“Everything hurts,” Carrie replies in a soft, hoarse voice. She sighs. “But what else is new?”

She...doesn’t sound very surprised, Lynn realizes with an awful twist in her stomach. Like this has happened before.

Like she’s gotten used to it. Waking up in pain.

Carrie lifts her head slightly, wincing, and looks around the room. “Where am I? Why is Miss Gardener here?”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Lynn smiles at her warmly.

“We brought you here.” Sue says.

“Oh.” Carrie’s dark eyes dart around again, searching, and then fall on Estelle. Her brow pinches together. “I know you.” She whispers.

Estelle moves closer. “Hello, Carrie. It’s been a long time.”

“You were my neighbor,” Carrie says. “I asked you what breasts were. Estelle.”

Despite the situation, light laughter ripples through the room. It almost, almost eases the weight pressing on Lynn’s heart.

“Yes, that’s me,” Estelle chuckles. “It’s good to see you again, Carrie.”

“You called Mama a cow,” Carrie muses, slightly dazed. Sue gets up to grab the painkillers Lynn left on the kitchen counter.

Lynn gives Estelle a look that says, “You what?” Estelle returns with a crooked smile.

“Where is she?” Carrie asks. She’s looking around more fervently now and trying to get up. “Where’s my Mama?”

Lynn feels that awful twist in her heart again. Even after what Margaret did to her, Carrie is still so attached to her mother. But after living with such a treatment all her life, she must have gotten used to it. Maybe she even learns to overlook it.

“She’s at your house, Caz.” Tommy says, brushing back a loose fringe of hair from Carrie’s face.

“Is she alive?” Carrie asks. Then, more softly, “Did I hurt her?”

The beat of silence and exchange of worried glances is just a bit too long; Carrie begins to whimper and cry. Tommy soothes her quickly, brushing her tears away with gentle hands.

“She’s okay, Caz. She’s alive, I promise.” He assures her. “Shh… It’s okay.”

Carrie looks up at him and calms slightly. Lynn is impressed- out of everyone in the room, she would have thought Tommy would be the least comforting, but here he was, treating Carrie so tenderly. Perhaps the most awkward one with comfort, at least with Carrie, would be Sue, who was standing listlessly with the bottle of Ibuprofen gripped tightly in her hands. Lynn takes it from her and she and Tommy are able to convince Carrie to swallow two of the pills.

“They’ll make you feel better,” Tommy tells her, stroking her hair.

“Do you ever take medicine?” Sue asks curiously.

Carrie shrugs. “Sometimes. Not always. Mama didn’t--believe--in that kind of stuff.”

With weak arms, she pushes herself up into a sitting position, despite the several arguments for her to stay laying down. She sucks in a sharp breath, the cuts along her belly straining and stinging in the open air, and she stubbornly tugs her shirt back down to shield the expanse of scarred flesh. Lynn makes a clucking noise of disapproval.

“You shouldn’t have your clothes covering them,” She says. “They could get infected.”

Carrie gives her a wry smile, “I haven’t got any awful infections yet, have I?”

Lynn’s heart wrenched once again, like a claw was dug inside her chest and turning it to mush. Carrie looks so used to this, so used to getting up and shaking off wounds from abuse, and she hates it. She wants to take her away from that kind of lifestyle so badly.

For a long few minutes, the house is silent. Carrie is looking down, her eyes clouded and haunted; Sue is over near the window, hands gripping the sill firmly, peering out at the storm with a deeply troubled expression, like she was considering leaping out into the tempest so the rain could wash away the chill rattling through her body; Tommy has climbed up onto the couch beside Carrie and kept squeezing her hand like he was trying to remind himself that she was still there with him and still alive; Estelle’s arms are crossed over her chest and she’s considering Carrie in thoughtful silence, most likely straining her memories back to the days when she was the White’s neighbor; Lynn is currently getting her heart turned into pulp, emotions tumbling over themselves in the whirlwind that was her mind- anger, guilt, shock, fear, maternal instincts, anger again, then guilt...it was all mixing together.

Everyone was lost in their individual thoughts, listlessly wandering the winding corridors of their own minds.

The one who speaks first is Sue.

“Carrie,” She says slowly, turning away from the window, “why do you love your mother?”

“Sue!” Tommy hisses, then whips his head around to see Carrie’s reaction.

For just a moment, there is a flash of anger, and Lynn so badly wants to see it come out. She wants to see Carrie get mad at her mother for the treatment she got. But it is chased off by deep sadness and confusion, like Carrie herself didn’t know why she was so attached to such a wicked woman.

“How much do you know about her?” Carrie asks instead of answering. She looks around, including everyone in the question. “Aside from her being an extremist, how much do you know?”

Looks were exchanged as minds were dug through for any information on Margaret White that weren’t rumors. Carrie waits patiently, a tiny, sad smile ghosting her lips.

“You once said,” Estelle starts slowly, “that she was ‘bad when she made you.’”

Carrie nods, her smile twitching up a little more. “My Mama,” She says, “is a delusional, accursed witch.”

Stunned silence. Carrie tilts her head at them, as if to say, “What? I thought you were waiting for me to say something mean about her?” She shakes herself out, like she was getting rid of evil spirits clinging to her, then went on, “She hates everything about the world. Men, most girls, people who follow different religions, even churches. She doesn’t trust them, so we hold our own ceremonies at the house. She’s the preacher, I’m the congregation…” She splays open her hands and looks at them as if they had nails lanced through the palms. “She hates my father the most, I think. Even though I believe she does love him still, despite what happened. And that makes her hate him even more.” She closes her fists and looks up with dark eyes. “She hates me, too. She says she doesn’t but I know. I’ve seen the way she looks at me. I remind her of him.”

“Have you seen him before?” Sue asks softly. “Your dad?”

“Only once,” Carrie answers. “In a picture. I look like him.”

There’s a beat of silence. Carrie runs a hand thoughtfully over her bottom jaw, looking horrifyingly calm while speaking of her home life. But there was fear in her eyes. Lynn could see it flickering in her hugely dilated red-brown-black pupils, very much there, but being stamped down. It was honestly quite startling to see her young student, who would flinch when someone simply raised their hand to ask a question, who always tried to make herself seem smaller when teams were picked for games, who had to use sign language to speak to people because she was too anxious to even verbally talk, be so reserved and nonchalant.

That was another thing- Carrie speaking so many words. Lynn doesn’t think she’s ever heard her talk so much before. She’s wanted to hear her talk, yes, but not like this.

“If a prayer was said just a little wrong,” Carrie begins again, “if a cross was bumped and became crooked, it all fell apart for her.” She leans back, staring out the window. What is that look in her eyes? Disdain, fear, anxiety, relief about finally telling about this? “And she took it out on me over...”

“…and over…”

Carrie’s eyes became vacant, darkening until they looked completely black, lost in the abuse that gripped her so tightly. The calm demeanor only then breaks and is replaced by intense terror and anxiety. At her side, Tommy is too stunned to react, so Lynn lunges forward, grabbing the girl by the shoulders. As soon as contact is made, Carrie begins to thrash and cries out, “…AND OVER!”

Lynn’s grip on Carrie’s shoulders does not break, even when the girl swats fearfully at her arms in a panic. She could only stare as she seized out of control. It was like watching an exorcism happen right in front of her.

“Carrie, stop!” Tommy pleads.

With a start, Carrie stops breathing and tightens every muscle in her body. Prolonged contact with someone who wouldn’t hurt her is starting to have an effect. Her eyes close and her spasms slow. Silence fell around the group.

Then, Carrie expels her breath and sucks in another. She grasps Lynn’s hands and gently pries them away from her shoulders; her touch is like ice.

Sue beseeches her, “What happened to you?”

And on the inside, Lynn thinks, “Is this the girl I want to take in?”

Carrie didn’t look at anyone. Shame carves deep grooves in her face.

“Mama says I’m different,” Carrie smolders. “That I was born from my father’s sin and that’s why--I’m the way I am. And she believes that she has to purify me and remove the devil from inside of me.”

After a second, Carrie turns her head back ever so slightly and peers at the group around her out of the corner of her vision. There was pain in that bloody ebony eye.

Her next three words were tight with humiliation.

“She broke me.”

The pit in Lynn’s stomach dropped until it was a chasm. She can’t speak. Nobody could speak. Carrie looks away again, hiding her disgrace from sight.

“My Mama damaged me in a way that cannot ever be repaired. No matter how many decades pass, I will always be just as broken as I am now. I can’t become whole again.” Her voice cracked as she mourned. “She passed her sickness onto me.”

Tommy reaches over, slowly bridging the gap between him and his dear little sister figure, but Carrie shrinks away from the hand, shaking her head and whimpering, “It’s like a curse that spreads from people to people.”

Tommy swiftly retracts his hand, and the speed at which he does so causes guilt to bloom all over his face. Carrie looks up at him with an understanding frown.

“I will never let anyone share in my sickness. I can’t.” She shakes her head miserably. “I have to--stay away--from people. To protect them. That’s what Mama says.” She clenches her fingers into claws and anger, pain, longing, shame all flash in her eyes.

“But Carrie, how could you pass that sickness onto other people? Onto us?” Tommy asks. “You wouldn’t hurt us!”

Suddenly, a guilt-ridden sob tears out of Carrie’s throat and she doubles over, face buried in her hands.

Quivering, Tommy whispers, “You wouldn’t hurt me, right?”

Carrie wails.

Everything is falling to pieces, to ashes. Lynn is frozen, unable to think straight. At her side, Estelle is frowning--like she’s seen this before.

“You don’t want to hurt us.” Estelle says. “You don’t want to hurt anyone at all.”

Carrie sniffles and looks up from her hands. She looks absolutely miserable.

“Would it matter if I did?” She shakes her head and looks at her hands with so much hatred. “I’m a monster. Just like Mama always says.” She covers her face again and sobs.

Lynn can see it now: Carrie wasn’t just shy and anxious and socially awkward, she was fragile, too--too fragile for the awful things she’s been through.

“Oh, Carrie,” Tommy murmurs. Despite what had been said, he pulls Carrie securely into his arms and she lets him, curling into his warmth. “Carrie. Carrie, I love you anyway. I don’t care.”

And Carrie cries.

She cries and cries and cries for a long time. She cries until she’s reduced to weak sniffles and hiccups and can barely lift her head from Tommy’s chest. She looks absolutely exhausted by the end of it, completely drained. She is feeling the full effect of her wounds, now, and whimpers softly.

“I have a spare bedroom,” Lynn says. “She can sleep there. She’s tired.” She frowns at Carrie’s pale face.

Tommy nods silently and carefully picks Carrie up. Lynn leads him to the guest bedroom and he sets Carrie down beneath the blankets. Her eyelids are fluttering as sleep--or maybe unconsciousness--begins to take hold of her. Tommy kisses her forehead.

“Sleep well, Caz,” He murmurs.

Silence descends upon the house once again. Lynn, Estelle, Tommy, and Sue all sit at the dining room table with mugs of peppermint tea Estelle had made. They didn’t look at each other for a long time.

“What are we gonna do?”

Everyone looks up. Like before, it was Sue who spoke first.

“About Carrie.” Sue states, but it wasn’t really necessary. They all knew who she was referring to.

“She can’t go back home,” Tommy says.

“But she also needs help.” Sue says. “I’m not-- I don’t know if it’s the best idea, but there’s a mental hospital in--”

“No.” Tommy growled. “Hell no.”

“Tommy, she needs help!” Sue says.

“She wouldn’t last a day in a place like that!” Tommy reprimands. “You know that. And mental hospitals aren’t exactly well known for actually helping people. Locking Carrie up with batshit insane people isn’t going to fix her, it’s just going to make her worse.”

“He’s right,” Estelle nods. “I have a cousin who was in a mental hospital for a few days. He said that both suicidal people and homicidal people were put together. So there would be someone who tries to kill themselves with any object they could get their hands on and then someone who loudly talks about wanting to kill everyone in the place in the same room. Not exactly very comforting.” She shakes her head. “What Carrie needs is a stable place to live with sane people who can take care of her. Does she have any relatives?”

“Doubt it.” Tommy sighs.

“She can stay here.”

All eyes turn to Lynn. Her jaw is set and she looks confident in what she said.

“Really?” Tommy’s eyes lit up slightly in hope.

“Yes, really,” Lynn says. “As Estelle said, she needs someone who will take care of her. I can. I /will/. And I want to.”

“That’s a really sweet thing for you to do, Lynnie,” Estelle coos.

“Ooooo, Lynnie?” Sue and Tommy tease simultaneously. For the first time in hours, they had real, wide smiles on their faces.

Lynn rolls her eyes. “Watch it, Snell. I’m still your coach. I can make you run until your legs give out.”

“But you’re not mine.” Tommy says, puffing out his chest.

“You doubt my ability to make kids run Suicides.” Lynn smirked at him.

For just a moment, things felt good again. And maybe they would continue to be good, because if Lynn had her way, Margaret White was never going to see her daughter ever again.

#carrie #carrie the musical #broadway kids carrie #carrie white #tommy ross #sue snell #rita desjardin #lynn gardener #estelle horan #margaret white #carrie fanfiction #carrie fanfic #my writing #tw: abuse #tw: waterboarding #fractal scarring

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