#I also know dumb things get more notes than my actual sweat tears and blood edits ever willl but I have long accepted I make those solely

[killuaisaprincess]

HOLDS IN PALM OF HANDS 🥺🤧😭🤲

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Investigations (Part 3): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

synopsis: when things are uncovered, can you handle the truth? Or are you doomed to make a mistake you can't rectify?

wc: 2.1k

tw: violence

masterlist

song recommendation:

Ran's past was a lie.

When you met him at the country club five years ago, your pasts had been explained in hushed tones and excited flurries of memories; sharing photos of the time before he was an executive of the communications company he worked in and the time before you were a journalist.

Ran said he had gone to jail twice, both for crimes he had been an accessory to as a delinquent kid, but that he'd cleaned up his act after and made his way up the corporate ladder. Nothing about gangs or being a Heavenly King in Tenjiku made it past his lips.

You had been honest, too. Your tales included the time you'd accidentally happened upon a massive gang fight, and that's how your investigative journalism skills began to bloom.

Who was fighting?

What were they going to do after?

Where did these gangs come from?

When did this argument start?

Why were they fighting?

How did gangs form in the first place?

Those were all the questions you sought out answers for that night and the next five years after, devoting your time and effort to finding the truth about everything.

"Babe?" You freeze, hands hovering over the keys at the sound of Ran's voice. You don't turn around - you can't even look at him the same these days - but he fixes that by walking over to you and turning you around in your chair. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Just doing some writing." His violet eyes search yours for the truth, but you know he won't be able to find it. Not while you're still trying to unravel his past. Ran kisses your eyelids sweetly, cupping your face in his large palms and littering his love across your face as you try your best to remain still and not confess about your research.

"Come to bed. It's late."

"I've got a few more paragraphs," you explain, motioning to the small print on your screen. "I'll be in bed soon."

But your lie is discovered shortly thereafter. It's five a.m. when Ran returns, seeing you slumped against your desk, arms cushioning your head, laptop screen blank. Instinctively, Ran pulls you out of your seat - making your notebook fall to the ground - grunting softly as he scoops you up into his arms and cradles you against his chest.

You willingly allow your husband to carry you to bed, where your two-year-old is also nestled among the sheets and pillows, thumb tucked into his mouth. And for a moment, Ran appreciates the view, seeing the two people he loved the most - besides his younger brother - laying in the bed he paid for, in the house he built, in the city he owns.

But then he remembers the slight disarray you left your things in at the desk and returns, picking up your pencil and notebook before laying them beside the laptop. Then his eyes catch "Ran's past?" written in bold, red letters, along with the words: "Tenjiku" and "Tandai" also written in the web of other words surrounding his name. "South Terano" is also on that web.

He'd have to take care of that in the morning.

And for the first time in a long time, worry bubbles to the surface of his mind, and Ran rips the sheet of paper from your notebook, tossing it into the kitchen trashcan and considering his deed done. He concealed his past to protect his family. And he's concealing the present to achieve the same goal; all for the future to be revealed later. That's how everything should be.

Right? _____________________________________________________________

"Ran," you whisper, lips running across his knuckles. His fingers cup your jaw, and his own lips press against your forehead, violet eyes darkening slightly. "It's six am. Where are you going this early?"

"I have to go into the office for a little while," he murmurs, kissing your forehead again. "I'll be back around lunchtime." Thoughts of Tandai and Tenjiku flash into your mind for a moment, but you smile at him sleepily anyway, absolutely sure these things are part of his past and not in the present.

"We'll be waiting for you, my love."

Despite all of your best intentions, though, you can't help but be consumed by the idea of Ran out, fighting, stealing, maiming... You consider asking him about these things, these concerns, but you decide against it as you're helping Kai with his lunch. If he wanted to leave it in the past, there's a good reason for it. He would have told you if it would be a problem later. Right?

Ran wouldn't jeopardize your family, your home, your life for something so... juvenile.

Right?

The clatter of keys on the counter in the living room brings you back to the present, and you perk up, your two-year-old mimicking your expression.

"Daddy!" Kai slides down from his seat and runs to greet Ran, clutching his father's legs with all his little might.

"Hey, buddy," Ran laughs, stooping to pick up his son with excitement. "How are you doing?" As son and father have a very stimulating conversation about playtime, you watch them in wonder, observing the way Ran makes his child a priority, just like he makes you a priority. But your countenance falls as soon as you see the blood spot on the bottom of Ran's lavender suit jacket. You know its blood because of the way it dried - that's no ketchup stain.

You fake a smile anyway, giving Ran a kiss on the cheek and tugging his jacket off after he sits Kai back on the tile floor.

"Hard day?"

"Kind of," Ran mumbles, and you catch the sight of a long scratch down the side of his neck. "But I made it through." You hum, taking the pin-striped jacket to the laundry room and slinging it over the side of the washer. You'd need that later.

"Need to relax?" you wonder, and Ran grins at you mischievously.

"Maybe later, after bedtime?"

_____________________________________________________________

But "later" never came.

Instead, Ran and Kai fell asleep on the sofa, watching a kid's movie, and you retreated to the office, powering up your laptop and pulling your notebook closer.

You immediately notice something's wrong, as the notes you had before were missing. Everything is gone. Not even a word of all the research you had done was there. Hadn't you written meticulous notes and names and things about Ran's past that could be interconnected? You break out in a sweat and search in every drawer of the desk, every place it could possibly be. You come up with nothing, and let out a frustrated sigh before slumping down in your seat and pulling up the computer history from yesterday. If you had to rewrite every single thing, that's fine. You'd just need more time to gather your evidence for the meeting on Saturday.

You're knee-deep in articles and police reports when you stumble across a more recent - actually as recent as this morning - article titled: "Ex-gangster found dead in meat factory". The picture of South Terano startles you, and you click on it, feeling a sense of dread as the article details how he was found hanging upside-down in the warehouse with a bullet hole in his head. And just like that, your newest lead has fizzled out. You groan, writing down "South Terano, deceased" on your notepad, then exiting the tab.

There had to be someone else you could ask. Shuji Hanma only provided you with Ran and Rindou's names, no one else.

"What's this?"

The door to the office shuts softly, and you look over your shoulder at Ran, who is walking toward you with measured steps, his eyes taking in your exhausted expression and the way you're hunched over that notepad. Again.

"What are you doing? You look tired, babe. Let's go to bed, yeah?"

Suddenly, pieces begin to click as Ran leans his hip against the desk, staring down at you in the chair with squinted violet eyes. "You threw away my notes... Didn't you?"

"What are you doing in my business, y/n?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you were in two gangs?" you counter, fingers shaking slightly. "Ran, this is something I needed to know before--"

"You wouldn't have married me if I told you." Ran's tone is cold, almost as if he's turned into the past version of himself without batting an eye.

"You don't know that." Ran leans forward, coming to eye level with you a smirking.

"I know you. And that's all I need." Ran reaches out a hand to close the laptop, still smiling and maintaining eye contact. "Now here's what you're going to do. First, you're going to stop digging into my past. There's nothing there that you need to find. Second, you're going to come to bed. It's late, you're tired. Finally," Ran cups your chin like he did this morning, except his fingers aren't so tender this time. "You're going to cut off contact with both Shuji Hanma and Taiju Shiba. I'm not really fond of either of them, and I'm not a fan of having them tell my business to my wife."

"They were only doing it because I asked."

"Taiju, maybe. Shuji isn't so eager to fuck you. I doubt he did it out of the kindness of his heart." You can't say anything to refute his claims. Ran is probably right. But you can't get one question out of your mind.

"Why are you trying to hide your past? What's there that I won't like?"

"What isn't there is the real question."

"What can you tell me about the gang that's just surfaced in Tokyo?" Ran's face slackens, transforming into a half-surprised, half-blank look that you realize is one that means he's been caught. "Oh, my fucking god," you breathe, tears stinging your eyes. "South, the fish, the murders, the crime... It's you. It's been you this whole time. I've been chasing my own husband down." Panic begins to set in, and your mind whirls around as you shake in your seat, bringing your hands up to your head. "Just tell me Rindou isn't in this," you breathe, but Ran doesn't answer you, still wearing that dumb look on his face. You let out a cry of shock, covering your mouth and trying to back away from Ran as much as you can.

The source is a lot closer than you think.

You slide down the wall, shocked into stillness as your sobs quiet, and Ran straightens up, placing his hands in his sweatpant pockets. The long nights, the early mornings, the bloodstains, the damn suits... It all led to this. Ran had never really left his old lifestyle behind. He'd gotten caught up in it, and brought you and Kai into it unknowingly.

"I never meant for it to get this... unhinged." You can't reply, tucking your knees into your chest as you stare past Ran and at the opposite wall, wondering how you'd missed the signs, the obvious signs that Ran was up to no good. "I know this is a lot to take in, but we can--"

"I can't stay here."

The words fall from your mouth and Ran flinches, shaking his head.

"No. You can't leave."

"Yes, I can," you mumble, standing and wiping your tears. "I can do whatever I need to do to keep Kai safe, and--"

"Kai is safer here than out there," Ran snaps, pointing at the window. "I'm not letting my son out of my sight. Your snooping has caused enough trouble as it is; I wouldn't have had to go and clean up this morning if you hadn't--"

"Don't blame this on me," you retort, pointing at Ran accusatorially. "You're the one who joined a gang and is still in one! What kind of role model are you for our son now?"

"I provide the best way I can," Ran grits out, clenching his fists. "You've never gone hungry, cold, or ill-clothed a day in your life while you were with me."

"I would rather die than enjoy a life paid for with blood money."

"Blood money? You really think--" You try to push past Ran, but he grabs your shoulders, yanking you back in front of him. "You're not going anywhere except to our bed."

"Let me go, Ran Haitani," you mutter, hands balling up into little fists. "Or I'll scream."

"Who will hear you? Kai?"

How had you been so foolish? Ran's lips press together momentarily as his violet eyes run over your figure, taking stock of all your five-foot-six stature. You're no match for Ran. Not mentally, and certainly not physically. Ran notices your defeat and his hands slide down to your wrists, tugging your delicate hands up to his chest.

"Everything will be fine," he whispers, drawing you close. "I'm taking care of us. Just trust me."

Just trust me.

[xtinyaurora]

Can you write punishment sex with dom yandere/possessive/psycho female or gn reader please it would make me super happy because there's not really any dark smut with dom reader for atz or in general but if you can't that's okay.

Ateez reaction: Punishment sex with Yandere!Y/N

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➼ requested?: yes

➼ genre: yandere, smut

➼ pairing: sub!Ateez x Dom!neutral!reader (Mingis reaction includes the reader ridding him, but I didn’t mention a gender / it’s just a random hole, you can choose which one, lol.)

➼ Word-count: 1,4k+

➼ Warnings: nsfw content, strong language, cursing, spanking, spitting, slapping, punching, breaking bones, fingering, toys, hair pulling, violence, humiliating/ degradation, pet names, blood, yelling/ screaming, cuffing, bondage, yandere themes, kinda psychopathic, dark themes, mature themes, jealousy (?), and a lot more 💀

➼ Note: This is not based on their real behavior or meant to represent real life. This is simply a fan fiction. In no way am I condoning, justifying, encouraging or promoting yandere behavior or lifestyle. Read at your own risk!

➼ A/N note: Thank you so much for requesting this. Also, I’d love to get some feedback for this one!

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Park Seonghwa

You slowly traced the whip over his naked body, laughing at his frightened state. His hands were tied above his head, bound to the ceiling. The blindfold on his eyes made it even harder for him to figure out your next movements. Another harsh slap on his upper body was made, making the boy cry out in pain. „What? Can’t take it, anymore? Well, that’s what you get for yelling at me, dumb bitch!“ you shouted at the now crying boy. He begged for mercy, making your lips curl up again. You got closer to him, grabbing his ass and squeezing it hardly. A quiet moan escaped his mouth, but got replaced by a much louder one, after you entered two fingers into his butthole. You felt how he sneezed his red ass on your fingers, now whining. „Psssh, I don’t wanna hear you, is that understood, Hwa?” The boy quickly nodded his head, you giving him a light kiss on his shoulder. „Good boy. Let’s start playing then.”

Kim Hongjoong

„Agh!“ did boy growl out loudly, after you hit him with the metal chain, again. „Shut up, I said I don’t want to hear any noises, didn’t I?” you screamed at him, receiving a cried out „Yes! S-sorry.” You then grabbed his neck screaming so hard that your spit flew into his face. „You better be fucking sorry, slut! And you better don’t make the same mistake twice, touching yourself and watching strangers fuck, is that understood?!” He started to cry harder, scared of how far you’d go. „Yes! I won’t do it again, I am sorry! I just couldn’t hold back, I don’t know what came over me, I am just a dumb pet.” You let out a chuckle, making the cuffed and kneeling male look up to you. He watched you with his teary eyes, you slowly getting nearer to his face, letting go of his neck. You started to kiss him, then you sucked his neck, leaving hikeys on the pretty boy. Soft moans left his mouth. „This feels so good.” He then received a hard slap on his cheek. „You’re not supposed to enjoy this, Hongjoong. This is your punishment, so shut up or I will be even rougher with you.”

Jeong Yunho

„Does this feel good?” you asked the puppy like boy, squeezing his giant dick while moving the vibrator in and out his hole. „Hell yea!” Did he moan out loudly, making you smirk. „Oh yea? Do you know what will feel even better you slutty bitch?” did you ask, stopping your movements. He looked at you, a fucked out expression sitting on his face, sweat flowing down. He watched you as you went to the table, opening the box which was placed on it. You opened it, looking at all the knives which were laying in there. You picked out a karambit, holding it up, admiring it. You stopped when the boy that was tied on the chair started talking. „Oh god, please don’t.” You smirked again, raising one of your eyebrows. „Oh babyboy, did you really think I will pleasure you for misbehaving, not following the rules like I taught you to? Oh, how sweet you are, my giant puppy. Let me make your beautiful body even prettier, yea?”

Kang Yeosang

Blood was dripping from his body, hands tied behind his back, head on the ground, kneeling at the same time. He breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath. „You like that, dumb bitch? Like getting fucked by toys, huh? Oh, baby, I will make sure that this hole gets ripped apart, don’t worry about that. Now let’s see if you ever dare to kiss someone else’s that is not me, stupid thing.” You pulled at his leash that was tied around his neck. „If I talk to you, then you look me in the eyes!” you screamed at him. You then spitted right into his face. Yeosang twisted his face then, making you mad. „What? Are you disgusted by me you ungrateful bitch?!” you screamed again. Another spit was followed. You then took of all of your cloth off and laid down in front of him. He looked at you confused, you giving him an angry expression in return. „Get to work you idiot.”

Choi San

San screamed extremely loud, not being able to take the overstimulation he was now receiving. His sensitiv red nipples hurted from the clippers you puttet on, but damn this boy loved the pain. You see, San generally loves pain, that’s why he loves to misbehave from time to time, so he can get a good, painful punishment. You grabbed his balls digging your nails in them, another scream leaving his mouth. You pulled the toy out of him, starting to stoke him slowly, making him moan. „You like that?” „Yes! Please, keep going.” You got on your knees, sucking him slowly. A lot of whines started to leave his mouth. In the middle of nowhere, you bit into his dick. It was so hard, that it started bleeding. „Ouch!” „What, can’t take it Sanie? Isn’t this what you wanted? Be grateful for whatever I give you.” The boy hysterical nodded, apologizing and waiting for your next move.

Song Mingi

His hands and legs were tied to the bed posts, a mouth gag in his moth. You were currently riding his cock, him crying from being overstimulated, not being able to move or speak. You slapped him. Then punched him with your fist a few times. You focused on putting as much as force in your punch as possible and you kinda succeeded. Not only did his nose started to bleed, but you heard how his bone cracked. A satisfied grin started to form on your face. Mingi started to cry harder, about to reach his fifth high of this night. You started to bounce harder, being close yourself. „Wanna come, Mingi-ah? You little bitch, do you deserve to come another time, huh? I am the only one who makes you feel this good and I am the only one who’s allowed to make you feel this way, is this understood?! If I see you near someone that is not me again, than trust me I won’t only hurt them, but you in a way that no one wants to experience, okay? Get that trough your dumb head, big boy and don’t dare to disappoint me again.”

Jung Wooyoung

„Fuck, yes!” screamed your handsome but bratty boyfriend. You was laying in the ground, you stepping on his dick. Wooyoung is another one that loves pain and another one that wanted to get punished. „You dirty little bitch, who told you to enjoy this, huh?” He provocatively smirked at you, actually making you mad. Oh, you will whipe that smirk out of his face! You stepped harder on him, his face changing within a second. „Not so funny anymore, huh? How about we go a level higher. Should I put a nail through your dick or should I just chop it off your dirty body, huh?” The boy started smirking again, his next sentence making you go wild. „You can suck me off instead.” You immediately grabbed his neck, squeezing it as hard as you could. „Okay you little brat, that’s enough! Who do you think you are talking to, huh? Don’t you dare to disrespect me like that EVER again. I am the one who’s above you, so keep that dirty tongue in that shitty mouth of yours or I am going cut it off instead.“

Choi Jongho

„Agh, eighty seven! Eighty eight. Eighty nine.” and so on. Jongho was currently on all fours, while you were whipping his ass with a long wooden stick. He started to cry even harder, so lowered is head but got pulled up by you again, since you had putted a leash on his neck. „Ouch, fuck! Please give me a second.” begged the boy, but you had no mercy. „What? I don’t think that I heard a number. Guess we have to start all over again.” He was startled by your words, turning around quickly. The tears that were formed in his eyes started to fall. „P-please don’t. I didn’t mean to.” You scoffed, harshly grabbing his hair. „Oh yea? And you really think I care about that? You only had one job, Jongho. It’s not my fault that you’re too dumb to do it. I’ve warned you before. I’ve warned you not to break the rules or there will be consequences, but you didn’t listen. You choose this yourself, so shut up and start counting from zero again.”

[meltwonu]

| caffeine |     [chapter 6]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; hair pulling, squirting, forced orgasm, overstimulation, degradation/dumbification, name calling, cockwarming????, face fucking, cum eating, sir kink, minor daddy kink, BUT SOME MINOR AFTERCARE BAYBEEEEEE🤣💕😭 kdjfhks this is more smut than it is plot which is rly the concept of this series but i really did get lost in the sauce on this one, so enjoy!💕💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - x - x - x - x

“H--Hello?”

“Are you fucking Wonwoo?” Your sleepy eyes try to adjust to the morning sunlight seeping through your bedroom curtains as Mingyu’s eerily calm voice filters through the receiver. “Hello? Can you hear me? I asked you a question??” You can almost register the eye roll that’s surely on his face right about now.

“Wh--what? Wait, I--”

“I’m just asking if you’re fucking Wonwoo, it’s really a yes or no question.” How the fuck did he even know?

“I--I, how--but--” There’s a scoff on the other end as you sit up, checking the clock as it reads 8:51AM. Why was Mingyu even awake?

“I literally live with the guy and for the record, Seokmin’s a fuckin’ chatterbox. You don’t think his big ass mouth wasn’t spillin’ the beans last night? He practically threw himself at me last night after you left to tell me about your little rendezvous in the hallway restroom. Which I had to disinfect, by the way.” Fuckin’ Seokmin. It’s quiet on the other end as you sit and try to wake yourself up a little more before you reply.

“Well?”

“Mingyu, give me a fuckin’ second.” He laughs, a groan heard through the phone before you hear his bedsheets rustling. “Also for the record, I’m not mad or anything. We’re friends and I just want to know what’s going on with you. Wonwoo’s an interesting choice for someone like you though.” Someone like you?

“What does that even mean, Mingyu?”

“Oh, y’know, Wonwoo’s one of the quieter ones around here. He acts like a dad sometimes and keeps everyone in order. I dunno, that never seemed like your type to me. Unless that is your type? But hey, I’m not mad at it. Are you two dating or somethin’?” Haha.

“No.”

Something about your conversation with Mingyu makes you feel a little weird and you can’t shake the feelings even when you step past the doorframe of the campus library. Wonwoo catches your eye at the receptionist table, silently willing you to walk over to him when his eyes meet yours.

“Hi, Wonwoo.” You take in his features, watching as his jaw clenches slightly. He peers around the room, making sure everyone is out of earshot before he whispers over the table.

“Meet me in the empty study room at the end of the long hall. The very last room. 10 minutes.” There’s a blush on your cheeks as you turn away from him, weaving through the various bookshelves as if you were browsing. Something about his demeanor seemed off but you didn’t know what. Maybe he was upset that Seokmin had basically told everyone his business? Regardless, you knew the study room that was at the end of the hall was completely abandoned. The few times he had cornered you were in other study rooms that hadn’t been that far into the library, so you were curious and a little nervous as to why he’d ask you to meet him there in particular.

But you listen, watching other various students pass by as you slowly make your way through the aisles until you’re near the designated room where Wonwoo had asked you to go to; stopping periodically to sift through the books on the shelves, uninterestedly grabbing a few to make it look like you had an actual purpose to be there other than seeing the fox eyed male. Eventually, it draws closer to the 10 minute mark so you look in both directions before you put your hand on the doorknob and twist.

The light flickers on once you enter the said room, setting your things down onto the table that’s seemingly been cleaned prior to you showing up. Wonwoo is still nowhere in sight so you take a seat, getting comfortable as you pop open one of the books you picked off the shelf.

A couple minutes pass in silence before the doorknob rattles behind you; quietly closing the book as you turn in your chair to face the bespectacled male standing in the doorway.

“On your knees.”

Wonwoo is mad, that’s for sure. Or upset? All you knew at this point was that he was surely over his break time by now.

He didn’t really explain anything.

But the way his hands pull on your hair hard enough to make you cry has you theorizing what could’ve happened.

Thankfully he’s kind enough to let you touch yourself; your lower half completely bare as your fingers drag across your wet folds, slowly inserting in a finger. You relax your throat at the same time, letting Wonwoo let out whatever frustrations he’s got by fucking your throat open.

“Fuuuuuck, your mouth feels incredible around me.” There’s a growl at the end of Wonwoo’s words and you can’t deny the way it sends a thrum of arousal through your body as you whimper around him. You try to look up at him through bleary eyes, cheeks already stained with drying tears. “Mmmph?” He chuckles lowly, thrusting his cock into your mouth until your lips meet the base of it. You swallow around him by reflex, fresh hot tears springing to your eyes when he holds you there.

“My dumb little slut wants me to fuck her ‘lil wet pussy, hmm? I can see how wet you are from here, princess.” He pulls you off of his cock; the air flooding your lungs as you sputter. “Get up from the floor, you cumslut. I want you bent over the table.”

You get up on shaky legs, sniffling and wiping at your tears with the back of your hand as you position yourself over the table.

“Let me see how wet you are, princess.” You reach behind you, spreading your folds open to let Wonwoo see how wet your pussy was. “Think your slutty pussy is wet enough for my cock?”

“Yuh--Yes, s-sir…” Wonwoo takes your word, positioning himself at your entrance before he bottoms out in one thrust, a loud moan cutting through the air as you clench around him.

“Ah, W-Won--Wonwoo…”

Your nails dig into the table underneath you as he starts an unrelenting pace, your eyes rolling back when he slams into your g-spot. “Fuh---fuck, s-sir!! Please, right t-there!!” He brings a hand down onto your ass, slapping the skin until it blooms into a pretty red.

“Does my cock feel good inside your tight pussy? Hmm? You dumb little slut, all you know how to do is take my cock.” You can hear his cruel laugh; drool dripping onto the table as your head starts to feel fuzzy.

“C-can I cu--cum, please?”

“No. And if you do, you’ll be sorry.” You whimper, trying to stave off the pleasure building up inside. And when Wonwoo feels you getting tighter around him, he pulls out, letting you catch your breath as he effectively edges you. You can feel a trickle of sweat down the side of your face, thankful that you’d at least stripped off some of your clothes. But you turn your head to the side, noticing Wonwoo’s still mostly dressed except for the stupid sweater vest he decided was too precious to get dirty.

You watch as he strokes his cock, his mouth open slightly as he lets out quiet moans.

“Mm, Won---s-sir, please put your cock i-inside of me…”

“Did you finally calm down?”

“Yes, sir…” The pleasure inside of you is still building when Wonwoo re-enters you, starting his quick pace again. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and skin slapping, the air feeling thick around you. He edges you 3 more times; pulling out when he feels you about to cum.

And after a few minutes, you can’t help but sob, knowing full well there wasn’t a chance you could stop your orgasm this time; legs shaking as you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood.

There’s a moment where you feel your body go slack, static going through your mind as you cum. You can barely register Wonwoo growling behind you, his thrusts becoming inconsistent as he fucks you through your orgasm. You feel your body twitching, feeling his cum filling up your pussy as you clench around him, milking his cock.

“Fuck, did you just squirt?”

“H-huh?”

“Filthy ‘lil thing, you got my work pants all dirty. How do you think I’m going to explain this one?”

Wonwoo slips his cock from inside of you, his cum trickling down your thighs as you whimper against the table underneath you. “I’m, mmh, s-sorry I--I didn’t r-realize I--”

“Sorry? I don’t think ‘sorry’ is going to cut it, princess. I’m going to have to punish you. But you’ll be good and take it, won’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir…”

Wonwoo slaps your ass once, watching as a drop of cum hits the floor. “Get up on the table and spread your legs.”

“B--But I’m--”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

You find it in your best interest to listen to Wonwoo, urging your tired legs to work as you turn around so you can sit on the table somehow. And your eyes catch the wet droplets all over his work chinos; thankfully not super visible due to them being black.

Once you manage to get your tired body onto the table, you spread your legs wide, holding them open with whatever strength you have left.

Wonwoo drops to his knees in front of you, licking the stripes of cum off of your thighs as a blush grows on your face. Something about him licking his own cum off of you was undeniably… hot. And he continues this, kissing and licking at your skin until it’s clean, his tongue lapping at your folds.

“Push my cum out.”

You whimper, body already exceedingly sensitive as he laps at your pussy, catching the cum that spills out of you on his tongue. And when he’s had enough, he stands, tangling a hand into your hair as he tilts your head up to meet his in a sloppy kiss.

His tongue licks at the seam of your lips, your mouth opening in a moan at the feeling. Wonwoo pushes his cum into your mouth, smirking against your lips after he’s pushed all the sticky substance inside as he silently waits for you to swallow it; only pulling away when he knows you have.

“You’re such a good little slut for me. But we’re not done here yet.” He lets go of your hair, adjusting his glasses a second later before he wraps a hand around his cock. You were surprised he was still hard even after cumming once, but you also couldn’t deny how much you still wanted him to fuck you more.

The two of you were clearly having a bit of an off morning, so you were honestly thankful Wonwoo was in a bit of a mood.

“Ready for my cock again, princess?”

“Y--yes, sir…”

“Spit on my cock then, cumslut.” The angle is a bit awkward but you manage; a glob of spit and remnants of his cum landing on his shaft before he smears it all over his cock. And he doesn’t wait another second, thrusting into you in one swift motion as he bottoms out.

“I want you to be a good little slut and cum on my cock just like this.” Shit. You mewl, wiggling your hips slightly. “But--But…”

“What’s wrong? My dumb ‘lil princess can’t cum unless I’m fucking your cunt? Just having my cock inside you isn’t enough?” You clench your jaw, clenching around his cock. A few minutes pass like that, small whimpers leaving you the entire time Wonwoo watches you.

10 minutes pass, feeling like it’s been 30, when you can’t take it anymore. The head of Wonwoo’s cock is snug against your g-spot and if he just moved a little bit, you were sure you could cum. But he gives you a harsh glare, daring you to disobey him.

“S--sir, can y-you please touch my--my clit?”

“If you wanna cum, you can do it yourself.”

You nod shakily, keeping one hand on your leg and trailing the other towards your swollen nub, drawing circles around it as you cry out. “I---I---Mmh!”

Your thighs tremble as you cum, Wonwoo’s hand batting yours away as he rubs your clit harshly, milking your orgasm as your walls flutter around him.

“See? I knew you could cum just from my cock inside of you, princess.” The cocky lilt in Wonwoo’s voice has you mewling, small cries of his name leaving your mouth as the oversensitivity really sets in. He lets you catch your breath for a second before he pulls all the way out, only keeping the head of his cock inside before he thrusts all the way in, slamming into your cervix.

“Such a greedy little slut. Squirting all over me and cumming three times? I fuckin’ spoil you and your fuckin’ pussy don’t I, princess?”

“Mmh…yuh---yes, daddy...” A smirk graces Wonwoo’s lips, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulls you towards him. “Daddy, huh?” He scoffs, digging his nails into your skin as he grinds into you.

“D--daddy, I, ngh, I--ca--can’t…”

“You will. Your ‘lil pussy is still so tight around me, princess.” You feel breathless and like your brain has turned to mush. But he wasn’t wrong. Despite how tired you already were, you could already feel another orgasm building up inside of you.

“Da--daddy!”

“C’mon, princess. Cum on my cock. Isn’t that what you know best? Getting daddy’s cock wet?” You nod feverishly, letting your back meet the table as the tiredness takes over. Wonwoo keeps your legs spread open, watching his cock disappearing into your pussy.

“Dumb little cockslut. Letting me fill your slutty ‘lil pussy with my cum. So good for me, princess.”

Hot tears spring to your eyes as you feel your third orgasm come to a head; the tension in your body snapping as your back arches off of the table. Wonwoo fucks you through your orgasm again, unloading his cum inside of you for the second time with a groan.

You momentarily black out, garbled noises leaving your lips and body going weak as Wonwoo slips his cock from your body.

When you come to after a few minutes, Wonwoo’s got you laying down on the floor cleaned and dressed; his book bag underneath your head as a pillow.

“Fuck, I thought I fucked you into a coma.”

“Ugh…”

“Are you okay? Drink some of this water, sweetheart.” He helps you sit up, bringing a water bottle to your mouth. You hadn’t realized how raw and sore your throat was, the cool liquid soothing you almost immediately. “Maybe we should’ve had a safe word.”

You clear half the water bottle, a satisfied sigh on your lips afterwards. “S’okay… I wanted you to be rough with me… But I do have a question?” Wonwoo nods, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Shoot.”

“What got you so… upset? I, um, I mean Mingyu called me this morning to ask about u-us and it kind of put me in a weird mood so…”

“Oh, no, princess I’m not mad about that. They were going to find out eventually, it was only a matter of time.”

“Oh.” He chuckles, sitting on the floor next to you. “Actually, I signed up to go on an excavation trip with one of my archeology professors and I was rejected. He told me before I applied that I was overqualified so I was a sure fire choice to be included and I wasn’t. He didn’t really have an explanation for me either.”

“Wonwoo, I’m sorry…” You place a hand on his forearm, squeezing it in comfort.

“It’s whatever, I’m the one that should be sorry, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that. Guess I was angrier about it than I thought.”

“It’s okay… I think we’ve both had a weird day.. Oh my god! Wait, shouldn’t you be working!?” The panic is clear in your voice as you attempt to stand up, shaky legs folding underneath you as your butt hits the carpeted floor.

“I told Joshua I was leaving early, nobody even knows we’re back here.” He adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his silver locks. You settle back down, playing with the hem of your shirt as the two of you settle into silence.

“Um, I’m--I’m glad your pants are dry?” He scoffs jokingly, eyes glancing downward at the now drying material.

“Yeah, you’re lucky I decided to wear my black chinos to work today or else you would’ve really been in some shit.”

[rae-is-typing]

Anything For You

NOTE: If you ever feel as though you want to purposefully harm yourself or even commit suicide, please get some help. I encourage you to reach out. Don’t hesitate to message me.

Description: You’re struggling. Between school and the movie making process, your blood is made of stress and the only way you can get any sort of rest is by taking sleeping pills. One night, you take too many.

Characters: The reader, Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, the rest of the Civil War cast are mentioned, a doctor and medics

Warnings: Accidental overdose, descriptions of an anxiety attack, pills, destructive self talk, the reader is really mean to herself, hospitals, blood, concussion, crying, self harm, mentions of shitty parents. This one is heavy.

Disclaimers: I mean no disrespect to any of the people mentioned, even the reader. I’ve also never overdosed so this might not be accurate nor have I been to the hospital for a serious injury, so that may also be inaccurate. My apologies if it is.

Word count: ~6k

Your tired eyes leer at your computer screen. Ugly, ugly math stared back at you. You sigh, rubbing your eyes. This assignment was due at midnight. It was already 11 PM and you had barely started.

I’m so fucked. Why am I so stupid? I bet third graders can do better than me on this shit.

You thought, shoving your computer to the back of the shitty hotel desk. Groaning, you lay your head on the table.

My parents were right. I’m just a dumb kid, I can’t even do dumb math problems. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You pick up your head and drop it back down to the desk a few times, trying to get the gears to start turning. Or give yourself a mild concussion. Whatever came first.

You sit up, rubbing your forehead a little and look around the hotel room you’re in. It was small with a queen bed in the middle of the room. It was nice. Of course it was nice, one of the biggest movie franchises had paid for it. You were lucky to get your own room. The hotel was overbooked, so some actors had to pair up. Your room was between Sebastian and Chris’s room and Robert’s room- three people that would fight (and possibly die) for you. It made sense though, they would do the same for most of Civil War’s cast. But you brought out their more protective sides. That also made sense- you were still a kid, barely 16 years old and already trying to figure shit out on your own.

Kids shouldn’t have to get emancipated at 15 even if they can afford it. You thought bitterly. Kids shouldn’t hate themselves. Kids shouldn’t be this stressed.

You couldn’t do this shit anymore. School was kicking your ass. So was this god damn press tour. You couldn’t get one plain day off. It was always work work work and school school school. Even worse is the fact that you went from an honors student with a perfect 4.0 to flunking three of four classes. 

Maybe I’m just a fucking failure. Maybe I should quit while I’m ahead. Maybe I should just give up. I can’t do this anymore, fuck. This is too much. All of it is too much. I’m never going to this shit right. I’m too fucking stupid. Too dumb to do a fucking math problem. 

Tears prick at your eyes. You hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to fight off the inevitable sobs. You hate crying, it makes you feel dumb and even more childish. Your breathing only picked up and you began hitching out quiet sobs.

I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t I can’t I don’t wanna do this I can’t do it any longer. 

You couldn’t breath as you sobbed in your hands. You could never catch a break. It was all too much. You had no time for anything else, just work and school. No time for friends outside of the cast. Hell, you barely had time for the people in the cast and you felt awkward when you wanted to spend time with them because you were 16 and everyone but Tom was almost twice your age. And sure, Tom was nice or whatever, but he was also an adult that didn’t need a fucking chaperone accompanying him if they wanted to go down the road to get away from set. 

You did know that stress was going to be high and there really wouldn’t be a lot of time to relax and take it easy going into the movie, but you seriously overestimated your ability to handle this level of stress. The late nights, early mornings, always needing to be perfect at everything; it was killing you.

Why do I have to keep doing this? I can’t do it anymore I can’t. I need a break. 

You sobbed for a good few minutes before dissolving into a coughing fit. You glanced at the alarm clock on the table. It was 11:30 PM. You choked another sob out, realizing that you were definitely failing this assignment. 

Tears stream down your face while you finish answering all the questions wrong and turn in the assignment. 

Giving up again? Nothing new. Fucking idiot. Suck it up and do it, you privileged fuck. Stop being such a fucking baby and maybe you’d actually get somewhere.

You wiped your eyes aggressively. You weren’t getting anywhere by crying like a baby. 

Might as well just go to sleep. I can’t even do that without help, fuck.

You stood up from the desk chair and made your way to your bags. You pulled out an opaque black makeup and looked through it. There was an empty bottle of sleeping pills sitting in it. 

Empty of fucking course. Can’t even keep track of simple things. Idiot. 

There were a lot of stores around the hotel you were in, but it was almost midnight. And as a 16 year old girl, you had to be accompanied by a chaperone over the age of 25 if you wanted to go somewhere off set or outside the hotel. Even though you are emancipated, there was still a lot of legal risks Marvel was just not going to take with you. 

Everyone else was likely asleep at this point. You had to be up at 5 AM to catch your flight the next morning. You could just not sleep tonight, but after that crying spell, you knew you needed to. The only problem was that you couldn’t sleep without help and you had no more pills left. 

Besides, no one would agree to go with you to a store to get anything they didn’t perceive as an absolute necessity. Unless…

You pulled out your phone and sent a message to Chris, someone you knew would be up, especially because he had to share a room with Sebastaian. They acted like school girls when they were together. 

you: hey you up

cap cap cap: yeah whats up?

you: can you come to a store with me?

cap cap cap: it’s a little late for that kid. can it wait till morning? we have to be up in 5 hours for the flight

you: I need girl stuff and none of the others are up

cap cap cap: meet me outside of our rooms seb is coming too

you: k thanks

You slipped on a sweater, grabbed your wallet and phone and made your way to the lobby. Sure enough, Sebastian and Chris were standing there, both in sweats and sweatshirts. You offered a sheepish smile.

“Thanks guys,” You say. They smile back at you.

“No thanks needed, kid. You have needs.” Chris says.

Sure, you felt bad about lying about the real reason you wanted to go to a store. But it was either leave and get a bit of sleep or stay and not sleep at all.

“There’s a small convenience store a few blocks west,” Sebastian says, looking up from his phone.

“Where the fuck is west?” Chris asks.

“That way,” Sebastian responds, pointing in a general direction. Chris frowned, looking down at your blank face.

“Y/N?” Chris asks. Your head snaps up at the sound of your name.

“Yeah?”

“You usually tell me to ‘watch my fucking language’ when I swear.”

“Oh, sorry.” You clear your throat. “Watch your fucking language, Evans.” You say without the usual fervor.

“You feeling okay, doll?” He asks,moving to place a hand on your forehead.

“Yeah, fine. Girl shit,” You duck away from his hand, moving in the direction Seb was pointing. 

Chris furrows his eyebrows, trying to read you. But his small investigation was cut short by a loud group of drunk, and possibly high, men stumbling out of a bar. It was pretty early for people to be this shit faced. 

They were stumbling, shoving each other in a bunch of different ways and laughing, whooping and yelling incoherently. You watched as one threw up over the road, only being supported by one of his buddies who appeared to be as drunk as he was.

“Y/N, stay close.” Sebastian says, putting an arm around you and pulling you closer to him. Chris moves closer to the both of you, covering the side of you that was left vulnerable. 

The group parted like the red sea when the three of you walked towards them. Apparently they weren’t drunk enough to pick a fight with people that could quite literally rip them apart.

You looked up at Chris and Sebastian. Their faces were stone cold, clearly intimidating to anyone that looked at them, even their friends. It was a far cry from the warm smiles they usually dawned. You glanced around to see one of the guys in the group ogling you. He locked eyes with you, licked his lips then bit down on his bottom one. You moved closer to Sebastian, turning your face into his side. He shot a glare at the guy who immediately called for his buddies that had moved on to wait for him. You wrap your arms around your stomach and settled into a nice walking pace.

“Are you okay?” Sebastian asks softly, looking down to you and rubbing your shoulder with his thumb. You simply nodded, fixing your gaze to the sidewalk in front of you.

“That was gross. What kinda person stares at a girl walking down the street?” Chris asks. You knew that if it wouldn’t get him in serious trouble, he’d fist fight that guy. 

The rest of the walk was of Chris trying to cheer you up a bit. He told you funny stories of him and his buddies, of the cast on past tours, and just about anything he thought would get you to laugh. Nothing was working. 

Sebastian held the door for you as you went in. Chris and Sebastian followed you in, waiting for your wordlessly as you picked up what you needed. The only occupant was a lonely, very tired clerk sitting at the counter looking like he was going to sleep for weeks when he got off shift. You shopped pretty quickly, grabbing a few candy bars, a bottled drink, tampons, some generic brand Tylenol and a pack of sleeping pills before heading to the zombie clerk.

“You have to buy Naloxone with this purchase because you’re buying an acetaminophen. Store policy.” His dead eyes bore into you as you pulled some money from your wallet.

You give a small nod of acknowledgment. He rings up the box and throws the Naloxone in the small plastic bag with all of your other items. You hand him some cash and he gives you your change.

“Ready?” Chris asks, yawning slightly.

“Yeah,” You felt the way zombie clerk looked: tired and totally fucking dead inside.

The three of you walked back to the hotel at the same pace as before. This time it was silent. The walk lasted about the same time, 10 minutes or so each way. The three of you took the stairs up to the third floor.

You held the door to the stairs open for them.

“Thanks again, guys. I really appreciated this.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.” Chris smiles sleepily. 

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Get some rest.” Sebastian says, moving to hug you goodnight. You wrapped your arms around Sebastian’s neck and he wrapped his arms around your back. He was warm and smelled like old spice. It was nice and you felt safe. Safe enough to want to spill your heart out, safe enough to tell him what you’ve been thinking, how you’ve been so hard on yourself with no good results. You want him to help you. You want him to tell you that everything was going to work out and that you’ll be okay. But you don’t. You simply let go and hug Chris.

Chris was warmer than Sebastian, and he smelled like soft mint. You felt just as safe. Tears pricked your eyes; you really didn’t want to go back to your room and be alone. You wanted to stay with them and talk or listen to them talk. Just being around them makes you feel a little better.

But you let go. You willed your tears away and thanked them one last time before going to your room, unaware that the two men had stayed in the hallway.

You walked down the small entryway and set your bag on the desk by your laptop bag. You pulled out the sleeping pill, popped two in your hand and swallowed them dry. You stayed seated at the desk. A stack of failed papers sat adjacent to the laptop bag. Frowning, you picked them up, barely able to make out the critiques in the dull light of your hotel room. Red pen was scribbled on a paper that you had wrote reviewing FDR’s presidency.

45%. You had received a 45 % on this essay. It took you almost two weeks to write and you got a 45%.

I’m fucking useless. I can’t even write an essay right.

You moved on to another essay you had written, This was your worst, You got a 30% on it. 30% was the lowest grade you had gotten on something that you put genuine effort into.

God, why do I even try anymore. What’s the point of school. I should just drop out, fuck. I should focus on acting. I can at least do that okay.

A drop of water fell on the paper in front of you, smearing the red ink that covered the page. Huh. You didn’t even realize you were crying again.

I’m just a dumb baby. Why do I try anymore? I should go home. My parents were right about me. I’ll never be good enough, I should just go home.

Your breathing sped up and you choked on your sobs in a weak attempt to stay quiet.

Why aren’t the pills working? I want to sleep.

You fumbled with the packaging of the pills, four more falling into your hands. You throw them in your mouth and swallow them dry. 

Your hands start to burn. It blossoms through your arms and through your chest, moving down to your feet. Your head throbs as though someone is leading a marching band through your cerebral cortex. You wince, rubbing your temples.

The pounding gets stronger and stronger until you can’t take it. You reach for the plastic shopping bag on your desk. You snatch the painkillers from it, rip off the packaging on grab a small handful. Without thinking, you shoved them into your mouth and swallowed. 

You couldn’t breath. They had gotten stuck while you attempted to swallow them. You needed water. You spotted your water bottle on the nightstand. You jumped up and rushed over to the nightstand, you tripped on something. The world is a blur around you as your forehead collides with the sharp corner of the wooden table. You yelp, sucking in a sharp breath. You push your head into your hands, putting pressure on the wound. 

The pain moves quickly. Soon, all you could think about was the burning and the pounding in your head. You push yourself against the small space between the wall and the nightstand, head still held by your hand.

You heard three dull thumps resonate through the room. Then you heard your name. More thumps then nothing. The pain was the only thing on your mind. That and the fact that your hands and cheeks were wet and beginning to grow sticky.

Why are my hands wet? I cry from my eyes, not my forehead. Oh, fuck this hurts.

You didn’t know how much time had passed from the thumping and someone pulling at your hands. You didn’t try to resist them. You were fading. Everything was blurry, the blob in front of you reminded you of your friend Chris. He was a real cool guy with really pretty eyes. But there were two of the colored blobs and Chris didn’t have a twin so it couldn’t be him.

Then you were being laid down on your side with your arms being manipulated. You tried to keep your eyes open but you were tired and in pain. You wanted it to go away. 

Why isn’t it going away?

_____________________

You reminded Chris of a puppy- energetic, affectionate and adorable in a way that only young and small things could be.

So he knew that something was up when you walked out of your hotel room with red and puffy eyes. This was more than pain and your hormones being out of whack. The walk confirmed his suspicions. You were quite- too quiet. You barely spoke. You barely looked at the two of them.

The hug made him want to stay with you for the rest of the night and talk. You almost cried when you hugged him. The only time you ever cried was when you had to for a scene.

Truth be told, he didn’t want to let you go. He holds you tightly, even when you loosen your grip on him.

“There’s something wrong, man,” Chris said after the door to your room closed. “She never cries.”

“She’s probably in pain. We aren’t girls, but we’ve heard how painful periods can be.”

“This is different.”

“Let’s talk to her in the morning, She’s probably stressed and in pain,”

Chris relented, following Sebastian to their room and laying in his bed, He didn’t get to sleep at all. He doesn’t know how much time had passed before he heard a loud thump and a yelp through the wall. He sat up, throwing the covers off of him. That was from your room. He bit his lip and stood up, slipping on some slide on shoes, he went to your room next door.

He knocked, “Y/N?” He knocked more. “Are you okay? Can you let me in, hon? I want to talk to you.”

No answer. He frowned. He tried one more time. Nothing, again. Chris looked around the hall while he waited impatiently for you to answer. His heart began to pump a little faster and something tugged in his gut. He needed to make sure you were okay and you really weren’t making it easy. After nothing happened again, he went down the stairs and to the front desk. Unsurprisingly, the front desk was empty. He rang a small bell they had. A tired young woman came from the back.

“Hi, how can I help you?" 

‘I lost the card to my room, can I get a new one?” Chris quickly lied. 

“Sure, what room?”

“321.”

She pulled out a key and magnetized it. In any other situation, he would be appalled that this woman didn’t ask for his name or even check that he was the right occupant of the room, but he was grateful for it now.

He practically sprinted up the stairs to your room, opened the door and walked in. It was dark, the only thing lighting the room was the lamp on the desk.

He fully expected to see you asleep on the bed and confirm that the thump and yelp was something else. But the only thing on the bed was your wallet and phone. He frowned, looking around. The bathroom door was open and you weren’t there.

He turned, looking around some more. Then he saw you. You were curled up between the nightstand and the bed. Your hands were cradling your forehead in shaking hands.

“Y/N, sweetie? Are you okay? Did something happen?” He spoke gently, trying not to startle you.

You didn’t even look up at him. He crouched down by you, gently pulling a hand away from your face. It was shaking horribly and covered in a red substance he prayed wasn’t blood. He pulled the other one away too. This one was drenched in what was most definitely blood and shaking as well. Your face was covered in it; it was dripping down your cheeks, over your nose, in your hair and even on your clothes.

“Y/N? Oh, my god! What happened to you?” He asked, brushing some hair that got caught in the mess away from your face. 

You eyes were heavily lidded and unfocused. You were staring him in the face but it was like he wasn’t there. Then he looked at your face closer. Your lips were turning purple.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed, patting his pockets for his phone. He stood up from his crouched position he quickly grabbed your phone, opened emergency contacts and dialed 911.

“911, what is your emergency?” A woman answered.

“Something is wrong with my friend. Her head is covered in blood, she’s shaking uncontrollably, and her lips are turning purple, I need an ambulance.”

“Okay, what is your location?”

“W Hotel on west seventh and main. Hurry, please.” Chris begged, pacing in front of your limp body.

“Okay, we have one en route. What’s your name sir?”

“Chris,”

“Okay, Chris. What room are you in?”

“I’m in room 321.”

“Is she responsive?“

"No, she’s just staring at me. I don’t think she knows I’m here,” Chris was crying at this point. With tears steadily flowing down his cheeks, he tried to stay calm for you.

“Did she consume any dangerous substances?”

“I-I don’t know. Fuck, how far is the ambulance?”

“They’re almost there.”

“Okay, please hurry, I think she’s dying.” Chris choked the last part out. This wasn’t real. There was no way that you, a 16 year old girl had just attempted suicide. 

No way. 

But it was real. You were laying in front of him, dying and he could do nothing about it.

Its takes too long for the medics to get there. But when they do, Chris steps back and panics in the corner.

They’re leaning over you and asking him things but he can’t think. He can’t breathe. Everything he knew about managing his anxiety went out the fucking window. 

He ended up riding to a hospital in the same car as you, holding your hand as they stabilized you. When they got to the hospital, he filled out paperwork for you.

Then he waited. 

He was led to a smaller, private waiting room and he sat. And he waited. The rest of the cast came in. Most of them were still in the clothes they had slept in. Sebastian and Robert had gotten their first, awoken by the medics and the noise in the hall. They got in a cab or something and followed the ambulance to the hospital. They just sat together in silence while everyone else trickled in.

Lizzie was crying. Hell, they all were in a state of shock. Chris just sat in a chair in a corner, trying to process what he saw.

How did she bleed that much? Why was she bleeding in the first place? Was it on purpose? Was it pills? Did she commit suicide? Why didn’t I see it? Is she dead? How could I have let this happen? His mind was going a mile a minute, but he sat completely still.

He was obviously oblivious to something because if he had done something earlier than this wouldn’t have done this. He could have stopped this from happening. 

The doctor comes in about two hours after everyone arrives. Its 3 AM.

“Are you here for Y/N Y/L/N?” He asks, holding a clipboard.

“Yes, we are.” Robert says, standing up. 

“What happened?”

“Is she okay?”

“My name is Dr. Ashby,” He began. "Y/N overdosed on drugs. We pumped her stomach. It’s highly unlikely any permanent damage has been done from the pills, but she has fractured a small part of her forehead. We believe that she has a concussion. She’s resting right now. We don’t know when she’ll wake up, but she will be okay.”

“Do you think she did it on purpose?” Tom asks softly, eyes glistening and red. 

The doctor sighed. “In my professional opinion, no. There wasn’t enough in her system to kill her or do any permanent damage. However, if you want a more accurate opinion, you should ask the officers that went to the hotel or Y/N after she’s had some time to recover.”

“Thank you Dr. Asby," 

The doctor left. The sounds of sniffling and soft crying still filled the room. Hours ticked by slowly. Too slowly.

"Are you okay, Chris?” Robert asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Chris looked up at him. His dark hair was messy and his eyes were watery like the rest of theirs. Chris sighed and shook his head.

“There was so much blood,” He started. “Her lips were purple- she was dying. She didn’t even know I was there.” Robert sat next to him.

“I was with her before it happened. I could-”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Chris. You couldn’t have known that this was going to happen.”

“I know,” Chris rubbed his face, then ran a hand through his hair.

“You found her, and she’s going to be okay. That’s what matters right now,”

_____________________

The sound of beeping and ringing woke you up. It was constant, loud and probably the most annoying thing that you could have ever imagined waking up to. You patted your bedside, looking for your phone to turn off the alarm and stop the ringing. The sharp stench of bleach filled your nose, making you cringe. Your hotel did not smell like bleach.

Something’s wrong.

You opened your eyes, wincing at the bright lights. You brought an arm up cover your eyes only to find that you were hooked up to a machine. A heart monitor was at your side.

Okay. Why the fuck am I in a hospital? What the fuck? Why does my head hurt so fucking bad?

You sat up, despite feeling weak. You glanced around and began to panic, half tempted to bolt. You hated hospitals. That was a mistake. With the heart rate speeding up , the heart monitor followed suit. Your head throbbed from the added noise. Lying back down, you closed your eyes, taking deep breaths to try and think through whatever the fuck landed you in a hospital with this amount of head pain.

I was on a walk. It was night and I was with Seb and Chris. I went to a store. I bought some sleeping pills. I took them. Oh, my god. I overdosed. But why does my head hurt so fucking much?

You tried sitting up again after a few minutes. This time, you did it slow enough and kept calm enough to process everything that happened and why you were in a hospital.

Soon enough, a nurse came in. She smiled gently when she saw you awake. “Hi, Y/N. How are feeling?”

“My head hurts. A lot. What happened?”

“You overdosed on pills and you fractured your forehead I’m going to call your doctor, hang tight.” She said, still smiling.

Okay. I overdosed on pills by accident. And broke my skull. Okay. What the fuck. I could have died. Cool. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You took a few deep breaths as you waited for the doctor. He didn’t take long to get there, surprisingly. He was older, had thinning hair and a small beer belly. “Good evening, Miss Y/L/N. My name is Dr. Ashby. How is your head?”

“It hurts. A lot. My ears are ringing”

He nods, writing what you said on a clipboard. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I was on a walk with two of my coworkers and I bought some sleeping pills. I took some and I woke up here.”

“Were you trying to harm yourself at all?”

You shake your head. Another mistake. More pain shot through your head, making your wince, and hold your forehead where the pain was at its worst. “No, no. I just wanted to sleep.”

He gives you another nod, writing that down as well. 

“What happened?” You ask. 

"You overdosed on pills. We don’t think any permanent damage was done, but we’d like to run some tests to confirm that,” He began, placing his pen in the clipboard. “You hit your head and you likely have a moderate concussion. We’ll run some tests for that too." 

"What time is it?” The doctor checks his watch. 

“It is 1 AM." 

"How long was I out?" 

"A little more than a day." 

"When can I leave?” You ask, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice. 

“We’re going to start running some tests, and once those come back we’ll discuss them and after that, we can let you go.”

“How long will that be?”

“We have a few blood tests that need to be run. Those will take a week to ten days to get back. Don’t worry, you don’t have to tay for those. However, we do have to run a couple diagnostics to see what happened to your head. We can have you out tomorrow or the day after. 

You let out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping. “Thanks Dr. Ashby.”

He asked a series of questions and had you do a series of tasks, confirming that you did give yourself a concussion. After that was done, a nurse came into take your blood. After she left, you laid back in your bed, the ringing in your ears growing louder. 

Fuck. The media probably has their dirty little paws all over this. Y/N Y/L/N in the Hospital After Overdose. Marvel Actress Dies After Overdose, just kidding she’s alive. 

You sigh and close your eyes, wishing this was just a bad dream that you could wake up from. But the bandages on your head, the ringing in your ears and the monitors say otherwise. You struggle to fall back asleep, but when you do its fitful and full of unrest.

The morning came too quickly. Visiting hours started at nine and you knew your co-stars and likely a bunch of reporters were going to want to see you. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about your co-stars- it wasn’t that at all. You loved the people you worked with, but you scared of how they were going to react to what happened. 

“Good morning, Y/N,” Your nurse said. She was really sweet and wore a smile whenever you saw her. 

“Good morning,” You smile back, taking the meds she gave you. 

“Visiting hours begin in 15 minutes. I know you’re nervous. Don’t worry about any reporters or anyone like that coming in. We’ve made sure that no one of those sorts are allowed in.” That was a huge relief. 

“Thank you,” You’re sure you visibly relaxed. 

“You’re welcome, dear. Do you need anything else?" 

"No, thanks again,” She left the room, leaving you to your own devices. 

At exactly nine in the morning, Chris shuffles into your room with a bear and a small bouquet of sunflowers. 

“Hey,” He said softly. He looked rough. His hair was clean but untamed and his eyes were red. He was wearing a sweater and some jeans. You looked back down at the bed because what the fuck were you supposed to say? 

Hi, I’m so sorry for almost killing myself accidentally. Oops, guess my hand slipped and took too many pills when I was just trying to get to sleep. Yeah, no. 

“How are you feeling?” He pressed when you said nothing, placing a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it lightly. You shrugged, picking at the blanket on the bed. 

“C'mon, talk to me. What’s been goin’ on, kid?" 

"I don’t wanna talk about it,” You say softly. 

“Not talking about it isn’t working,” His voice hardened slightly.

“It was an accident,” You say, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to sleep.” Chris sighs, laying the flowers and bear on a chairs behind him. 

“Scoot over,” He says. You gave him a strange look as he stood above your bed, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I won’t bite. Promise,” 

You scoot to the other side of the bed. He half-sits half-stands and wraps his arms around you, placing a gentle hand on the back of your head, mindful of your injury, and cradles your head against his warm chest. He smells like soft mint. You feel safe. More tears well up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him in return. 

“Did you want to hurt yourself?” He was shaking lightly.

“No, I swear. I just wanted to get some sleep. That’s it. I don’t remember anything but taking a couple pills.” He sighed, your head rising and falling with his chest. 

“You scared the shit out of us, kid.” His voice wobbled, some tears fell in your hair. “God, don’t ever do that again,” He buried his face in your hair. You knew he was crying. You were too, the tears flowing freely down your face. 

“I’m sorry,” You say softly. “I really didn’t mean to.” He didn’t say anything else, he just held onto you. 

Maybe I can tell him. He can help. He obviously cares. He wouldn’t show up if he didn’t care about me. Just be honest. 

“I was doing homework,” You mumble, hiding your face in his chest. If you were going to tell him what’s been going on, there was no way you could look at him in the face. You’d back out and pretend everything was okay. He didn’t say anything. And if he reacted, you couldn’t see it. 

“I’m failing three of my classes. It was too hard to focus so I just turned it in. I wanted to go to bed so I looked for my sleeping pills, but I ran out. That’s why I asked you to go to the store with me.” You sit up and wipe the tears off your eyes. “I took some and they weren’t working so I took more. Then my hands were burning. That’s all I remember,”

Chris’s arms tightened around you, drawing you back to him. “You hit your head. There was a lot of blood, and your lips turned purple. I thought you were dying.”

“I’m sorry,” You say, breath hitching as you began to cry steadily again. You spent the next few moments crying into his chest. 

He must’ve found me. Fuck. Fuck me, fuck me. I’m terrible. 

“I’m so sorry, Chris, I am. I’m sorry,” You sputtered out, clutching his shirt in your hands. 

“I know. I forgive you now that I know you’re okay. Take a deep breath. It’s okay,” He says, running a hand up and down your back. He started to breath melodramatically and you followed suit, soon calming down enough to stop crying. 

“Everyone else wants to see you, but there’s a two person limit." 

"Then why’d you come alone?” Chris shook his head, reaching for the bear. He handed it to you.

“A bear?” A brown bear specifically. A brown bear dressed as Captain America with black dark blue buttons for eyes even more specifically.

“Yeah, I thought that if I couldn’t be there for you then another Captain America could,” 

“You know I’m not six, right?” You couldn’t help the smile that tugged on your lips. 

Chris shrugged, eyes still wet. You leaned over and hugged him again. 

“Thank you,” You say, voice cracking. “For everything.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.”

[shoujolover-666]

Forget-Me-Not: Alternative Ending 2

Here it is! Hopefully you guys will be able to enjoy this Happy End!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26821216/chapters/65594641

Floyd was lying on the couch of Azuls office, his eyes were closed as he almost died of boredom. The little octopus avoided them lately, and he didn’t like it at all. Not only because of the fact that he was the most entertaining person he has ever come across, but also because he liked the shorter man.

If he didn’t, he wouldn’t even obey him that often in the first place.

Next to him was his brother Jade, who read over some of the contracts that Azul left them with a note, telling his twin that he should check for any loopholes that some of the contractors might want to exploit.

In the taller twin’s opinion, that was rather pointless, for the dormhead always checked for any possibilities for the little fishes to escape, just to take this away from them.

The ticking sound of the clock got on his nerves more and more with every single passing second.

At one point, Floyd got up from the sofa and yawned, stretching a bit before he looked at his brother.

“I am going to look for the little octopus~. It has been so boring lately, so I am sure he is willing to play with me.”

There was a lazy grin on his lips as he turned around. He didn’t have to look back to know that the other put down the documents and also got up from his seat. By now, they knew each other well enough to know what the other would do at certain points.

“In that case, let me tag along.”

Oh how awfully polite Jade was. Just as usual. Naturally, Floyd knew that he would also have come with him, even if he said no to the slightly shorter twin.

Alas, he decided not to answer him and simply made his way to their toys room… or should he call him accomplice?

Floyd never gave their relationship too much thought back then, because he simply did not care.

Maybe it was because they did spend so much time together. He said that he would say bye to the octopus if he ever grew boring to him, to them.

At the same time, he truly believed that the octopus, no, Azul would never cease to be entertaining to them.

Now that they got to spend less and less time with him, he noticed how much more annoyed he got by things.

How his mood tended to get worse more easily because Azul was not around him, them.

His face scrunched up in slight confusion.

What was the feeling he had for the other? Floyd had no idea, it was the first time he felt something like this towards someone. Ah, he shouldn’t think too much about it.

Doing something like this was simply not worth his time.

From the side, Jade had been watching Floyd and his change of expression. He himself had been able to realize why he was so agitated by Azuls sudden priority to avoid both of them, but he was not sure if the other had been able to find it out as well.

Jade himself had found out about his own feelings only recently, when Azul has already avoided both of them for around two months.

At first, he believed that he felt the same as a child that lost his favourite toy, but that was not the case.

He started to think about all of the things they went through together.

The contracts, the people they got under their thumbs, and how they got to have so much power together.

It was fun, but he didn’t only enjoy it because of the act itself, but also because it was Azul that he did those things with.

His pleased smile, each time another student signed one of their many contracts.

His adorable face that twisted slightly whenever he ate something he disliked because he was so careful with not gaining more weight.

His cute frown whenever something did not go according to his plans.

What he loved about him the most was his laugh. That cocky laugh never ceased to make him feel warm, pleasant.

To suddenly be denied all of this was something that he didn’t mind at first. There were times when Azul wanted to be alone for a bit, too used to being on his own because of the part of his childhood when he was still bullied.

He easily accepted it, but with each passing day, he noticed how his mood worsened, just like Floyds.

The only difference was the fact that he hid his emotions.

Jade closed his eyes for a second before he opened them again. They were now standing in front of Azuls door.

The calmer of the leech twins knocked on the door and waited for a response. He knew that if he let Floyd open the door, he would have just slammed it open without a care.

A rustling could be heard from the other side of the door before a dampened but tired sounding voice answered them.

“I am busy right now, go away.”

How… awfully impolite. That kind of surprise actually surprised both of them. Normally, the person behind that door would have acted way more collected, would have tried to sound as if everything was under his control.

Right now, Azul simply sounded tired. Almost as if he were on the verge of breaking.

Jade frowned and was about to ask if there was something that he could do for their leader, but Floyd was faster as he simply opened the door, not having the patience to go along with that master-servant game that Jade and Azul had between them for so long.

What greeted them was the sight of Azul hovering a trash can, his hands bloodied by the red liquid that came from his mouth. In the trash can were flowers.

Flowers?

Both of them rushed to him. Floyd’s face was painted with an angry look as he placed a hand on Azuls back.

“What the hell? Was that why you have been trying to avoid us?!”

He was almost growling, his wrath was clear as the day. Jade did not feel different. His anger was on the cold side though, clashing with the heat of his brother’s emotions.

The octopus tried to say something, but instead of words, more flowers and blood started to escape his lips.

Jade eyes widened. His brain tried to process what was happening in front of him.

“Hanahaki?”

It was Floyd who came up with that word first. He had heard about this, but he never saw it as anything relevant.

A disease that starts because of unrequited love. Floyd knew about it, but he simply brushed it off as something that would never concern them back then or in the future, so he didn’t care too much about the details.

Jade seemed to know more about it though.

“Who is it? We have to act immediately. Either tell them that you love them, or we will get you to the next hospital to have you treated.”

Jade's voice was mostly calm, but it was also slightly shaking. As much as he tried to seem like his usual picture perfect self, even he couldn’t help but feel shaken by that appearance.

Azul’s skin was more than pale, his lips had no colour left except from the blood and petals that stuck to them. His hair was a mess, stuck on his forehead because of the cold sweat.

Even his body was colder than it usually was, and he was slightly shaking.

“I don’t want to.”

Azul was barely able to say these words, his voice was as dry as sandpaper as he moved his hands up in an attempt to push both of them away. He wasn’t able to with his shaking arms. The only thing he was able to do was to dirty their clothes with the blood that stuck to his fingers, but neither of the twins cared about that in the slightest?

“How dumb can you be? Just get treated? Aren’t you smart? Even you should know that love is not worth suffering through all of this.”

Floyds looked at the shorter man angrily as he gripped the others white shirt that was stained, but the other simply looked down and shook his head.

There was nothing left of his usually proud and gentlemanly behaviour.

A whisper was an answer to Floyds question, but they weren’t able to understand him.

“We didn’t hear you.”

This time, it was Jade who was talking.

He moved his fingers under his chin and moved his hands up, so he could look him in the eyes. His eyes had this beautiful silver-blue colour, but they were slightly glazed because of tears.

The dorm leader of Octavinelle answered them again, but this time in a way that both of them could hear him clearly.

“I don’t want to lose the feeling and my memories I have of both of you.”

Both twins froze in place as they tried to wrap their minds around the thing he just told them.

Azul didn’t want to lose the feeling he had for both of them? Jade was quick to understand the meaning of these words.

That was the reason why he avoided them. People who suffered from the sickness would lose their love for the person they had feelings for and their memories of them once the flowers and roots were removed. The person who has Hanahaki would also suffer more the more they had to think about the person, or in the octopus’ case people, they were in love with. Jade’s eyes were wandering to the flowers for a second. It was almost as if they tried to mock him.

Floyd was the one who acted faster than Jade. The taller twin gripped Azul by his arm and pulled him towards him, pressing his lips against the blood stained ones.

His eyes were open, for he wanted to see the shorter man’s reaction.

The other’s pair of eyes widened and he didn’t move for a few seconds before he put his hands on the others chest, trying to push the eel away, but to no avail.

After Floyd broke the kiss, it was Jade’s turn to claim the pair of lips this time.

They were dry, probably because of the lack of care, but that did not matter to him. All that mattered was that Azul realized that his love was not unrequited.

Once again, the octopus tried to get away from that display of affection, but this time he gave up more easily as he gave in after a while, letting his arms relax.

When Jade’s lips pried his pair of lips off Azul’s ones, he wrapped his arms around the others hips. Floyd did the same thing on the opposite side.

“I don’t need your pity… especially not when you are going to leave me once you grow bored of me.”

The shorter man sounded almost broken as he buried his face in the others shirt, not daring to look either of them in the eyes. Having both of them seeing him in that condition was bad enough.

He didn’t need pity from either of them now, not when they made it clear that he was nothing more than entertainment to them. Floyd’s statement from back then was still clear in his mind.

“We’re together with him because he’s interesting, but once he starts being boring, it’s bye-bye Azul~.”

Floyd also seemed to realize what he meant with that.

“Eh? I only said that because I believed that you would never become boring to us?”

Azul looked up and turned to Floyd, looking at him with disbelief. What did the other just say?

“I am not sure if what I am feeling is truly love, but I know that I really like you, and that I don’t want to lose you, little octopus.”

Jade was quick to catch up as he used his fingers to turn the other’s head back to him.

“In my case, I know that I love you, and I would hate to lose you like this… especially now that we know that you feel like that for us.”

Azul simply remained silent before he started to cry. It wasn’t a cry of sorrow though.

It was a cry of happiness, for there was a relieved smile on his face. This serene moment was broken by another coughing fit, but this time, it was worse than the ones he had in the past.

He felt so much better though, for this time, it was not only flowers that escaped his throat, but also roots.

The creature of the sea could feel how his lungs slowly started to feel so, so much lighter with each cough.

Jade and Floyd were shocked and didn’t know what to do. Jade wanted to let go of Azul to look for help, but Azul kept holding on to Jade.

When the coughing stopped, the octopus carefully let go of Jade’s shirt and gave both of them a smile. It was a small one, but it was genuine, brimming with… love.

“We should get you clean and something to eat.”

Floyd had noticed how much slimmer his wrists were, and he didn’t like it.

Azul shook his head though.

“I want to stay like this.”

He was almost whining as he tightened the grip he had on the shorter twin. Now that he knew that he didn’t love them in vain, he didn’t want to let this moment pass.

Jade smiled at the others' almost spoiled behaviour. The twin was used to Floyd acting like this, but not to Azul. Not that he minded it.

“We can cuddle and talk after we get you cleaned and fed again? I am even going to make you some fried chicken.”

Azul seemed to think about his suggestion for a second before he nodded slowly, agreeing to it.

“Very well… but don’t expect me to let you leave my room after that.”

[wtf-yoongi]

Losing you.

pairing | taehyung x reader

summary | things get complicated after you find out taehyung loves you in a different way (have you ever listened to drive by halsey? this kinda came out of it)

genre/warnings | angst + language + mentions of mature dreams

words | 1,735

note | this week has been tough, sorry for not writing more :( (and now all i wanna write is sad stuff. sorry again)

You take a deep breath and try to release it without making any sound or exaggerated movement.

He’s the reason you’re taking deep breaths in the first place, but you don’t want him to know. It’s quite useless, though. There’s a weird something in the air and that’s enough for Taehyung to know things are not going to end well – he doesn’t need your deep breaths to convince him of that. In fact, he doesn’t need any reaction, any words, anything. He just knows.

You release the air as calmly as you can, trying to slow down your heartbeat. You notice your knuckles are holding onto the steering wheel too tightly, so much they’re turning completely white. You try to relax, you really do, but even when there’s a red light you can’t let go and rest your hands on your lap like you always do. It doesn’t seem right anymore – you have to clutch onto something, hold onto the past just a little bit.

And he notices it. Taehyung has been on the passenger seat of your car way too many times to know there’s nothing normal about this ride. You’re both sitting in a very stiff way, not only like you don’t want to be there, but almost as if you don’t want to touch the seat at all. There’s no music playing for once, nothing to fill in the heavy silence that hovers above both of you.

Everything is wrong. He’s certain of that. The thing he feared the most actually happened. 

It was all going alright for a Friday night. All of your friends were getting together for a whole lot of junk food, bad beer and chocolate cake to celebrate Jin’s birthday. He was getting old, year after year, but none of you were getting any classier, still opting for whatever was the greasiest and cheapest around.

It was just like any other year you celebrated his birthday. Except shit happened.

Taehyung doesn’t know how exactly, though, as his brain runs, trying to find an explanation. He was so careful. He always kept his mouth shut about it and didn’t even mention it to his friends, choosing to suffer in silence. He knew, he just knew, those bastards would inevitably say something just to get on his nerves – nothing too compromising, but enough for your mind to put two and two together. You were always the smartest, he knew he had to be cautious.

And he was right. That’s all it ever took. Fifteen minutes ago, everything was alright, the night was going as expected, you were having fun. But now, as he’s sitting uncomfortably next to you, he knows, as careful as he was, it was really just a matter of time before you put two and two together on your own anyway.

Thinking about it now, yeah, he could’ve been even more discreet, but how could he? He wanted to be closer because that’s better than nothing. He wanted you to come over because that meant you’d rather spend time with him than with someone else. He wanted to take you out for dinner because you didn’t deserve to be left alone on your birthday. How can he help himself when you call in the middle of the night crying begging for him to pick you up? Friends are made for 3:47 a.m. phone calls and “good morning” texts, right?

It is only when he wakes up before dawn more and more often, all sweaty and disheveled, that he realizes things aren’t right. The thoughts he was having were not friendly at all. The dreams that truly invaded his mind at night weren’t anything close to decent. He has never seen more than your clavicle when you wear something a little bit looser on your shoulders, but it really isn’t necessary. His brain is in charge and it pictures the most intimate things without a problem. 

Every time this happens, he opens his eyes wide and runs his hands through his hair thinking I can’t do this anymore, this is wrong. This has to stop!, but he’s really not in control. There’s no logic in his brain anymore, only thoughts running up and down in desperation just like your hands on his back, nails scratching without mercy. It’s almost as if he could feel it, taste your own sweat as he kisses your neck softly after…

Stop. Not here. Not right now.

It’s his turn to take a deep breath now. He inhales and closes his eyes, finally accepting the fact that, despite how hard he tried, he could never avoid his doom. It’s just the way that it’s going to go and if he loses your friendship, ends up without you in his life in any way and your social interactions are reduced to awkward encounters at birthday parties, then so be it.

If anything, the heavy feeling of never truly opening up to you for months has left his shoulders the moment he ran out of Jin’s place to follow you into the car. And, yeah, that will probably be replaced by something much heavier later, but it hasn’t hit him yet. And it’s ok for a while, at least.

“When did it happen?” 

Taehyung is so lost in his own thoughts he doesn’t notice as the car gets closer and closer to his place, or when it stops in front of his apartment building, or when you turn the engine off. You finally let go of the steering wheel, wrists tense from holding on too hard.

“When did it happen?” You repeat, asking with a little bit more energy this time, determined to get something out of him. He isn’t allowed to keep quiet about this now.

“When did what happen?” Taehyung asks back, his voice breaking around the vowels. The blood runs to your head and you feel like you could kill him for playing dumb like this. 

“When did you start feeling this way?”

The silence is worse now that the engine is not there to fill it in the slightest. There isn’t a soul on the street, not even a dog to bark this awkwardness away. Nothing.

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know? You have to know this,” you press further, struggling not to run your hands through your hair. You want to keep things as calm as possible, but Taehyung’s not making it easy for you.

“I really don’t know, I didn’t just wake up one day and…”

“A month? Two? Six? A year?” You interrupt abruptly and, to be completely honest, you feel betrayed. You can’t help but feel like he should have told you somehow, distanced himself – done something, anything.

“I didn’t,” he repeats himself, “just wake up one day and think ‘wow, I think I really love her’, that’s not how it works.”

“Then, please,” your voice cracks and you finally find enough strength within you to look at him. “Please, tell me how it works.”

Taehyung immediately looks at you when he hears your voice falter. There’s so much going on in your eyes he can’t believe his own. There’s heartbreak, there’s anger, there’s fear and doubt – all of the things he never wants to see in them.

“Have you ever heard of that saying? That you fall in love slowly and then all at once?” Taehyung tries, his voice barely above a whisper. He feels like he’s walking on eggshells. Can things even get worse than this at this point? I don’t think so. “That’s how it works. I didn’t just wake up one day and realized I loved you in a different way. I think I felt it long before, I just didn’t want to believe it.”

“I hate you,” you say, fighting to keep the tears from falling. “How can you do this to me?”

“What? I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologize for your feelings,” you scold him and you want to slap his arm jokingly, but you can’t – and it kills you inside. “You should have done something. I went to your house thousands of times, we fell asleep on your couch, we drank bottles of wine together, I talked about that asshole breaking my heart, cried on your shoulder and you just kept it all to yourself?”

“What? What did you expect me to do?”

“I wanted you to be honest,” you admit, finally letting go of the idea of trying to be strong about this. There’s no point anyway. You rest you hands on top of the wheel and your head follows. “I’m sorry for thinking this sort of stuff, but I just asked you to be honest, so I’d be a hypocrite not to mention it. I can’t help but think that some of the things you’ve done were just so… I don’t know, just so you could get closer to me. And I don’t mean closer in a friendly way.”

Time stops of a few moments. The street is as still as before, but now the interior of the car is also dead quiet. Nothing moves with the exception of the rise and fall of both your chests. You’re right, Taehyung thinks, he has to be honest. You deserve it.

“I’m not going to sit here and deny it,” Taehyung confesses slowly. “But I also won’t sit here and tell you I wouldn’t do it as a friend anyway. Yes, I wanted to be closer to you – shit, I still want to. But I’d rather be your friend than nothing, please understand that.”

“Can we really be friends now, though?” You ask quietly, turning your head to rest on your temple and look at him. “‘Cause, honestly, I don’t know if I can.”

That’s it. Taehyung can feel his heart break little by little with every single word. He was bracing himself for this before, but, now that’s here, it’s so painful and cruel. The air becomes a little harder to breathe.

“I am sorry,” he continues as if you said nothing at all although his insides are burning and turning to ash. “Not for whatever feelings I have, but for not being truthful to you. I’m sorry I freaked out and I’m sorry I didn’t have enough courage to say something. I’m sorry I was too scared to lose you.”

Taehyung lets out a humorless low laugh. 

“Look at us. I’m losing you either way.”

Read more ›› masterlist

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 7

Support | Carrying

Ao3

Warnings: Gunshot wounds, blood, canon typical violence

-o-o-o-o-

Here was the thing about fighting crime in Gotham. Well, or just fighting crime in general. Sometimes things just went wrong and there was nothing you could do about it. You could be the most powerful superhuman in the world, or the most skilled martial artist, or have a reputation to the moon and had the documentation to prove that reputation wasn't complete bull. 

No matter who you were, sometimes you got hurt from a dumb thing. A thing you could have avoided. A thing that you most certainly will beat yourself up over in the coming weeks. 

Sometimes a stray bullet just happened to ricochet juuuuust right off the concrete walls and into the back of your hip while you were fighting crime in the streets. 

When Jason felt the intense pain of the aforementioned stray bullet entering his flesh, it took every ounce of will power he had to not cry out or fall down. 

"Hood!" 

He heard Nightwing call his name. The idiot practically begged for tonight's brotherly bonding session and Jason wanted nothing more than to look up and glare at him. Saying: "let's patrol together, Jason! It will be fun , Jason!"

He didn't for a number of reasons. Mostly because he couldn't say his real name out loud; though he supposed he could say 'Hood'?. Anyway, it was also kinda because he had his helmet on and it was sorta hard to glare through it unless he had the helmet literally sculpted into a glare. Partly because the pain was muting even though the bullet couldn't have gone that deep. It should have lost power while bouncing off the stone bricks, and the material of his jacket and under armor should have stopped it a little . All the way if it hit right. But it didn't hit right. Somehow, it came at him in that very specific angle that Kevlar didn't like. 

He had a bullet in his hip. He could feel warm blood pouring out of a hole in his body, trickling down the back of his legs and ever so slowly becoming painfully stabbing. 

So while Jason wanted to joke, look up at his dumb older brother and tease that this is why they don't do things together, it was all he could do maneuver his arms so he didn't faceplant when his hip eventually gave out. 

And oh yeah. The pain was definitely settling in now. It forced his eyes to widen and tear up, his hands to clench, his arms to twitch as his body desperately tried to figure out what to do without his consent. He wanted to grab at the wound, which was good right? Stop the blood flow? But it was at an awkward position behind him, and he was sure there were still thugs in the alleyway; he kinda really didn't want to be seen clutching his ass in front of them all. 

So he sorta just... laid there pathetically, hating how a simple patrol turned out like this; with Jason laying in a growing puddle of his own blood.

This was Dick's fault. Jason was sure. When he got the medical treatment he needed, he was definitely going to hold this above Goldie's head for the rest of time and eternity. 

Although, quicker than what he expected, Dick was by his side with eyes comically wide behind his mask, hands hovering over Jason like he wasn't sure what to touch or where to apply pressure. Jason had just the presence of mind to remember that he was hit by a ricochet bullet, shot in the back by a projectile that should have, by all means, missed. Dick wouldn't have seen him get shot, just the aftermath. The poor idiot was babbling like a soaking wet domesticated house cat, probably thinking he was shot somewhere much more important than his rear end. Like his heart or something. 

"Hip-" Jason gasped, and then groaned when hands immediately landed at the area just to the side of the small of his back. It hurt like a bitch, that was for sure, but it really couldn't have gotten that deep. It probably just entered him at an angle instead of straight on. More torn flesh that way. And Jason knew from experience that the pain of a wound didn’t necessarily correlate with how deep the said wound ran. It could be how long it was. How gaping. How beaten and bruised. 

It seemed silly to drop from a wound such as this. He could hear Dick muttering about how it didn't look horrible and that Jason probably didn't need a hospital and most likely didn't get hit in the bone, but it still hurt. A lot. 

He sucked in a deep, lungful of air, then forced his head to turn towards where they had been previously fighting a group of thugs who thought they could mug some beanpole old man. Confusion washed over him slowly. The thugs… they were so determined to fight Nightwing and Red Hood when they showed up. One of them was even bragging about having fought one of the bats before. Which Jason doubted. They probably ran away from whatever illegal activity they were doing before the bats actually arrived, but put that little white lie on their criminal resume to get hired for big gigs more easily. If they'd fought a bat before, they wouldn't be so excited to fight them again. 

Regardless, the guy was excited and trigger happy, even after the man they were trying to mug managed to escape. You could probably guess who managed to get a one-in-a-million shot on Jason without having to be told.

That all added up to why Jason was confused at this moment, laying on the ground, hands on his back that pressed down with way more force than Jason thought necessary. The alley was empty. Not a thug in sight. No unconscious bodies with hands restrained and a note taped to their foreheads for the cops. Nada. Goose Egg.

"Wh- where-?" Jason tried, but talking made everything hurt . 

Thankfully though, Dick knew what he was trying to ask. "They ran off after they realized they shot you. Got cold feet."

Jason opened his mouth, but ground it shut as Dick increased the pressure with one hand and removed the other to probably get some bandages going. Jason just breathed for a moment. Catch his breath. Bring the focus of his attention away from the hole in his back to return to the matter at hand. 

When Dick pressed a thick sheet of cotton over the wound, Jason knew the next few minutes would be agonizing; as Jason would soon be sat up to allow bandages to be freely wrapped around his hips and stomach. He opened his mouth before Dick could begin the process and forced the words out.

"You let them run?"

"Of course," Dick grumbled, and Jason wasn't sure if he said it as a “ yes Jason, because I love you I let the enemies go so I could take care of you !” or a “ of course you'd ask this, geeze, so annoying…” kind of way.

Jason was offended either way. 

When Dick forced him up so he's sitting and leaning heavily against the older hero, he was positive he saw stars. Bright, flashing starts shining through the constant murk that was Gotham's sky. Or maybe he was just in intense pain. 

Oh well. 

Dick wrapped the wound—working with way more clockwork and practice than what any normal person without a medical degree should be able to do—then, at the count of three he lifted Jason by grabbing the arm of Jason's good side and wrapping it around his shoulders. Jason could barely contain a yelp as he was lifted to his feet. His hip screamed at him, trying to get him to fall back down and just lay there. Probably just die there. He had to force every ounce of his willpower into moving his good leg, dragging his bad one behind him, as Dick struggled to carry his weight out of the alleyway. 

Not so happy to be small and quick now, huh Grayson? Rethinking those offers Jason had made months ago to teach you how to go make more muscle and maybe even get a little taller? Pathetic. Can't even drag Jason's injured ass out of an alleyway without breaking a sweat on your forehead. 

"M'not that heavy," Jason grumbled anyways though when Dick began to release small, panting puffs of air.

"You're heavier than B," Dick wheezed, "so shut the fuck up."

Jason lifted an eyebrow under his helmet. He was sure Dick could sense his amusement, if the twitch of his lips were anything to go by. "How do you know how heavy B is?" 

"Oh you know," Dick said in a mock-sigh, his voice almost singsong, "I'm always saving everyone's asses. Drag each of you to a med bay at least once a month. Did you know Orphan is heavier than Red but not as heavy as Spoiler?"

"Do you want Orphan and Eggplant to kill you?"

Dick let out a bubbling laugh, which made Jason wonder if Tim, Cass, then Steph was really the order of that scale. Jason wouldn’t linger on it for long though, because they've finally made it to where they've parked their bikes. Jason immediately began to plan on how he was going to ride to his nearest house without passing out in Gotham late-night traffic. The dead-hours of night always brought out the best and worst in Gotham drivers. He'd have to manage. He did it before. 

However, all of his plans suddenly flew out the window as Dick disregarded his own blue and black bike and proceeded to try and force Jason into the passenger seat of his own bike. 

"I can-"

"I'll cuff you if I have to Hood," Dick snapped, though there was mirth and amusement in his tone. "I'm driving you."

"You're not ," Jason grunted though clenched teeth as he inevitably lost the battle with Dick and was forced into the passenger space. "You're gonna take me to the manor if I let you drive."

"Yeah?"

" No ."

Dick sighed then stepped away from the bike, planting hands on his hips as he gave that disappointed older brother pout he'd been working on and improving for the past decade. It worked on most everyone except Jason and maybe Cass. Jason was immune to the Older Brother Pout™. Still didn't stop Dick from giving it. 

"Little Wing, you have a bullet in your back."

"Woah, thanks for telling me, I didn't know!" 

Now Dick looked a little annoyed. Good. "Jay-"

"No," Jason snapped, desperately wanting to stand up and cuss him out like he deserved. "We'll go to my safehouse."

"What one?" Dick argued and angrily Jason threw his hands in the air on instinct. 

The action sent bolts into his back, making his brain short circuit as his body tried to figure out if it wanted to bend forward or back. In the end, it didn't matter, because like the absolute bastard he was, Dick used his pain as a distraction to jump onto the sitting space in front of him. He turned on the engine and Jason felt himself go boneless, the pain of the wound on his back ate up his energy more violently than a crocodile. His metal helmet slammed against Dick's back, and when he felt the bike jolt with motion, he angrily, carefully, and reluctantly wrapped his arms around Dick's waist. 

"'ny of them," Jason mumbled, blinking blurry shapes from the corners of his eyes. "Ju's don' take me t'the manor…" 

"Alright," Dick chimed, revving the engine. He sounded too happy about something, but Jason was too focused on holding on and ignoring the pounding hole in his back to question it too much. 

Dick drove with more caution than what he normally did. Jason had ridden with Dick on bikes and in cars before, and the guy is borderline psychotic while driving. Jason supposed it was because his adrenaline junky tendencies mixed with the famous Blüdhaven road rage to create a man to be feared on any sane roads. Or as same as Gotham got. Jason swore Dick was always on the horn, always looking for that split second window to speed up and get to where he wanted as fast as possible. He wasn't a dangerous driver, just one that wasn't one to trifle with when in the zone of driving. Yet now, while the speed was fast and the spaces between cars was utilized to get the cycle through quicker, there were hardly any other risks involved. No running lights, no cutting it close between cars, no sharp and split second turns. Everything was calculated and smooth, and Jason made a mental note to mention it to him later. 

So you do know how to drive?

With the hum of the engine and the warm body in front of him, it became rather difficult to keep his eyes open. A weary cloud had slowly begun to settle around him, probably not because of any blood-loss but because of falling levels of adrenalin and perhaps mild shock. He squeezed his arms tight around Dick's chest—he silently promised that if Dick mentioned this as a hug he would lose it—and let his eyes fall shut. He would just rest them… for a little while. He had a long night ahead of him. One of digging out a bullet and stitching the wound shut. He should guilt trip Dick into going out to buy ice cream or takeout chinese later.

And thankfully, focusing on the sounds around him by having his eyes closed helped him ignore the pain. Well, not all of it. It was there. Just… muted. 

He could relax to this. 

It was a pity all the peace and relaxation left the moment the bike suddenly dipped in altitude, the sounds of the city becoming the seemingly endless echoes of the bike itself. Jason snapped open his eyes, recognizing the dark tunnel around him. A growl escaped his throat. 

"Dick," he hissed. Or well, grumbled. His voice was slurred and definitely sounded as tired as he felt. 

"Yup?" Dick replied like he was innocent. Jason will kill him. 

"Safe. House."

"Yup." He popped the "p" on that one. Alright. Jason will definitely kill him. 

"This isn't my safe house," he growled, putting as much force as he could into each syllable. " No manor."

"Kay," Dick hummed, "but I don't know where any of your safehouses are. So I thought, Jason doesn't want the manor, so where's the next best place?"

"The manor includes the cave, Dickhead!"

"Y'know, everytime you insult me with my own name it just gets more and more sad."

Jason wanted to scream. "I'll show you what's sa-"

The tunnel opened up, revealing one of the last places Jason was in the mood to be at. The Batcave was just as large, impressive, and condescending as ever. Dick came to a stop near where the rest of the vehicles in the cave were parked, killed the engine, then stuffed the keys into his gauntlets so Jason couldn't snatch them and drive away in a pain filled haze and probably crash in the straight and narrow tunnel used to get here. Dick looked up from the bike, smiled, and waved. 

Jason wanted to shoot something. With rubber bullets, don't worry, but he still wanted to shoot something. 

Of course Batman and Robin couldn't be out in the city right now. Of course they were right here, a good distance away near the batcomputer, both standing up to curiously regard their guests. 

"Don't tell the truth of how it happened," Jason said quickly.

Dick scoffed and dropped his hand, using the other to tear off the edge of his mask. "I don't even really understand what happened-"

Jason glared. "Just make me sound cool, alright? I have a reputation. Can't have them know I was taken out by street level thugs."

"Don't worry, Jay," Dick assured, jumping off the bike and grabbing Jason's arm again, grunting under the weight to eventually help Jason to his feet. "I'll make sure your ego isn't bruised."

"Ya better."

"Richard," came the voice of the most tater tot boy to ever tater tot. "… Jason." There was only one kid that could say someone's name like it was a poison that tasted good. Jason looked up from where he'd been focusing on his feet to see the kid had ran up to get ahead of the big man.

He grinned wickedly, because he loved watching the kid be a little unnerved by him. Not in a rude way. Just in a " hell yeah, little man, I'm your second eldest brother and you gotta respect me " kinda way. 

"Hey, short stack," Jason waved half-heartedly as Dick began to guide him over to the medbay. Alfred, who was standing by the computer, looked Jason up and down, sighed, then walked over to the medbay as well. "How's the cow? Ready for the grill yet?"

"Batcow is fine," Damian replied civilly. Jason wondered why that was. Normally the kid was ready to throw down at the slightest tiny itty bitty inkling of a suggestion of cooking any of his pets. Jason wasn't even subtle about it this time. And Damian also had issues with comments of his perfectly normal for a thirteen year-old shortness. Jason honestly expected reddening, bloating cheeks and narrowed eyes. Instead, Damian looked him up and down, his green eyes calculative and his posture looking oddly like he was trying to convince himself to say something more.

Luckily, or unluckily in many cases, Bruce came up before this odd little exchange could be explored more. 

"What happened?" He demanded in that worried-but-constipated-about-it way of his that he was always so good at.

Jason saw Dick open his mouth and he prepared himself for the coming lecture. Always be ready for an attack, Jason. Be prepared for anything. Even if the enemy is low level street muggers who barely even know how to hold a gun, Jason. Ugh. 

"I shot Jason."

Aaaand Jason now remembered that Dick was literally the worst liar in the whole entire goddamn world. Alright. Jason could work with this. 

"Yup. Dick shot me," Jason agreed, probably enjoying Bruce's frown way too much. Bruce walked around towards their backs and Jason fought a tense as a hand barely even brushed across the bandage around his lower abdomen. 

"Richard wouldn't shoot anyone, even someone as annoying as you," Damian argued, looking genuinely outraged and confused. 

"I'm sorry, Dami," Dick continued, sighing in mock apology as he continued to drag Jason closer to the medbay. "I finally snapped."

"No you didn't!" 

"I did, and I'll do it again!"

Jason tuned out the coming shouting match between a literal child and Damian. That would keep them occupied. He side-eyed over to where Bruce was walking besides them, looking torn between walking ahead to the bay or helping Dick carry Jason. It was times like these that Jason found himself more grateful than ever for his helmet, it allowed him to watch as Bruce has a whole mini crisis, trying to decide what to do with his hands, without Bruce actually seeing him paying attention to that stuff. 

"B," Jason tried, and somehow his voice carried over regardless of Damian's shouting about how Dick wasn't secretly a murderous psychopath who had been repressing his violent urges up until this point. Dick really was going to stick with that story huh?

Bruce's eyes flickered up towards Jason, looking immediately guarded. Jason knew it was a front. So he reached up with his free hand and took off his helmet. He proceeded to look Bruce directly in the eyes. 

He tried a smile, even though he really didn't want to be here in the cave right now. He'd rather be at home, watching replays of Harry Potter and stuffing his face with chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. But, he supposed, if he was going to be forced to be here via one stubborn prick of a brother, pun intended, then he was going to do his best to be as civil as Damian was a moment ago. 

He had a reputation to keep up, after all. Jason didn't get gunned down by street muggers, and he didn't lower himself below the only kid in the cave. 

"Why don'cha help out, yeah?" Jason asked, "Dick is tiny and slow and my back hurts."

Dick squawked. "I take offence to that! I might just shoot you again, Hood!" 

"Stop it Richard! You don't shoot people!"

"I can't help it, little D! The urge to shoot people is stronk ."

Damian groaned at the horrible attempt at gen z slang while Bruce slowly and almost... timidly grabbed Jason's other arm and immediately sped up the process of getting him towards the ever awaiting Alfred and the cot behind him. 

Jason tried to not focus too hard on that. Of how far they have fallen from when Jason was still young. Robin. Full of magic. 

He tried not to think about how far they have come from when Jason was stuffing heads in duffle bags. 

He just allowed Bruce to take him to the cot and gently set him down, shooing Dick and Damian away as Alfred approached with the tools he needed. 

Dick was correct in saying that the bullet didn't go in far, and Jason was right that it went in weirdly and that was why it was so painful. After an excruciating makeshift surgery and a stitching session, Jason reluctantly allowed himself to be lowered into the cot. He was all tuckered out. He was so tired from the entire night that he couldn't keep his eyes open, even though Bruce was in the same room and Jason still didn't feel comfortable being vulnerable around him. 

He might have imagined it, but when he was a sliver away from falling fully into a deep sleep, he might have felt something warm and calloused grab his hand and stroke the joint of Jason's thumb. The hands holding his own were easy to recognize. Bruce had unique hands. He might have felt weirded out by that, that Bruce was holding his hands as he fell asleep, or maybe annoyed. But like he said, he was too exhausted to really… care. 

Too tired to know if it was real. 

"I'm glad you're safe, Jay-lad," Bruce whispered. Or maybe he didn't. 

Jason was too far gone by then. 

[i-just-love-spop]

At the end of the world

‘If you really want to protect me so badly, why don’t you protect me from her?’

But she wouldn’t do that even if she knew the truth about everything, would she? Because Adora loved the praise she was getting from that awful woman. She wouldn’t risk that just because Shadow Weaver was hurting her best friend, right?

Catra felt sick and disgusted at herself for thinking that way a few seconds later.

There it was again – the awful, dumb resentment that was eating away at her sometimes, that had shown its ugly face time and again over the last few years, its appearances becoming more and more frequent the older she grew.

It turned Adora’s kind words and gentle touches to poison in her head.

—

Written for the prompt “you hurt her, you die”, requested a total of three times by different people: @altheaudaku @whoufflewhovian200311 and @brenda4082

I contemplated using the prompt for something that takes place during the final season of the show or after the show, but I always ended up going back to the idea of it taking place when Catra and Adora are in their young teens.

Heads up, this got pretty long and also really, really angsty. There is some fluff later on, though, I promise.

[There is an additional line at the end that makes the angst even worse, it’s not in here in case anyone wants the story to end on a lighter note. I’m going to add said line in a reblog.]

I really need to write more fluff with these two instead of making everything even more angsty than it already was in the show.

TW: Child abuse, mental and physical.

If you are in a situation like this in real life, please don’t keep it to yourself. Tell someone so you can find a way out of the situation. You deserve better ❤️

I’ll probably rate this mature on Ao3, just to be safe.

—

Summary: In which Adora protecting Catra in training gets the latter in trouble, and Shadow Weaver’s words haunt Catra to a point that she doesn’t dare (or want) to talk to her best friend about what is really going on.

—

Catra had her back against the wall. The robot‘s deadly eye was pointed directly at her. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

She hadn’t been careful enough and the damn thing had laid a snare that she had fallen right into. Even worse, now that she’d lost her weapon she had no real way to fight the robot.

The teen covered her face protectively. She had merely seconds to think of a way out of this situation before-

“Hey princess!” That was Adora’s voice. Catra looked up to see that her best friend was now standing in between her and the bot, her staff raised. “That’s my best friend you’re targeting right there!” She hit the robot once, twice, three times, and growled. “You hurt her, you die!”

A moment later, she’d stabbed the robot right through the deadly eye and it sunk to the ground, crackling with electricity one more time before all light in its eye disappeared completely – and with it, so did the simulated princess.

Adora wiped sweat off her forehead.

“Whew, that was close.” She offered Catra a hand to help her up. “I think that was the last one.”

The brunette was about to take her best friend’s hand when a voice rang through the room, cold and menacing with a calm, terrifying angry undertone.

“Good work, cadets!”

Shadow Weaver’s voice made Catra’s blood run cold.

Her outstretched hand turned into a clenched fist as she got up herself, her knees weak.

Despite the fact that she was taller, stronger now, the woman that had less raised than barely tolerated her throughout her childhood still made her feel small and vulnerable just by being present.

“Especially you, Adora. You will truly make an exceptional leader one day.”

The blonde flinched a bit when the older woman touched her face in a gentle gesture. It wasn’t that she wasn’t proud of the praise she was getting... but despite everything, she was still scared of Shadow Weaver.

“I- thank you,” Adora replied, gulping a bit. “I was just doing my best. We all were.”

“Of course.” The blonde relaxed a bit when finally, the older woman let go of her face. “It just so happens to be that your best is a lot better than everyone else’s.”

Catra could practically feel the woman glaring at her. The brunette felt herself shrink smaller and smaller.

This wasn’t fair.

She had beaten almost as many robots as Adora had – and that was saying a lot, especially since this was one of the rare occasions that they were practicing with real lasers... but none of that seemed to matter in the wake of the mistake she had made in the last few minutes.

“Go now or you’ll be late for dinner. We’ll discuss your performances more in the morning.”

Catra got up immediately. She just wanted to get out of here before- but everyone else was closer to the door. Before she could reach it, her body froze in the air and the door slid close behind the last of the others as if by an invisible hand, and Catra was trapped inside... alone with the woman that she hated and feared more than anything in the entire word.

“Not you, Catra.” Her body was lifted into the air, surrounded by a chillingly familiar red glow as she was turned around by force to face Shadow Weaver. The woman’s voice was hateful, menacing, and Catra dreaded what would come next. “That was a poor performance, even for you.”

“T-that’s not true! I took down three robots! Adora just had one more! I was good today!”

The young girl’s voice was shaking. Shadow Weaver was looming over her, the older woman’s eyes narrowed to slits.

She was livid, and that Catra tried to defend her behavior made her even angrier.

“Don’t try to vindicate your shortcomings, your failures.” Catra felt her body tense when the grip the red glow had on her became stronger, more powerful, and started to hurt. “I would say that I‘m disappointed in you, but that would imply that I had actually expected anything else, anything better from you in the first place. I didn’t. We all know you’d be nothing without Adora here to save you.”

That hurt.

Shadow Weaver had years of practice. She knew which areas to target for it to hurt the most.

Adora was Catra’s best friend, and she was the only good thing in her life... but being reduced to the girl’s helpless, useless sidekick was degrading.

Shadow Weaver loved reminding Catra that Adora was like one of the moons that lit up the world, while Catra herself was barely a firefly in comparison that the older woman could crush between her fingertips at any given moment without it being a big loss to her or the Horde. That the brunette was practically worthless, and that her only worth was directly connected to Adora.

Catra felt sick.

“T-that’s not true! I don’t need her! I never needed her!”

For all the defiance in her words, her voice was squeaky and quiet.

She was terrified.

“Oh, but you do.” The shadows closed around her, separating her from the rest of the world, and Catra once again felt like a frightened little girl instead of the young skilled teen that she actually was. “The fact that she has taken a liking to you for a reason beyond my understanding is the only reason I keep you around here in the first place instead of throwing you back to the thrash that you crawled out of.”

Her voice was cold and monotone, and that just made everything worse.

Shadow Weaver made Catra feel small and helpless and useless.

She heard more than what was being said, and despite the fact that the words she did say were already hurtful enough, the threat that loomed behind them made it so much worse.

‘You’re not a person. You’re barely a broken toy that we don’t throw away because my favorite child still likes you for whatever reason. Should she ever cease liking you, that will be the end of your existence.’

Catra wanted to jump at Shadow Weaver, to hurt her the way she was hurting, to yell all of her cruel words back into her face, but instead, the teen just stood there, frozen in fear and terror, her words getting stuck in her throat.

She closed her eyes and braved herself for what she knew would come next.

One blow, then a second, then a third, accompanied by more demeaning, spiteful words.

The teen bit her lip so hard it drew blood, barely managing to keep herself from crying out in pain and desperation. She swallowed the tears that were forming in her eyes bravely. She would not give this woman the satisfaction of hearing her scream and seeing her cry anymore.

—

“Catra, are you okay?” They were sitting in the lunchroom now, Adora across from Catra. While the former was shoving the food into her mouth at an insane speed, the latter was just picking at the ration bars instead of eating them. The blonde glanced at her best friend worriedly and lowered her voice. “Did- did she hurt you again?”

Catra flinched.

So her best friend had realized what was going on, after all?

Did she know how bad it was?

What did she assume was happening?

...should Catra talk to her about it?

“I-” The brunette started, but she never finished the sentence.

She wanted to ask all of these questions, so badly. She wanted to ask Adora for help, to ask her to talk to Shadow Weaver and stand up to her and help Catra. ...but Shadow Weaver’s words kept repeating at the back of her mind.

‘We all know you’d be nothing without Adora here to save you.’

That wasn’t true. She didn’t need Adora to save her. She could do this on her own.

Catra didn’t need anyone to protect her when she could just become strong enough to protect herself.

Adora didn’t make Catra who she was.

Catra wasn’t worthless.

She’d prove that to everyone.

...so she just shook her head.

“I’m fine. And she isn’t hurting me. I just hurt my shoulder a little during training and then stayed behind to patch myself up. Her shadows just creep me out, that’s all.” The words came out surprisingly convincing. She sounded almost indifferent. Catra pushed her plate away. “I’m just not very hungry.”

That wasn’t true, exactly, but she was pretty sure that whatever she would eat she’d throw back up instantly anyway. She was pretty sure her stomach was currently in her chest instead of her belly after the blows it had taken.

Her entire body ached... but at least nothing was bleeding this time.

She’d just end up with a couple of bruises.

She’d live.

She always had.

Adora cocked her head to the side. She knew something was up, even if her best friend didn’t tell her what it was. The blonde girl was a bit ditzy, but she wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t blind. She’d known Catra long enough to be able to tell that much. If only Adora could get her best friend to open up to her somehow...

“Come on. You have to eat something.”

First things first. That was what was most important right now.

They didn’t get that much to eat around here. Skipping a meal meant going to bed hungry and possibly not being able to appease one’s hunger in the morning when they got their next meal. Catra needed to eat, or she would regret it later.

“I said I’m not hungry!”

Catra got up.

Her voice was harsh and cold, and she pushed the table so hard that the plate flew off it, splintering into a thousand pieces, the food splashing all over the floor.

There was a second of regret within Catra... but she felt too sick to eat, anyway. She wouldn’t have been able to keep anything down.

The room went dead silent for a moment and the two were just stared at – then everyone continued to go about their day.

Fights were a daily phenomenon around here.

As long as nobody got killed, nobody bothered to interfere.

The brunette couldn’t stay here any longer. Not with all these people, not with the other cadets from her squad, and especially not with Adora.

She stormed out of the room.

“Catra!”

Adora sighed, took one last bite of her meal, then ran after her.

—

“Catra wait!” The younger girl stopped short. She felt a pang of guilt form in her stomach. She hadn’t wanted Adora to miss dinner because of her. Adora took a moment to catch her breath when she was finally next to her best friend again. “Can... can you please tell me what’s going on? Did I make you upset? I’m sorry...”

Her best friend didn’t even look at her.

“It’s just- I can’t believe you stole my kill like that!” Catra hissed.

That wasn’t it. Not really. But it was close enough to be believable.

Adora looked at her in shock.

“That’s what this is about? Catra, this wasn’t a game! You almost got really hurt!”

There was a reason they rarely trained with actual laser fire, and why only cadets that passed certain tests were allowed to do it in the first place.

People got hurt occasionally, and, albeit very rarely because their instructors usually managed to stop the training simulation before it happened, someone died.

It was necessary to remind them that this wasn’t a game every now and again, to keep them in their toes and to make them aware that, when they finished training, they would be fighting in an actual war.

People got hurt in wars. People died in wars. What was now an occasional training session would be their day-to-day life in a few years.

Adora always looked out for Catra, but in the training sessions that were actually dangerous, her protectiveness reached a whole new level.

She couldn’t help it... especially in situations like earlier, where her best friend had looked so genuinely scared.

“I know that. I’m not stupid. I could have handled it.”

Catra’s voice was monotone. She still didn’t look at Adora. She rather eyed the floor instead.

She didn’t want her to see how badly she was hurting.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say- it’s just- You just kind of looked helpless, and I thought-”

Adora bit her lip and hanged her head. She’d just wanted to help her best friend, but that had backfired massively, and now Catra was mad at her... and her apologetic rambling just made things worse.

“Well, I wasn’t!” The brunette hissed.

...alright, maybe she had been helpless. A little. But she would have found a way out.

She always did.

She didn’t need Adora for that. She didn’t need Adora for anything.

Shadow Weaver’s words had really gotten to Catra.

“I was just trying to protect you!” The blonde defended herself, trying to get through to her best friend’s thick skull. Adora didn’t like fighting with Catra. She just wanted to get this over with. ‘It’s not because I think you’re weak, or that you can’t protect yourself. I know you can,’ she wanted to say. ‘But the thought of you getting hurt... I can’t take it. It drives me completely crazy.’

She reached for her friend, wanting to take her hand to comfort her a little, but she never actually got to touch her or to say anything else.

“WELL, YOU’RE DOING AN AWFUL JOB OF IT!” Catra snarled, in a tone that made even herself a bit taken aback by the poison in her words.

Adora’s shoulders sagged a little as she let her hand sink.

Catra felt awful. She wanted to break down into Adora’s arms and cry while she held her... but that would have been weak, and Catra wasn’t allowed to be weak, especially not in front of Adora. They weren’t supposed to be weak or vulnerable at all. It made them a liability in battle if they were. Adora would have hated her if she‘d known the truth about everything – if she‘d known how weak Catra truly still was, even after all these years.

...and then there was this tiny, spiteful voice whispering in the back of her mind that Catra tried to tune out so badly.

‘If you really want to protect me so much, why don’t you protect me from her?!’

But she wouldn’t do that even if she knew the truth about everything, would she? Because Adora loved the praise she was getting from that awful woman. She wouldn’t risk that just because Shadow Weaver was hurting her best friend, right?

Catra felt sick and disgusted at herself for thinking that way a few seconds later.

There it was again – the awful, dumb resentment that was eating away at her sometimes, that had shown its ugly face time and again over the last few years, its appearances becoming more and more frequent the older she grew.

It turned Adora’s kind words and gentle touches to poison in her head.

For a moment, Catra almost hated her best friend... and then her anger turned to desperation, and she hated herself for even thinking like that for a single second.

Adora was the only good thing about this awful place. The only thing that kept her sane. How dare she even so much as think something like that?

...how dare she let Shadow Weaver’s words get to her to an extent that it influenced her friendship with Adora?!

‘What is wrong with me?!’

She couldn’t look at Adora anymore, so she turned around and ran away again, back to the room they all shared to sleep that was currently pretty abandoned since dinner was barely over.

—

Catra curled up in bed; Adora’s bed, to be more specific – because it smelled like her and that helped her calm down a little –, and she just sobbed silently for a couple of minutes.

Then she heard the door open and close again, and when she looked up, Adora was sitting next to her on the bed and offered her her hand.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” the brunette mumbled, glancing over her shoulder instead of actually turning around to face her friend.

Catra was more upset than she was angry, and she didn’t want Adora to see her cry, despite the fact that the blonde was probably able to hear her sobs anyway.

Adora hanged her head, but she pulled herself together and smiled weakly.

“You don’t have to. But you’re obviously upset, and I’m not going to leave you. Not now, not ever.”

Catra’s heart melted. She sat up and moved closer towards her friend until her back touched Adora’s, and they sat like that for a long while, Catra still sobbing silently, but now, each of her sobs was accompanied by a comforting squeeze of her hand.

—

Eventually, their peaceful togetherness was rudely interrupted as the door opened once more.

“Rogelio?” Lonnie called out as she stuck her head through the door. “Okay, no, he’s not in here, either.” Then she spotted Catra and Adora and walked up to them. “Hey, have you guys seen-” She cut off in mid-sentence and coked her head to the side at the fairly weird image of the two girls sitting back to back in the bunk. “Why are you two sitting like this?”

“We had a fight, and now she won’t talk to me,” Adora replied, scratching the back of her head with the hand that wasn’t holding Catra’s, a weak smile plastered on her face. The fact that she was still very upset was unmistakable in her voice.

Their fellow cadet raised an eyebrow.

“Then why are you holding hands?”

“Catra gets sad when we fight,” the blonde replied without thinking.

Her best friend blushed and let go of her hand immediately, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I do not.”

...yes, she did.

She hated fighting with Adora.

Lonnie just shook her head and groaned.

“Why are you guys so weird?”

“We’re not weird,” Catra growled.

“Yes, you definitely are.” Lonnie rolled her eyes. “Adora, when you’re done being a weirdo about Catra, you can come play with us in the locker room if you want. Kyle invented a game that sounds pretty fun. It involved something with spinning a bottle, I think? I don’t know, I kinda forgot.”

“I’d love to.” Adora bit her lip. “But only if Catra can come, too.”

Lonnie shook her head.

“Adora, I know you’re nice and all, but none of us actually understand why you hang out with her so much in the first place. Catra’s mean, and she doesn’t like us. And, quite frankly, we don’t like her, either.” Lonnie had had her less bad moments with Catra – moments where she’d felt sorry for her, moments where she almost felt like they could be friends... but Catra had always gone back to her usual cold, rude demeanor immediately afterwards, and Lonnie was incredibly tired of that. Either the girl wanted to be her friend, or she didn’t. And if she couldn’t keep being nice to Lonnie and her friends, Catra obviously didn’t. Lonnie wouldn’t play this game any longer. “Even if we would allow her to come, she wouldn’t want to, and if she did, she’d ruin our evening... so sorry, but no thanks.”

The blonde growled.

“Don’t talk about my best friend like that!”

“But she’s right,” Catra mumbled. “I don’t like them, and I wouldn’t want to play their stupid game anyway. Feel free to go without me if you want to.”

She had a very hard time not breaking down in tears, but the last thing she wanted right now was to be vulnerable again, especially in front of this stupid girl that was always trying to steal her best friend from her. ...the same stupid girl that she’d hit in a fit of jealous rage back when they were kids, and that had patched her up after a particularly bad training session that one time. And that Catra had then snapped at as a ‘thank you’ the next day.

...the more Catra thought about it, the more certain she was that, had she been anyone else, she wouldn’t have wanted to be friends with herself, either.

“No. I won’t. I’m staying with you,” Adora replied.

Catra almost managed a smile.

Damn it, how was this girl so perfect?

Lonnie shrugged.

“Whatever, suit yourself. Have you guys seen Rogelio?”

“No, sorry. I think I saw him at dinner, but I have no idea where he went afterwards,” Adora replied. “He’s definitely not been in here since we finished dinner.”

“Okay. Thanks anyway. I’ll find him, probably. You guys have ...fun?... with whatever the heck you’re doing. See you later.”

—

As soon as the door closed behind her, Catra’s hand found Adora’s again.

“You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

“Yeah. But I wanted to,” the blonde replied with a smile. “Besides, I didn’t want to go play with her after that anyway. I like Lonnie, and I like hanging out with her, but I don’t like the way she talked about you. You’re my best friend. Nobody is allowed to speak to you that way.“

“I... thank you.”

The brunette was still facing the wall, her voice was extremely quiet.

“Catra, listen, I...” Adora started, trying her best to find the right words. “I’m sorry about earlier. I know you can take care of yourself. It’s just... the thought that that robot could hurt you, or worse...” She gulped. “I couldn’t just stand by and watch. I had to do something.” Adora squeezed Catra’s hand again. “I’d never let anyone hurt you. Especially not a princess. I promised I would look out for you, remember?” Adora smiled at her softly. “I’m intending to keep that promise for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Catra replied without missing a beat... then flattened her ears. “But thank you. I don’t want anything to happen to you, either.”

She gulped. She was being hurt... but it wasn’t Adora’s fault, and there was nothing she could do about it – not without putting herself in danger. And Catra didn’t want that.

The one thought she could bear even less than having to take these blows all her life was the thought of Adora taking them for her.

...the resentment was gone now, replaced by warmth and worry.

“I can’t lose you,” the brunette whispered. “Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t know who I’d be without you.”

It wasn’t an apology, exactly... but Adora didn’t blame her.

Catra had never been good at apologies. Most people here weren’t. This was as good as it got, and she appreciated it.

Besides, at least part of the situation had been Adora’s fault, after all, so she didn’t really blame her.

Catra finally turned around to face her best friend again, allowing the blonde to wipe the tears off her cheeks. The brunette just let her do it without complaint, even enjoying the touch.

It made her feel warm inside.

Maybe being weak for once was okay, after all.

“Yeah, me either.”

Adora shrugged and pulled her best friend close. She was just happy they weren’t fighting anymore, and that she could finally hug her again to properly comfort her.

Catra snuggled up to her, her head nestling against the crook of the blonde’s neck.

“Good think we’ll never have to find out, right?”

“Never,” Adora emphasized. “I’m never going to leave you. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to be anywhere without you, ever.”

She stroked Catra’s head, making the girl purr happily. The blonde liked Catra’s purrs, especially when she so close to Adora’s chest. They made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“And even if you leave... wherever you go, I’ll go. Yesterday, today and tomorrow. Forever. One day, it’s going to be you and me, together at the end of the word,” Catra added.

The thought made her a weird amount of happy. She hadn’t thought she would be able to smile again after the day she’d had, and the memories still made her shake, and the bruises still hurt... but she was smiling now.

Because Adora made her happy.

“Exactly. Nothing can separate us.” Adora beamed as she touched the picture they had carved into the bed when they were kids, shortly after they‘d first met. “Just like nothing can separate tiny Catra and Adora. They’ll be there on the bed frame together until the end of time.” She squeezed Catra’s hand. “Come on, we should get some sleep now so you don’t accidentally sleep in again tomorrow.”

Catra stayed silent for a moment, then breathed a silent “Okay.”

The two of them fell asleep arm in arm, the brunette sprawled out over her best friend.

[crystaljins]

Sea.

Characters: Namjoon x Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Synopsis:   It takes a lot to follow your dreams. Idol!reader x manager!Namjoon

Notes: @tuserendipia​ requested Namjoon + dreams. And all I could think about is how BTS have achieved their dreams. And actually, this week I achieved MY dream. So this is what you guys get. LOL. It’s pretty shoddily written but who cares? It’s all for fun.

Warnings: Nothing except mentions of dodgy record label companies? Also atrocious plotholes because i know nothing about music contracts. If that bothers you please read something else.

Few people are fortunate enough to experience the adrenaline rush that comes with finally achieving their dreams. You are though, and you’re practically glowing from the high. Namjoon can only stare in awe as he captures your fingers before you can step onto the platform that will raise you onto the stage above.

“Hey.” He calls, adjusting the headsets he has on and slipping them off so that they rest on his neck. He very intentionally reaches down and switches off the battery pack it attaches to. No one will hear the words he says next and he will not have panicked staff members contacting him through the comms system. These words are just for you. “I’m proud of you.”

You’re all dolled up in stage makeup to highlight your best features. The dress has been designed carefully so that the stage lights will be caught by the tiny diamontes and dance across your body like starlight. He almost misses what you look like bare-faced and relaxed, with the hood of your jumper pulled up over unwashed hair, but there is no denying that you are in your element like this. The person he is looking at now is the pop princess who captured the heart of the entire nation with her amazing voice and beautiful face, about to perform on her dream stage.

You don’t smile in response. Instead you frown at him and he knows what you’re thinking. Really you should be buzzing with the nerves and excitement that comes with achieving your dreams, but you clearly have something on your mind.

“Joon.” You say in response. “Thank you.” The words are whispered, barely audible over the music that starts up, building up to your grand entrance. Already outside, the crowd is screaming. “But you should be up there with me.”

He offers you a smile because even now, in the moment that you are about to achieve your dreams, you are thinking about him. He didn’t always appreciate that about you- when he first met you, he had thought you were spoiled and single-minded. You wanted to have it all and had none of the motivation or determination to take it. And yet things still seemed to fall into your lap- you’d open your mouth and sing a few notes and entertainment companies would trip over themselves to have you sign with them.

He had been working as in intern then, trying to break into the industry and form connections and his run-ins with you had left him jealous and frustrated. Jealous that you had everything he wanted and frustrated that you didn’t even seem to recognise how easily things came to you. And that had only become exacerbated when someone had decided he’d be a good manager to you. Suddenly it went from having to see you in the hallways of the company or sitting in on meetings discussing your schedule to having to spend every waking minute worrying about you and where you were and what you were doing. He should have refused the promotion, really, but the pay was better, and it meant he was meeting far more influential people than he was as a mere intern.

You, of course, had been baffled by Namjoon’s initial dislike of you. You seemed like the kind of person who was used to people handing their hearts to you on a silver platter without much effort on your part of all. But you had somehow met him everything with a smile and a cheerfulness that none could match, and he soon learned the reason why.

No one follows their dreams with ease. To achieve the goal your heart is longing for comes with blood, sweat and tears and you had never forgotten your humble roots. Even though Namjoon had only seen you from the point where people on social media sites had started to see and recognise your talent, he didn’t see the financial difficulties, or the days you busked on the side of the road for hours to even be able to pay for your dinner. He didn’t see the people who had scammed you and taken everything in your blind and desperate attempts to share your voice. He wasn’t there when you’d had to give up the performing academy you’d always dreamed of because your father had gotten sick and your mother couldn’t afford both your schooling fees and his hospital fees. And so, while he had seen you and been jealous that things looked easy for you, you had seen him and known that Namjoon too was working hard for his dreams- that no dream comes easy or naturally. That’s why you were able to treat him with such kindness and warmth- because he was your fellow dreamchaser.

When he realised that, he started to see the other things that made you great. Your big heart, your genuine and sincere nature, the way your voice captured hearts… you had inspired him. And he’d done something really dumb and embarrassing- he had written a song about you. No, a song for you. Written for your vocals and your style. And to be honest, it was never meant for anyone but him to hear. And then of course you had come across it entirely by accident when you were searching through his phone for a video he had taken for you.

But then something funny had happened. Namjoon has been searching, ever since he began his internship, for the person who would take a chance on him and his music. Who would hear it and love it enough to make it big, and never, in a million years, did he think that person would be you. Of course, your record label had refused, saying that it didn’t fit your image or your sound, but you had fallen in love with the song and you were determined to sing it. You’d recorded the song with him and released it on soundcloud, and of course, your vocals combined with his music… it had blown up.

Your record company had been angry. They had wanted to seize the rights to the song and in an oversight on your part, a tiny clause in your 75-page contract stated that any and all music released by you automatically belonged to them. And thus, Namjoon had lost his first ever song to a big corporate that hadn’t even wanted to give him a chance in the first place. And he’d learned how painful the journey to realising your dreams could be. But that had been nothing compared to you- you were inconsolable, especially when his song only took your career to new heights. The very heights that are allowing you to perform here, at the biggest stadium in your country. The place only the biggest stars even hope to perform in and you were to take the stage as the top female solo act. You had begged him to take legal action, but he couldn’t do it- couldn’t take his song back without harming you. Perhaps that is the most painful part- that he had had to choose between you and his song. And ultimately, you had been what won.

“I’m just happy to see you up there.” He tells you warmly, because it’s true. Gone are the days when he was jealous and angry at the world, for choosing you and not him. Now… after seeing you in every facet of your life, from the angel on stage to the grumpy young woman in stained, unwashed tshirts… He only wants to see you achieve. To climb higher and higher and keep moving and capturing heart the way you have wholly captured his. Once upon a time, it was just him, his music and his dreams, but somewhere along the way you wiggled into his heart and there’s now something more important than his music: You. As much as it hurts to lose his dreams… You are more important to him.

Something flashes in your eyes, an unfamiliar mischief and challenge.

“You’ll be even happier in a moment.” You warn, and he doesn’t even have a chance to ask you what you mean when you step away from him, releasing his fingers and climbing up onto the stage. The next moment you vanish as the platform raises you onto the stage.

Above ground, the cheers grow in intensity. No doubt the screams and cries rumble through the whole city- there is surely not a soul that does not know that tonight, you are taking centre stage. Namjoon smiles as he steps backwards and goes to find the ideal spot backstage to watch the rest of your concert. He’s comfortably waiting at the side of the stage where he can see and hear everything that is happening. He’s about to switch his headpiece back on, when it happens.

The music that booms onto the stage is not your usual opening music. Instead, it’s a familiar tune. A song he had written in private, in some of his darker days when his dreams had seemed far away and unattainable. He doesn’t know how you found it, or how deep you delved into his secret soundcloud account to get the backing track, but it’s playing as the opening song to your concert, for the entire nation who is watching and listening to hear.

“This song was written by a very special friend of mine.” He hears your voice boom through the microphone. “And I need you all to do me a favour- help me get his music out there. Spread the word. Post the videos online. And tell everyone you know whose song this is: Kim Namjoon!”

And then you burst into song, his words, his tune, but better. It’s a song that captures all the hardship of following your dreams, the pain and hopelessness that comes with it, and a song that resides specially in his heart.

“Where there is hope, there is always hardship.” You sing. Due to the controversy of Namjoon’s song for you, it never made it to the live stage- this is the first time one of his songs will be performed live, and it’s on the biggest stage in the country with his name at the forefront. And not a song written for you, but a song carrying a piece of him. This song is unashamedly his and you have just helped him release it into the public.

Namjoon shakes his head in disbelief, hardly believing your audacity, or the way you’ve just shot down your record company. This is a big move for you and with so many people hearing you declare the owner of the song out in the open, it will be much harder for the company to quietly assume the rights. You’ve made a daring move, and risked your career. And for him. The song finishes and Namjoon is not ashamed there are tears pouring down his face. But then what happens next is unbelievable.

“Guys!” You cry. “Do you want to meet him? The man who wrote that song?” The ensounding chorus of “Yes!” rumbles through Namjoon’s heart like a stampede. You turn your head to where he’s hidden in the side of the stage and the smile that you give him is dazzling. You run up to him, and grab his hand. You switch off your mic for just a moment.

“They won’t steal this one from you.” You promise and then you’re stepping onto stage with him.

For a moment, all he feels is a rush of adrenaline as he gaze out onto the huge crowd. He can’t hear anything past the roaring in his ears. But then the buzzing fades and then he hears what the crowd is chanting.

“Kim Namjoon! Kim Namjoon!” They scream wildly. That’s his name they’re cheering. His song they’re going wild to. They’re chanting his name in the biggest stadium in the country and it’s so beyond his wildest dreams that he’s speechless.

And then he glances at you. The stage light catches on your dress and your eyes are filled with a dazzling light that takes his breath away. And he realises something.

Dreams are arbitrary. They can change in a heartbeat. Some will go unfulfilled for all eternity and the second one is filled it’s time to make a new one. It’s in human nature to always be running for more, to be chasing a moving goalpost, but he’s found something better than a dream. Something that he doesn’t have to chase desperately after and never meet. Something that he can stop and stare in wonder. Somewhere he can stay, in warmth and happiness.

And that is you. You’re more than a dream to him. You’re his love.

And he’s yours.

[crewhonk]

Of The Line (4 2/2)

WARNINGS: This is very dark. Warnings for blood, gore, horror, bugs, dark!Bucky, fears of isolation, fears of loss, fears of loneliness, ANGST!

Chapter Summary: In which Giovanna, Steve and YN take the brunt of Wandas rage and power

Words: 2.5K (short, I’m sorry omg)

A series collaboration with @nomadsgrogers where she writes for Giovanna as the reader! We’re just projecting onto our writing, its FINE

Series Summary: Steve watches YN Banner grow up before his eyes– from a shy, dorky sixteen-year-old to a fierce, brilliant woman who never fails to keep him on his toes. He knows that she’s untouchable, but that doesn’t stop him from being completely wrapped around her finger for the rest of his long life.

Series Warnings: Mutual Pining, age gap, gun use, these two are idiots– seriously they’re so dumb, slow burn

Pairings: eventual Steve Rogers X Banner!Reader, eventual Buky Barnes X OC!Stark

AN: PLEASE, PLEASE COMMENT AND LIKE AND REBLOG OUR WORK! We’re getting a little discouraged due to the recent lack of notes on this series!

Till The End Masterlist / Of The Line Masterlist

_______________________

“Thor,” Steve couldn’t hide the anger from his voice— nor did he care to. “Status.” His eyes landed on Giovanna and YN who had since landed and were staring, open-mouthed up at the gaping hole in the ceiling by which Ultron and Tony had left. Natasha was somewhere— he heard her grunts and cries of men, Clint was also nearby, judging by the number of uncollected arrows in his area. 

“The girl tried to warp my mind,” Thor growled irritably, a crash sounded somewhere in the distance. “But fortunately, I am mighty. Take special care, I doubt a human could keep her at bay.”

YN and Giovanna’s laughs could be heard from all around the ship— they had always loved Thor’s dramatics— his Shakespearean way of living and breathing and shitting. It settled Steve knowing that they were okay. His relief was short-lived, however, when an impact like a train sent Steve flying ten feet and into a railing, knocking the breath out of his lungs. The last thing he saw before his vision went blurry was a flash of silver hair and a cock-sure smirk. 

_________________________

It was a flash of red and light, and Steve was back in the 1940s. Familiar garb on men's shoulders and pretty dresses on wide hips. Curls loosened with spins and messy with sweat. The heady scent of cigarettes pungent in the air, making Steve’s lungs ache on the right side of painful. There were banners dropping confetti— ‘Victory!’ They read, but for some odd reason, Steve didn’t feel that victorious. There was a horrible copper tinge to the air, a man laughing on the floor with a wine stain that looked too much like a bullet hole, a woman screaming as a man flipped her over his head— a sound that sent a chill down his spine. 

Steve stumbled through the crowd, the flashes of camera bulbs and red lipstick leaving him disoriented among the crowded room. ‘Too much red,’ Steve thought, 'I’m gonna drown’.

A grip, too tight on his shoulder with nails too sharp startled him out of his seemingly drunken haze. He spun around too quickly, trying his best to focus his dizziness so he could see who was smiling at him. 

It was Peggy— or it was supposed to be. Her smile was too tight, too turned up at the corners. There was no glint in her eye, no shine that made Steve’s heart race. There was an obnoxious flower in her curls and the ruffling of her dress was tasteless and tacky— nothing his Peggy would have worn. 

“Are you ready for our dance?” Her accent was similar, but the tone of it rather robotic and Steve wanted nothing but to run in the opposite direction of this stranger. “The war is over, Steve.” She pulled him to her— another action Peggy would have never done. Steve made to pull away but her grip was too strong. 

“We can go home.” There was a sudden flash of a tentacle and a skull at her words and he wrenched himself away from her, spinning back to find a very empty ballroom. There was a moment of silence before a slow, sad piano melody began to play. Steve looked for the source, but all the instruments were gone. 

Then, he saw her, sitting in a soft golden dress that seemed to blur under the lights. He walked to her, placed his hand lightly on her shoulder and sucked in a pained breath when YN look at him. Her eyes were dark, black mascara smeared around her eyes which lacked the magical green that entranced him whenever he got two feet close to her. There were tear tracks leading to the corners of her lips, light pink lipstick smudged messily. He didn’t need to ask to know that he was the reason her heart was broken. 

“Why’d you do it?” YN’s voice was weak and hollow. “Why would you leave me?”

“I didn’t— I could never leave you, YN.” He tried, but she just let out a single, heartbroken cry. 

“You said you would be back in a minute— or, maybe dad did— but all the same. When they tried to bring you back you weren’t there. You left— you always do.” Steve could feel her very soul shatter as she spoke and he wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and beg for her forgiveness. For what, he didn’t know, but he would beg until the very end of time. 

“Please, YN, baby. You have to forgive me.” He wanted to cry but instead of releasing itself, the lump in his throat only expanded, threatening to tear his throat in two. 

“I couldn’t,” She whispered, and it was then that he noticed the silver glint on her ring finger. “I never could. That’s why I moved on. I don’t need you anymore, Steve. I’ll never need you again."

__________

“Hey, maybe we will actually make it in time to get Chick-Fil-A.” Giovanna cheered as she watched the last of the robots fly into the air— presumably to go and defend their leader who was surely taking one hell of a beating from Tony. Go, dad. 

“Oh, come on!” YN groaned and threw the empty clip from her gun to the floor, reloading it and placing it in her spot on her waist. Betty never failed YN. “You know I just watched that cow documentary— plant-based diet for me from now on.” She swore, making a cross over her heart with her finger. Giovanna rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah, but that’s cows! We all know chickens are the devil’s spawn.”

“Yeah, maybe but even demons have feelings.”

“Are you sure?”

“We feel things, don’t we?” YN turned, launching herself over the railing and landing on the balls of her feet on the floor below, heading towards the door. There was a blast of heat before a metal clunk that signified that Giovanna had followed her down. 

“I mean, sometimes but—“ Giovanna’s sentence was cut off by a crashing sound, and YN whipped around in time to see her best friend fall to the ground, a misty red gleaming in the usual dark brown of her iris. 

“Gio, No!” YN cried out before she too fell to her knees in a hazy fog. 

___________________

Giovanna woke to the rising gold sun drifting through her small apartment. It was humble— from humble beginnings come humble endings, she remembered someone say. YN, maybe— or Bruce. The apartment was nothing more than a single room. There was a mattress on the floor and pushed into a corner— thick blankets making it a soft nest for two people. The kitchen was small and messy and everything that made Giovanna content— satisfied— just out of reach of happy. 

The shower in the even smaller bathroom stopped, and the door opened with a blow of steam, revealing a beautiful, daunting man. He was the definition of dark beauty— YN would have described him as ‘Beauty and the Beast Beautiful’, long, deep scars marring his body and skin torn over his left shoulder, hanging from it a shining metal arm. Giovanna never tinkered with it— never felt the need to. No need to be smart when you could simply be domestic. 

“Want to go to the market, today? I’m down to my last few plums,” His voice was deep and husky and sent a jolt to her stomach— just barely swollen. She stood from her place in the bed, walking barefoot over to the man and wrapping her arms around his neck, placing kisses over his glistening chest and feeling his happy hum on her lips. 

“Let me get dressed, and we’ll go.” She whispered, walking back to her closet. One shelf, hangers long forgotten, plain clothing crumpled on the floor. She heaved the closet open, and let out a long, drawn-out blood-curdling scream. 

Three bodies piled out, one each more decayed than the last.

 First, and most rotted was her father, dark veins trailing from the Arc Reactor on his chest, moving up his neck and over his face, twisting it into something ugly and horrible and turning his bright eyes black. Giovanna squinted, crying out when a sickly green spider crawled out from the place his ear used to be. 

Natasha had fallen on top of him, a deep slash of a knife which had been cut right through her spine. There was a shining liquid seeping from it that smelled similar to lake water and soaking her hair. Her skin looked pale and blue and waterlogged, eyes white and rolled into the back of her skull. 

YN had rolled out after them— she had been the freshest. A copper scent filling the room and making Giovanna’s stomach heave. There was a knife slash across her face, marring her smile. Her blood, now green in decay, soaked her clothes, limbs twisted at horrendous angles. 

Giovanna whipped around, stumbling, hoping to find the man who was standing still in the kitchen. 

“Bucky— we need to call or help, I can’t—“ Giovanna sobbed, clutching at his shoulders and spinning him to face her. There was a glint in the light and a sharp pain in her lower stomach. In shock, she looked down, hands clutching at the deep wound in her tummy. She became weak suddenly, hands falling away from the gash-- falling open with a babies cry and sludge of dead grasshoppers and beetles falling to the floor. 

“Buck— what?” She looked up at the man she had found and saved and let him make her something so far from what she used to be. The gleaming knife in his hand was soaked with fresh blood— her blood— their Childs blood. 

“Cute— how you thought you could save me.”

___________________ 

When YN woke up, there was a single person in the cold room with her. YN was chained to the cold floor, the ice seeming to seep into her bones. She pulled at the chains, but they too were frozen to the floor. 

“Stuck, Little Bird?” The woman’s voice was unfamiliar, and YN squinted to see who it was. She could only see shapes— a nose similar to her own, hair the same texture. 

“Mama?” She asked weakly. The cold was beginning to make her drowsy and she fought the drooping of her lids. She needed warmth— something slow and gradual to stop the hypothermia but also not send her body into shock. There was a family waiting for her.

“Family? Oh, sweet bird. You have no family left, didn’t you know? Everyone followed my lead, eventually. I was the right one— leaving you alone in the jungle on your monster of a fathers doorstep.” The woman voice was colder than the metal sticking to YN’s skin. 

“No, you’re wrong. I have Dad and Uncle Tony and—“ YN’s voice faded as if all the hope and joy in her body was being sucked out with each passing breath. “— and Gio, and Steve, and Nat.” Her voice cut itself off— too weak to continue. 

“Oh, haven’t you heard, sweet thing?” The woman leaned in closer— no features arose, but something akin to eyes pierced YN’s soul deep down. “Your dad left you. He’s missing. Has been for a while now. Some people say he finally did the world a good deed and managed to killed himself, others day he was abducted by aliens, but all the same.”

YN felt her eyes well up with tears. Surely, she would have felt it— a loss that great. This couldn’t be real. 

“The Starks and Natalia? Well, that one was easy. It was only a matter of time before they realized how utterly average you were. How much of a freak you were. An abomination amongst men, YN. Even science turned its nose up at you. The girls -- Giovanna and Natasha-- are best friends with themselves and themselves alone— God, that had started long before they left you, though. Talked about you behind your back and everything. What a show that was when they got going.”

YN let out a choked sob which echoed around the room, the echo itself growing louder and louder until the woman shifted back and continued to speak. 

“Steve wouldn’t leave me. He’s, he—“ YN cried. She could feel her body slowing, could feel her skin and the metal becoming one. 

“He loves you?” The woman laughed shrilly, clapping her hands in joy at their revelation. “Always the stupid one, huh? Foolish, naive girl— he jumped ship the moment he knew he could go back to that woman— the one in his compass? Margaret!” The woman snapped her fingers. “Peggy, I believe was the name she went by. They have a family now, a white picket fence and a dog and a newborn on the way. And you know what they all have in common?” The woman sneered and leaned in close to YN’s face. YN, in all her strength, looked up to face the woman she thought to be her mother— find out who she was. How much she looked like her. 

Instead, with a great cry of the most pungent pain, YN came face to face with herself. 

“They are all better off without you, YN. All happier. All living better lives because they left. I mean, look at me— I’m the best version of you there is.” The woman— YN’s mother, or YN herself, or whoever she was, stood from her chair and turned, opening the door to reveal a barren wasteland of snow and ice. YN would surely die here. 

“Oh,” The woman said, mocking pity in her voice. “You won’t die. You can’t. Instead, you’ll rot here, alone for the rest of time. Nobody will hear you, and even if they did, who would want to save a poor, unfortunate soul like yours?”

____________________

Whatever was left of YN’s consciousness recognized a few things in the next few hours. There was a shift in her weight— a grunt and a soft whisper that sounded safe. 

“YN? You with me, Lamb?” A man’s voice sounded and she could only furrow her brows in response, still shivering from the cold in her bones. 

“She’s going to be okay. Set her down by Bruce— throw the blanket over her shoulders so she can warm up a bit.” Uncle Tony, maybe? Clint?

“How is she so cold, anyway? It’s like, 104 degrees out.”

“Must have been something to do with what the witch did.”

“Scary. We should set Cricket down beside her. She seems a little restless.”

“What about Steve?” The man grunted as she was set down, a warm body pressed to her side and an even warmer blanket pulled over her shoulders. Warm. Safe. 

“Get him and Natasha closer to these guys. It’s time we made them actually lean against each other for once.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice.” There was a chuckle and a sound of a dragging body and a weight over her thighs. Heavy. Not Natasha. Steve. Safe. Grounding. 

“Where to, Clint?” Tony spoke, his voice sounding less and less far away. There was a shift of the weight on her lap and two, trunk-like arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. Safe. 

“Safehouse.”

Safe.

______________________________

Tags (open, send an ask): @i-am-always-famished / @filia-sapientiae / @somekryptonitewriting / @fashionlive15 / @godlymissbalor / @fanfictionjunkie1112 / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @songforhema / @army-crawl-andersen / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @shynara51 / @deathofmissjackson / @a–1–1–3 / @liffydaze / @shymarvelfannanni / @freakpotterfan / @callie-bear15 / @sunflower-borhap-boys / @criedwolfwritings / @vxidnik / @captainomad / @lazinessisalliknow / jjlevin / @gwlaxygirl 

[neverlandparker]

Rooftops // peter parker (repost!)

Word Count:  3.2k words of angst and fluff - so much of it. teens in love and all the cuteness that ensues :)

Warnings: man armed with gun scene (kind of) but no worries! there’s no death or blood in this one!!

Author: @neverlandparker 

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry its been so long! Its nice to be back and writing! I really hope you enjoy reading this as much I did writing it! <3

Additional Note***This is a repost because I accidentally deleted the original!!! Luckily, I had a draft saved that was pretty close to the original...but I actually ended up changing it up a little bit :)  please please please give it another read even if you have read the original post and let me know what you think !! thank you so so much for your wonderful support, it really means the world! -claire xx***

Prompt: From my prompt list that is now nonexistent haha: #10: “Um…so you are going to just try convincing me that the last 10 seconds didn’t happen?” #12: “Are you just going to stare at me?” and ps I changed around the prompt words a bit to make it better fit the writing in that scene! 

Prompts were requested by anon & @underoos-shield <3

(photo not mine.)

…

It all began a week ago. You were walking toward your locker when you saw Peter and Ned standing nearby and speaking in a hushed, secretive manner. You thought maybe it was because they were trying to talk about some new Lego set without the whole world knowing so you just shrugged it off and walked toward them. 

It was not until you neared in proximity that you began to pick up bits of their conversation and upon hearing your name, you froze immediately. Thankfully, it was passing time and everyone was walking in the hallways crowded hallways giving you some coverage from being spotted eavesdropping on them. You knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but hearing your name come up in their conversation suddenly made you very intrigued. 

So you stopped at one of the nearby drinking fountains, filling up your empty water bottle as you made sure to listen extra carefully to see if you could make out their conversation. 

Even with your back turned, your eyes widened and you almost dropped your water bottle as you heard what came out of Peter’s mouth next. “Ned! But I can’t Y/N, I can’t tell her! She would hate me if I did.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ned making wild hand gestures as he replied, “Dude, you’re an Avenger. If anyone has a chance with a senior girl, it’s you!” 

You couldn’t grasp what was happening.

Peter? An Avenger? 

Then that could only possibly mean one thing—Peter Parker, your dorky best friend was Spider-Man.

Shocked and stunned, you immediately felt your hands fly to your mouth in a failed attempt to muffle your rather audible gasp at the realization.

You were thankful that the loud clamor of high school students in the hallway made your embarrassingly loud intake of air less noticeable.

As you went through your day, one thing stayed on your mind. Your best friend. Peter Parker. Was Spider-Man? 

But the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The abrupt ends to your phone calls, the reason why Peter ditched you and Ned during your traditional Friday movie nights, and also the reason why his disappearances kept strangely matching up with Spider-Man’s appearances on the news. 

…

As you walked home from school, you were texting your friend until suddenly, you noticed the presence of a person behind you—your intuition seemed to be alerting you as you felt somewhat followed. As you carefully paid more attention, you realized the same man had followed you for what seemed like 10 straight minutes. Then, all of a sudden, it seemed like he caught you sneaking suspicious odd looks at him, and faster than one could say “thwip,” he pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at your head.

Your blood ran cold. Mouth ran dry. Sweat seemed to dampen your skin. Goosebumps formed. Tears prickled your eyes. Your legs started to shake. Your mind went blank. Pure terror seized hold on your heart and as much as wanted to scream for help and run for cover, your feet betrayed you, staying stubbornly stuck to the ground, as if glued there. 

“Drop your bag and give me your money!” he roared at you. 

You did as you were told, slowly and carefully as fear flooded your body. You reached a hand into your bag painstakingly slowly and was about to hand your wallet over but all of a sudden you hear – WHOOSH THWIP!

“Hey buddy! I believe that belongs to her!” and right before your own eyes, you witness Spider-Man up close, in action, practically flying toward your attacker and with a powerful kick delivered, he successfully knocked the man unconscious. 

As you were still collecting yourself over the last few minutes, he deposited the weapon , called the police, and had the unconscious assaulter tied up tightly against the brick wall of a nearby building.  

And as soon as he turned around to face you he froze, and the suit’s eyes almost seemed to dilate as if...as if he was surprised to see it was you. You took a mental note of this as you cautiously asked “U-um are you okay?” 

As if shaken out of whatever daydream he was in, he replied wittily, “h-hey, isn’t that supposed to be my line?” 

And as your smile began to fade, realizing what had almost happened had he not been there to save you, he immediately apologized, “I-I’m so s-sorry – I shoulda been t-there sooner. D-Did he hurt y-you?”

What you did next actually surprised you and him as well as you flung yourself full force at the masked hero, as you found yourself unable to express your thoughts in no other way, hoping that this embrace would suffice as a way of thanking him for saving your life.  

And then it was almost like you caved, as at once, your fierce guard had been let down and floodgates opened as you felt tears slide down and drip off your cheeks. More tears came and you struggled to keep your composure as you tried to muffle your sobs, only turning into even more of a sniffling, shaking mess. It was almost at that moment that you realized that you probably looked ridiculous, clinging onto the spandex-suited hero as you sobbed uncontrollably in the middle of the sidewalk. 

It must have been at that realization, but you quickly jumped back and quickly made an attempt to wipe away your tears, your eyes still red and watery. 

“Oh my god—I am so-so-so sorry I-I don’t know what came over m-me, I d-don’t know what came over me—thank you, thank you…” your voice trailed off as hushed as ever, as Spider-Man faced you, listening.

“No–no-no- please don’t ever apologize. It was my fault that I let this happen and damn it I should have been here earlier and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…If I had gotten here any later…god what were you thinking? Walking by yourself? Who let you do this? Who was dumb enough to let you walk home by yourself?” he practically screeched and he was up about pacing the sidewalk in front of you. At first you were rather taken back by his outburst earlier but then the more you observed carefully, it seemed awfully like he was almost berating….himself?

You made a mental note that everything so far seemed to be like Peter. His height and build, the voice, and his caring nature which shone right through the mask.

But scared to jump to conclusions with your assumptions and possibly revealing his secret identity to the world, you sat there with your mouth shut, listening to him rant. You decided now was not the right  time to confront him about this. It would have to wait for later. 

“Um–hey Y/—Miss?” he waved a cautious hand in front of your face.

You jumped back to reality. 

“Oh. Um,” you cleared your throat, “uh right!”

“I’d better get going,” you stated still slightly dazed from traumatic event and the possibility of Spider-Man being your own best friend. 

You got up slowly and when you finally managed to collect yourself enough, you flashed a watery smile his way and started to slowly walk away.

Before you could get far though, you heard a voice calling your name. 

“Hey! Miss…Wait up!” 

You looked over your shoulder and you saw the familiar red and blue suit. Your lips quirked upwards instinctively and you turned your body towards him.

Huh?

His normally confidently and witty composure had shrunk and now he was looking everywhere but you, shuffling his feet unconsciously, and wringing his hands….nervously?

You looked up at him, with a gentle expression as if expecting an answer.

He cleared his throat.

“Umm yeah uh sorry–sorry just um can I walk you home?” 

It came out so timidly, you smiled. 

“Of course, I’d love some company”

…

Before you knew it, you had arrived at your apartment and you dug your key out from your backpack. 

“Well, this is me….thank you. again. thank you for saving my life back there” you looked up at him. 

And throwing all reservations out the window, you threw your hands around his neck, pulling him close, hugging for a minute. 

Then, you pulled back, a blush dusting your cheeks. 

“Honestly I don’t know what I’d do without you…..” you trailed off, then realizing what you said wasn’t exactly how you wanted it to come out, you quickly added, “…in that situation I mean.” Your face was flaming. 

“Thank you again” you whispered.

The masked hero just nodded. 

“I’ll see you around”

And with that, you gave him a little wave, and shut the door, as you felt your legs give out, sliding down against the back of the door to your apartment, as you sat there for a few minutes blinking back tears as you tried to comprehend what had just happened in the last hour. 

…

School had gone as normal the day after. And there was nothing out of the ordinary. Admittedly, you were still slightly shaken from the events of the day before, but you were slowly starting to feel normal again.

You took note that Peter had stuck at your side for the entire day, running to catch up with you in the halls even if his next class was all the away across campus at the tech wing, insisting that he walk you to your next class.

You kept protesting, saying you were perfectly fine and pushing him away, not wanting him to be tardy to his next class, but he stayed adamant and walked by you for the rest of the day whenever he possibly could. 

Whenever you asked about it, he shrugged and just replied with, 

“Just trying to be good company” 

…

Although having Peter so close the whole day which you had to admit was comforting, it also made your feelings for him a lot harder to suppress. 

He was your best friend for goodness sake. 

You were looking forward to walking home with him but it seemed like he had disappeared. You had asked Ned but he just shrugged and mumbled something about the Stark Internship keeping him busy again. 

You sighed, you really were looking forward to the normal times again, when you, Peter and Ned would walk home together on Fridays and have a Star Wars marathon. However, Peter had been busy lately. You’d really only ever see him in school. Although you felt sad or sometimes a bit angry, he always apologized profusely about Tony Stark keeping him super busy. 

So you let it slide. 

You took a breath and started walking home. This time, super hyper aware of all your surroundings. Ten minutes into your walk, you felt nauseous. It was that feeling from yesterday all over again. Except when you looked around there was no one in sight. Perhaps it was just you, shaken from the rather disturbing memory of what had happened at this exact time. 

You blinked hard and clutched your backpack and resumed your walk, picking up your pace. 

But not before long, you heard a voice call out to you. 

You immediately froze, adrenaline pumping through your body. 

Surely not again?

You slowly turned around.

But this time, it wasn’t a big menacing man with a gun, it was only Spider-Man, perched upon a nearby apartment fire escape. 

He gave you a friendly wave, and you imagined that he was smiling at you behind his mask.

You grinned and waved back. 

“What are you doing here?” you called, curious to see what he was up to. 

After all, it wasn’t everyday that you got to talk with Queen’s very own infamous web-slinging hero. 

“Just sticking around for surveillance and of course, looking out for you ma’am” he winked.

Why he seemed confident today.

You felt your smile get impossibly bigger and your heart swelled at the generous gesture. 

“Thank you” you called up to him.

“Anytime”

The rest of your walk home, you felt at peace, having your guardian angel aka spidey looking out for you along the way. 

At some point, he swung down and joined you on your way home and when he was prompted as to why, he just shrugged,

“Just trying to be good company”

You froze.

He immediately stiffened. 

The words rung in your ears, reminding you of a similar line a certain someone had just said to you yesterday.

He quickly stammered out, 

“Uh - yeah you know, just tryin to be a good friend–that’s all”

You frowned but kept walking and before you knew it, you had arrived at your apartment once again, with Spidey in tow. 

“Hey um this might sound really weird but uh I promise there’s a reason. Uh can you come to the rooftop with me?”

As your question came out, you surprised yourself at your forwardness. 

“Um…er sure why not?”

Relieved that he had agreed, you started to insert your key in the lock of your apartment door but he had something else to say, 

“Hey wait…”

You turned around and saw him extending an outstretched hand toward you.

“Do you-uh do you trust me?”

You were a bit hesitant at what he had in mind, but you had to remind yourself that this was the same guy who had saved your life, and again, it might turn our to be your best friend after all.

“Yes…yes of course”

You placed your hand in his as he shot a web out to the top of your building and before you could finish your sentence…

“Wait…what are you do y—”

You had to muffle your scream as he pulled you into his side, swung the both of you to the rooftop, and gently placed you down. 

Your legs were still shaking a bit from the surprise, but you smiled. Soaring through the air from a spider web was one thing to watch but definitely another to experience. 

You turned around toward the hero but he forgot to let go of you before you twirled right around, bumping your nose and lips with his as your eyes widened and you immediately pulled away, flushing at the accident. 

The both of you blushed and looked away from each other, coughing and apologizing, but never daring to catch the eyes of the other. 

There almost a pause on time as the two of you proceeded to stare at each other, mouths open, eyes wide, unmoving. Both of you frozen in shock just standing there staring at the other. 

At last, you cleared your throat and seeing as if he was still glued on the spot, you came up with the worst thing you could probably possibly say in that moment,

“Ummm so are you just going to keep staring at me?”

That seemed to break whatever spell the awkward kiss? (was it even a kiss if they didn’t actually kiss?) had put on him. 

At a lack of words, he immediately blushed and stuttered as once more, his nervousness you had heard from the previous day came back. 

Peter prayed that you couldn’t see the raging blush on his cheeks through the mask. Of course it was just him being paranoid, the mask wasn’t transparent, but he certainly felt that way with the situation and the fact that you were staring right at him wasn’t helping very much. 

At last he spoke up, 

“Um…so you are going to just try convincing me that the last 10 seconds didn’t happen?”

Your head snapped up. You felt heat rise to your face once more. 

But suddenly feeling a bit more bold, you took a step closer to him.

At your now close proximity, you felt no need to speak any louder and you whispered to him, 

“Not if you don’t want to”

Taken aback by your audacity, Spider-Man peeled up his mask up to his nose, revealing his face from the nose down.

You were so close now, and just as when you were about to take another bold step forward even closer to him, you were interrupted by a voice that seemed to come from Spider-Man’s suit.

“Now’s your chance. Kiss her Peter.”

You jumped back in surprise.

“Karen!” you heard him yell.

Spider-Man looked mortified and although a bit taken aback, you just smiled, because the suit confirmed it was indeed your best friend, Peter Parker, who was behind the mask of the spider hero. You just laughed at his priceless expression.

“Peter! Who was that?” you teased. 

Shocked that you found his secret identity in this way, Peter’s already raging blush turned three shades darker and because Peter was well, Peter, he started his nervous habit again–looking everywhere else but you. 

“Oh um t-that was Karen, um my AI for t-the s-suit” he coughed awkwardly.

Then, but not before doing a quick once over to his surroundings, he yanked off his mask, revealing your best friend’s face. 

“Oh my god—Y/N I’m so sorry. I-I-I don’t know what to say—uh um I’m so s-sorry. Please don’t be mad—just let me explain—“

“Pete—Pete. Whoa, slow down! I’m not mad at all, although I wished you told me sooner, but….Peter! That’s crazy. You’re Spider-Man…you’re Spider-Man. I mean—come on—what, wow and all those flips and wow you’re so amazing and—y-y-you stopped a bus with your bare hands—I……….“

What?

You felt hot under his gaze, realizing that he had been staring at you. 

But before you could get your next words out, Peter decided it was now or never as he swooped down and planted a quick kiss on your lips, pulling back quickly flustered, leaving you to both stare at each other, stunned. 

After the initial shock, you couldn’t help the uncontrollable smile that tugged at your lips as you felt your heart so fast, you thought it was going to fly out of your chest. But then the two of you stepped closer, and you let your eyes flutter closed as he met you in the middle with his lips on yours, and you swear fireworks were going off inside your head. Your hand wrapped around his neck to pull him even closer and his hands drifted to your hips, just like May had taught him. Sure, you had read about it in stupid fantasy novels and even fanfiction but it was nothing compared to the real life sensation of kissing your best friend. It was everything you ever imagined it could be and more. 

Both of you smiled out of the kiss, leaning your foreheads together, chests heaving, slightly dazed, and hearts beating wildly. Finding his eyes on you, you looked to him and when his features softened as he gazed at you, you couldn’t help but swoon a little, feeling your heart soar. You bit your lip, finding him incredibly endearing.

“You know…I really like you Peter…um have for a while now”

“I really like you too Y/N. Its always been you.”

Thank goodness for best friends, rooftops, and first kisses. 

…

A/N: thank you so so much for reading!!! hope you liked the slightly different ending :)

talk to me about your thoughts on this fic!! i’d love your feedback!!

taglist (ask to join my taglist HERE): @ninaminaromina

Tagging some amazing people! (thank you for your support!! <3): @lavenderholland @mcuspidey @sunshinehollandd @sunshineperriee @hollandsosterfield @sergeanttpoliteness @peterstrainingwheels @rachramblesstuff @poetrypeter @acciopeter @ilvarmorny @h-osterfield @parkerprotectionprogram @marvelplease @darlingtaurus @mysteryavengers @uwu-peter-parker-uwu @i-am-steve-rogerss @holland-peters @loverholland @thisbitchemptylove @poeticpeterecs @badhollandfluff @blackberrywidow @iloveyouironman @plushparker @lostinspidey @spideypeach @parkeret @scarlettspidey @marvelsswansong @twilightparker @retroparkers @obsiidio

[cecilspeaks]

149 - The General

If you can dream it, you can wake up in a cold sweat screaming about it. Welcome to Night Vale.

Night Vale, today is the birthday of Leonard Burton. Many of you are too young to remember Leonard. He was my mentor, my friend, and my predecessor at this radio station. I watched him die nearly 40 years ago, right outside this very radio station on Mesa Boulevard, when a cargo truck ran him over. The sight was – grisly and upsetting. But it is that sound, that horrible “snap!” I will never forget. Dozens of witnesses gathered around to help, but it was too late. I crouched over Leonard’s body, lying to him that he would be OK, attempting to coax him from some hint of life. But there was no final word to hear, not even a final breath. I noted there were tears on his cheeks, as a host of angels behind me moaned softly while touching fingers above a flaming trashcan.

Leonard was a dutiful journalist, a true servant of his town. He loved Boston cream pies and paintings of snakes. If he had lived, he would have been 117 years young today.  

Listeners, thank you for all your kind emails. A few weeks ago I was a tad – too revealing about my personal life and I mentioned, in passing, that I’m a perennial bachelor. It’s true. I’ve never had a long term serious relationship, but honestly, it’s fine. [chuckling nervously] I get out, I-I s-, I see people. You do not need to try to set me up on blind dates with friends, relatives, ancestral ghosts. Thank you, I’m doing OK. In fact, I had a date recently. His name is Carlos. He says he’s a scientist, well – we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. He has perfect hair, a perfect lab coat and – and teeth like a military cemetery.

The date started well. We went to dinner at Big Rico’s Pizza. He had originally suggested Gino’s Italian Dining Experience and Bar and Grill, the fanciest restaurant in town, but since it was our first date, I suggested something more casual. And that was when things started to go wrong. Before we had even placed our orders, Carlos already seemed – disappointed. Which, in turn, disappointed me. Then there was dinner. I was trying to tell Carlos about my job here at the station, about my family and interests, and he was like “I know I know, Cecil, we’re in love. You and I are in love. You just don’t remember it.” And I told him, “You’re cute, but this is our first date, so let’s take this slow.” And then he looked sad, and I quickly finished my pizza, and we left.

An update on the Blood Space War. A few weeks ago, the Polonian forces who oppose us seemed all but defeated, their remaining ships cornered in a tiny moon on the far reaches of the Crab Nebula. Yet our attempts to finally destroy the enemy failed, and the Polonians escaped and regrouped. We’re getting word that the General has agreed to step down from her post, and new leadership will replace her. Some of you may remember the story of Eunomia, the teenager who left our Earth 200 years ago to join in the Blood Space War. She was a dreamer,  a scientist, who was recruited for her sharp mind and later groomed as a master strategist for the Wolf Gang, our allies in this unending war. The Wolf Gang were able to use worm holes to travel great distances in mere moments. And Eunomia eventually discovered they could use these same portals to travel in time. After a brutal loss in the battle of Gamma Trachonus, Eunomia, then a captain, ordered her decimated platoon back in time to the beginning of the battle. With a greater understanding of their initial failures, she was able to better fight the battle again. Still she lost, only to return back through time to re-engage the enemy over and over again, she refought the battle until she won. Dozens of battles like this won led to her promotion to General of the Earth-Wolf Gang alliance. But after our most recent failure in the Crab Nebula, there is concern that she has lost her effectiveness.

An emissary from the Blood Space War has returned to Night Vale. They are wading through town in their oversized space suit. No doubt here to deliver us more terrible news from the front. Perhaps there will be no peace in our lifetimes. More on this story as it develops.

Our town is returning to normal, or so I have been told. Community college student and Blood Space War protest organizer, Basimah Bishara, said her mother exists once again. Basimah claims that a few weeks ago, her mother suddenly did not exist, thus making Basimah not exist but as of this week, they do exist. Basimah blames the time traveling actions of our General for changing the landscape of everyone’s existence. I can’t wrap my head around this, listeners, I-I.. I don’t remember Basimah ever not existing or, or-or that she was gone and returned. So it’s hard for me to believe this story. I-I took inventory of my own life and everything is as it always has been for me. I work at a radio station, I own a (-) [0:08:20] bike, I have a one-bedroom apartment with a soaking tub, walk-in closet, carpet shredder, knife compiler and a full-length mirror in the hallway. It’s an antique my mother handed down to me. She knows I love mirrors. I don’t have any siblings, but my mother’s alive and I talk to her regularly. We get along great, I-I-I called her to make sure everything is as she always remembered it, and she said, “What, I don’t know. Yeah sure, what a dumb question.” She’s always been witty like that. All is stasis. Nothing has been taken from my life.

The Intergalactic Military Headquarters reported all time high profits this month. They have built a stealth bomber entirely out of rare 1913 Liberty Head nickels, each valued at around  - five million dollars. Senior strategic advisor Jameson Archibald admitted their financial success was not attributable to the new smart phone app he developed. “[cackling] No-ho-ho-ho-ho,” Archibald said, sitting astride a white tiger. “That app was super glitchy, but my Dad’s crazy rich and knows a bunch of people in the Pentagon, so we’re go-o-o-od!” Archibald then took a massive hit of a vape pen. “This is my new thing,” Archibald said. “Steam pens! No nicotine, no THC, only pure water vapor. Did you know water is good for you? Like, it gives you life, man. If we’re gonna vape anything, we should be vaping vapor. O-o, what if that’s what vape means? Vapor! If it doesn’t, it should!” This has been your financial report.

Sad news, Night Vale. John Peters – you know, the farmer – reported that his brother James is returning to service in the Blood Space War. James has been promoted to General to replace the retiring Eunomia. “Dang, James is such a good brother,” John said from the middle of his field of invisible corn. “I really like having him home, I’m gonna miss him. But I guess the universe needs him more than I do.” John then uprooted an invisible corn stalk and hugged it tightly, while humming the classic church hymn “Party in the USA”.

OK, this is getting annoying. So the guy I was telling you about earlier, Carlos, he’s been texting me this whole show, saying he wants to see me again, let’s see, something something, my timeline is still wrong? I should have a sister named Abby, here’s a photo of her with some kid. My mother died? Hmph. I’m supposedly afraid of mirrors, and he and I are actually married. This is ridiculous! OK, now he’s texting me a picture of a dog. “Our little puppy Aubergine,” it says. In the picture Carlos is holding the dog. I… Hm, that’s weird. I just had a strange feeling. What’s that term, uh, jamais vu I think, where you remember something that never happened.

Outside my window, I see the Emissary, their-their oblong mirrored face pressed against the glass, each hand raised to their head to block out glare from the sun. I’m waving to the Emissary now. Hello Emissary! I said just now. What is the French term for remembering something you’ve never experienced? I said even louder wondering if the Emissary can hear me through the window and that thick helmet. Also, is Aubergine a good name for a dog? I think it is! I called once more, just to start a decent conversation, because I was getting creeped out by the sight of a silent astronaut peering at me through my window. [chuckles] I can, I can see myself in the reflective face. I… [mumbles] I don’t like this. I do not like this at all. [panicked] Please go. Please leave, it cannot. Uh, I’m covering this window with a sheet, I do not like this mirror. I don’t like it one bit, no!

Let’s go to the weather.

[Weather: “Sad But Not Depressed” from the podcast It Makes a Sound https://nightvale.bandcamp.com]

I will tell you about the Emissary in a moment. But first, I must tell you that Carlos called me. Here’s his voicemail.

Carlos: Cecil, I_I’m calling for personal reasons. I-I’m, [sighs] I’m calling to tell you that I love you. That I have loved you almost since the first day I met you nearly 7 years ago. I didn’t know anyone in Night Vale [chuckles] and you were the first person to take any interest in my studies. Its not easy feeling alone, but within a year I wasn’t, cause I was with you. And now we are married. Well, at least in my lifetime we were married. We have been married, and we have a beautiful puppy named Aubergine, a house, a relationship. You have a sister, and you know, you have a brother-in-law too and, and a niece who is a talented athlete and (enormously), just a kind young woman. And we have – oh, you’re gonna play this on air, aren’t you? Oh, of course you are. Well never mind. Anyway uh, somehow you don’t know any of this. I’ve been working nights and days trying to repair this break in continuity, and I haven’t slept much, because I-I can’t sleep until we’re back in the same timeline. But I can’t find anything that will fix this, I-I don’t know what else to do other than to just say: Trust me. I will start over, we’ll go to Rico’s on another first date, I will pretend to hear about your life for the first time, I will tell you about mine for the thousandth time. It won’t be the same for me, but it will still be you. And, and that’s all that matters. You, you’re the one. Oh god, this must sound crazy, you barely know you and, and I’m coming off as desperate, but it’s because I am. Please call me. [beep]

Cecil: And I did, call him back. A-a-and I said: “I love you too. Babe, I love your beard. I love our dog. I love… I-I love our life together.” Minutes before that, I did not feel that way. I did not know about my life with Carlos, because it had never happened in my history.

 It was in those minutes, though, that the Emissary spoke to me. The Emissary entered my studio and removed her helmet. And underneath was the face of an old woman, it was the face of Eunomia, the young girl who disappeared from Night Vale on her 17th birthday 200 years ago. Eunomia told me she had resigned her post as General. She was the most successful leader in the Blood Space War, but tampering with timelines had caused life in the universe to nearly cease to exist. Eunomia knew she would have to undo what she had undone so many times over, even though it would put peace out of her reach. She’s doing that. She is taking responsibility by visiting every single person affected by her actions. She’s telling them what she has taken from them. And what she will now give back. It will take her a long, long time to do this. it will take her the rest of her life. 

In my case, she told me I have a sister, Abby, a brother-in-law, Steve, a niece, Janice. I-I did not know those times. She told me about my husband Carlos. I knew that name, but did not feel love for it. She took my hand and told me to look at the moon. There was a thick wedge missing from it. I never noticed that the moon was broken. Eunomia said: “I will leave now and I will undo what has been done, and your life will return to how it was.” I asked: “But I have a life now.” And she said: “But what of the lives of others? You are all connected. If I do not fix yours, how many others will never have back what the war has taken?” “And what about you?” I said. “Will you return to your teenage life on the farm?” “No,” she said, “I cannot go back to that age, but I will go back to that time and place. I only wish to see my family one more time.” “And what about the war?” I said. Hmph. “There will always be a war, because there will always be a lust for a war,” she said. “I am sorry, Cecil. I have to go.” She pointed to the moon once again. And it was whole, unbroken. I tried to squeeze her hand, but it was gone. It was only me in the studio.

On a late summer afternoon in 1816, an astronaut appeared in the center of Night Vale. 96 years later, a dog park would be established on that exact spot. The astronaut walked silently through the dusty streets. Bow-legged and slow, the Emissary walked through the outskirts of town. It took hours, and nearly the entire city followed her. Past a lot that would eventually to Old Woman Josie. Past the homestead of Eugene Leroy. Until she reached the Peters farm. And there, she stopped. There was a greenish aura about the astronaut, as she turned to face the gathered mob. The astronaut put her gloved hands to her neck and unlashed the helmet. There was a loud hissss and a pop, when she lifted the mask. The crowd approached tentatively. As the helmet came fully off, the townsfolk cried out. The face of the visitor was nearly skeletal, a rotted corpse, long white hair peeling down the back of the skull, an incomplete set of elongated teeth visible with no lips to hide them, startled eyes, ever staring with no lids to express anything else. And what was left of the skin had shriveled and yellowed. 

The crowd had begun to step backward, but one woman stepped forward. a tired and pale woman. The woman whose farm it was approached the decomposing astronaut and said: “Eunomia?” The General opened her mouth slowly and spoke in a hoarse cough. “Mother,” she said. Eunomia’s young mother touched her elderly daughter’s face. Eunomia broke into dust. And the empty space suit collapsed to the ground, leaving behind the faint shape of the woman’s dissipating daughter.

In a cornfield on the outskirts of town, the General’s ashes scattered across a golden lake of ripened corn. In the very place where her military successor, James Peters – you know, the General – would be born 150 years later.

The memories of what Eunomia said to me, the memories of my life without my family, are fading quickly. Night Vale returns to normal, whatever that means. [chuckles] I told Carlos I was so sorry for causing him such pain. I can not ever know how difficult that must have been. He only tilted his head and said: “Already forgotten.” I wasn’t sure if he was being literal. Hmm.

Stay tuned next for the unceremonious continuation of all that is real.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road, and then we’re gonna go grab drinks and dinner, maybe watch a movie. Girls’ night.

[eviemarcs]

stage fright || { solo }

Evie’s left hand cradled the microphone, her lips pressed against the grate. Slender fingers of her right hand entwined themselves in the cord. Body swaying to the rhythm supplied by the three other girls, she let her sticky, lilting voice take up with the music.

“Sex addicts, drugs, and vampires They permeate my life Don’t know which one I’m gonna be tonight.”

The microphone stand moved with her, tilting up on its edges as she let her mind unravel more in the music. 

“I know you think I’m crazy. You think I’ve lost my mind. I’m locked and loaded - got you in my sights.”

With her fingers, she made the shape of a pistol, taking aim at no one in particular as she began to sing the chorus. “Turn the lights out, Lay your head down Now you got me where you want me. I’m the pain and you’re the pleasure. Can’t you read the signs? I got a one-track mind”

Pale eyes scanned over the sweaty, drunken crowd, trying to find someone to sing to, someone to increase crowd involvement. No one was watching the show, though. They were barely even listening, more focused on the sloppy gyrations of their hips in dance. She snatched the microphone from the stand and curled the wire around her forearm before starting the second set of verses.

“I'm numb; I've got no conscious Can't get you off my mind You're in my line of fire every time You narcissistic lover You complicate my life But then I find myself with you tonight.”

Before the bridge to the second chorus began, she had flounced across the stage toward December, her guitarist, and draped a lazy arm across the girl’s shoulders. The girl cracked a smile as she strummed, picking up the beat just a bit.

“You are my nemesis, The one I can’t resist. I’ve got a one-track mind: I’m losing it. I need another hit, I think you could be it, I’ve got a one-track mind...”

As she sang, Evie let her hand gently caress the guitarist, toying with her hair before pretending to push her away at the end. Making her way back to the center of the stage, she began the chorus again. After the stunt with Ember, more eyes were on the band, and her in particular. The familiar rush of adrenaline pulsed through her as she began to sing the bridge in a sultry voice, eyes closed and hands tangling in her mess of golden locks.

“I wanna love you to oblivion, Get underneath your skin.”

Evie opened her eyes, about to sing the next line with a hollowing gaze, but instead she was hollowed herself. Her words fell back into her throat. With their lead frozen, the band played on for a few moments before drawing the song to a premature and disheveled end. With her hand still holding the cymbal, Antonia hissed, “What the fuck, Eve?” but Evie didn’t hear her.

Instead, Evie’s attentions were focused on the pair of women who had walked in just moments before and were hanging up their jackets. One girl had striking blue eyes, but she hadn’t caught sight of the other’s yet. Still, she knew they were deep, endless dark pools fit for not much more than drowning. More eyes were drawing to her, noticing the lack of rhythm if nothing else. It was only a matter of time before Allison would turn around, drawn to the scene, and see her. Her legs started before her mind, so that by the time she realized she needed to flea, she was already backstage and crashing into the staff bathroom.

Knuckles turned porcelain white as she gripped the edges of the sink, leaning over, ready to retch. She rocked on her palms, eyes raising to meet identical ones in the mirror. Sweat was beading at her brow from the stage lights, and her body was quivering.

The door opened, a patron walking in but also revealing the crowd beginning quiet again as the rest of the band attempted to gather up their pride and continue the show without her. Evie gritted her teeth. Shame, anxiety, and hopelessness swirled through her. Her fingernails scraped the smooth stone as her hands curled into fists. A purposefully discordant note came from the stage, and she felt something snap inside. Her fist met the mirror before she could process. Glass splintered, small shards falling to the floor while what remained resembled a spiderweb that skewed her reflection. Blood began flowing from the dozen fresh cuts on her fist. She cursed herself as she held it beneath running water, watching the pink go down the drain.

“You seem tense,” came a voice from behind her. Evie looked up, seeing a dozen smaller versions of the same woman she saw when she turned around. She was maybe the same age as her, but she looked older. She was thin, wiry, and her blonde hair hung limp and lifeless. Evie knew the look. She’d worn it once. The girl smiled, producing a small, clear tube with white powder in it. “Want a hit to take the edge off?”

Evie’s throat went dry. The water in the sink was still running, and the girl approached, reaching by to turn it off. “So what do you say?” she pressed again, holding the tube between her thumb and index finger in front of Evie’s face. “It’ll help, promise.”

An irritant found its way to Evie’s nose, and she crinkled it. Her heart had gone from her stomach to her ears, and once again, her mouth wasn’t forming the words it needed to. Nothing came out, so the girl simply dipped her pinky into the powder before holding it in front of Evie’s nose. For the first time, Evie noticed the tattoo the encircled her upper wrist: a snake eating its own tail. She exhaled. It all comes back to this, she thought. She leaned down slightly, pressing one nostril closed as she inhaled the coke.

“You’re a pro!” the girl claimed, delighted as Evie sniffed at the new irritant in her nose. The flickering lights in the bathroom seemed to hum now, though her hand was throbbing more. “You should wrap that though...” Her voice seemed to trail off, as if she had just noticed the injury. 

“Thanks,” Evie said, realizing it was the first actual thing she had said to this girl. “I should go.” As she walked from the bathroom, she tore around her shirt, turning it into a crop top and wrapping the fabric around her hand as a makeshift bandage. She didn’t have time to think as she bounced back up the stairs to the stage. Allison would see her this time, she knew that, but she had no idea how she would react to being seen. Her gut twisted as she told the band, “Let’s play ‘Dying’ and then call it a night, okay?” Antonia and Nikki both nodded and started setting up, but December looked like she wanted to say something. Not giving her the opportunity, Evie turned and grabbed the microphone stand.

“Sorry about that,” she apologized with faux sheepishness to the crowd. “One too many whiskey sours, I guess.” She laughed and shrugged, and one or two chortles came from the crowd. “Anyway, we’re Candied Poison, and this is ‘Dying’.”

Evie didn’t dare look up toward the bar yet, too scared she’d be transfixed. Lips pressed against the microphone, she whispered, “See the cripple dance,” as the band played its first few notes. She continued, “Pay your money, baby / Now’s your chance”. It wasn’t until she breathed “Eyes like cyanide” and the band started taking up with the true rhythm that she raised her eyes to the bar, immediately locking - whether by chance or fate - with Allison’s.

“I am so dumb Just beam me up I've had it all forever I've had enough”

She let the note hang in the air for a moment, watching Allison’s movements as she did so. Her fears had been right; she was completely transfixed. But something she didn’t expect happened. Allison couldn’t meet her gaze. Anger replaced shame, adrenaline fueled by the drugs.

“Remember, you promised me I'm dying, I'm dying, please I want to, I need to be Under your skin”

The beat slowed again, and Evie found herself on the floor, legs bent on either side of her. 

“Our love is quicksand So easy to drown They steal the gravity, yeah From moving ground

Our love is quicksand So easy to drown They steal the gravity, yeah From moving ground”

Rising as she sang the chorus for the second time, her eyes found Allison again. She seemed to be begging the girl she was with to leave, and, she couldn’t quite tell under the dim bar lighting, but her cheeks may have been glistening with tears. What right did she have to feel hurt? Evie’s uninjured hand gripped the microphone tighter, leaving crescent indentations on the rubber handle. As she sang first part of the bridge, the venom seemed to drip from each word.

“And now I understand You leave with everything You leave with everything I am Withering”

She held the last note out, jumping off the stage as it drew to a close. The microphone chord trailed behind her as the crowd parted ways for her to make it towards the bar. Allison’s back was to her, but she turned just as Evie began singing again.

“And now I know that love is dead You've come to bury me There's nothing left here to pretend Anything”

To any onlooker, it may have been hard who wilted under whose gaze. Evie turned her bravado begin to wear thin, tears welling in her eyes. By the time she had reached the stage again to finish the song, Allison had disappeared.

*  *  *

Evie inhaled the last breath of the cigarette she was smoking, dropping and stubbing it out onto the concrete. Nikki slammed the van’s doors shut, giving it a couple smacks as a sign it was all loaded up. December walked towards Evie, concern on her face before she could even speak.

“Don’t,” Evie preempted her, putting her hand up and starting to walk away.

Ember put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, who shrugged it off. With a sigh, she said, “I’m just worried. You seem...” Although the sentence hung in the air, unfinished, both girls knew the rest.

Without looking at her, Evie said, “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“You’re scratching again.”

Evie looked down to see blotchy pink lines across her old track marks. She only scratched when she was close to using. Tugging her sleeves down, she walked toward the passenger door of the van.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

[joj-parisol]

The Monroes (John Lennon x Reader)

Summary: The Monroes are the only female band on the set list. Y/N likes Rory Storm and the Hurricanes and definitely does not like The Quarrymen. Especially not John Lennon. (shit summary I know)

Warnings: Panic attacks and vomiting (sorry) shitty writing bc I didn’t check this oof

A/N: hi sorry if it’s terrible but I’ve been coming back to this fic for about a week save me. Anyway. The panic attack is written through personal experience and I’m very sorry if it offends anyone so please don’t read of you might get triggered. I hope everyone who reads this enjoys! Imma go ahead and tag one of the best writers on this cursed site, the lovely @casafrass also that anon lol. -🥦

Get ready for some Teddy Boy John, bitches.

—————

The music courses through her veins every night. It became ritual that she would blast her solos. She had put her blood, sweat and tears into the songs they performed and Eliza put her heart and soul into singing them.

The rhythm of their own songs guided Y/N’s hips, accidentally thrusting her guitar towards the audience, earning a roar of delight. The audience was packed in every direction she looked. People were curved into archways and crowded every doorway or other persons lap. Some stood, resembling sardines in the way they were packed in with each other. They were unable to dance but they tapped their feet or swayed to the beat. It was the same every night.

Nobody could resist The Monroes. They, like their namesake, were each irresistibly beautiful. This made them exceptionally popular with their male audience. Their music was like a spell, enchanting anyone who heard it to hum, dance or sing. People were captivated by the girls, with their camp and flamboyant stage presence paired with their raunchy costumes. They were the only all-Female band and it made them popular among the younger generation of early feminists and the men who liked their ‘appeal’.

They had a friendly competition put in place with Rory Storm and his Hurricanes. They rivalled in their shock-value and Y/N once made a deal with Ringo to see who could get the most dates. Y/N has since refused to answer who won. Rory and Eliza took the competition a little too seriously. Everyday, a costume would be more dramatic or ‘dazzling’ or a new song would feature a longer high note. They had to one-up each other.

This rivalry grew tension and one night after a few complimentary drinks, Rory and Eliza stumbled out of the bar, eagerto rip the costumes off of the other. They both denied the accusations but The Monroes were staying in an old strip club and thin walls reveal all.

Though they tried, none of the Hurricanes could woo any other Monroes. Y/N loved Ringo and it was returned, in nothing more than a platonic way. The other two Monroes weren’t inclined to any Hurricane, platonically or romantically. Lucy, the drummer, only cared for the music, strippers and free booze and the bassist, Shirley, had her eyes on one of the Quarrymen.

Out of everyone in the world, she liked one of the awful, cocky assholes who played before The Monroes did. Every time they clunked off of stage, clad in leather, Y/N always felt the urge to throw something. But it was specifically John Lennon. He would stomp over in his flame patterned cowboy boots with a smug grin painted on his face.

“Try and beat that, sugar.” He would smirk at Y/N. Always her, never one of the others. He would often try to brush the hair from her face but with a sharp turn, Y/N would strut past him. He would whistle as she walked, grovelling on about how perfect her ass was. He would then slither his way over to her later that night when she’d be drinking her wages.

Y/N would chew up his lewd comments and spit them straight back in his face. Her quick wit and sharp tongue only enticed him further, much to her dismay.

Like every other day, The Quarrymen finished droning out a song about ‘Spiting all the danger’ or something, Y/N wasn’t really listening, and John sauntered off stage. His band mates poured backstage after him.

Y/N knew Paul, he was quite charming and had his eyes set on every girl that looked into his. Then there was Stu, a rather handsome man who seemed quite shy as she hadn’t ever seen him talk to anyone outside of The Quarrymen. George was the loveliest out of all five of them, he smiled at each of the girls and complimented Y/N on her solos. He shyly offered to but them drinks but he would then get bombarded with beers for being so cute. He was young and polite, with one hell of a talent for guitar. Y/N didn’t really know Pete. She just knew that once he had made fun of Lucy’s drumming talent and had received a black eye because of it.

They were headed for the bar after coming off os the stage, but when John trailed towards The Monroes, they all followed like obedient dogs. Eliza was mid way through her nightly pep-talk.

“And no matter what, I know we’ll all smash it-“

“I hear the shows aren’t the only thing you’re smashing, eh Liza? How is Rory by the way?” John interrupted, earning sniggers from his leather-clad cronies. Eliza flushed and spluttered, looking for the words that weren’t forming on her tongue. Her embarrassmentade the boys laugh harder.

“Just because Eliza is getting to shag Rory and you aren’t doesn’t mean you have to get jealous, Lennon.” Y/N spat, stepping infront of Eliza protectively and squaring up to the much taller man. The boys were stunned into abrupt silence. Y/n caught the small snort that left George. John raised his eyebrows at her.

“You’ve got me real scared, sugar, but if you keep lookin at me like that you’ll get me all worked up.”

Y/N scowled up at him and scoffed. “In your dreams, Lennon.” His dumb cowboy boots definitely added to his height. Her furrowed brows and folded arms made his grin stretch further across his face.

“Trust me, you’re in my dreams all right.” His hazel eyes gleamed with excitement. Y/N opened her mouth to snap back at him but Eliza caught her arm.

“C’mon, there’s no point talking to swine when we could be on stage instead.” Eliza glared at John and pulled Y/N away from him. She held her head up as Eliza led her away from the insufferable man.

Y/N found her guitar and checked to see if it was in tune. He didn’t have the right to say that to her. He deserved a smack in the face for even having the nerve to say that to her. He might be all high and mighty with his friends but he was actually just a big asshole who-

“Hey, Y/N, you might wanna stop before you break a string.” A familiar voice snapped her out of her thoughts. George stood in front of her smiling.

“Oh. Yeah, thanks.” The side glances she was receiving made Y/N realised she had been taking her anger out on her poor guitar.

George hesitated for a second, awkwardly crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry about John, love, he’s always that much of an asshole.” He apologised for John and despite his attempts it made Y/N’s blood boil even more. But George’s hopeful smile melted her heart. She cracked a smile and nudged his shoulder.

“Who you calling love?” Y/N teased, raising her eyebrows accusingly. A light blush rose in George’s cheeks as he fumbled to apologise. A laugh fell from her mouth.

“I’m only playing, love.” Y/N winked at the blushing boy. “Unfortunately I had to be on stage four minutes ago, so I better go.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, the crowds pretty rough today so good luck, Y/N!” George called as she walked up the stairs to the stage.

“Thanks, love.” She shouted back to him, smiling as she heard his cowboy boots click as he ran off.

Y/N joined the rest of the band on stage.

“I’m glad you could join us, your highness.” Lucy called from behind the drums, getting flipped off in return. Y/N plugged in her amp and nodded at Eliza to begin singing.

Just like yesterday and everyday before that, their music worked like a charm over their audience. This usually seemed like a blessing but today it was more of a curse. George was right. The pubs were always crowded and rowdy but this was on a whole other level. This was more than claustrophobic. The amount of people was alarming.

People who didn’t have room to dance, danced. Person after person swept through the door. A sweltering heat encased everyone it could. It was strangling everyone it could.

The lights, the body count, the lack of space and windows. Not even Y/N’s short skirt and low-cut top could save her.

Much to The Monroes’ pleasure, they had a shorter setlist that night. But as the songs got faster and faster, everything rocketed down hill. The loud, rough song with a great deal of shouting and a great rhythm took control of the blundering audience. It was as if the melody had possessed them.

Bodies moved against each other and limbs were thrown around raucously. The chaos was amplified as a fight broke out. In the smoggy room, Y/N couldn’t see the cause of the commotion but the rickety stage shook at the amount of sudden movement. The excited shouts and shrieks drowned out their music.

Y/N couldn’t even hear Eliza, though she was a few steps away. The sudden smashing of glass seemed like an alarm that sent her heart racing. The shock triggered something in her before she could control it. The sudden noise made her jump, causing her guitar to fall from her hand. She tried desperately to control her breathing and play again but her sweat-slicked hands shook enough for the neck to slip from her grip. The cigarette smoke hanging in the air seemed to choke her. Her rapid breathing made her lungs burn as she inhaled more and more in an attempt to calm down.

She was unsure if she was pulled or if she had fallen of the stage but the sea of moving bodies soon swallowed her. Her arms felt useless as she clamoured away from the crowd that she was drowning in. Her guitar was pulled away from her but her fighting was useless as she screams were swallowed by the deafening noise. Waves of nausea hit her as pungent breath and beer stink were thrust upon her. Her mind felt detached from her body as she weaves her way through the people. Elbows jolted into her ribs and people stood on her feet. Falling out of the backstage door, her trembling knees gave out and she threw up.

The cold air pierced her face, like tiny razor sharp needles pressing through her skin. Sweat poured down her face like a river. The numbing cold pavement pressed into her hands and knees, the pins and needles battling for dominance over the cold. Her body lurched until all she could do was spit and cough, dry heaving occasionally as vomit burned her throat and her nose streamed. Shuddering, she crawled on her shaky limbs to as far away from her vomit as she could get.

Holding her knees, she wiped the few tears that had fallen from her cheeks. The taste stayed on her tongue and made her wince whenever she swallowed on her dry sobs. She was too tired to actually cry, but her body seemed to be happy hiccuping and choking. Her breath would catch in her throat, the taste bubbling up her throat again and she then had to resist the burning urge to break down and cry. She may have broken down and vomited in public but that didn’t mean she couldn’t keep at least a shred of dignity. She most definitely would not cry, no matter what her mind begged her to do. The only sound was the little spluttering chokes and sobs she released.

Until there was a sudden scuffle against the pavement and a harsh whisper of “Oh Fuck.”. Y/N’s head snapped up from her knees.

There was John Lennon, looking like a very disturbed deer caught in the headlights. One of his hands was on the door, which he had fallen into thus revealing his presence, and the other cradled a half drunken beer. There was a cigarette butted out against the floor opposite Y/N.

A wide-eyed grimace painted his face as he stood in silence. His eyes were connected with hers. She had makeup, sweat and snot smeared on her face. She looked so small and cold, sweaty and shivering despite her burning skin. The sheer look of absolute repulse on his face was what made her brain snap.

The loud, strained sobs interrupted with her shallow gasps for breath made John wince. He was frozen by the door, as if he was rooted to the very spot. He dropped the door handle. The soft thunk was barely audible over her sobs.

She willed more than anything for him to leave. He had no doubt seen her throw up all over the road and had heard her sporadic attempt at breathing. He would never let her live this down so she mentally begged him to just open the door without another glance and go tell Paul and Pete everything that had just happened. She didn’t need any mocking sympathy from him. Why couldn’t he just laugh and leave? Why of all people did he have to be outside having a smoke?

Her mental begging didn’t work. John hovered by the door for a few moments. He didn’t know what to do. He’d seen girls cry before, but never such a strong one like Y/N. She was usually so sharp and cold and independent. It pained something deep inside of him to see her so vulnerable.

Her sobs hit him especially. On once in his life, John Lennon didn’t know what to do or say. He decided that the only thing he knew would be better than anything. He shuffled over, hesitating before sitting in front of her. The sheer pain on her face he caught as her head lifted ever so slightly made his heat clench. He wasn’t used to this and was quite confused as to why he cared so much. Normally, he would have just opened the door and left, but seeing her so broken wasn’t something he could ignore.

“Fuck off John.” She choked out, straining her voice. John couldn’t help but smile. Of course you would still defend yourself, even in this state.

“I’m afraid I won’t.” He doesn’t want to leave. Even if you leave, he’d refuse to let you be alone until he knew you were ok.

Words form on his tongue but none of them seem right. A few minutes of silence had passed and John knew he had to speak. His eyes burning holes into the side of her head probably wasn’t helping. He quickly spat out the first sentence he thought of.

“What happened to you?” As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. She looked at him, dark eyes narrowed.

“Why do you care?” She spat at him, curling into herself even more.

“I care because whilst you may hate me, nobody deserves to be alone when they’re distressed. Especially not you.” He paused for a moment. He was shocked by the sentiment that had fallen from his lips. Her eyes widened in shock for a moment but she rolled them obviously.

“You are not getting in my pants, Lennon. No matter how many cheesy sympathy lines you drop.” Y/N sniffed and snatched the beer from in front of him. She swished out her mouth and spat it out through her teeth. She shoved the beer back in his hand and raised her eyebrows, gesturing to the door. “Just go on and get some other bird to shag. I bet you’ll have no problem finding one.”

Despite her stubbornness, John refused to give in. There was something seriously the matter. Despite his other attitudes, he couldn’t let this slide. So he awkwardly just stared her dead in the eye and shook his head as she continued to gesture to the door.

“You’re right. I would have no problem getting a shag tonight. But leaving you here isn’t right, no matter how long it takes. I’m going to sit here until you tell me what’s wrong and how to help. Even if I die trying.”

She snorted at his attempt to lighten the mood and let a small smile creep onto her face. He grinned at her smile. It made Y/N realise that maybe he wasn’t as much of a pig as she’d thought.

“Can’t have you dying, Lennon. Your replacement would no doubt be much worse.” Her voice was hoarse and weak but her light joke was like music to his ears. “And I really can’t tell you what happened to me.” John frowned. “I can’t tell you because I don’t even know what happened. I just get these things sometimes. It feels like I’ve lost control of everything and sometimes it feels like I’m about to die. Like just before.” Her voice broke and her face dropped, her own words upsetting her. Tears pooled in her eyes. The sudden change of mood forced John to make an irrational decision. He shot forward before she could encase herself in her own arms again. His arms held her tight. He knew that despite how awkward everything would be later, this was the right thing to do.

He rocked her against him. Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably and John brushed them away softly. He rubbed circles into her back, hoping it would soothe her sobs. He relaxed and knew he was helping when he felt her sink and cuddle closer into his chest. Her arms went under his jacket and she breathed in the oddly comforting scent of John.

“It’s alright, love, just relax.” John muttered, holding her closer. She sniveled and rested her head just above his heart. The soft thumps timed with the rise and fall of his chest lulled her tears into drying. He continued to rub circles into her back and he began to hum one of his songs. She recognised the tune. It was ‘In Spite of All the Danger’. Y/N closed her eyes. She decided she’d listen this time.

[classyklancey]

The Thing | High school AU |

Pairing: Keith x Lance Genre: Angst Warnings: Possession?, somewhat self-harm (it’s The Thing causing it), anxiety mention Summary: Keith has something inside of him that he can just barely control. Lance helps keep him level-headed A/N: I made this forever ago and it wasn’t intended to be Keith and Lance. It used to be a lot more angsty but since I changed it to Keith and Lance, my poor heart couldn’t handle it the original version. If you want the other version too let me know!! If you want the original version where it’s not Lance and Keith, also let me know lol. Enjoy!!

Hundreds of screaming voices pierce my ears. The noise is so loud that I can barely focus on my own thoughts, beating down on me from all directions. My nails dig into my knees through the fabric of my black jeans, so hard that they threaten to draw blood.

“It’s a pep rally, Keith,” Lance says from my right side, where he is jumping, screaming, and just generally making a fool of himself as usual. “You know, fun stuff.”

Lance laughs and slings an arm around my shoulder, my torso slouching from the sudden weight. Sometimes, I forget just how much bigger he was than me. Lance didn’t have an abundance of muscles or anything, but his shoulders were significantly broader than mine and he was at least three inches taller. 

“Get off,” I say gruffly, my face deadpan.

That earned a laugh from Lance. He looked like he wanted to say something, probably make a joke about my “dumb emo face” like usual, but the Headmaster’s booming voice interrupted him. He was announcing a school spirit contest, where the class that screamed the loudest won bragging rights. The freshman, my class, was first, and in typical freshman style, they gave a weak attempt with what sounded like only thirty students cheering and a few claps here and there.

“Better cover your ears, Keithy baby,” Lance said, before leaping to his feet again, clearing his throat in preparation. I go to respond when the Headmaster beats me to it. 

“Now, let me hear my sophomores!” The Headmaster bellowed over the microphone, making me flinch from the loud volume. ‘Why is he talking so loudly when his voice is already being amplified?’

“The seniors are going to win,” I say, but he can’t hear me over the sound of his own obnoxious screeching. His voice could be heard over every other sophomore in the gym. I might have been impressed if I wasn’t preoccupied with a splitting headache that was only intensified from the noise.

I had been having an okay day for the first time in quite a bit. I didn’t have to run to the bathroom and vomit when I woke up this morning, which is an improvement from the past few days. I took some medication for my migraine and it had actually gone down a bit. For a little while, I actually believed that I was going to make it through the day without anything going wrong. But, of course, every time I think the universe is on my side, something happens and ruins everything. This time, it just so happened to be a surprise pep rally celebrating some kind of important win. Maybe football…or was it basketball? It could have been a chess tournament victory for all I care. All that I know is that I’m sweating out every bit of moisture in my body, Lance’s racket is going to make me deaf, the fluorescent gym lights are blinding, and I think I’m going to throw up my lunch. Every little thing is like a weight pressing against my head. 

It’s all just another excuse for The Thing to show up.

I can’t remember a time when the Thing wasn’t with me. Ever since I was small, I was always plagued with migraines, but it wasn’t a stabbing pain like you get when you’re sick. It was a pressure, almost as if my skull was too full. Like there was something in there that wasn’t supposed to be.

The Thing rules my life. It keeps me awake at night, tossing and turning for hours. Even when I finally manage to fall asleep, it speaks to me in my nightmares. It digs around in my deepest insecurities and forces them into my head over and over again, so much that I dread going to bed at night. Whenever I wake up, there is always a fresh set of self-inflicted scratch marks on my abdomen and dried up tears in the corners of my eyes.

It doesn’t leave me alone during the day either, though. The migraines have become a constant at this point, along with a feeling of nausea, like The Thing is trying to escape from my body. It likes to play around with my personal anxieties, pointing out every little detail in the hopes that I will let my guard down enough for it to take control of my body.

The worst symptom of all happens whenever I get angry. The Thing thrives off of anger. Even the slightest hint of irritation is enough to feed its hunger for violence. The angrier I get, the more power I give it. It likes to whisper actions into my head and scream obscene words at my teachers and peers. Sometimes, if I’m angry enough, it can make things move without anyone touching them.

I’ve never been able to experience the things that most kids my age do. Up until this year, my first year of high school, I’ve never been able to keep a friend.

‘Except for you,’ I think to myself, glancing over to the boy next to me, a joyful grin plastered onto his face.

We met at the beginning of this school year, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by the way Lance acts around me. Out of all the people he could have latched onto, he chose me. A pale, shifty-eyed little freshman. I’m still not sure whether I should feel honored or extremely unlucky. Hanging around with me was probably a mistake on his part.

Lance is an idiot in the best of ways. He never noticed the way that my eyes would dilate so much that only a small sliver of gray-blue was left when I was struggling for control. He never took note of the self-inflicted scratches and picks that marked my arms and legs. After all of those times the two of us walked home from school in the afternoons together, he never realized that my shadow fell six shades darker than his own. All that mattered to him was that I was a fresh face and I could carry on a decent conversation, and he thought I was cute. I was thankful for the company, but sometimes I wondered whether extra stress was worth it.

The Headmaster is talking again. Though his voice is distorted by the aging sound system, I can still make out the words “relay” and “volunteers”.

At first, I pay no mind, but when Lance’s grin widens into something mischievous, my body tenses in a sudden sense of panic. Before I can stop him, he’s jumping up in the air and waving his arms to get the Headmaster’s attention.

“Lance, what are-”

“You can run fast, right?” he cuts me off. He already knew the answer to that. Before I can stop myself, I think back to one specific time when we were walking home.

“Keith! Start running! It’s about to start raining harder!” Lance shouts from far ahead of me, his long legs carrying him faster and farther away from me. 

I roll my eyes at Lance’s shouting, figuring he was just over exaggerating since barely any rain was falling from the sky. 

Suddenly, it started to pour, startling me. I gasp before quickly starting to run after Lance, almost instantly catching up to him. The Thing has given me strengths in certain aspects, such as running. 

“Woah! You caught up quick!” I don’t say anything as I pass him, running all the way to my house. After a couple of minutes, Lance catches up to me, coming up to my patio instead of continuing to his house. “Thanks for leaving me...” he says sarcastically, panting as he tries to catch his breath.

I give him an apologetic smile as I unlock my door. “At least I waited for you. Want to come inside?” 

Lance shakes his head as he points over his shoulder. “Nah, I shou- oh, you’re freezing.” My brows furrow at his words before I feel it, the shaking racking my body. It wasn’t because I was cold, but I couldn’t tell him that. Sometimes when I use my new strengths, it wakes up The Thing. I start to panic but try to keep it off of my face, praying he wouldn’t accept my offer to come inside. 

“I’m fine,” I reassure with a soothing smile, hoping it looked soothing to him since in reality, I was panicking. Lance shakes his head as he takes off his jacket, draping it over me. “Nope. You’re cold. It’s okay to admit it.” 

I roll my eyes and grumble to myself, feeling a blush take over my face as I look down at my wet shoes, momentarily forgetting about The Thing. My eyes widen as Lance’s lifts my face up to look at him, his bright eyes meeting my shocked ones. 

“Red is a pretty color on you,” he whispers, his eyes moving to my cheeks. My blush only grows worse at his compliment. ‘Is he...no. He wouldn’t flirt with me. He could never like a monster like me...’ 

At the last part of my thought, I frown as I pull away. “Thanks for walking me home. Here’s your jacket. Be safe,” I say as I toss him his jacket back. Before he could respond, I close the door in his face. His hurt expression was all I could think about for the rest of the day. “I did him a favor...” I mumble before I let out a hefty sigh. 

I quickly snap out of my thoughts when he grabs my hand. “I-I can’t!” I try to hide the desperation in my voice, but I can’t stop it from cracking. “I really don’t want-”

“Yes! Headmaster’s looking over here!” he cuts me off again, waving our clasped hands and his free hand into the air. 

A spark of foreign anger pangs in the back of my head, a sickeningly familiar emotion.

Of all the times for the Thing to wake up, it has to be right now. Right now, when my nerves have already been ground down to nothing and the wild Cuban next to me has finally caught the Headmaster’s attention. I want to simultaneously scream at the top of my lungs and burst into tears. I loathe this feeling of being helpless. Lance is suddenly dragging me towards one of my biggest fears, and The Thing is dragging me towards the other, and I have no control.

‘Get rid of him,’ It says, ‘I don’t want to go out there.’

“Shut up, just shut up for once,” I hiss under my breath. Pain blossoms in my torso like a punch to the gut.

The Headmaster waves us over with a smile, and I’m suddenly pulled onto my feet. I try to resist Lance’s pulling, but he is quite persistent in getting me onto the gymnasium floor. As a final desperate attempt, I plant my beaten, dirty sneakers into the ground as hard as I can. Lance looks back at me, a little confused.

Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments. “Please,” I beg, “Please don’t do this to me.” Lance flashes me that signature bright smile and begins dragging me by the wrist to the center of the gymnasium floor. “You need to do something fun!” 

It is far too late when I realize that the words never left my lips.

The hundreds of voices have turned into hundreds of eyes. I’m shrinking smaller and smaller, and everyone else towers over me menacingly. I look to Lance for support and comfort, anything to help ease this feeling of anxiousness. But he doesn’t even notice my gaze. He’s waving up at his other friends, completely enjoying the spotlight. At this point, The Thing is practically clawing at the inside of my skull, begging to be released.

I make the mistake of glancing down at my shadow on the polished floor. My eyes are frozen in horror on the dark silhouette of my left hand. I watch as the fingers clench and relax, clench and relax, clench and relax in a steady repetition. My actual hand is gripping onto the fabric of my hoodie and had been the entire time. The dread in my stomach drags every second into an hour as I realize what’s coming. Every instinct in my body is telling me to get out. I cannot break down here, not in front of these judgmental eyes, not in front of the only friend I’ve ever been able to keep.

“Don’t look so scared, bud.” Lance nudged my ribs gently with his elbow, “It’s just a little race.”

Time froze. I stared at him, my eyes blown wide and black from the dilation. “Don’t look so scared.” His voice was happy when he said it, completely carefree. Everything was just a game to him. He never took anything seriously, including me. Surely he could see the pain on my face. How could he not notice the way my body shuddered under this pressure. Maybe he just didn’t care enough to open his eyes.

I hate him.

The thought resonates in my mind, something I’ve never felt before. It wasn’t really true, well, for me at least. The Thing hated everyone and everything. 

I hate him.

The phrase repeats in my thoughts, over and over and over again. It bounces around my skull in an awful dissonance until I can barely make out any words, mingling with the cheering voices of the student body.

I hate him.

Lance thrusts an object into my suddenly freezing cold hands. It’s a relay baton. The noise in my head is so loud I can barely hear him tell me that I am supposed to run first. My spine is stiff and I can feel my body go completely still, red creeping into the edges of my vision.

He gives me a look, I couldn’t tell what kind of look it was though. Concern? Confusion? 

“You okay, Keith?”

I shake my head quickly, trying to control my breathing that was starting to become labored. Lance removes the baton from my hand with a nod of his head, dropping it to the floor.

“Okay, it’s alright. Let’s get you some air,” he says quietly to me, only loud enough for me to hear him over the roaring crowd. I nod my head as I let him lead me outside, leaning against him as we sit on the stairs that lead up to the gymnasium. 

“Sorry...” I mumble. I don’t know why I was apologizing to him. I tried to tell him, no, but his stubborn self didn’t want to listen to me. He hushes me as he runs a hand through my slightly damp hair, rubbing my back with the other. “Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t realize you’d react like that. You have bad anxiety or something?” I sigh with a nod of my head, leaning into him more. 

“Something like that...”