#I gave myself a concussion last year slamming my head into a wall trying to get hair out of my face

[antxnous]

ok definitely have a concussion frm this newer fall. woe is me

[myshawningstar]

My Morphine

Summary: You are driving home from work one day in a rainstorm and lose control of your car. The world goes dark and when you open your eyes again you are greeted with a beautiful sight in front of you.

Word Count:

Request: “can u do a doctor! shawn fic? ur amazing bye ❤️”

Warnings: Mentions of blood, broken bones and car crashes as well as medical procedures.

Your car jerks, wheels gliding along the thin layer of water between your car and the road. You hated driving in rainstorms as you always had the fear of hydroplaning, yet here you were doing just that. You knew there wasn’t much you could do in this situation. You knew the only thing could do when hydroplaning was take your foot off the gas, keep your steering wheel as straight as possible, and try to slow down without using your brakes. Unfortunately for you, you were currently at the top of a hill driving down, so this only made your car pick up speed. At the bottom of the hill was a three-way intersection.

You were only a few blocks from home, a small apartment that you just recently moved into. As your car approached the intersection at the bottom of the hill, you decided that it was best if you just coasted through it; so you did. As you reached the intersection, there was a young woman crossing the street who happened to be in the course of your car. Your eyes widened, you were going to hit the poor girl if you didn’t do something. You let your instincts take over as you slammed on your brakes, steering away from the woman.

Big mistake.

You almost immediately lost control of your car as it swerved towards a lamp post, the momentum from the turn almost causing your car to flip. There’s a loud crunching, something hits you in the back of the head, and glass shatters as you are jarred to a very sudden stop. The world is spinning around you, your vision is blurred, your head hurts but it’s nothing compared to the pain shooting through your leg. You glance down to see blood all over your jeans.

“Are you okay?” The woman called, though her voice was practically drowned out by a loud ringing in your ears.

You open up your mouth to respond when you hear a loud, bloodcurdling scream. You looked around to try to figure out where the noise was coming from, but it was only then that you realized that the scream was coming from your own mouth.

 “It’ll be okay, I’m going to call an ambulance!” The woman yelled over your screams.

You feel hot, wet tears falling from your eyes as you let the pain and frustration get to you. There’s a bittersweet smell filling the air around you, suddenly you can’t breathe. It was a suffocating, sickeningly sweet smell. You knew that smell. It was Brad fluid leaking from your car. Your heart begins to race, you’re terrified that this was the end. This was how you die, in a flipped car, asphyxiated on chemical fumes and bleeding out. You pass out, the smell and the pain from your leg overwhelming you.

—

When you’re pulled into consciousness again, it’s when you hear the sound of the sirens bouncing off the walls of the large brick building in the ambulance bay of the hospital. You practically force your eyes open slightly as the doors to the ambulance open. The flashing lights from the ambulance hurt your barely open eyes and you shut them, wishing they would stop.

Once you had finally managed to block out the noise of the sirens, you could hear a voice. By the way he was speaking, you could safely assume he was a paramedic.

“Jane Doe, looks to be around her 20’s. She lost control of her car and crashed into a traffic light.” He reported.

“What’s her stats like?” A different voice spoke. This had to be a doctor, you could tell by the way he had taken control of the situation.

“Her bpm is 78 over 80, she’s been in and out of consciousness, and there’s uneven breath sounds on the left side.” The paramedic answered.

“Thank you. Page ortho!” The man called.

That’s when you saw him. The person who the voice belonged to. He was beautiful, like a Greek god.

“Let’s get her to trauma one!”

He was a tall young man with loose, brown curly hair. His face was gorgeous, sharp jawline, brown eyes, huge, yet concerned, smile. He was like a walking cliche of a hot doctor on a medical show. He has on black scrubs with a long sleeve white shirt rolled up to his elbows underneath. There is a stethoscope around his neck and a pen poking out of his pocket that was located on his peck. He doesn’t look any older then twenty five, which was only a few years older then yourself. You quickly realized you were staring, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to look away. He was like the real life version of Dr. McDreamy!

“Hey there, I’m Doctor Mendes.” Said the man with the god-like complexion. It was only then that you realized that you were no longer outside the hospital, instead you were inside a room. There were multiple doctors moving about the room, but your eyes only followed one. “You’re at New Eden Medical Center, we’re going to take care of you sweetheart.” Doctor Mendes spoke once again.

You felt your heart flutter in your chest as he spoke, he called you sweetheart. You opened your mouth, gathering every bit of strength you could muster and spoke. “Y/n.. L- L/n.”

“What’s happening? Her heart rate just shot through the roof!” A different man said.

“I can’t stop this bleeding, she’s losing a lot of blood.”

“We need to get her to surgery, stat!”

The room around you seemed fuzzy, it got darker every second. You fought to keep your eyes open as a loud, annoying buzzing sound was in your ear, almost like a heart flatlining. You didn’t want to see the beautiful man leave, but evidently, you gave in to the darkness.

—

When you returned to consciousness, you were greeted by a bright light, along with the sound of a loud, steady beeping, almost like an alarm clock.

Your eyes were heavy, and you struggled to keep them open, you didn’t know where you were. This wasn’t your house, this wasn’t your bed. Where the hell were you?!

You began to panic, looking around the room. There was a small tv in the corner, a chair next to the bed you were in. You quickly came to the conclusion that it was a hospital room. Your eyes shot towards the door as you heard footsteps approach.

“Hey there- you gave me quite a scare.”

You recognized the man immediately, your heart thudding in your chest as you looked at him. As a result, the beeping from the heart monitor you had been hooked up to quickened.

“Woah, woah. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you Y/n.” The Doctor McDreamy remake walked over to you and rested his hand on your shoulder.

“Holy shit.. you’re really hot.” You said before you had a chance to think about it.

He chuckled. “I see the meds haven’t worn off yet.” He smiled. “It’s good to see that you’re able to speak.”

“Why wouldn’t I be able to?” You asked.

“Well, we had to preform CPR, so I’d imagine your chest is sore.”

You stayed quiet for a second. He wasn’t wrong, your chest did hurt a bit, but that seemed to be the only thing you could really feel. “What happened to me?”

“You got into a crash. You’ve broken your femur, and a few of your ribs. You also have a minor concussion, but that’s all, other than your cuts and bruises.” Dr. Mendes told you.

You nodded, processing everything he had told you. It was a lot to take in.

“Do you have anyone we can call?” He asked.

You shook your head. “No.. I’m alone.”

What you said was true; you were alone. As a child you spent your life in foster homes, waiting for the day when someone would finally adopt you; but it never came. You had moved just over a week ago to this town, and you knew no one. You were alone.

Dr. Mendes frowned, nodding slightly as he sat on the edge of your bed, gently resting his hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But I want you to know that you’re not alone. You have me.”

You let out a hollow laugh, tears filling your eyes. “I don’t even know you.” You whispered, letting the silent tears roll down your cheeks.

“I’m Shawn Mendes. I’m one of the best surgeons here at New Eden Medical Center.” Shawn told you. “Now, you may not know me well, but you know me.” He smiled reassuringly.

“I just want to go home.” You cried softly, shaking your head as you looked down.

“Hey, hey, listen to me.” Shawn spoke softly, his hand sat gently under your chin as he tilted your head up to look at him. “I know you want to go home.” He soothed. “We just need to keep you here for a few more days for surveillance, then I’ll take you home myself.” He promised.

“Isn’t that against some sort of doctor code or something..?” You sniffled.

Shawn chuckled, cupping your face in his large, calloused hands as he wiped away your tears with his thumbs.

“It is, yes. But you said yourself, you have no one, or rather, you had no one. Now you have me.”

“But what about your jo-..”

“I’ll have to transfer off your case, but I’ll be in here every second I can be. Okay?” Shawn seemed to know what you were going to say before you even finished.

“Okay..” You nodded slightly, relaxing in the man’s arms.

“Now, you should get some rest. You need it.” Shawn smiled as he slowly pulling his hands away from your face.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” You asked worriedly, not wanting to be alone again.

“Of course.”

That’s all the confirmation you needed, you smiled as you shut your eyes, sighing softly as you relaxed in the bed. “Thank you, Shawn.” You whispered.

“Of course. It’s my job.”

That was the last thing you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

[bowsie22]

Pingxie Week 2021 Day 2

Summary: For a city with such a high rate of criminal activity, Wu Xie has always been safe. Now if only he could figure out why? Photography student Wu Xie/Triad leader Xiaoge

It was weird. Despite being open for eight months, Wushanju had never been robbed. The stores around it had all been robbed multiple times in that period. He’d never been attacked on the street, despite multiple robberies happening every day. Pangzi put it down to Wu Xie’s stupid luck, but Wu Xie thought it was weird. Anytime he was cornered, or a Triad member came into the shop for their protection money, there was always a moment. A moment where the men would stare at him like they knew him from somewhere and they’d run. Literally run from him like bats out of hell. It made no sense. And he knew it was a weird thing to be upset by, but he was.

Which led to now. Wu Xie, in a moment of stupidity, decided to go into the city at night to complete one of his final projects for a photography class. Sure, he had his own store/gallery/studio, but that was more due to his uncles making sure he could look after himself. And to a lesser extent, Pangzi. But he still had to finish college, no matter what Sanxing said. And after taking his two-year break, possibly due to an emotional and mental breakdown after the disappearance of the love of his life, Wu Xie was more determined than ever to ace his courses and make his uncles proud. And again, to a lesser extent, Pangzi.

Hence the moment of stupidity. While the city was beautiful at night, it was also dangerous. Especially for someone was still trying to get himself back to full health after the aforementioned disappearance. Not that Wu Xie couldn’t defend himself. He had learned something from Heiye and Pangzi.

So, he wasn’t too nervous about being followed by the two men creeping behind him. Honestly, they weren’t subtle. He wasn’t surprised by the bruising grip on his wrist, as the men pulled him into an alleyway, slamming him against the wall. Wu Xie groaned as his head bounced off the wall, attacker one holding him against the wall, attacker two standing in the mouth of the alleyway, cutting off any escape attempt.

“Ok, suppose my luck had to run out sooner or later.”

Pangzi always said that his sarcasm would hurt him. Never mentioned a mugger slapping him around the face though. Spitting out the blood, Wu Xie realised a second too late that he should have aimed away from the expensive looking shoes.

“You little bitch.”

A punch to the gut had Wu Xie gasping for air, the one to the back of his head had him on the ground and the following kicks to his stomach and chest had him spitting up more blood. Typical. The first time he gets robbed and he’s going to get murdered too. Attacker one grabbed his hair, forcing Wu Xie to his knees. That was a knife against his throat. Oh God, he was really going to die here.

“Whatever you’re doing, make it quick. Traffic is starting to pick up.”

At those words, a car drove past, Wu Xie wincing as the lights shone in his eyes.

“Shit!”

He was thrown to the ground, the two men backing away from him. Looking up, Wu Xie could make out the scales tattooed on their necks meaning that they were from the Zhang Clan. Shit, why were the Triad attacking him, he thought robbery was a bit beneath them? More concerning, why weren’t they doing anything anymore? The two were staring at him, wide eyed and pale. Wait a minute, why were they scared? They were the ones who attacked him!

“Shit, it’s him. We’re not meant to touch him. He’s going to kill us!”

“No, he’s going to torture us and kill us in the most painful way possible. The top of the list. The one person in this city, this country that you are not meant to touch and you chose him!”

“We were behind him! It’s not like we were given a picture of his ass! Look, don’t worry I know what to do.”

Wu Xie had a head injury. That was the only explanation for attacker one to slip a business card into his pocket and beg him to visit their boss and explain that this was all just some terrible mistake. What kind of self-respecting Triad member did that? Reaching for his phone, Wu Xie decided that it would be a tomorrow problem. Right now, he needed to contact Pangzi and make sure neither uncle heard about this.

“Are you serious? No!”

Pangzi swiped the card from his friend’s hand, glaring at the younger man.

“Like hell you are walking into a Triad building. To do what? Speak to the boss, demand reparations of some kind?”

“Of course not Pangzi. I just want to know what happened last night.”

“You didn’t hit your head that hard Tianzhen. You got attacked last night and had to be treated for bruised ribs, a sprained wrist and get stitches on that head wound.”

“I know all that. I meant after that.”

“After that you were concussed and probably imagining things!”

“So, I imagined that business card into reality?”

Groaning, Pangzi dropped the card in front of Wu Xie, recognising the stubborn pout on Wu Xie’s lips.

“There’s nothing I can say is there?”

“You can say that you’ll drive me there and wait outside like a good friend.”

“Damnit Wu Xie.”

Wu Xie was used to people staring at him. He was emotional, loud and the nephew to two of the wealthiest people in the city. But something was different about this. Normally people looked down at him, the rich boy who used his uncle’s money to open his own shop/studio. Or he was looked at like something to be used. Get into the Wu heir’s good books and you have an in with the brothers.

Here though, people looked afraid of him. Steeling himself, Wu Xie stepped away from the entrance, heading for the receptionist. Taking the card out of his pocket, Wu Xie pasted his biggest, friendliest smile on his lips and waited for the young man to hang up the phone. Considering he worked for the Triad, the man looked fairly unthreatening. Long hair, glasses, nice jaw bone, Wu Xie supposed he was attractive, if not a bit twinky. Hanging up, the man smiled nervously at him.

“Hello sir. The boss will see you now.”

“What?”

“Kan Jian here will show to you to the head office.”

Wu Xie was so distracted by the man’s blazer with the sleeves ripped off that he was standing in an elevator before he knew what was happening.

“I’m sorry, what the hell is going on?”

“Don’t worry sir, the boss will explain it all. Just two more floors aaaannd here we are!”

The elevator doors opened onto an office that even his uncle Erbai would be jealous of. A wall of windows looked over the city, there was a fully stocked bar against one wall, a couch beside it, while a large TV took up the majority of the wall opposite. Directly across from the elevator doors stood a large, wooden desk, mahogany if Wu Xie were to guess, these desks usually were. More importantly behind that desk sat the boss, the head of the Triad. And Wu Xie’s waste of an ex who had abandoned him two years ago.

“Xiaoge?”

His ex-boyfriend was the head of the Triad. And still, Wu Xie was annoyed to say, stupidly handsome, especially in an all-black three-piece suit. Wu Xie had always been weak for a man in suits, especially when it was Xiaoge.

“It always felt like you were hiding something from me. Never would have guessed this though.”

Accepting the drink from the other man, Wu Xie tried to ignore the eyes running over his body and the frown on Xiaoge’s face.

“Wait! You’re why I’ve never been robbed or attacked. Until now at least. Why?”

Xiaoge settled onto the couch beside the younger man, an odd look on his face. Wu Xie knew Xiaoge, knew that he always needed a minute or two to think over his words.

“It was the only way I could keep you safe. I always knew I’d have to take over. Zhang Rishan gave me a few years to be normal. I wasn’t expecting to meet you and fall in love. When I took over, I sent out a picture of you and informed everyone that touching you meant instant death. Clearly, not everyone understood.”

“This is why you had to leave, isn’t it?”

 “This life isn’t safe. If I involved you, you’d be in danger. I had to keep you safe Wu Xie. You were and still are the most important person to me. If you got hurt because of me, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Wasn’t that my decision to make!? Xiaoge, I was a mess after you left. I didn’t eat, I didn’t look after myself, I dropped out of university! You leaving ruined me. And now you tell me it was to protect me and you did it because you love me so much? What am I meant to say to that?”

“Tell me what to do. Wu Xie, please. I’ll do anything to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

Wu Xie looked at his ex, mind racing. He knew what Xiaoge was expecting. That Wu Xie would give him some impossible task. But damnit, Wu Xie loved him. The last two years had been the most difficult of his life. Wu Xie had spent the entire time feeling like something was missing, searching for Xiaoge in every crowd, dreaming about him every night. Even just being in the same room as the other man made him feel better.

“Dinner. At the fanciest restaurant in town, tonight.”

Xiaoge looked at him, a small smile on his face, the one Pangzi always used to call his Wu Xie smile.

“Dinner, that’s it?”

“That’s it. And a very long, overdue conversation.”

“I can do that.”

“Good, see you tonight Xiaoge.”

Wu Xie turned to the elevator, making sure to add extra sway to his hips, aware that the older man was watching him. When the elevator doors closed behind him, Wu Xie realised that Pangzi was going to kill him for this.

Eh, worth it.

[dadzawa-adopt-dabi]

Transbodyswap fic

Keigo had only gotten hit with the quirk because he had shoved Shigaraki out of the way. It was a stupid move on his part, body moving without thinking. Shigaraki had already been attempting to dodge but Keigo hadn’t given him time to finish getting out of the way. He hipchecked Shig out of the way, resulting in him getting smacked with the quirk instead. A beam of light shoots from their palm,hitting one of his wings. Dabi shoots to his side when he wavers, having trouble standing upright. He feels slightly dizzy, like he has a concussion.Him shoving Shigaraki gave him a chance to finally get his protective gloves off and shove himself to his feet. Dabi shot a plume of his blue fire to cover Shig and it melts the asshole’s shoes to the cement, effectively trapping her as he grabs a pair of quirk cuffs hanging off Keigo’s belt.

“You're so goddam lucky I'm not able to incinerate your trashy ass right now.” Dabi hisses as he clacks them around her wrists. Keigo could drop her off at a police station in a few minutes. 

“Save it Dabi, Didn’t do anything but make me lose my balance for maybe 30 seconds.” Keigo huffed from where he was leaning against a wall.

Dabi’s hands flutter with the want to help him but don’t touch him.

“Keigo are you alright?” Dabi reached out and grabbed his shoulder, cupping his face with his other hand. Tilting his face towards him and removing his visor, checking his pupils to see if he had a concussion.

“Aw worried hot stuff? I was just knocked a little off balance. I’m fine.” Keigo still leaned into the hand on his face. He made no move to stand up straight instead letting Dabi sling his arm over Dabi’s thin shoulders. 

“Dizzy? Nauseous? Do we need to try and get you to a hospital or to a vet here birdy?” Dabi was only half joking. He truly was worried and it showed in his eyes as he frowned Keigo seemed to shake it off.

“I go to a commision appointed doctor, you know that.” keigo smirks up at him and flaps his wings to get the others to give him some more room.

“What the fuck were you thinking you peice of roadkill?” Shigaraki snarled at him. Trembling in either anger or fear. He seemed to come to his senses and grabbed the villain who was sitting against the wall. She would be dropped off by Kuroguri since Hawks seemed to be down for the moment. Might have been the quirk or with how Hawks had been working lately it could also just be exhaustion.

 “We don’t even know what their quirk does, it could have been anything and you might have just gotten hit with it because you couldn't stand to what? Couldn't stand to let a villian get hurt?” He furiously messed with his phone in his other hand. Either texting Kuroguri to complain or to get them a portal home.

“I accept that whatever happens is my fault for jumping in front of you. You probably could have dodged. I just didn’t give myself time to think.” shrugging off the last of their concern he grabbed Dabi’s arm. 

“Now I believe we were on a mission for Disney movie night? Snacks are in order and I’m not letting a random vigilante attacking us try to ruin league night!” Keigo’s voice isn't even forced into being chipper, he’s genuinely excited about movie night it seems. A warpgate opened next to them and Shigaraki sighed.

“They still want to get snacks I guess. Can you warp her outside the nearest police station?” He nudged the vigilante towards the portal and pulled back on his gloves. Artist ones Dabi had gotten him that left all but his pinky and thumb exposed.

“Fucking hell, roadkill waiting to happen thats what you are.” shaking his head, Shigaraki pushed the vigilante through the portal the rest of the way and started walking in the direction of the 24hr convience store.

“I’ll let you know I eat roadkill for breakfast and you're being very rude by bringing it up!” Hawks turned his nose high up in the air and arched his wings. Playing up being offended to watch Shigaraki sputter and Dabi threaten Shig with silent dagger eyes. It was cute in a way, making little butterflies flutter in his stomach, the way Dabi thought he needed to be defended. 

He hadn’t felt anything for anyone in what felt like years, not like this at least. Pure attraction tugging a smile onto his face. He still hadn’t made a move to respond to Dabi’s flirting.  He wanted to but just...didn't know how Dabi felt yet he guessed. 

He was a villain but he seemed to be so kind, and Magne was always respected around them. Maybe Dabi just didn’t want to date a trans person? He wasn’t ready to deal with the heartache if he wasn’t. Didn’t want to confess to something so personal quite yet.

Movie night ended up going as just like Keigo hoped it would. Popcorn being thrown everywhere and impromptu sing alongs to a lot of songs. Dabi kept trying to get him to duet with him. He had only ever sung for Rumi before. Well,  Dabi had walked in on him once when he was singing in the kitchen. He had broken in but Dabi had a habit of making himself at home in places he wasn't supposed to be.

Most of the others fell asleep in the living room but when he started nodding off on Dabi's shoulder Dabi had gently shaken him awake to lead him to his room.

“I can’t - i mean. I should- it's better if I just go home Dab’s, what if whoevers room this is wakes up and finds me in their bed?”  He hovered outside the doorway.

“This is your room. For when you're here anyways.” Dabi leaned against the doorframe and smirked at him.

“I'm not here that often though? Are you guys sure, I'm still a Hero you know.” Hawks lips were twisted up in a smile when he said it,but it was his hero persona talking to Dabi, not Keigo. He still had the bad habit of covering anything he was unsure or too emotional about with his Hero persona. It was too easy for him to do so, Dabi had worked hard to see the cracks in the shield and read the person underneath.

“It's alright to leave if you're uncomfortable with it. Shigaraki won’t change his mind about giving you one either way.'' Dabi reassured him. He had no right to be looking as hot as he was. Leaning against a doorframe and smirking at him.

“It's not that I'm that uncomfortable with it, but how will everyone else feel with me sleeping here? A Hero in your home?” He countered. 

“Everyone was pretty excited when we told them we were giving you a room, actually pretty bird” Dabi shrugged. He was tempted to offer Hawks his bed but Hawks rarely responded to his flirting as it was and he would rather not scare him off.

“Pretty bird now huh? Not roadkill or chicken? Careful, I'll think you're getting soft on me hotstuff.“ Keigo smirked and leaned forward jokingly. Like he was going to give Dabi a kiss, puckering his lips cartoonishly.

“I’ll take you up on that kiss in a heartbeat if you're not careful” Dabi smiled and leaned in closer as Keigo regained control of his senses and stepped back into his room.

“Night pretty bird i'll dream of you” Keigo could hear Dabi laughing on the other side of the door not the least bit put off or sour.

“better keep it pg13!” letting out a tired laugh Keigo flopped onto his bed. An entire room without surveillance he could just relax in. A room for him for when he got tired of being a hero 24/7 and wanted to be a person for a little bit. 

The league did a lot for him and they didn't always realize it, things like this room. Reserved for someone who might rarely if ever use it. Like the raw ground turkey meat in the fridge, because Toga drank blood and Shuichi ate raw eggs. So really Keigo’s dietary needs were not that abnormal for someone with a predatory animal quirk. Just about everyone helped him preen his wings.

 He fell asleep almost the instant his head hit the pillow.

When he woke up he didn’t recognize anything. Maybe because this room belongs to him his guard was down lower than usual?

He stretched and felt the lack of wings on his back. Oh, one of those nightmares. Okay, he could deal with this, he didn't usually lucid dream but he had once or twice. He knew the general rules to keep his dream in control.

Then a certain lower body part that did not usually feel like that brushed against the sheets, jolting him fully awake. He shot bolt upright out of bed. Floundering to throw off the covers and take stock of himself.  He saw deeply scarred purple skin held to healthy skin with shiny staples. It caused him to reel back out of shock, he ended up falling completely out of bed with a wince.

 That- that was not his. He would know if that was his. It didn't occur to him to not check it, that this wasn’t his body to look at. He had just looked down and there it was. Jesusu fucki- fuck, it was even pierced. Oh fuck,it hits him like a brick. Slightly harder, because he’s been thrown into bricks with less force than the realization that he is in Dabi’s body hits him with.

Then where was- Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Shit god damn it. He starts reading to leave, yanking on a pair of nearby pants with a t-shirt. He hears a curse and a thump from where he guesses his room is and starts to walk quickly down the hall. He hears the start of Dabi waking up in his body, cussing and the sound of his wings throwing Dabi out of bed and picks up the pace to a run.

“What the fu-” is all that meets his ears before he slides around the corner and slams himself into the front door before he can stop and open it.

“Dabi? What’s wro- ” Magne starts to ask in concern before he’s out the door, pushing Dabi’s already burning lungs and aching muscles to go faster.

He hears someone call for Dabi but by the time anyone thinks to call for him, Keigo, He’s already almost out of earshot. Running in Dabi’s body is different, his lungs won’t work and he keeps gasping. He almost falls several times, catching himself at the last moment before his face can meet the pavement. Once or twice he over balances and he has to smack his hand against the ground to shove himself back upright to keep going, still in a panic. He’s pushed Dabi's body too hard, smoke escaping from the seams. His lungs burn and his muscles twitch consistantly.

Keigo stares over at his building from the dirty alleyway, debating how he’s going to get into his apartment while in Dabi’s body.  A loud Hawk screech sounds startling him. Dabi hadn’t, had he? He knows what he sounds like when he’s been startled and a few weeks ago Dabi had startled him badly enough that he had lost control of his vocal cords. Which led to him letting out a startled screech, always so loud due to his quirk. He smacks at the pockets on his pants looking for the phone and finds it in the hoodie pouch. Did he accidently steal Dabi’s phone? Fuck the phone actually, he techniccally stole Dabi’s body by taking off like he had.

He flinches as he thinks about it. He stole Dabi’s body and left him stuck in his. He silently mourns the flirting and discrete courting Dabi had been attempting. The research he had done for nothing, the gifts he had been giving Keigo and the preening he teased him with.

 Dabi’s phone gives another screech in his hand and he opens it. There’s two texts from his number. His number was saved under ‘A pretty bird’.

>I'm going to assume you went home. We’re going to track down the women who hit you with her quirk.

> You need to go in through the back service entrance and use the elevator there. No one should spot you.

The phone is silent for a few seconds as Keigo ducks into the alley beside his building, he finds the service entrance relatively easy and eases inside, wincing at the creak of the door. Then it screeches again and he yanks it out of his pocket to turn the sound down. Heart pounding he checks what Dabi sent now.

>I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. I'll try and stop by later if I can so we can talk if you want.

He notices as he shuts the service door that a sponge is tucked into the lock. His security really did suck if this was how Dabi was always getting into his building. True to Dabi’s word though he didn't see anyone as he rode the elevator up to his floor.His apartment door is never locked anymore, anyone who would come over already knows how to lockpick. 

< I’m sorry.

He finally responds to Dabi and tucks himself into his nest. Curling up under a blanket and looking through Dabi’s phone games. There’s not much. Collect some goldfish, a couple match 3 and a hidden objects one. Nothing like Keigo’s mix of cafe and gacha games.

>What the fuck are you sorry for? Not your fault the bitch whammied you with her quirk. 

<You know what I mean. I didn’t tell you and you're stuck in my body, so now you know.

>We’re talking about this later when I can see your face.

Keigo’s heart squeezes and he feels like he should be crying but there’s nothing there when he brushes his hands against Dabi’s eyes. Catching on the staples there reminds him that he still has to clean and disinfect Dabi’s staples. He would give anything to slip into a muscle bath soak right now to ease Dabi’s twitching muscles but he doesn't know how the scars would react.

He checks what damage he can see first. Dabi’s staples around his wrists and on his face. Before realizing he can feel something wet dripping down his legs. Glancing down he wonders how he didn’t feel the staples tearing out of Dabi’s skin before. He presses hard on a patch to check and just feels a small bit of pressure instead. He can't, Dabi can’t feel anything on his scars he realizes. Keigo feels like his eyes should be crying again.

He puts the staples back in that he can and presses a peroxide soaked cotton ball to the wounds. Then he takes a roll of cloth bandages and wraps the seams as best as he can. He leaves his bathroom a mess, figuring he can clean that up later. 

He flops back into his nest feeling cleaner and a little less like he’s going to fall apart. He gets a text from Dabi warning him he’s coming in after passing a ridiculous amount of levels in one of his games. A swirl of black and the sounds of a busy house fill his silent apartment. Sako promising not to cut himself if Kuroguri let him help cook breakfast. Jin arguing with himself over if he wants coffee or juice. Toga sleepy and demanding Shigaraki sit next to her. Keigo’s gotten attached and he hadn’t even noticed. He knows what they like to eat in the morning and how they greet him when he stops by for what’s essentially his lunch but everyone else’s breakfast. 

“-and you better fucking kiss him, Don’t come back until he’s been well fucked and well kissed.” Magne's voice cuts above the chaos as one of Keigo’s red wings pokes through the warp gate. Frank and loud as always, bringing him back to the present situation of Dabi coming through a portal to his utterly trashed apartment. For fucks sake he has a half empty bottle of alcohol uncapped and left on his bedside table. Not to mention the trash all over. He plucks a pop tart wrapper out of his blankets before he shrugs and leaves it, nothing he could do about his mess of a personal life now.

“Can you not? I’m fucking trying to eat breakfeast.” Shigaraki hissed at her. 

“Just get his ass back here when this mess is fixed.” Dabi steps through the portal in Keigo’s body and it lacks all of his usual grace. He’s more like falling through it,wings obviously unbalancing him.

“He’ll come back if he wants assface. I ain’t going to force him to do shit either of you.” He gestures to Kuroguri to close the portal as their very loud complaining starts up. Keigo’s wings relax and droop to the floor, as Dabi turns around and looks at Keigo’s sty of a room. He raises an eyebrow but that’s it. Looking at Keigo in the nest however has his wings lifting up into a protective shield.

“Hey Pretty bird.” Dabi sits on the edge of the nest and Keigo’s wings he’s wearing relax again. They seem to be extremely expressive on Dabi, constantly moving themselves wherever they want and getting in his way.

“I’m sorry.” he gulps while curling into himself until he feels a stretch of skin somewhere on his back tug sharply. Fuck, Dabi must have scars on his back too. These didn’t have the lack of feeling around it like the others did. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you. I promise I was going to before we did anyth-”

Dabi gently tugged on his stapled limbs, interrupting Keigo and making him unwind himself from his little ball. It wasn’t a comfortable position on his scars, he knew from experience.

“I said I would talk to you. About this. It doesn't have to be now either, or really ever.”  Dabi gestured to the body he was currently wearing while he was speaking. It didn’t really matter what body parts Keigo had, not to him at least.

“I care more about your comfort level than what’s in your pants. Have I been making you uncomfortable with all the flirting?” Keigo’s wings rustled and twitched on his back. He had no idea how Keigo kept them from moving all the time. The feathers themselves moved a lot but the appendages themselves were attention grabbing.

“No It’s, It’s not that.” Keigo grabs his own body’s hand, feeling Dabi’s heart skip a beat. “I liked flirting. Didn’t want it to stop actually.”

“It doesn't have to stop then.” Dabi wove their fingers together and squeezed his own hand. Keigo’s wings flared open as wide as they could and he swayed as he fought to not be overbalanced by them. Keigo pulled on their joined hands so he flopped fully into the nest and laid over his own body’s legs.

“I'm more concerned with the way your body aches all over. Why do your wing joints feel like they are on fire? Trust me I know what that feels like.” Dabi propped himself up and noticed small drops of blood on Keigo’s sweatpants. Shit, Keigo must have torn some staples in Dabi’s legs earlier.

 “you can tell me how to fix that after we take care of my staples. You tore a few while you were running off this morning.” Dabi helped Keigo out of his nest, blue eyes locked with his golden brown ones. Keigo’s wings flared again and Dabi smirked, he was starting to get an idea of what the flaring meant.

Keigo gently laughs as he sits on the lid of the toilet and pulls down his borrowed sweats. Keigo’s wings flare wide as he sits down between his own body’s thighs to inspect the damage. It’s not as bad as it could be and he asks about Keigo’s wings to distract them as he carefully straightens and wraps them.

“Um that’s.” Keigo blushes as he tries to find the words to explain courtship displays when he realizes Dabi is the one attracted to him. Dabi is the one fanning himself out and kneeling between his legs. It’s his body displaying the signs but it’s Dabi who’s turned on at the thought of kneeling between Keigo’s legs. “Serious? I can’t believe you're getting turned on right now. I just fucked your staples up and you're having to help patch me up.”

Dabi snorted and gently unwrapped the mess Keigo had slapped on his wounds. “I’ve got a snarky bird in front me who I happen to like very much. Sue me. This quirk should wear off in about two days. We can stay here or we can go home.” He finished wrapping his seams and looked up at Keigo gently smoothing the seams as he focused on trying to fold Keigo’s wings to his back.

Keigo glanced down at Dabi, wings spread and licked his lips at the image.  “I’d like to stay here if it’s alright, I think I want some time with just us.” 

 “I’ll let the League know I won’t be back till later then.” Dabi stands, pulling Keigo gently up with him to avoid stressing his staples again. He goes to turn away and Keigo grabs his own wings and yanks him back in for a kiss. Dabi let’s out a startled moan at the action.

“You can do that after you help me with something else.” Keigo smirks so largely he can feel the staples in Dabi’s face struggling not to tear.

[thinkyoureholy]

Fragile Figures [17]

.

.

.

Pairing : Choi San / [fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Smut, Character Death?, Mafia! / Hired Assassin! AU

Words : 3.7k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11. Pt 12. Pt 13. Pt 14. Pt 15. Pt 16. Pt 17. Pt 18.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

-San's P.O.V-

I shoved his hands off of me, stumbling back into the car behind me, "Don't fucking touch me," I growled out.

Kei's golden eyes seemed to grow darker as he scowled, already reaching out a hand to me but Kiri grabbed his wrist before he could touch me, "That's enough, Kei. Can't you see he's in no position to run from us? He can barely stand on his own two feet how do you expect him to escape?"

Kei glared at Kiri for a moment before clicking his tongue, yanking his arm out of her grip, "Whatever. Just get in the car. She's waiting for us back home."

And with that he climbed into the driver's seat, slamming the car door shut loudly. I stayed where I was without moving, breathing heavily as I stared at the ground. I hated how right she was. With my leg the way it is I wouldn't get more than two steps away from them before my leg gave out. Without those painkillers it was unbearable to even stand.

"Here." She said softly, her hand coming into view, "These should help."

I stared at the pills in the palm of her hand, setting my jaw before slapping her hand away, the pills falling to the ground. I didn't bother looking at her, keeping my head down as I thought of a way to get away from them. I had no weapons on me and I couldn't really fight them with the way I am. Think, San, think!

"Just get in the car, San. Make this a little easier for all of us alright?" 

I gagged at her sickly sweet voice, recoiling away from her outstretched hand. I watched her face fall at the action, her hand slowly going back to her side. I said nothing as I got in, knowing this was the only thing I could do. I'd rather not have them injure or kill me while I was with them. I needed time to come up with a proper plan to get away from them and back to Y/N unharmed.

"Go on ahead, Kei. I'll call for another car in two hours. We have to give Kanda time with his brother before we take him back." Kiri said, leaning over to look at Kei properly, “Tell her to go easy on him. We don’t want to break him anymore than he already is.”

Kei just waved her off before starting the car and driving to wherever the hell they were hiding out at. Kiri’s words had my blood boiling. I can’t believe after everything she can just act like she suddenly cares. She’s part of the reason why I’m so fucking up in the first place! Who the fuck the she think she is? If anything this is another one of her tricks to get me to lower my guard with her before she stabs me in the back. She’s always done this and every single time I fell for it but not this time, I know better now. 

“Oi, where the hell are we going?” I asked, kicking at the back of his seat.

Kei kept quiet, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter at the sound of my voice.

“What do you all want from me? I left you bastards for a reason, why the fuck are you dragging me back?” I continued with my questions, seeing the scowl on his face deepen but I didn’t stop, “Kei answer me, what-”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up I swear to you I’ll slit your throat right here and now. I don’t care what our sister wants to do with you.” He threatened through clenched teeth, pressing a knife to my throat.

He had pulled the car over and turned in his seat faster than I could process, the blade of his knife pressing roughly against my throat. I winced when he applied pressure, blood already starting to trickle down my neck. I grit my teeth as I tried to pull away from him but he reached over to grab a fistful of my hair with his other hand. The look in his eyes had my heart rate skyrocketing, flashbacks clouding my mind.

“You will be quiet and cooperative until we get there do you understand me? Be an obedient little brother for once, alright?”

I said nothing, the fear in me beginning to cripple me. I hated this feeling more than anything, I hated that only he could make me feel like this. For all the talk I do I could never truly stand up to my older brother. The murderous look in his eyes always stopped me from talking back to him when he’s finally had enough of my shit. Out of the four I left behind I was most terrified of Kei, not even she invoked this much fear in me. I’ve been left in a state close to death many times due to his temper…

-Six Years Ago-

I coughed and gasped for air at the same time. I couldn’t breathe, the simple act now being the most difficult thing in the world. I pushed myself off the floor but the moment I did my arms were kicked out from under me, my face being shoved harshly into the cold cement. I knew better than to fight back and normally I would just take it but this time..he’s gone further than he ever has before. I could barely feel my face and my whole body, fuck, it was screaming, crying out for me to just pass out already but he wouldn’t even let me do that.  Every time I was close to losing consciousness he’d hit me with a bucket of ice cold water. So not only was I in excrutiating pain but I was cold, so fucking cold.

“K-Kei please. I...I’m sorry. What--whatever I did I’m sorry…” I cried out, pleading with him,

I heard him click his tongue, his hand grabbing my shoulder as he turned me onto my back. I stared up at him, begging him with my eyes, hoping he’d show mercy but the look he had in his eyes had that thought vanished as soon as it came. The look in his eyes had my throat closing up, my heart rate spiked, the fear coursing through my veins.

“You see that’s what pisses me off even more about you. You fuck up time and time again and when I take the time out of my day to discipline you, you have the nerve to feign ignorance?” He growled, gripping my chin with his fingers harshly.

His face was twisted in anger, his bright golden eyes hard darken to the point where they were almost unrecognizable. “If you’re gonna fuck up own up to it! I don’t have the time to tell you again and again to fix yourself! This is the last fucking time, San! The next time I'll kill you! I don't give a fuck if I get a scolding from Mei you're not worth keeping alive if all you do is fuck up all the time!"

"Kei that's enough."

I didn't dare look away from him at the sound of Kiri's voice, knowing even something as minuscule as averting my gaze from his was enough for him to beat me some more. He gazed deeper and deeper into my eyes before he finally scoffed, slamming me into the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut the moment my head hit the concrete, the room spinning as my ears rang. I let out a groan, curling in on myself, covering my head to protect myself from any more.

"Clean him up." Kei let out with a grunt, wiping his hands off on my shirt.

I heard him let out a huff of air before hearing his footsteps leaving. I winced the moment I opened my eyes, trying to push myself up off the floor but cried out the second I put any kind of pressure on my left arm. I heard Kiri rush over to me but I yanked my arm out of her grip when I felt her fingers touch me. I pushed myself up slowly with my right arm, gritting my teeth as I sat up and dragged myself back, leaning against the wall behind me. I groaned low in my throat as I took a look at my arm, seeing the huge gash starting from my elbow down to my wrist. I saw Kiri try to reach for me again but I slapped her hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” I spat out through gritted teeth. 

I looked away from her as I tried to stand, missing the way something flashed in her eyes. I was unsuccessful in my attempt to stand so I resigned myself to staying there on the ground. Just as I heaved out a sigh a second later a cry of pain fell from my lips. Kiri had reached forward and grabbed my left forearm, digging her fingers into the open wound. I let out curse after curse as I tried to pry her hand off of me but it was no use, Kei had weakened me too much. I looked into Kiri’s eyes only to flinch at the sight of them.

“You either let me help you or I finish what Kei started but I promise you it’ll be much worse.” She said, her voice light as she gently brushed her fingers against my cheek.

-Present Time-

Kei had broken three of my ribs, fractured my tibia and gave me a severe concussion that day. What’s worse is that a beating like that was something I was more than used to receiving from him. I exhaled shakily, leaning further into the seat as he drove off, silence enveloping us. 

It didn’t take long to arrive to wherever he was taking me. Once there all he said was to get out, hopping out of the car before I could even say anything. I clenched my hands tightly into fists for an instant, inhaling sharply through my nose. I must’ve taken too long to get out as Kei opened the backdoor and pulled me out of the car, dismissive of my cries of pain as my legs got tangled up with each other when he yanked me out of the car so abruptly. I hissed as I tried to straighten out but I stumbled, finding it difficult to stand on my own, using the car to hold myself upright. I heard Kei click his tongue, a set of crouches appearing in my line of sight moments later.

“Here. I’m not in the mood to carry you.” He grumbled out, turning his back on me as soon as I grabbed the crouches. 

He walked away from me before I could say anything, silently telling me to follow him with a tilt of his head. I had no other choice but to follow him, not knowing exactly where I was. I wasn’t blindfolded or anything but this part of the city was completely unknown to me, I wasn’t even sure if I was even still in the city to begin with. I followed after Kei silently, thought after thought filling my head and most of them were thoughts of Y/N. 

I wanted to see her so badly. I didn't think I'd miss her as much as I did. I missed seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, holding her in my arms, fuck just having her within reach. I missed the days I spent messing around with her, teasing her with my words, spurring her on just to watch the way her eyes narrowed ever so slightly when she was annoyed. I missed everything, not just her but everything about that place. Sure there were those times with Yunho but, shit, I even missed those times. I took it all for granted, everything. I let myself feel at ease and look at what happened. I can't believe I forgot about these people. In that one moment of bliss I lost all sense of judgement, I had forgotten the very reason why I never stayed in one place for too long.

"San...it's been so long."

Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts, my eyes meeting her golden ones, her features identical to Kei's. For a moment I had forgotten that those two were twins in the first place, Kei calling her his older sister throwing me off sometimes since she's only older by a few minutes. Mei was sitting at the far end of a table in the middle of the room. At the sight of her I unconsciously took a step back, leaning into the wall behind me. She scanned me from head to toe before a smile that chilled me to the bone tugged at the corners of her lips.

-Y/N's P.O.V-

I sat out on the porch, a cigarette held limply in between my fingers. It wasn't lit but I was thinking about lighting it, I wanted to light it. I had been off of cigarettes for a few years and to have those years go to waste...I couldn't bring myself to do it. But I...I needed something, anything. It's been six weeks, six weeks since San was taken and I've never felt more desperate. I let out a shaky breath, burying my face in my hands. I was starting to lose my mind...I don't know how much longer I can take this.

"Y/N!"

My head shot up at the sound of my name. I quickly got up and ran inside, almost colliding with Yunho. He put his arms out to steady me when I stepped back so as to not bump into him, stumbling a bit. 

"We found him. We found Kanda." He said hurriedly, a small smile playing at his lips.

The instant I heard that a lump formed in my throat, my eyes filling with tears. I gasped for air, trying to stop myself from sob, a relieved smile on my face. I gripped onto the sleeves of his sweater, that being the only thing keeping my standing.

"Where--where is he?"

"I'll tell you everything on the way. The others are already there. Let's go before Seonghwa bursts in there, the others can only hold him back for so long." He said, turning me around and began leading me out of the house.

……

Once there I ran out of the car, not even waiting for Yunho to stop properly. I ran over to where the others where, reaching out for Seonghwa's arm since he was the closest to me.

"Do you know if he's in there?" I asked out of breathe.

He shook his head, clenching his hands into fists, "Even if he's not in there I'm going to beat that bastard half to death until he tells me what he did to San."

I pat the side of his arm before going to the front, addressing everyone, “I want you all to stay here. I need to go in there and speak to Kanda myself.”

As soon as I uttered those words the protests started to come in but the ones that protested the loudest were Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and Yunho. Those three immediately stepped forward, each having different things to say.

“You’re crazy if you think I’ll let you go in there with a guy that’s almost killed you more times than I’m comfortable with.” Yunho spoke in a firm voice, grabbing onto my arm.

“It’s too dangerous for you to go on your own. At least let one of us go with you.” Hongjoong said urgently.

“I’m not going to just sit around here and wait, Y/N. I’ve waited long enough. I’m going to get my hands on that son of a bit one way or another.” Seonghwa said, his tone of voice telling me he really will storm into the place on his own, with or without my permission.

I sighed heavily and nodded at Seonghwa, “Fine, you can come but the rest of you stay out here.”

“Y/N-” 

“Yunho I need you to keep some semblance of order out here with the others.” I said quickly before prying his hand off of me and leaving with Seonghwa in tow.

I remained quiet as I walked in the building, Seonghwa leading the way. The two of us didn’t exchange any words once it was just the two of us, too focused on the task at hand. I inhaled sharply at what I had to do to get any type of information out of Kanda, my pride and ego had to go on the back burner for this. I wanted to do this on my own so none of the guys had to witness me in that state but Seonghwa was a ticking time bomb.

“Hwa...I’m going to need you to let me do all the talking. Don’t interrupt me no matter how much you want to.” I said standing outside the door, “Don’t pull out your weapons even if they have theirs drawn.”

“But-”

“Just trust me on this.” I cut him off, my tone of voice enough for him to know not to question me.

He set his mouth into a straight line, nodding his head, staring straight ahead. With a heavy sigh I knocked on the door, only having to wait a few seconds before it swung open. The woman I vaguely remembered as being one of Kanda’s subordinates looked at the two of us wide eyed, pulling out a gun and pointing it at me without hesitation. I could see Seonghwa move to take out his own gun out of the corner of my eye but I stopped him, grabbing onto his wrist firmly. I didn’t take my eyes off the woman for a second, putting a hand up to show I didn’t come with ill intent.

“I’m just here to talk.”

Her gaze flickered from Seonghwa to me and then back again. I could tell she was trying to figure out what to do.

“Kanda!”

That was all she had to say before I heard movement coming in from the apartment, Kanda appearing moments later. The look in his eyes told me he was more than surprised to see me standing there. What must’ve surprised him the most was the calm look in my eyes. I didn’t come here to fight...no...if I did the others would kill him before I got any answers out of him. Even though I was the angriest of the bunch I had buried my anger...desperation was all I felt now, nothing else, nothing more. I stared into Kanda’s eyes for a moment longer before I did something I never thought I’d ever do.

I bowed at a ninety degree angle, staring down at the floor as I clenched my hands at my sides, “Kanda please, I...I’m begging you, give San back to me. I’ll do anything you ask I’ll even take his place so--so please, please let him go.”

By the time I finished talking I was shaking, trying to hold in my tears. I didn’t dare to look up, trying to keep myself together. I saw Seonghwa shuffle on his feet but he remained quiet, they all did. As the seconds ticked by the faster my heart beat, that is until I heard Kanda sigh heavily.

“He’s….he’s not-"

"I’m-"

"Wait!-"

.

.

.

.

.

I gripped onto the collar of his shirt, pulling him up off the floor, his head hanging back limply. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, shaking my head for a moment and when I opened my eyes again my brain finally registered what they were seeing. I looked around, my grip loosening at the sight. The whole apartment was covered in blood, bodies lay on the floor, unmoving. The four that lay on the floor had pools of blood underneath them. My face paled as U recognized one of them to be Seonghwa. My grip was gone at the sight of him, Kanda falling to the ground with a thud. I took a step towards Seonghwa, terrified at the thought that he might be dead. What--what the hell happened? I...I don't remember anything. I looked down at my hands to see them covered with blood, the blood even trailed up my arms, stopping at my elbows. 

I stumbled back into the wall, sliding down to the floor. My body didn't stop shaking even when I heard the others run into the apartment. I watched with wide eyes as Yunho slipped on the blood on the floor, Wooyoung steadying him. My eyes scanned every one of their faces, seeing the horror in their eyes as they took in the scene they walked into. Yeosang and Jongho ran to where Seonghwa was, checking his pulse and applying pressure to his open wounds. My eyes were glued to Seonghwa's body, my heart beating so loud I could hear it in my ears.

"Y/N. Y/N! Look at me. What the hell happened here?!" Yunho asked, cupping my face in both his hands and forced me to look at him.

"I...I don't know. I…” I trailed off, my eyes on Mingi as he checked on Kanda, my heart sinking, “No. I...I need him. I still don’t know what he did with San!”

I moved to go to him but Yunho stopped me, his grip on my shoulders tight, “Y/N if you did all this I need you to tell me.”

I looked at him in a daze, trying to remember what had happened here but I just kept coming up empty. I caught a glimpse of my hands once more, my body still trembling...but I didn’t know why...unless I- no it can’t be. I couldn’t have done all this...could I? But Seonghwa…? There’s absolutely no way I’d ever harm him yet just thinking about it had a lump forming in my throat, the blood in my veins running cold.

“I don’t know. I...I really don’t know, Yun. I can’t remember anything.”

Was I really willing to go this far, to the point where I even harmed one of my most trusted for San? I would never… right?

[strongsassysexysloane]

Ain’t Life a B*tch - Chap 7

Well I want to apologise for the mistakes because ive rewritten this chapter a few too many times now and I can look at it anymore so I’m positing it instead. 

. . . . 

It wasn't the most peaceful sleep but you managed to sleep all the way through apart from the random check up in the early hours of the morning when the Doctors changed over. You weren't very coherent then to remember much of what happened but you do remember Jack was still sitting in the visitor's chair just like she is now. The lights were dimmed but you could see the sunlight shining under the curtains, it was probably still too early to be awake but no one ever slept right in a hospital. Jack was purring away still asleep in the chair with her feet stretched out in front of her. It reminded you of a time back in San Diego where you'd both fallen asleep at your desks at work and your boss had barged in slamming down coffees on your desks, waking you up. You'd both woken up with stiff necks and sore lower backs but the boss didn't want to hear it. That was the first and last time he bought you both coffees.  

The breakfast trolley came by not long after, giving you a tray with strawberry yoghurt, toast with butter and some kind of jam to spread on. It wasn't much but you weren't expecting a three-course meal. Hopefully you'd be out of here by this afternoon and would pick up a pizza on the way home. There was a possibility of it coming right back up again but it would be so worth the taste on the way down. You laughed at that disgusting thought just as you saw Jack shift.

That's when Jack woke up, the smell of food and coffee bringing her out of her slumber. She probably heard your thought of pizza as well. "Coffee?"

You smirk at her first words. "Not enough sugar for your liking." There was barely enough sugar for your liking.  

"I'll go get some from the cafeteria and check in with your team."

You watch as she stretches, twists from side to side. Most likely working out a kink in her back. "It's 0630 Jack. No need to wake my team up."  

"Right. Coffee then." She hops up, bending over to touch her toes and then back up, placing her hands on her hips.  

"Get some breakfast while you're at it." Jack salutes you and you laugh at her poor attempt at one before she walks out of the room. You wished she had gone home but part of you were glad she had stayed.  

She was gone a while, enough time for the Doctor to come in and check on you. "Everything seems fine. I'd like you to stay another 24 hours just in case. Concussions, especially because you blacked out for a short time can be varying."  

"I know Doc. Not my first rodeo."

"Then I definitely should keep you in for another 24 hours." He looked over your charts again before slipping it back on the hanger at the end of your bed.  

"But you don't have to, right?"

"This isn't a flea market in Thailand. We don't bargain down hospital stays."  

You sigh slumping back into your pillows. You really couldn't take spending a whole day and another night in here. "Come on Doc, I'm fine. Heads pounding less, got a reasonable full night sleep. Kept down some food. Haven't harassed the hospital team - yet."  

"Threats won't work, y/n. You need to stay another 24 hours, you need to be under someone's care just in case."

"Someone's care, so not technically a nurse or doctor." You were slowly forming a plan. You half told the truth, your head was still pounding, just not as bad as yesterday.  

"You got someone who can look after you for the next 48 hours?"  

"I can."

Your gut dropped. You weren't even aware that Jack had come back into the room. Let alone thinking about her looking after you. You were going to call a friend and ask them to check in on you every hour, not stay with you permanently. "Jack you don't-"

"I won't let you leave unless someone promises to be with you for the next 48 hrs. No exceptions."  

"I'll do it Doc. I can work from my laptop. Plus, I've put up with her complaints and seductions before."  

The last part threw you off. She was smirking, sassing you. She hadn't sassed you in over five years. That part left when you broke her heart, since when had it returned?  

"Alright Agent Sloane. I'd like to keep her here until 1200 just to be sure and then I'll release her into your custody."

"Hello, Hi. Do I get a say in this?"

"Would you rather stay here?"

You pout. Both of them looking at you with amused expressions. "No. Fine." You huff causing your audience to laugh and Jack follows the doctor out. Probably talking about what she needs to watch out for and do for you. This was a horrible idea.  

The morning went quickly, Jack went back home and to NCIS to check in on things and talk to the Director on her new assignment which gave you a few hours to over think and figure out how the next two days were going to work. Jack came back in just after the Doctor was discharging you and ready to drive you home. The ride home was awkward to say the least, for you. You weren't in the mood to talk and she'd easily picked up on that. You hated this arrangement but here you were. She'd packed an overnight bag so even if you had managed to convince Jack to go home for the night, it wasn't happening now.  

"I can sleep on the couch and you can take the bed." It didn't make sense when you thought it but ended up saying it anyway.

"Absolutely not. You will sleep in your own bed as it's yours and you're the one with the concussion. Don't be silly." She sighed. "I know this was a rash decision on my part and I should've asked you first but did you really want to stay at the hospital another night?"

The situation wasn't ideal but if you were being honest with yourself this could be a good thing. This was the most you had talked to Jack in years and this could be the turning point in your newfound friendship due to your injury. You just didn't want to get your hopes up. "Look Jack, I'm thankful that you offered and are doing this. Just trying to wrap my head around why the sudden change and how the next 24 hours is going to work."  

"48."  

"What?"  

"48 hours."  

"You aren't staying two nights."

She turned to look at you properly when she pulled up at the red light and smirked at how adamant you were. "Watch me."  

"Fine. Hopefully the couch will be sufficient enough." You look back out the passenger side window as the car turned down your street. "Thank you." You whispered because you really were grateful for her even though this situation was going to be hell.  

"Of course."  

She pulls up her car along the curb in front of your building and runs around to help you out of the car but you push her away. "Jack, I can walk by myself."  

"I just don't want you to fall and have to drive you back to the hospital. It really is a long way."  

Her joke does what it's meant to and you smile. So maybe this would actually work out and you were over thinking all the ways it could go wrong. "Would be such a hassle."  

She smiles along with you but grabs your bag along with her overnight bag before you can protest and runs ahead of you. "Can't get the bag if you can't catch me."

"Such a child."  

Jack laughs and the sound wave hits you right in the chest. That sound always made you smile and melt on the inside, now it had the opposite effect. It tore at your heart because it was such a rare thing to hear, you making her laugh.

She opened the door to your apartment and dropped both bags near the foot of the couch and turned to watch you stumble into the room. "You sure you don't need me for balance?"

"I'm fine." You don't convince her by leaning against the wall because you were slightly out of breath from the short walk up the stairs and into your apartment. "I will be." Which was closer to the truth and Jack nods in response. "Now, bathroom is down the hall on the right, linen closet is the door on the left. Kitchen well you can see where that is and help yourself to anything. Other than coffee and some frozen pizza. There isn't much there I'm afraid."  

"What happened to you cooking all the time?"

"Don't get much time lately, wanted to get back into it but there's not much fun in it when you're only cooking for yourself."

"Since when did that stop you? You loved creating meals even for yourself." Her hands shifted to her hips, trying to make more of a point but you weren't in the mood for this to turn into an argument that she would win.  

You shrug finally finding the strength to shift and move a few steps to fall not so gracefully onto your couch. "Guess times change."  

"That's for sure. Mind if I freshen up?"

"Go for your life. I didn't get the chance to clean so apologies if it's a mess or anything." All the possibilities of what she could find in your bathroom sprang to mind. Did you put away the vibrator? You might've prayed a little to someone to make sure you had because she was down the hall before you could change your mind.  

"Nothing I haven't seen before." She threw back and you smiled. You had practically lived together for a month or so before the inevitable heart break.  

To your surprise and you assume Jack's as well, the rest of the day was quite simple. You lounged on the couch watching tv while Jack sat legs crossed in the armchair and did some work on her laptop. It wasn't until dinner time that Jack insisted on get takeout and paying that a small argument happened but your head was pounding again so you just let her win.  

"Wow the concussion is really working in my favour."  

"If by your favour you mean getting two days out of work and babysitting me then yes, your favour."  

"Take these and shut up." She walked back over with a glass of water and your medication.

Dinner was spent mostly in silence while you both watched TV. You weren't really concentrating on tv though because fuzzy memories were starting to come back. From the breach and moments in the hospital you forgot because you were high on painkillers. One particular memory you weren't sure about. You tried to convince yourself it must've been a drug fuelled dream but weren't 100% sure that was the case.  

You'd been working up the courage to ask Jack when she decided to clean up the dishes from dinner and have a shower. It was probably for the best, gave you more time to over think it and make sure you were actually sure this was a conversation you wanted to have tonight when she was going to be at least staying for another one. You didn't want to make things awkward again. They'd been somewhat pleasant for the past few hours. But the feeling was there.  

"Acted, yes. Felt, no?" You repeated and this time out loud.  

"What did you say?"  

You jumped and tweaked your side causing you to roll over in pain. "Ow."

"Sorry!" She rushed to your side, crouching down in front of the couch. "Maybe it's time you went to bed."

You nod and try and straighten yourself out as best you can. Your side was still hurting from the sudden movement but you knew it was best to go to bed and ignore the reason why this happened in the first place. "All the linen you'll need is in the closet. I'd help but -"

"No need. Go sleep." She smiled but you could see her eyes were searching again. She clearly hadn't forgotten what you'd said but you weren't going to break the ice now.  

"Night."

"Good night."  

Your dream wanted to curse you. They made you relive the hostage situation over and over and the last one your mind decided to be a cruel trickster. You weren't in the building, instead it was Jack inside and you on the megaphone. Everything played out the same. You gave the order to breach and came rushing in after S.W.A.T and found Jack on the floor covered in blood. She was gasping for air and you had tears running down your face.  

"Stay with me Jack! Jack!" You yelled but she was slipping away, her breaths becoming more and more shallow. "Jack!"

"Hey!" A sharp voice rung in your ear, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder but when you looked around no one was there. "You're having a nightmare." The voice whispered and you shook your head. It was a living nightmare. "Wake up." The squeeze to the shoulder was a bit more forceful this time and a grace to your cheek had you squeezing your eyes shut. When you opened them again you were in your room, the lamp was on and Jack was sitting on your bed beside you. Her hand was cupping your cheek, wiping away a tear that escaped. "Hey." She whispered, running her thumb across your cheek one last time before pulling away.  

"Sorry I-"

"Want to talk about it?"  

"Nightmare."  

"I got that much. You shouted my name?"  

"You were in the bank, I came in behind SWAT and you were gasping for breath on the floor and then you-"  

"It was just a nightmare." Her hand cupped your cheek again and you couldn't help but lean into it just to make sure she was really here. "I'm right here." She could always read you like a book.  

"Jack in the hospital, you - "

"Acted, yes. Felt, no."

"I wasn't just dreaming that?"  

"Well you might've been with the state you were in but no. I said those words."  

"What did you mean by.. it?" At that question she got up, making herself pace back and forth in your bedroom because it was the middle of the night and neither of you were prepared for this conversation right now. But it just felt like the time to ask.  

"Does it really have to be said?"

"Answering my question with a question.."  

"Don't do that."

"Use your deflection tricks against you." You sigh, raising your left arm and tucking in behind your head. "If you don’t want to or can't I -"

"You don't understand. I was so angry for a long time. I hated you for most of it." She stopped pacing for a second to look at you but you didn't say anything. You couldn't, you needed her to finish her thought. "You broke my walls down but then broke me as well. The one person I trusted not to do that to me and you did." She choked and sat back down on the bed, tears falling down her cheeks and she buried her head in her hands.  

You were expecting an admission, even anger directed at you but you weren't expecting this. It broke your heart all over again to see her like this. Like the day you left. You tried your best to sit up in bed but the pain to your side and leg were too painful. Jack felt you shift and immediately put a hand on your thigh to still your movements. "I'm sorry. I'll say it til the day I die to let you know how sorry I am for that night."  

"I wish I tried harder to get you to stay or-"  

"Jack you have nothing to be sorry for. That decision was all me. I put my career first and didn't want to drag you along with it. I was going to be gone for months on end and didn't want to leave you-"

"You left like I was never a reason to stay." The words just slipped out, like she'd been holding onto them for five years and finally had the chance to say them.

You could feel the tears building up again, the corner of your eyes becoming blurry. "I left because I needed to and you deserved better."

Tears still rolling down her face, you moved your hand up to wipe them away but she moved away. Her hand coming up to wipe them away herself. "I deserved a chance to give us a try."  

"Yes you did and I'll regret letting you go and pushing you away for the rest of my life." You'd regretted it the moment you did it and saw her walking away but you'd made your bed and you had to sleep in it for the next five years.

Jack yawns, trying her best to hold it in but you can't help but yawn as well. "I should go back to sleep." Her walls were back, the only evidence of her emotional breakdown was her tear stained cheeks.  

"Jack.. I really am sorry."  

"I know." She nods, standing up and fidgeting with the hem of her top. "Try and get some sleep. I'll be down the hall if you need anything."  

You just nodded and then she was gone. The emotions from the last few minutes still swirling around in your head. Did that all just really happen? You slump back into your pillows and shut your eyes, willing sleep to come but it never did. The clock on your bedside table read 0345 and you groaned. This was going to be a long few hours battling with your thoughts.  

At some point you must've drifted off because the loud clash from the kitchen had your eyes springing open and your head pounding. You sat up slightly, propping yourself the best you could on your pillows.  

Jack walked into your bedroom moments later and saw you were awake and concerned. "Sorry, just misplaced a glass in the sink." She placed a fresh glass of water on the bedside table and handed you your medication.  

You took it and relaxed back into the pillows. Jack walked out of the room and with that the memories of early this morning flashing back through your mind. This was going to be a long day. Who was going to break first? Or were you both going to do what you did best, ignore it ever happened.  

Ignoring it was. You managed to get out of bed once the pain medication kicked in and even slipped into the shower for a moment to yourself before getting changed and joining Jack in the lounge room. She was curled up in the armchair with her laptop and a cup of coffee.  

"Want me to get you something for breakfast?"  

"There's nothing in that kitchen other than coffee and maybe some milk, Jack."  

"Look again." You saw her smirk before you wondered into the kitchen and saw a new box of cereal, bread and brownies on the counter. "Alex called this morning asking how you were and if you needed anything. I asked if she could pick up some necessities."  

This only reminded you that you needed to call your team. Alex was sweet for checking in, the fact that she called Jack instead of you was something though. "Brownies are necessities now?"  

"They are when you have nightmares early in the morning."  

"Right." You agree before picking up at brownie and returning to the couch. The calories didn't count when you felt like this, that would just be cruel.  

Jack smirked seeing you choosing the brownie for breakfast. "There's more milk in the fridge as well as some cheese, bacon and butter."  

"You planning on making something Jack?" There was nothing about that list that was healthy and it made you smile. Same old Jack if she wasn't getting take out, she was making comfort food. There was one night early in your previous relationship that she made you dinner and there were some green vegetables on your plate. You wouldn't stop teasing her about it for the next week which ended with her elbow in your side and later her legs around your -

"Which leads me to the macaroni I found in the back of the cupboard."

Your prayers were answered. It was one of your favourite meals and no one could make it the same as Jack Sloane. "Ah, Mac and Cheese."  

The brownie was scrumptious and the perfect breakfast after the night you had. The nightmares you could remember. Unlike a nice dream, nightmares you could always remember. You distracted yourself with a book for a while and then found a movie to watch and fall asleep to. Thankfully this time you just saw darkness, no dreams, no nightmares and were woken up to the sound of Jack moving around in the kitchen a few hours later. You didn't move, just looked over at Jack and watched her.  

There were those feelings again. Bubbling up to the service, they really hadn't died down since last night or when you heard her voice over the megaphone, come to think of it they hadn't been far below the service since you walked up those stars all those months ago and there was Jack Sloane. She was here, after all that had happened and doing her best to ignore you, avoid you, she was here. She hadn't hesitated when offering to look after you and take you home, she hadn't backed out when she could've and now, she was cooking in your kitchen like she was meant to be there.  

The image made you smile as she prepared the mac and cheese. The conversation from last night flooded your mind and how it was still left hanging. Did you make a mends? It was a step in the right direction, you hoped.  

"You know staring is rude."  

You couldn't help but laugh. How long had she known you were awake? Probably the whole time, she was just that good. "Just enjoying the view." It was so cheesy and you hoped cute as well. If it didn't then you could always fall back on the concussion as an excuse.  

Jack turned and gave you a wink before turning back to the stove. "Think that explosion hit you a little harder than you've been letting on."

You laughed, shifting back down onto your back lifting your hands behind your head. She was thankfully in a sassy mood today. You flicked back through the channels and not finding anything satisfying to watch you turned to Netflix.  

She walked into the lounge room and sat down in her chair. It was now her chair. "I watched that a few months ago." She commented as you clicked on Dead to Me.

"New season just dropped last week. Want to watch?" You quite enjoyed the first season, it was a bit dark but funny. Not to mention the slight crush you had on Judy.  

The mac and cheese was crisping in the oven and was smelling delicious as you enjoyed the first episode and you watched the second episode enjoying the creamy heavenly meal. There definitely was something different to her mac an cheese and you were determined to get the recipe from her, one day. That was the realisation there. You wanted Jack in your life, not just right now but in the future, far in the future. You had started something last night and she had finished it or just put a cork in it for now. Was now the right time? Was there ever a right time? Time was usually wasted trying to figure that out and then before you know it, it's gone all together.  

"Just speak."  

"You're too good -." Of course, she’d caught you thinking, probably staring but some days you could’ve sworn she could read minds.  

"Pause the show first."  

You laugh and hit pause before shifting to face Jack a bit more. She's in the armchair with a mug of coffee in her hands and her feet tucked under her. You take a deep breath and try and pick up where you finished last night. "Last night.. We said some things, admitted more things and seeing you this morning. It just feels right." The words were all wrong and didn't sound at all the way you wanted them to but how were you meant to ask her out again? Like she would even give you another shot but the way she was watching you, the softness in her eyes. It was a look you hadn't seen in a while. "How do you feel Jack?"

Her eyes didn't leave yours, searching, she was always searching. Something she probably couldn't help from her profession. "That this, us has been considerably easier than I thought it would be."  

"Minus all the tears and heartbreak from last night." You watched as she tensed again, she was trying her best to keep her emotions under control but her eyes were welling up. Her emotions always seemed to be right on the service around you lately, probably because of all the high stress and no space.  

"It was needed."

"Definitely was."  

Jack diverted her eyes, wiping a tear away before placing her hands together and looking back at you through her long lashes. "So where does this leave us then, y/n?"

"Where do you want to be, Jay?" You knew the use of that nickname would soften her and you watched as the emotion washed over her. The memories of when you used it in the past and all the happy moments it brought up. She softened in front of you, her shoulders relaxed as she took a deep breath.  

"I want us to be able to be friends again. To go to the farmers markets on the weekends, to chat at the office, to chat about anything to each other. What do you want y/n?" Her eyes were searching yours, hoping you'd want the same.  

Your head was pounding, the painkillers were starting to wear off and you'd need to take some more soon but that wasn't important right now. Jack had just laid it all out on the table for you, you could tell she wasn't telling you the whole truth. How could she? You'd ripped her heart out before and could never make up for that but maybe, just maybe one day you'd get close.  

"I want to have all those things and more. I want to run my hand through your hair because I can, I want to trace the lines in your hands just to feel close to you, I want to just look into your eyes and see the possibility there, I want to trace my fingers over your soft skin any chance I get. I want you Jack. I never stopped wanting you." Drawing in a shaky breath as you watch a tear roll down her cheek. One would've rolled down yours as well but the headache was too painful for you to be able to concentrate on anything else. You were surprised you managed to get the words out.

She got up from her seat and joined you on the couch. Her hand cupping your cheek and drawing you in. You sucked in a breath, your heart pounding so hard because you couldn't believe it and before you could say anything her lips met yours. You both just stayed there for a minute, not moving because one if you did your head might explode and two you just didnt want to. This was perfect, you didn't need a deep, tongue driven kiss. You felt her emotions, the way she brought her other hand up to cup your other cheek and the tears that flowed from her. She was a mess but hopefully she was your mess now. You wrapped your hands around her waist and pulled her close. She broke the kiss and placed another one on your forehead.  

"I hate to break up this out of the universe moment but I really need more pain meds or I'm going to chop my head clean off my body." You sigh, feeling Jack's hands leave your face, you close your eyes as she goes and collects the meds and a glass of water.  

And it was really that simple. When she brings you the water and meds, she doesn't leave your side, even insists you move over so she can slip in beside you. The rest of the day and night spent watching Dead to Me wrapped up in each other's arms. She wouldn't stop touching you after that and you wouldn't dare stop her. You both fall asleep on the couch, mostly because you didn't dare move once you heard her snoring. You tried to wake Jack once years ago from a peaceful sleep and regretted it for a week.  

The next morning you wake up to the smell and comfort of Jack wrapped around you and your nose pressed firmly into the base of her neck. "Morning." You mumble with a smile.  

She wrapped her arms tighter around your waist at the sound of your voice. "Morning." She breathed, placing a kiss to your cheek.  

Just like that life was right again. She took care of you for the rest of the day until you forced her out, only for her to get more clothes and check in on her apartment and then she came right back. You hardly spent a night apart unless you had a long case then she'd stay at her place but most weekends off were spent together and you started cooking again. The biggest reward was seeing her huge smile when you made her favourites and her moans of pleasure while eating usually lead to other activities. Sure, it wasn't perfect all the time, she was Jack Sloane after all but no one was perfect. Life was a bitch and in your profession that was evident almost every day.

. . . . 

There we have it. That’s all she wrote. Hopefully it was worth the wait. 

[hanniiesuckle17]

You Make Me Nervous

A/n: soooo I couldn’t think of a way to do this WELL without is being a school au so here you go my lovelies! BTW Requests open (for multiple groups)

Requested by the wonderful @sweetie-yoongi7   sorry it took so long lol! I had school and then I got a concussion lmao. but hope you like it!

MEMBER: Hyunjin ft. Stray Kids

Warnings: Swearing, bullying

Summary: Hyunjin used to be one of your closest friends. He even lived down the street from you. During middle school, things all started to go wrong when you discovered feelings for him and soon after he became cold and distant. The two of you drifted apart but recently in your junior year of high school he seems to have taken the wrong kind of interest in you. Days of pinkie promises and walking home from school have been traded for menacing words in the halls and harassment after hours. Was this really the boy you had fallen for? Or was he gone forever?

Genre: High angst, school au, bully au, bad boy au, (also I hate writing a pitiful reader because hell no be a strong woman, but seriously if something is going on feel free to message me. I am always here to talk.)

Times of Popsicles on my front porch and jump ropes were long gone. My junior year of high school and for lack of a better word, my life had gone to shit. Yeah, I had a couple of friends, but they weren’t really people I’d consider hanging out with at lunch or outside of school. I had a boyfriend  at the beginning of the year, but that didn’t last long either. The douche bag cheated on me with some girl in his bio class. So, I didn’t really talk to Jun anymore.

However, what really made my life suck was not the friends or the boyfriend. It was Hwang Hyunjin and his group of asshats. Hwang Hyunjin was one of the most popular boys in school, not to mention one of the most good looking. He was our class president and maybe not the smartest in the class, but he still had all the teachers wrapped around his finger. He was also one of the biggest bullies in our school and I was his lucky target.

This morning went like any other. My uniform skirt was itchy like always when I sat in classroom 2-06. I sat somewhat near the back so no one would bother me, but Hyunjin and his lackeys always sat near me so they could mess with me the rest of the day. 

With rude notes thrown at me and boys pinching harshly at my legs every time I got up, I was extremely pissed off by the end of the day. Changbin, Hyunjin’s friend, tripping me as I exited the classroom was the last straw. “What’s your problem?” I screamed at the sharp chinned boy.

He laughed, eyes wide at my response. The halls were long empty by now and teachers had left for the day. “Oh, Hyunjin! She seems a little feisty today. I heard you like them that way.” He nudged the tall boy towards me causing the younger to smirk. With a harsh move of his hand, Hyunjin shoved me against the wall.

“Now, I don’t quite remember telling you, that you could leave. Do you?” He kept his voice low, but loud enough for Changbin and the other two boys, Han and Felix, to hear. His dark hair fell in front of his eyes as a devilish smirk played on his lips. I kept my chin up and stared defiantly back at him with my shoulders back. 

“Get out of my way asshole, before I tell your little friends you used to sleep with a Barney doll. Oops. Sorry.” A smile threatened to cross my face, but the look Hyunjin gave me stopped it. With one turn of his head his friends’ laughter silenced. Turning back to me, his hand went to my cheek. 

“Oh, Y/n.” He pushed it aside rather harshly and shoved me to the floor. “No wonder you fucked it up with Jun. There’s nothing here any normal guy would want.” He started to walk away, but turned back to me. “Stuff her in the locker room. School will be locked until Monday.” Changbin and Felix grabbed my arms and tried to pull me down the hall while I struggled and screamed against their grip. 

“You mother fucking dickheads! Let me go pea-brains! Hwang Hyunjin! You bastard!” I could swear I saw him glance back before walking down the hall with Han. It didn’t matter. Felix and Changbin dragged me into the boys locker room and shoved me into one of the lockers. “See you on Monday." Felix’s rough voice said as he slammed the door shut, bolting me inside with no way to get out.

I screamed for hours on end, hoping someone would hear me. Soon I gave up and sat in the bottom of the cramped locker. My cheek pressed against the cold metal and I tried not to cry. He really wasn't the boy I remembered was he? I think it was time I gave up on the fantasy that Hyunjin will return to the boy I fell in love with when I was little.

All of sudden the door opened causing moonlight to stream into the cramped space. Before me stood a boy with a worried look on his face and his hair a mess. "Y/n?" He held out his hand and helped me out of the cramped space. "Are you okay?" I nodded and tried to brush myself off. The dim moonlight cast a small glow over the boy's face, letting me see my rescuer. "Jeongin, how did you know I was here?" He looked at the ground for a fleeting second before meeting my eyes again and walking out of the locker room.

"I was studying late in the library and on my way out I heard you yelling." The cool night air was refreshing as we walked outside. "You have no idea how grateful I am." He smiled at looked at me. There was a little bit of a pause before he spoke again. "Y/n, you don't have many friends, do you?" I started to shift uncomfortably under his stare, but something about Jeongin made me feel safe. Like I could say anything.

"No, not really." Trying to cover the sad statement with a laugh I fiddled with the strap of my bag. Normally I didn't mind being alone. But as of late, I seemed to be sad all the time and then there was the Hyunjin fiasco. Jeongin was in my class as well. He sat near the front and was one of the brighter students of our classroom. I had heard before that he also used to have history with Hyunjin. The two of us had never spoken, but suddenly had a connection that made us inseparable.

After that night, everywhere I looked Jeongin was there. He moved to sit beside me in class and we ran home together trying to escape the fury of Han and his marshmallow shooter. The boy quickly became my closest friend.

A couple months later, Jeongin and I walked out to the courtyard for our class' free period. It was a sunny day and the two of us wandered over to our usual spot under this big green tree. We usually just sat and talked. Sometimes we did homework if neither of us were distracted. However, today Jeongin stopped me before I sat against the roots.

"Y/n, can I ask you something?" His usual bright smile was replaced with a look of worry and he fidgeted with the hem of his uniform. I didn't understand why he couldn't out right ask. He usually was very straight forward and often had little to no filter.

"You can always ask me anything!" A little smile flashed at the corner of his lips, making me realize how cute he was with that nervous grin, braces proudly showing. "Umm...well. I'm not the most good looking, and I know that I'm not what you had expected. But that doesn't change the fact that I think you're the most wonderful girl I've ever met."

His words shocked me. Surprisingly they left a feeling in my stomach that could only be described as the drop of a roller coaster. His eyes were kept firmly on his shoes. After a pause Jeongin looked up with hopeful eyes.

"Let's date, Y/n."

He took a step closer and before I could even register that it had happened his lips left my cheek. My fingers brushed the skin that still had a tingling sensation. The bell rang signaling free period's end. I turned back to look at Jeongin.

"You don't have to answer right away. I'll meet you back here to walk home!" He walked back into the building while I stood there a moment trying to process what happened.

The rest of the day I couldn't help at glance at Jeongin next to me. I didn't even notice Hyunjin in the seat in front of me. Even when he spilled his soda on textbook, causing Han and Felix to laugh.

How did I really feel about Jeongin? I did like him. That was for sure. But, did I like him enough to date him? Or enough to forget my fantasy of the boy I remembered coming back to me. The thoughts whirled in my mind for hours.

It wasn't until I noticed I was alone in the classroom that I realized the school day had ended. Rushing outside, I raced to the tree and hoped that I hadn't made Jeongin wait too long. But, when I got there, he was no where to be found. I shrugged and sat against the roots thinking he must have stayed and talked to a teacher for something.

An hour passed and I began to think something was wrong. Getting up, I left my back pack by the tree and walked back towards the school. I heard voices near the back of the building, so I ventured there. As I turned the corner I saw Jeongin pinned against the wall by Hyunjin.

"You kissed her! What did I say? What did I tell you to do?" Hyunjin screamed. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw him glance back at Changbin and Felix. It must have been in my head, but it looked like he was searching for approval from them.

Quickly it disappeared and his glare returned. "I'm sorry..." Jeongin whimpered. Somehow I realized what was going to happen before any sign was given. It took every muscle and fiber of my being as I sprinted forward. The only thing I felt was a strike to my jaw before I fell to the ground.

Looking up from the ground, I saw the shocked faces of Jeongin and Hyunjin. The entire left side of my face felt like a train had run over it. I touched my lip and pulled away to find blood. Hyunjin looked from me to his hand, which to my surprise was trembling.

"Jeongin, are you okay?" I asked, still on the ground. He slowly nodded and looked from me to the boys around us. All of a sudden we heard the voices of the security guards coming closer. Jeongin raced off in one direction, while Changbin and Felix took off in another. Hyunjin just stood there. Almost in a trance. I stood quickly and turned to run, but was stopped by the voices of the guards being dangerously close.

I felt someone pull on my wrist and I was, though quickly, gently placed against the wall. Stunned, I looked up to see Hyunjin looking around the corner, his body pressed close to mine. His hand reached carefully up to my cheek, covering up the red mark and cut on my lip. The first glimpse of the two guards he closed his eyes tight and rested his forehead against mine.

I stood frozen. I didn't fully understand what was going on. What I didn't know was that Hyunjin's heart was beating just as fast as mine.

"Yah! You two kids! Don't mess around on school property! Take your girlfriend home!" The loud voice of the guard said from a short distance away. I began to turn my head in response, but Hyunjin kept me in place as he looked up instead. He tenderly brought my head into his chest, so they couldn't see my face. I heard him respond before he reached down for my hand and pulled me away in the opposite direction.

Many thoughts ran through my mind. All I could do was stare in front of me at Hyunjin, who still gripped tightly onto my hand. I followed where led, but it soon became clear he didn't have a set location.

"Hyunjin!" He turned and stopped at my voice. Immediately I felt bad for yelling at him. His cheeks were stained with tears that he was obviously trying to keep in. He quickly let go of my hand, realizing he was still holding it.

The two of us stood there next to the brick wall that separated the school from the neighborhood. Hyunjin quickly wiped away the tears and took a breath before composing himself. However, his cool exterior didn't return. The Hyunjin in front of me had his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoes now seemed very interesting to him. The sight reminded me of when we were little and he accidentally lost my ball over a fence.

"Yah, Hyunjin. Don't worry about. I won't tell anyone about this. I know you hate me." For some reason it hurt me to see him like this, even though I didn't understand. "I don't hate you." He said softly still looking at the ground. He didn't hate me? The boy who constantly tortured me? The one who took my underwear after gym class and strung it on the flag pole? The one who deleted my competition essay fifteen minutes before the deadline?

"You make me nervous." Hyunjin confessed. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something, but I was stunned into silence. It was this moment that he gained enough courage to look me in the eye. As soon as he did, he lost it and looked everywhere but my eyes.

"After middle school I just didn't know how to act around you. I was anxious to see you all the time. But, slowly we started to drift apart and we both found new friends. I kind of got sucked into the wrong crowd. I'm not proud of it, but I really wanted Changbin, and Han, and Felix to like me. I figured that any attention from you would make me happy. It just spiraled out of control. I hated every minute of it."

Genuine hurt and shame showed on his face, and tears threatened to fall from his dark eyes. “Somewhere along the way, I lost myself. I knew you wouldn’t notice me if I didn’t make you. Especially with grades and friends like mine. I liked you too much to just let you slip away. I never meant to hurt you.” 

When my silence continued, Hyunjin walked to the wall and slid down its surface. Part of me wondered if he had finished speaking, but I stayed quiet. Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair and played with a bracelet on his wrist. “When we were younger it was always you taking care of me. I was always the weaker one. I think that’s why I liked- like-you so much. You were always so strong. I wanted you to see I wasn’t that little boy anymore. That I was strong enough to take care of you. Not that you need to be taken care of, but because I want- I have this desire to be next to you and take care of you.”

After a moment I moved and sat next to him against the wall. “Three things.” I said looking forward. “One; what makes you think that I care about your grades? Two; I don’t think you remember how strong you actually were when we were little. I was always the emotional one. I used to climb up to your bedroom window when I was crying from a bad dream. I did that because I knew you would take care of me.” 

A soft wind started to blow through the trees. The breeze lifted leaves across the street. “You said three things. That was two.” “I thought you weren’t smart?” “Okay, I can count.” He turned showing me that smile of his that made me forget the past couple of years. “Three is.....I think you should kiss me to make up for being a complete asshat.” 

“I wasn’t a complete asshat-” “You were the Royal Bitch Master General.” His laughter floated on the wind like notes of the perfect melody. “I thought you liked Jeongin?” For the first time Hyunjin looked over at me. A sigh of relief left him as I shook my head no. “Y/n, I like you.” He turned causing a strand of his hair to fall in front of his eyes. “You better kiss me right now before I remember your little Barney doll.” “Oh my god! Shut up!” He said with a smile as he pulled me closer. 

I walked into class a little later than usual the next day. Finding Hyunjin’s stare, I walked to my seat behind him. However, before I got there I tripped over Han’s foot which was conveniently out in the aisle. I felt a grip on my arm steadying my balance. Hyunjin kept his stare forward, but he allowed his hand to linger on my arm for a second to long. When his touch left, I turned towards his laughing friend.

 “Yah! Han Jisung! Acting like a prick won’t make yours any bigger than the microscopic length it already is.” The entire classroom reacted as I smirked and went to my seat. The class went quiet as the teacher came in the room. I could tell Mr.Jung was pissed off as soon as he walked through the door. I just prayed I wasn’t the student he preyed on today.

“Everyone, quiet. Today we will be reviewing last week’s lesson on hyperbolas, parabolas, ellipses,etc, etc, etc.” Hyunjin leaned back in his seat, his left hand hanging off the back of the chair balled in a fist. He let out a shaky sigh. Math was never his strong suit. 

“Mr. Hwang.” Hyunjin tensed in his seat. Mr. Jung’s target had been acquired. “Can you please explain to the class how you would get the rectangular form of a parametric equation.” The entire class looked back at Hyunjin expectant for an answer. “Well-I...uh for--um...” I saw his knuckles turn white. “Mr. Hwang, it’s quite simple. Cut the ‘uh’s and the ‘um’s.” Hyunjin ran a shaky hand through his hair while the other curled tighter and tighter to the point where I was afraid he would make himself bleed. “I’m sorry- I don’t kn-” “You don’t know!” Hyunjin flinched as Mr. Jung continued to yell at him.

Instinctively I leaned over my desk and reached for his hand over. The tension in his fist eased as he felt the touch of my skin. Slowly he opened his hand and his fingers entangled themselves with mine. He let out a slow breath and I saw the tension leave his shoulders. My thumb brushed across his skin. Every time Mr. Jung yelled at Hyunjin I just hoped I could keep him calm.

Eventually we got through the end of class, and then the end of the school day. When the bell rang Hyunjin’s hand was still holding onto mine between our desks. “You coming, dude?” Changbin asked as he headed out the door. Actually-uh-I think I’m going to ‘borrow’ some notes from the nerd-OW!” He exclaimed as I squeezed his hand really hard. “You okay?” He shook his head before responding. “Uh-yeah. My hand just still hurts from yesterday. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The two of us watched as Changbin exited leaving us alone in the classroom. “That hurt, you know.” I smiled as he turned around and brought our intertwined hands up onto my desk. “Good. Don’t call your tutor a nerd.” I said moving to go sit on top of his desk. “My tutor?” He said leaning back in his seat and looking up at me.”Well....you suck at for lack of a better word..school. Therefore, I will tutor you after school.” 

He smiled and his hand found mine again. “Dream come true. I get my girlfriend to myself and I get to pass pre-calculus.” Pulling on the fabric of his shirt, I brought his lips to mine. “What if did less studying and more other stuff?” A little smirk played on my lips when surprise came over his features. “You know I’m tired of the school girl aesthetic.” “Yeah?” He played with the edge of my skirt before looking me in the eyes again. “You what would be really sexy?”

“What?” “You. In my bed. In sweatpants and hoodie. After I pass math. Or helping me pass math. Either will get me off.” He said trying to keep a straight face. I laughed and kissed him again. “That sounds awesome. Wanna go now?” He nodded and got up, shouldering his bag. “Off to my house!” He said as he followed me to the door. “Off to learn about parametric formulas and graphs!” 

“I change my mind. I’ll do the school girl thing. It’s sexist and demeaning, but I’m all for it now. Let’s just not do graphs.”

Masterlist

[sunevial]

The Pianist

Commissioned by @zephyrus-gryphon (or more accurately, my way of thanking him for donating to my glasses fund)

A bit of a thought experiment, this piece follows the character from Death Parade, the Pianist. What might she been have like in life?

---

The lights dimmed, bathing the concert hall in gentle shadows until there was only a single white spotlight shining down on the stage. Space filling chatter fell to nothing more than the barest of whispers as eyes turned towards the main attraction of the night. There were no dancers in colorful costumes, no actors ready to belt out emotional lines, just a simple grand piano and a woman in black. She raised her arms, slow enough that it seemed they were breathing deep, and placed her fingers onto the keys.

 Light burst from the stage, grabbing audience members by the ear and demanding that they pay attention for just this short burst of time. It flowed, it swayed, it rose and it fell, it pushed them to the edge of their seats and flung them back until they were helpless to do anything except ride out the storm. If there was magic in this world, this was it, and they were getting perhaps their only chance to see it done by a master.

Perhaps it was lifetimes later when the spell broke; perhaps it was only minutes. The hall was left in stunned silence as the woman stood and gave a polite bow. Only then did everyone leap to their feet, applause breaking their stupor and reminding everyone that this was, in fact, not a dream. 

Among the commotion, a young girl remained with her eyes on the stage, drinking in the sight of the woman in black and the instrument at her side. She closed her eyes, desperately searching in her mind for a place to remember the song by so that she would never lose this experience, this memory. Music had found its way into her life, and she could never go back down the path she had started down. 

With wide eyes filled with wonder and resolve, the little girl tore her eyes away from a dream made manifest and tugged on her mother’s skirt. 

“Mom, I want to do that too.”

Her mother blinked a number of time, face softening with each one as she realized the determination in her daughter’s words. 

“It’s going to be a lot of work, you know. It’s going to take a long time. It’s going to be hard.”

The little girl simply nodded.

“That’s okay. I can do it.”

---

“Beside the bone fractures and the torn muscle tissue, not to mention you have a severe concussion and I still have no idea how you managed to survive a broken neck, there’s probably going to be quite a bit of nerve damage in your hands.”

The words jumbled together after that, meaningless strings of phrases that meant nothing and would mean nothing. Unable to so much as move her head, her eyes flickered without purpose between the harsh white walls and the harsher hospital lights. All manner of monitors for her breathing and her heart rate and who knows what else beeped in steady patterns, the sound maddening in its ever repeating loop. There were so many wires in and around her body that she was honestly surprised the doctors hadn’t replaced all of her organs with gears and cogs.

She was supposed to be grateful. She was supposed to count her blessings that she was so much as breathing after the car had rolled over five times, the same accident that left her mother paralyzed from the neck down and made her baby brother lose an arm. She was supposed to feel lucky that she would make a nearly full recovery except for some problems with fine motor control.

Piano was all placing fingertips to delicate keys, light touches or hard slams for different styles and genres and time periods, stretching wide for octaves or pinching them tight for smaller intervals, the quick dancing movements of jazz piano or the flowing runs of classical music, all turning precision technique into art. 

Straining her eyes, the girl’s eyes fell on the black hands of a nearby clock. Seven thirty at night. She was supposed to be practicing an accompanist piece for her friend’s senior recital in a month. She was supposed to be hammering away at jazz charts for her band’s performance next week. She was supposed to be memorizing one of Mozart’s piano concertos for her college auditions.

She was supposed to begin learning the song that made her heart sing and fill the world with light and wonder.

The doctor kept rattling off her recovery plan, reading off lists of medicines she needed to take and the exercises she was supposed to do once everything had healed.

The girl said nothing. Shock had dried her tears.

---

Her daily walks to class forced her to pass the music school. At the very least, the practice rooms inside had soundproof walls.

Shrugging her backpack higher up onto her shoulders, the young woman put her head down and picked up the pace as fast as her legs would allow. Vines and moss held the old bricks and yellowing windows together, trailing up towards the small belltower. A small garden sat under the windowsills, white flowers clinging to the last bit of summer’s warmth. It was a refuge for stressed arts students, lost English majors, and environmentalists needing a quiet place to light up and let their minds wander.

Four weeks, and she hadn’t stepped a single foot closer to the building than necessary.

The accident had forced her to pull all of her college applications, spending an unintentional gap year remembering how to sit up and wiggle her toes, bend over and crawl and take her first steps once again, brush her teeth and brush her hair, get dressed and use a knife and fork again. Each day had been an opportunity to give up hope entirely. Each day, she made the choice to try again. Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was simply trying to spite the world.

Whatever it was, the first time she walked around the block alone nearly made her cry. 

It had been enough to send her applications in once again.

Not everything had returned. Shoe laces were hard to get right without a helping hand or a half hour of slow, painstaking work. After one too many balls were thrown in frustration, she switched to slip ons. Her handwriting was barely serviceable as chicken scratch, much less something that could be reliably used to take down notes for later. Thankfully, the professors didn’t mind being recorded that much. As for piano, well, there was nothing wrong with a career in education. Teaching the next generation was a noble pursuit, one that would end up doing good in the world.

Not that she had even tried going back, instead jumping at the chance to offload her piano paraphernalia to a neighbor. She shoved sheet music into every box she could find, tore her room apart until she was sure that not a single practice book remained, even offered her standup piano for far less money than it was worth. Trophies were stripped off the wall. Ribbons found a dark corner of the attic. In less than a week, all signs of the offending instrument were gone.

There would only be disappointment if she tried.

She had resolved to keep moving forward, even if something got left behind.

A window flew open, black shutters banging against the sides of the building and carrying the forlorn striking of a piano’s keys. The song tugged at the corners of her memory, winding around her like a siren’s call as images of a darkened stage came to life.

Eyes fixed to the ground, she plugged her ears and walked away.

---

“You know, I wish I had picked up an instrument as a kid.”

The woman looked up from her reading, raising an eyebrow at the other mother waiting in the dance hall. Colorful crayon drawings and messy coloring book pages covered up every inch of wallspace, turning every surface that wasn’t a mirror into a haphazard mess of color with patches of white paper strewn between. Little children bounded across the dance floor, feet moving somewhat in time with slow, steady beats of the man at a beat up piano.

She couldn’t help but tap her foot in time.

“Never learned?” the woman asked, eyes searching for her daughter amongst the sea of black leotards and bunned hair.

“Well, I played violin for maybe a year. Parents didn’t push it, and I thought it was dumb and boring, so I didn’t even bother trying” the mother said with a slight laugh, her gaze far off and filled with a longing sorrow. “But that doesn’t count. I don’t remember a thing. Can’t read music, couldn’t tell you what the strings mean or what one piece is from another. Now I’m just kicking myself because man, wouldn’t that be a cool skill to have.”

“You know, it’s never too late to learn.”

The mother laughed. “Says the teacher.”

She returned with a slight smirk, eyes flickering across the hall and trying to land anywhere else but the upright instrument. With each pass over, it was harder to tear her gaze away. “You know, I actually used to be pretty good at that when I was a kid,” she said, pointing a finger across the way. “Got a lot of awards for it, went to a couple of championships. Really could’ve gone somewhere big with it.”

“So why’d you give it up?” 

“Car crash.”

Words died on the mother’s lips, only nodding in simple understanding as the simple beats faded to a close and a cluster of children ran across the room to waiting parents. There was no spell that had been broken, no masterful revelation of the arts for either the adults or the children.

And yet, her foot continued tapping.

Noticing her daughter more engaged with a gaggle of friends, the woman rose from her seat and crossed the floor, each footstep following the rhythm that had been playing all throughout the class. As a solo instrument, a steady beat was the hardest thing for any piano player to learn. There was no one to follow, no one to lead, just the speed the player wanted to take and the instrument.

She could keep time. The hardest step was already done.

With trembling fingers, she placed her hands on the keys, remembering the feel of a familiar chord, one she still remembered despite just wanting to move on and forget. But how could she forget something so utterly real and raw. One breath in, one breath out, and she struck them down.

The piano was horribly out of tune.

But the sound still rang true. 

---

“Mom, come on, we’ve gotta go.”

“Let me just finish this up,” the woman said, fingers lightly dancing across the piano keys and filling the space with sound. The coffee shop was bathed in sunset’s glow, casting deep shadows on the faces of people buried in their readings and writings. Each table had a small vase of white flowers picked from the garden outside. Paintings from local artisans lined the walls, a motley assortment of picturesque landscapes, blurred street corners, and thought provoking portraits. 

She came every Saturday at two, setting out a small tip jar on the antique piano and playing a number of tunes she had practiced throughout the week. They were never perfect nor polished nor something that would be worth paying money at a fancy venue, but it was good enough for the sleep deprived patrons of a small cafe. The owners were understanding, the people were polite, and she always came away with something by the time night fell.

As it turned out, grading papers for ten years had been almost better physical therapy than what the doctors prescribed. The finesse and grace of her youth was long gone, but she remembered where to place her hands and how to read inbetween the black notes splashed across sheet music. Speed and technical ability would come with time. 

Time, patience, and a lot of practice books.

As her fingers danced to a gentle halt, the song faded into the evening until there was nothing left but the grinding of coffee beans and the occasional muffled cough. Some of the regulars looked up, giving polite claps and nods and finally checking the clock only to realize it was far later than anyone had thought to give attention. Others remained absorbed in their work, eyes focused on piles of papers or personal sketchbooks. 

But even their ears twitched.

The woman stood up, gathering the music back into her satchel and pulling the lid back over the keys. With a gentle smile on her face, she shoved a handful of dollar bills and coins into her pockets and wove through the small mess of coffee tables. Her daughter was waiting outside, arms crossed placidly over a leather jacket.

“That sounded good” she said, flashing a smile and stretching out her arms. “Really good. When’s your concert debut?”

She laughed. “Oh please, I’ve got a long way to go before that happens.”

The two started down the road home, a familiar and gentle tune being hummed along by both mother and daughter alike.

Her daughter knew it as a bedtime lullaby.

---

Low heels clicked on the wooden floor, piercing the nearly silent hall with every step. The audience was hidden behind a curtain of shadow, the occasional face of an old friend or one of the many students she taught over the years just barely illuminated by the stage lights. They stared at a simple white backdrop, at an old woman in her best dress and hair done up nice, at a grand piano set in the middle of the stage.

With every step, the woman saw a new face in the crowd. Her daughter, now grown and setting off on her own path in life, sitting proudly in the front row with a gaggle of grandchildren. Her old colleagues from the school, gathered together and whispering about the after party and if there would be enough cookies and lemonade for everyone. Her folk band, waiting in the wings for their turn to join her on the stage. Students from nearly every class she had ever taught, each presenting her with a new stack of music at the end of the year. The baristas from the coffee shop, collectively deciding that the cafe could afford to take a day off if their Saturday entertainment couldn’t be there. The women from her church group, each having begged for nearly ten years straight before she gave in and took a place in the Sunday band.

The faces went on for what seemed like miles.

Every seat had an expectant face. Watching.

Waiting for something to happen.

She took a seat at the piano, hands gracefully running over black wood almost shining under the lights. Her music was already in place: classical, jazz, folk tunes, renditions of popular songs, a couple of pieces she had crafted over the years.

And before them all, a piece she needed no paper for.

She raised her arms with grace and beauty.

Magic sprung forth.

---

The lights were white. Her dress was black. 

A woman sat at the piano, playing a song that she knew must be played in remembrance of the woman currently resting in the casket. The line of mourners moved with the slowness only the dead can command, winding its way through the pews and far out the door. Besides the ever present swaying and building music, there were only the sounds of choked tears and low confessions.

And still, the woman played on.

“What’s that song?” a boy asked, respectfully taking a seat on the bench. He was one of the grandchildren, old enough to remember the tune from the house but never old enough to learn its name.

“Moonlit Night,” the woman replied, never taking her eyes off the keys. “It’s a song of sorrow, of ages gone by that only exist in memory and will eventually fade away. Your grandmother loved it dearly.”

He nodded slowly, the light in his eyes wise beyond his years. His gaze flickered to the line of mourners, watching them with a curiosity and an understanding only a child could truly make manifest. “She was…really loved, wasn’t she?”

“Your grandmother touched the lives of a lot of people. She was a teacher, a mother, a grandmother, a good friend, a pillar of the community,” she said, the ghost of a smile appearing on her face. “What was she to you?”

The boy glanced over to the casket, heavily obscured with the bodies of the performers, then back to the grand piano before him. For the first time since the doors had opened and the family service had taken place, he seemed to be lost in thoughts that were no longer just sorrow. Minutes stretched between them, and still the song played on, sending out light and darkness, joy and sorrow, magic and the mundane out into the world

“She was a pianist.”

The woman smiled true.

The song began anew.

[silliusssoddus]

I’d Never Be Angry With You

(Part 2 of “Take Another Piece Of My Heart”) A/N: I’m honestly so surprised and grateful for the of love and support I got from part 1 (which I recommend you read before this). And the amount of people that wanted a part 2?? Wowow thank you so much! So here she is and I’d like to apologise because: TRIGGER WARNING - SUICIDE ATTEMPT/SUICIDAL IDEATIONS I’d like to make it clear that my intentions are in no means to glorify or romanticise suicide. I’m not saying this is how every depressed person acts bc this is written based on my own experiences and thoughts. I do not intend to offend anyone with this. If you are experiencing suicidal thoughts or similar please, seek help. You can always talk to me :3 I find talking to be a good way of relieving emotions.

I hope you like it :P and I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.

A year had whizzed by faster than you could’ve ever imagined. After you left your long term friends, you were surprised at how much free time you had now that you weren’t touring with them or joining them in the studio, watching them fall apart at disagreements. You had moved into your parents’ flat, though they were no longer with you. You had no other place to go and this was the safest place that didn’t draw connections to Queen. Every time you thought about the day you left, you’d suddenly get the urge to hit your head until it’s out of your mind. No matter what, nothing filled the empty space in your heart the boys left and John took up the most space.

You spent the whole day writing the final parts of the note you’d been storing for a few months. You were never serious about it, but lately you were the lowest you ever felt. You couldn’t bear living the lie that you were perfectly fine, that you weren’t lonely all the time from isolating yourself in your flat and only went out to buy groceries every other week or so. Even then, you couldn’t gather the energy to make meals.

The note was your final goodbye to everyone, but more importantly an apology to John for wasting his time with your presence.

You closed the front door of the building and got into your car, driving to what was yours and John's favourite place. It was an isolated field on a massive cliff with a bench and a dim streetlight placed on the side. It was perfect. You parked the car and sat on the bench for a while, going through your note and assuring yourself that this was the only way. You didn’t need to live in shame and embarrassment anymore. It was now or never.

Sighing deeply, you walked closer to the edge, stuffing the note in your pocket. You closed your eyes, ready to lean into the pit, when a familiar voice called out from behind you.

You jumped back and turned around to see who it was. Your face went from shock, to confusion and then to anger. “John? What’re you doing here?” He looked intimidated by your harsh tone. You couldn’t find it in you to feel the slightest bit sympathetic.

“I’ve come here every evening ever since we...” he couldn’t even finish the sentence, you could tell it hurt him to think about. The two of you stood there in silence, awkwardness clearly present. It took him a few seconds to realise what you were about to do.

”Christ, Y/N, get away from the edge.” he said, taking a step closer to you as you took one back. Your heels were hanging dangerously off the cliff.

“If you come any closer I’ll- I’ll do it.” you threatened. He had no idea what he had to do.

“Is this because of me?” he said quietly.

“Y-yeah...no it’s my fault. I just feel bad for wasting so much of your time. I’ve written my guilt - and everything else - down.” you stumbled on your words. Everything you said sounded stupid out loud and your cheeks flared with fire.

“Can I see it?” 

You fumbled in your pocket to find your note and reached your arm out for him to take it. 

“It’s written for you anyway.” your voice wobbled.

He ran towards you, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the cliff, not giving you time to react. He then slipped the grip on your arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you into a deep hug. It took you by surprise - not having any sort of affection for over a year made you so fragile that his touch triggered a waterfall of tears. You sobbed into his shoulder and whispered apologies as he shushed you and you felt complete. Being in his arms - it felt like home.

“I love you, Y/N.” he whispered, breaking you out of your trance. Memories of the break up came flowing back. You pushed him away aggressively, tears turning angrier.

“Force of habit, I’m so sorry-” he blushed, eyes falling to look at his feet. He was visibly embarrassed but you didn’t care. At least he understood how moronic you’ve felt.

“Unbelievable. You broke me - I don’t know who I am anymore! That’s what you did to me!” You tried grabbing the note back, but he pulled his hand away, looking down to read it.

“Forget it. I can’t deal with this right now.” 

You stomped off into your car, slammed the door and sped your way home, leaving him to read your pathetic note full of self-hatred.

You were exhausted, sobbing hysterically as you walked into the flat and threw your coat on the hanger. Suddenly, your knees buckled under you and you held onto the walls for support as you made your way into the living room. 

“Could you stop pestering me?”

You couldn’t stop the flashbacks.

“I need you to go.”

The clothes you were wearing quickly drenched in sweat as your hot skin stuck to it. You could feel your breathing getting slower and see everything merging into one big blur of darkness before your head hit the ground.

However, you were unaware that John remembered his way to your parents’ flat and it didn’t take him long to find out it’s where you’ve been hiding from him and the world. Why didn’t he go there before? He used the spare key in the plant pot to get into the lobby, something he was used to in your earlier years, and walked up to your flat.

He knocked on the door a few times, but you didn’t respond. He got nervous, knocking more and calling your name through the postbox. You were still unconscious as he opened your door, walking through the flat and trying to find you. 

Then, he finally saw you in the middle of your living room floor, unresponsive. He panicked for a few seconds before checking for a pulse, breathing a huge sigh of relief when he found one. He carefully placed a hand on your back, the other under your knees, carrying you into your room. With the same tenderness, he placed you in your bed and tucked the duvet around you.

You woke up to the faint sound of sizzling, worried that you’d be the reason for the building burning down. You got up to investigate the origins of the sound, light-headed and dazed as to how you ended up in your bed. You didn’t remember much of yesterday’s events, until you saw John next to your stove.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Slept well?”

“Was fine.” you looked at him confused. Maybe you were concussed and he was just a hallucination.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” he grinned, walking over to check your temperature. Your heart fluttered when his warm hand pressed against your forehead. You shook your head rid of his hand and your feelings.

“Lucky for you, breakfast will be ready in a minute.” He flashed a smile and turned back to the stove. As you made your way to the table, you couldn’t help wondering if there was something you forgot from last night. You thought you’d made your anger toward him clear, so why was he in your house?

“Careful, you’ll shoot lasers into the table if you carry on staring like that.” John showed up in front of you, holding two plates of full English breakfasts. He noticed you rolling your eyes.

“What, you don’t like the food?”

You scoffed, “No, you know it’s my favourite. It’s just- why are you here, John?”

“You really think I would just forget the state I saw you in yesterday?”

“Uh, judging by the terms we left off on, yes.”

You started on the breakfast, eating like there was no tomorrow.

“You really haven’t been taking proper care of yourself, have you?”

“Define “proper care”.” you spoke through the food. You quickly glanced up to see John looking at you, his forehead wrinkled in concern.

“Look, I’m fine right now, aren’t I? Why are you so worried? Can’t you just leave me alone?” He chuckled quietly, which only sparked more anger in you. 

“What?” you retorted.

“That’s the last thing I told you.”

Your face softened, pinching the bridge of your nose and forcing the flashbacks to go away.

“Really, what’s wrong? What drove you to the cliff?”

“My car.” you scoffed, making him put down his knife and fork to look at you with more seriousness.

“Y/N.” he said sharply.

“It is in the note that you stole from me yesterday.”

“I didn’t read it. It made me sick to think about,” his voice cracked and he blinked furiously to stop himself from crying, “my mind was just set on making sure you were still alive.”

This whole time he’d been caring for your you the same way you cared for him. And you’d been denying his care the same way he denied yours. So you told him everything. You told him how the loneliness from not having any family left and losing the only friends you ever had got unbearable.

“But I never said I wanted you out of my life.”

“Then why didn’t you check on me sooner?”

“I told you, I needed time for myself. Everything just got to me after Freddie died, not to mention I was treating you like sh-”

“Woah, language. Didn’t expect that from you.” you gave a small laugh to ease the tone and he joined. You finally felt comfortable talking to him again.

“Y’know, time away from you gave me a lot to think about.”

“Like what?”

“I think you’re the one,” you dropped your knife and fork and looked at him in shock, “I mean, I’ve always known. Even the band did,” he grinned. 

You remember everyone being relieved after you finally got together, calling you the couple that’d never split. Even you believed it, up until that day.

“Freddie and Brian wouldn’t stop talking about fate. Roger, my word Roger, he always made fun of me. He’d ask when his turn was!” he chuckled, his face shortly turning serious. He leant over the table and rested his hands on yours. “And I’ll help you get through this. I promise, you can get through this, I’ll do my best to make sure you’re with me for as long as possible. I’ll get you a therapist. Until then-”

He got out of the chair and headed to your radio, looking through your CDs that haven’t been touched in more than a year while you sat there and felt like a child on Christmas. You didn’t realise how much you missed him rambling about things he was so passionate about. About how much he cared for you. He skipped through many songs on “The Game”, eventually landing on “Need Your Loving Tonight”, a song he wrote. 

You felt nostalgia rushing while he hopped around the living room floor, showing off his old Disco Deacy moves. He sang his way over to you, stretching out a hand. You took it and joined him on the floor.

“I said I’d never be angry with you.” you sang along, grinning as he gave you that Deacy smile that would never get old.

The two of you jumped around like mad and you couldn’t stop laughing. He would occasionally spin you or do some other cheesy, romantic moves while the song continued.

“Coz I love her, love her, love her, love her!”

His voice was croaky from the lack of singing over the years and he messed up the lines frequently, but he didn’t care. As long as what he needed to tell you reached you, he was happy. And it did. That euphoric feeling of home filled you to the brim, melting the remaining anger and hurt.

The song had ended but he kept repeating some lyrics. You started crying over how happy you felt, after you’ve beaten yourself up for so long.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s get together.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, locking your arms around his neck, his hands held your hips as he pulled you into a long-awaited, warm kiss. 

“I’ll love you, Deacy, I’ll love you forever.” - Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! As always, criticism is welcomed.  Taglist & thank you for the kind messages:  @notthebackchat @deakyjohns @tini-monster @fatbottomedgorl @right-til-the-end @endlesslydead @marvellouspengwing @sweetdreamsaremadeofthis27 @heartsarecompatible @fredthelegend @cosmicsskies @deakysgirl

[writing-parker]

A Series of Vignettes- Need You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

A Series of Vignettes Summary: It’s not easy, yours and Bucky’s relationship, but no one ever said it would be. These vignettes follow the big and small moments in Bucky and the reader’s relationship, focusing on the events that shape it. Big and small, sweet or angsty (mostly angsty), these stories lay out the moments in time they carved out for themselves in the crazy world they live in. They all take place in the same universe, but do not need to be read in any particular order.

A Night in Brooklyn | Beautiful World | Johannesburg | Dogs |  Late Night | Dark Winter  Dark Winter II  Dark Winter III | Close | Home |

Chapter Summary: Bucky’s been gone and you’re having a hard time. Warnings: Mentions of death and addiction.

Okay, so this was pretty hard to write and harder to edit. It’s really personal so I’m not sure how big of a hit it will be, but I wrote it for myself so does it really matter? Lol w/e, if you liked it let me know what you think, and if you didn’t you can let me know too I guess but don’t be mean.

________________________________________

You got the call on a normal Wednesday. You were busy at work- with Stark Impact’s fiscal year coming to an end, you barely had time to think, let alone screen your calls.

When your office phone lit up with an unfamiliar number, you didn’t think twice before you answered it.

“This is Y/n Y/l/n,” You said, all business.

“Hi, baby.” A voice slurred into the line, “Long time no talk.”

Your stomach dropped, “Mom? How’d you get this number?” You demanded.

“Right on the internet. All I had to do was google you. I’m proud of your new job, sweetheart. I bet it pays well.” You hadn’t heard from her in years, since right after you moved to New York.

You wanted to hang up, but you couldn’t. You felt paralyzed.

“Aren’t you happy to be hearing from your momma, girl? After all this time?” She’s drunk, you can tell. You would have been more surprised if she was sober.

“What do you want?” You whisper, clenching your hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

“Come on, baby.” She pleads.

You squeeze your eyes shut, “Don’t call me that. What do you want?” You try to make your voice sound strong, authoritative.

“Your father overdosed. Thought I’d give you the common courtesy of letting you know.” She sounds exasperated, like the conversation was exhausting her. Like it was such a trouble to call.

The world stops spinning for a few seconds.

“Is that all?” Your voice is flat. Your eyes stare blankly ahead.

She sighs, cracks her gum, “Listen, honey, things have been so hard. My boyfriend left, you never met this one, but he was nice, I swear. I had stopped drinking and everything, but he took everything. I just need a little bit of help, y/n. I swear this time I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t call this number again.” You snap before hanging up.

You numbly close the door to your office and lock it, shutting off the lights. Anyone who might need you would think you were on your lunch break.

Your dad was dead.

You lean against the wall, sliding down until you were sitting on your butt, knees pressed to your chest. Your dad was dead and your mom asked you for money in the same breath she used to tell you he was gone.

You let yourself cry. Not for the man he was, no. You cry because any hope you had that he might become the father you deserved was gone. You loved him desperately, until he left, deciding the drugs were more important than you. Spend the first 11 years of your life trying to make him love you more than he loved heroin.

After that, you had secretly hoped and prayed that one day he would sober up. Come find you and tell you he was sorry and he loved you all this time and leaving you was the hardest thing he ever did. Now he never would.

You were mourning the loss of the idea of a real father just as much as you were mourning the flesh-and-bone man.

Was it wrong? You didn’t know if you cared.

You allow yourself fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to fall apart before it’s time to get back to work.

___________________________________________

The next few days seem to pass in slow motion. You can’t eat or sleep, you feel like you’re floating above the ground. You don’t work, calling in sick Thursday and Friday. Say something about food poisoning.

You can’t get a hold of Bucky. He’s gone with Steve and Nat, on a mission that was supposed to only be 4 days, then a week, now it had been nearly 12 days he’d been gone. A week since you heard from him. You would be worried if you weren’t so caught up in your own shit.

You need him. You need him home.

You lay in bed all day on Friday, alone. When your lease ended last month your roommates told you it was time they got a place of their own. You made enough money to pay for the two bedroom yourself, so you stayed. Turned their old room into an office. You wished they were here.

Bucky calls as soon as he lands.

“Hey,” He rasps into the phone when you answered. “I’m home.”

“I missed you.” You whisper. You don’t know what else to say. “Please come over.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He promises.

He gets caught up in the med-bay for a while, Steve warning the doctors that Bucky could have a concussion. Bucky shoots him a look, but lets the doctor check his head anyway. It wasn’t like he could afford more issues with his brain.

He comes to you, though. Feeling exhausted and over-worked. He’d been gone a lot these past couple months. Instead of talking about it, he would pull you close, make you fall apart, use your body as his comfort. They were long missions, and he wanted you, intimacy, to comfort him, and you were usually more than happy to oblige when you missed your Sergeant.

He didn’t notice that tonight was different. Unlocked the door with the key you gave him to find you curled up on the couch, Netflix’s ‘are you still watching’ message on the screen of the TV. He drops his bag, drops to his knees in front of you, pushes some hair out of your eyes.

“Bucky?” You whisper, eyes fluttering open.

“Hey, doll.” He whispers back, “Sorry it took me so long.”

You offer him a weak smile, standing up. He doesn’t notice your shaky arms or the far off look in your eye.

“It’s okay,” You kiss his cheek then wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close for a hug.

“It was so awful, y/n.” He says into your neck. He talks for a moment about sleeping on the ground of a cave in the mountains of Iran, the people tailing them, everything else they had to go to through to get the files they needed to take down a terror group.

The stress. The Anxiety. The uncertainty. He needed to forget it, get out of his head. He was so on edge, he didn’t even let you get a word out.

His hand grips your hip when he pulls back to kiss you, “Fuck, I missed you.” He growls into your ear, “I need you.” He pants, lips on yours.

His voice has an edge you don’t recognize.

“Bucky.” You whisper, hands on his chest. You tilt your head away and he kisses down your neck. Being with him like this was the last thing on your mind. “Wait.”

He pushes you back against the wall, shoulders uncomfortably digging into the surface. You feel your heart start to race unpleasantly.

His hands are all over you, tugging at your shirt, lips back on yours. He’s not reading any of the signs that you don’t want this. Finally, when his hands tangle in your hair and pull, you push him away.

“What the fuck, Y/n?!” He yells.  

You stumble away from him, wrapping your arms around your body, “I don’t want to.” You try not to yell back, but your words are harsh.

“Then why the fuck would you tell me to come here?” He glares at you.

Because my dad died and I need you.

You can’t say the words because you’re already standing in front of him in pain and he doesn’t care. And it’s all so familiar.

A man, standing in front of you, demanding your body to make themselves feel whole.

A man too caught up in their own feelings to care about yours.

They would take and take until you had nothing left. They didn’t care about the broken girl they left behind. You kept letting them, hoping they would give you their love in return. They never did. You never learned.

But this was Bucky. Why couldn’t he see that you were hurting?

You shut down, turning away from him, feeling stupid for the tears forming in your eyes.

“Jesus, Y/n.” He sighs, sounding annoyed and exasperated at the same time. He doesn’t sound sorry though. Definitely not worried.

A flash of anger surges through you.

“You should go.” You say dismissively, trying to feign bravado.

Bucky finally takes a good look at you. Hunched shoulders, dark circles showing just how tired you are. The look in your eyes makes him pause though. “Y/n…” He repeats your name hesitantly.

“I need you to leave.” You say again.

He slams the door behind him when he goes.

__________________________________________

It’s past dinner the next evening when Wanda knocks on your door. You hadn’t heard from Bucky all day, not that you expected to.

You would be the one to clean up this mess, like always.

“What happened with Bucky?” She demands when she walks in. “He’s been at the tower all day, in a rampage.” She finally looks at you, “Holy, shit, Y/n. You look awful.” She says, eyeing you up and down.

“Thanks.” You roll your eyes.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re telling her everything. From your mom calling to your dad’s death and the way Bucky treated you the night before.

“I can’t believe he would yell at me because I didn’t want to have sex with him.” You shake your head, incredulous. “He made me feel like all I am is a warm body to him.”

Wanda’s fuming.

“And then at that point it felt like I couldn’t tell him about my dad because it really seemed like he could not have cared less about what I was feeling. It seems like that a lot of the time these days, with all of the missions.

“And I just… can’t keep putting him back together when I feel so broken myself.” You level her with your gaze, “I feel like I don’t have anything left to give him.” You whisper.

You feel tears welling up in your eyes and don’t do anything to stop them, unable to conceal your feelings any longer.

Eventually, you sob, “I love him so much. I… I… I don’t know how to talk to him about it. He has so much going on all the time. I don’t want to be a burden, but I really need him right now.”

After nearly 6 months together, you still had trouble opening up to him. Afraid he would decide all of your baggage was too much to handle, when he had so much of his own.

“Does he make you feel like that when you try to talk to him? Like you’re a burden? Have you ever opened up to him about any of this?” She’s referring to your troubling childhood and all of the men who ruined you.

“We never really talk about stuff like this. I’m afraid it would be too much for him.”  And he’d leave me, you don’t say the words out loud, feeling pathetic.  

You talked about his problems, sure, but it never felt right to bring up your mom or your dad or the men who ruined you. They seemed so trivial compared to 70 years of torture.

For once, you’re happy you don’t have to explain out loud. Wanda hears what you’re thinking and wipes the tears from under your eyes.

“Look at me, Y/n.” Her voice is almost harsh. “You are not a burden. You need to talk to him, Y/n.” Wanda tells you. “Just because his issues seem worse than yours doesn’t mean they are. He doesn’t deserve you.” She shakes her head, trying to quell her anger.

“You have to tell him how he made you feel last night. Let him feel bad, let him be sorry. Don’t make yourself small just so he can feel whole.” She grabs your hand and squeezes.

You nod again, “Yeah. You’re right. Tomorrow.”

Wanda nods and takes you to the bathroom to run a brush through your hair before putting some cream under your eyes for the puffiness. You let her take care of you for a little, feeling very grateful you have a friend like her.

“You need to get out of this apartment.”  Wanda declares, “Just a drink.”

“Fine.” You concede, “Just one.”

___________________________________________

Bucky’s locked in his room when his phone rings. When he sees Wanda’s number, he sends it to voicemail. It rings again. He ignores it.

When it rings the third time he answers, “What?” He asks harshly.

“I need your help. I lost Y/n.” Wanda sounds scared. His stomach sinks.

“You lost her?” He grits out.

Wanda explains that the two of you had went out for a drink and a drink turned into drinks and she stepped away for a moment to close the tab and you were gone.  

“Where the fuck are you?” Bucky snaps.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Wanda says lowly. “This is all your fault.”

“Where are you?” He says again, desperately.

“I’m outside Union Pool.” She tells him, “She was really drunk. Hurry.”

Bucky’s there in less than 15 minutes.

“What happened?” He demands.

Wanda sighs, tells him almost everything. She doesn’t get into the details of why you were so upset, just that something happened last week while he was gone and you haven’t been eating and now you were wasted and alone.

“You fucked up.” She says lowly.

Bucky starts pacing like a caged animal, sinking feeling in his stomach when he thinks about the way he treated you last night.

“We’ll find her, okay?” She says. Bucky nods.

For nearly a half hour they search every bar in a 10 block radius, but there’s no sight of you. Bucky’s losing it, an anxious mess. “What if something happened? Wanda, what if she’s-”

“Shut up.” Wanda says, pulling out her phone.

“Who are you-”

“Tony.” Wanda sighs into the phone, “I need your help.”

In less than 20 minutes, Tony’s pulling up in one of his big black SUVs. Bucky’s practically hyperventilating. He flings the door open before the car is at a full stop and pulls himself into the passenger door.

“Stark,” He says, edge to his voice, “Were you able to find her?”

“Nice to see you too, Bucky. I was happy to help, it was really no problem at all.” Tony replied sarcastically.

Wanda, in the back seat, pipes up, “Thank you so much Tony.”

“We were able to track down her phone. It took 5 minutes. It looks like she’s walking home.” Tony hands Bucky a small tablet. On the screen there’s a map and a red dot that’s moving slowly.

“Jesus Christ,” He mutters. The area you were in was basically a no-mans-land. Between Williamsburg and Bushwick it was home to huge warehouses and not much else. “Can you drive faster?” He snaps at Tony.

Tony almost retorts, but takes one look fear and worry on Bucky’s face and decides to stay quiet. It’s not long before they find you, basically stumbling down a dimly-lit street, shoes in hand. The car screeches to a stop and Bucky jumps out, startling you.

“Bucky?” You hiccup. You’re crying, tears running down your face.

“What were you thinking?!” He demands, both hands on your shoulders. “Y/n, this neighborhood isn’t safe. Are your feet bleeding?”

You shrug, not looking at him.

Wanda steps out of the car and steps in front of Bucky shoots him an angry look, “You can’t just leave like that, Y/n, you had me worried.”

You don’t look at Bucky, he doesn’t sound worried, just angry. “You left.” You whimper.

“Just to close the tab.” She pushes your hair out of your face and wipes your tears away. Bucky feels inexplicably envious of the way she’s touching you.  

“Sorry.” You whisper. “I thought… I don’t know. I just wanted to get home and the train’s not running and I couldn’t find a cab.”  

Wanda cups a hand to your cheek, “You need to take better care of yourself.” She glances between you and Bucky for a moment before sliding back into the car. Bucky expects the two to drive away, but the car idles.

“What’s going on, Y/n?” Bucky asks with a sigh, exasperated, voice raised a little.

You feel your breathing grow heavy, “Why’d you say it like that.” Even through your drunken haze, your voice sounds weak and you hate it.

“Really?” He steps back, “You want to fight over my tone right now? You could have gotten yourself killed.”

You can’t even look at him, “I don’t want to fight.”

“You sure, Y/n? Cause I’ve had a bad couple of fucking weeks, might as well add it to the list.” He throws his hands up in frustration.

“I just want to talk to you,” You whisper. “Why are you so mad at me?”

“Then talk!” You don’t understand why he can’t be as gentle with you right now as you are with him when he’s not feeling right.

You’re quiet, unable to find words, looking at him desperately, silently begging him to understand. He turns away in frustration.

“My dad died on Wednesday.” You finally blurt out.

You stare at your hands as they shake. You hear the sharp breath Bucky takes. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting you to say but it definitely wasn’t that. “He overdosed. Heroin, I think, but I really don’t know.”

Bucky feels suddenly nauseous. He turns back to you and watches you clench your hands into fists to stop the tremors. He wants to cross the sidewalk to you, take you in his arms, but all he can think about is the look you had on your face last night after he yelled at you.

“He left when I was 11. I don’t remember much.” You swallow. “But I remember one time after he picked me up from school then when to his dealers house. He told me to hide under the seat until he got back. I was there for 5 hours. Or when he promised to come to one of my soccer games every year for 4 years straight and never came. I remember wishing I had my dad loved me like my friend’s dads loved them.”

You’re drunkenly rambling, unable to hold back the words.

Bucky stands, rooted to his place on the sidewalk, listening to you heave and cry through your words. He remembers the way he touched you, how rough he was when you had needed the exact opposite.

“He used to send me a card every year on my birthday. I… can’t believe I used to look forward to it. It was my favorite part of the whole day.” You laugh at yourself for being so foolish before it fades into sobs.

Bucky can’t breathe.

“I need you.” You beg. “I needed you last night.”

He crosses the sidewalk in a daze and stands in front of you, feeling like he didn’t deserve to ever touch you again. He hesitates and you cry harder, burying your face in your hands.

“Why don’t- you- care?” You say between heaving sobs.  He can barely make out your words, but they break him.

And the way you were so patient with him with his feelings. Always pressing, always making him talk, making sure he was okay.

He can’t believe how terrible he’s been to you without even realizing it. He gingerly pulls you into him and your knees give out. He scoops you into his arms easily and walks towards the car. He’s trying to stay composed but his knees feel week and his chest feels tight.

Once you realize Tony is driving, your sobs turn to hysterics. You had really thought he had seen you at your lowest when you ended up in the med-bay at Stark Tower the night Bucky woke up not Bucky, but this was a new low.

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You sob. It seems like now that you’ve started crying you wouldn’t be able to stop.

“It’s okay, kid. I’m here to help.” He says it warmly, paternally, but when his eyes meet Bucky’s in the rear view they’re cold. He had definitely heard everything.

The car is silent aside from your heavy breaths and Bucky’s soft ‘shh’s for a moment. Then, suddenly, your body feels hot and your stomach turns and the motion of the car is all too much.

“Pull over.” You demand, blindly reaching for the door. Tony does so immediately, and before anyone realizes what’s going on, you’re falling out of the SUV and retching all of the alcohol in your stomach onto the sidewalk.

You don’t remember anything after that.

________________________________________________

The next morning you wake with a pounding headache and an awful taste in your mouth. Eyes still closed, you recall the events of the night before and groan out loud.

“Y/n?” A rough voice whispers from beside you.

You open your eyes to see Bucky in an uncomfortable kitchen chair that’s pulled up next to your bed, wearing his clothes from the night before. He offers you a soft smile and you give him one back. You stare at each other for a moment before your eyes drop down to your hands.

“I need to use the bathroom.” You say quietly before maneuvering around him and shutting yourself in the bathroom, feet stinging as you walk.

Barely looking in the mirror, you wash your face and brush your teeth. You take note that you’re dressed in your sleep clothes, Bucky must have helped you change. You pour yourself a cup of water and head back to your bedroom.

Bucky’s eyes follow you as you walk back to him, pulling him onto the bed before crawling into his lap. You nuzzle your face into his neck and he pulls you close, finally able to feel the comfort of his arms around you.

“Why don’t you hate me?” He wonders aloud.

“Could never hate you.” You mumble.

“Y/n, all I can think about is Friday night.” He jumps right into the conversation you needed to have.

You look away, just getting right to the point. “It seems like all you care about is my body these days. How I can make you feel.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” His voice is low.

“You didn’t notice.” You mumble. “I wasn’t okay and you didn’t notice. Or maybe you did and just didn’t care. You made me feel awful.”

Bucky’s quiet, staring at you desperately, not able to find words.

“You made me feel like all I am is what I can give you.” You think it might be harsh, but you need to be honest. “I didn’t give you what you wanted so you left.”

“You asked me to.” He tries.

“You don’t fight for me the way I fight for you.” You accuse.  

You’re right and he knows it.

“Why?” You ask. Looking up at him through your lashes.

He thinks it might be the hardest question anyone has ever asked him. He doesn’t have an answer for you. Your words ring in his head and he can’t reconcile how he feels with the way he’s been acting.

“I don’t know.” He answers. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not good enough.” You snap, sliding out of his lap. You take a deep breath to calm down.

“This is hard for me, okay?” He runs a hand through his hair, standing.

“What do you think it’s like for me?!” You finally yell, turning to face him. “You tell me you love me and care about me and ‘I’m your world’ and then you act the way you did last and all I can think is that I don’t think that’s love but how would I know?”

You stand in front of him, letting out everything you’ve been feeling the past couple months.

“Every man that’s told me he loved has done this.” You whisper, a fresh onslaught of tears falling down your cheeks. “Why?” You ask again, meeting his eyes desperately, “Why don’t you see me.”

In front of him your hands shake. You take deep, heaving breaths and keep wondering aloud why he doesn’t care. What did you need to do to make him care?

“Oh my god.” Bucky stares at the ceiling, trying not to cry himself. He pulls you close to his chest and lets you cry. “I’m so sorry. I do. I see you.” He repeats the words over and over.

It doesn’t seem like enough.

“I need you.” You gasp out.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m right here.” He sooths you, “I’m not going anywhere.”

When you calm down he sits you down on the bed and drops down next to you.

“I’ve been selfish these last few months.” He starts. “You do everything for me and I treat you like this. You should leave me. I don’t know what I’d do, but you should.” He shakes his head.

“Bucky…” You hate when he says stuff like that.

“I’m so sorry you’ve been feeling like you can’t talk to me. And I’m sorry I didn’t notice something was wrong. I need you to feel like you can talk to me about anything and I need to be more patient with you.” He pushes some hair out of your face. “You’re so much more than a warm body. You’re everything and I haven’t been treating you like it.”

“I need to stop using what happened to me as an excuse to treat you like shit.” He finally says it, taking full responsivity for his actions.

“Anyone.” You correct him.

“What?”

“You need to stop using what happened to you as an excuse to treat anyone like shit. Not just me.” You chastise him.

“You’re right.” He says, staring at you intently. “I just want to be someone who deserves you. Deserves to be loved by you. ”

The look in his eyes makes you believe him.

His words are composed, thought out. His quiet reflection and apology are enough for you, for now.

“You deserve to be loved and happy no matter what, Bucky.” Your hand cups his face and he leans into your touch. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? We’ll figure it out, we don’t have a choice. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll be better.” He promises. Your fingers trace down his jaw, feather light. The softness of your words and touches are so overwhelming for him he feels tears prick at his eyes.

“Y/n, I swear. I need you so much and I know I always tell you to go and leave me but I don’t mean it… I don’t think I could live without you. And knowing that you were hurting and I was so awful is driving me fucking crazy.”

“I feel like I’m always hurting you or doing something wrong or-”

You cut him off with a press of your lips to his, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He scoffs, looks away, “Probably more like the worst, but okay.”

“Look, it’s true. You make me so happy all the time. You make me feel like I can do anything. You make me feel beautiful and loved. I learn and grow as a person every day with you.” You offer him an encouraging smile.

You continue, “I should have told you how I was feeling from the start, Bucky, and this could have all been avoided. And yeah, you fucked up a little. You hurt me.”

He casts his eyes down but you slip a finger under his chin and force him to look at you.

“But we’re gonna be okay. I promise. We can get through anything together.”

“I love you.” He whispers before kissing you deeply.

You’re panting by the time he pulls away, “I love you too.”

He stands and pulls you up, noticing the way you flinch when your feet hit the hardwood. He sighs.

“Where are you…?” You wonder aloud as he exits the room for a moment before returning with a warm, soapy washcloth.

He drops to his knees in front of you and reaches for your left foot, gingerly cleaning the dried blood and dirt.

The moment turns so intimate so fast it feels like you have whiplash.

“You don’t have to.” You whisper, looking down at him, eyes wide.

“Let me.” He says desperately, clears his throat, “Let me take care of you.”

One hand on your ankle, he sits in front of you and tends you your cut up, dirty feet. It’s quiet, aside from your heavy breathing. The sun streams through your bedroom windows, lighting the whole room golden.

You think of the humility it requires for him to be on his knees in front of you, cleaning your feet. The vulnerability.

You’re both blushing.

He soothes his Vibranium hand over your skin, goosebumps travel up your leg.

When he’s satisfied with his work on your left foot, he drops and moves to the right, “I think you stepped in glass.”

You hum, enjoying him taking care of you. The feeling of his hands touching you tenderly.

“I’m so sorry about your father.” He murmurs, kissing the inside of your foot. He slides his hand up your calf. “Do you want to talk about it?”

His words hang in the air as he finishes tending to your feet.

You pull him up to your level, kissing him slowly. “I do.” You whisper, voice rough, “I do, but it’s a lot.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, “That’s okay, baby. I want to be here for you.”

“Okay.” You whisper. “You can’t get scared and run away because my issues freak you out.”

Bucky laughs out loud, “I bet they’re not scarier than mine.”

You giggle, “Not quite, but still.” You give him a pointed look.

With a sigh, he cups your face, “Nothing you tell me could make me run away. I want to know everything. I love you.” He promises.

“Okay.” You whisper.

There’s a lot to say, more than could be said in one afternoon, but he listens. Constantly reassures you he loves you, that he’ll never leave you. That’s he’s sorry and you don’t deserve the pain and he’ll take it from you and carry it on his shoulders if he has to.

You let him.

_____________________________________________

Addiction is a disease. If you’re struggling with addiction and need help you can call SAMHSA’s National Helpline, 1-800-662-HELP (4357).

Tag List: @swtmckngbrd @liamakorn @stressedasalways @emmiejames @acupofhotlatte @captainmommaoftwogirls @reallyconfusednowpt2 @shnadaidas @wearemightyghosts @winter-andallthathebrings @tabseus @the-girl-down-on-earth @iheartsebastianstan @kyber-hearts-and-stardust-souls @aveatquevale- @busx @friendofkurt @team-marvel13 @waywardangel16 @ellaenchanted91 @jitterbuck @starknachos @waaaaaaitwhat @preppy-by-the-c​

[lykegenia]

The Things We Hide Ch. 23

The Southern Water Tribe stood for a hundred years against the Fire Nation, indomitable until Sozin’s Comet tipped the balance in Fire Lord Ozai’s favour. Now, as planned, the South is decimated, Chief Hakoda is a puppet on his throne, and Princess Katara is a political prisoner held in the Fire Nation capital to ensure his good behaviour. But Ozai has little time to gloat. A vigilante masquerading as the Blue Spirit is causing unrest among the people, rebel ships still hound his navy, and right under his nose the South’s most powerful waterbender waits with the patience of ice to strike at the very heart of his empire and bring it crashing down.

Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3 Masterpost here

The old man moved unhurriedly about the room, taking tea from a small tin on a shelf, and then a plate of sweet rice balls rolled in sesame seeds, which had been sitting by the window sill under a laminated paper cover to keep them fresh. Zuko watched him, examined the unhurried cant of his walk and the certain, delicate movements of his fingers, searching for trickery, or illusion. Perhaps the guards had hit him over the head on the way up, and this was a symptom of concussion. Whoever he really was, the Grand Master glanced at him often, measuring him with more thoughtfulness than caution as he bustled about the small room. Every time the aged brown eyes flickered to his scar, Zuko’s temper wound tighter and tighter until he could no longer stand the silence.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

The old man smiled at him. “It has been a long time, Nephew. I understand this must be a shock you.”

“A shock?” he repeated. “The Dragon of the West is supposed to be dead! Where have you been? What are you doing here? What happened to you?”

“Be calm, please,” Iroh replied, holding up a fire-callused palm. “I will explain matters to you, but first, I would be neglecting my duties as a host if I did not offer you tea.”

He ambled over with the kettle of boiled water and knelt opposite Zuko, careful not to spill. This was the Iroh Zuko remembered, the general who liked everything in its proper order, in war and at home, and who could not be rushed or dissuaded once he put his mind to an action. How, then, had this meticulous man ended up here, perfectly calm and collected as he poured hot water over the porcelain to warm he cups, the leader of the rebellious faction working to disrupt everything the Fire Nation was working towards? He had breached the walls of Ba Sing Se, had been lauded as a hero and blessed with honours bestowed upon no other general in history, poised to take the throne of the greatest nation in the world, so why had he not come home? Zuko knew enough of the official line of events to understand he had somehow colluded with the avatar to gain his current position, but that was as far as reasoning could take him.

“Does this mean Cousin Lu Ten is alive as well?” he asked. The implications for the line of succession if so –

“No,” came the muted reply as his uncle scooped tea into the pot. “No, my son died six years ago, at the siege of Ba Sing Se.” The old man cleared his throat. “This blend of tea is particularly fragrant, mixed and dried with jasmine flowers from the slopes of Lu Long Shan. It pairs particularly well with Air Nomad sweet pastry.”

“All tea is just hot leaf juice.”

“A member of my own family, saying such a thing.” Iroh shook his head. “I see your cultural education has slipped in the years since I have been away.”

Zuko only frowned. A lot of things had happened in the time since they had received news of the Crown Prince’s death before the walls of the Earth Kingdom capital – a lot of things that, now with hindsight, had been allowed to happen. The left side of Zuko’s face itched. He ignored it, and dropped his eyes to watch the smooth, practiced motions of the tea ceremony that took years to fully master, first the initial pouring to wash the leaves of impurity, swirling the water around the teapot with precise rotations of the wrist before it was discarded, then the second pouring to steep the tea until it was ready for the drinkers to taste.

“This is one of Katara’s sets,” he realised as his uncle completed the last movement and filled two delicate cups with the finished tea. The porcelain was of finest translucent quality, with intricate patterns painted in blue beneath the glaze, and the more he looked, the more of the interweaving lines resolved themselves into the shapes of animals at play.

“She is a most agreeable young lady,” his uncle said. “Quite the scholar, and skilled in her element. She told me she spent time with you while she was staying in the capital.”

Zuko scowled, then scowled harder at the sympathetic look Iroh gave him, ignoring the ache of stretched, healing tissue in the left side of his face. “Did she tell you she tricked me, and then betrayed me?”

“No, she did not. How is your tea?”

The cup remained untouched on the mat in front of him. He recalled a sunny afternoon, back in another life, when another person had served him tea, and then mocked him with a wry smile for thinking the drink was poisoned. Had he been caught even then? Had she seen it, and spun her web of lies accordingly?

“It’s very… fragrant,” he allowed as he took as sip and put the memory from his mind. “Uncle, all this time, why didn’t you ever come back?”

“I could not.”

Rage boiled inside him. “Why not?”

A sigh. “Prince Zuko –”

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped.

“Please be calm,” his uncle repeated. “I know you are angry.”

“Angry?” Zuko scoffed. He slammed his teacup back on the table and shot to his feet. “What do you know? You’re a traitor! You’re working for the enemy – no, you’re leading them! You could be ruling the Fire Nation and yet you’re – you’re here, drinking tea, acting like everything’s okay! Do you even know what –”

The door burst open. Flames sprang to Zuko’s fists, to defend or attack he couldn’t say, but before he could move, Iroh darted between him and the intruders, palms out to ward off fire from both sides.

“Grand Master – we heard shouting –”

“All is well, Juro,” he assured. “Please, leave us.”

The two guards glanced at each other, expressions wavering between uncertainty and obedience, but finally they bowed and retreated back into the corridor.

“Please, Nephew,” Iroh continued once the door closed with a clang, “master yourself. I am aware of what my brother has done, what he continues to do to our people –”

“Our people?” Zuko sneered. “Your orders are killing Fire Nation soldiers.”

Iroh folded his hands across his stomach, hiding them in the ends of his sleeves, and sighed as he shuffled back to his seat, no longer the proud general but an old man who had seen too much, who felt the cold in his bones. For an instant, all tension dropped out of Zuko’s limbs to see such an abrupt transformation, such a difference from the larger-than-life figure of his childhood memories. That, however, only led to a confusion that once again stoked his anger. He wanted to fight, to demand an explanation or at the very least shout blame down upon the one person who could have stopped it all, from the destruction of the South Pole to his own disfigurement. And yet, his would-be opponent offered nothing for him to rail against; he only sat and watched the lazy curl of steam rise from the pot of fragrant tea, frowning at it like a diviner waiting for inspiration.

“When Lu Ten was killed,” Iroh began, “I began to reflect on what I had done, what we, as a people, had done. My eyes were opened. I retreated into myself, let my captains take over the campaign while I grieved, and for a time my madness allowed me to wander farther than most humans ever do. It was in the spirit world that I met the avatar, who was still a young boy at that time, pushed into war before his time. He is the link between worlds and between people. Reflected in him I saw all the evil the Fire Nation had ever done, but also hope that the world could see an end to it.” He looked up. “I am grateful that a similar tragedy was not needed for you to take action.”

He was talking about the Blue Spirit.

Zuko looked away, his skin itching under the steady gaze. “You should have come back,” he repeated, bitterly.

“No.” Iroh shook his head. “The moment I read the message that told of Fire Lord Azulon’s passing, I knew what my brother would do if I returned, and I knew that I could not stop it. So instead, I came here to fight alongside the avatar and help him restore the balance the world sorely needs.”

“It’s that simple, is it?”

“It might be,” the old man replied. “It would depend, however, on the reason why you are here.”

In one of the lower courtyards, the snow had been cleared away and turned into a training yard. While White Lotus guards patrolled the outer perimeter, they left the centre space clear for the avatar and his inner circle of friends and bending teachers, having learned the hard way that despite being young, Aang’s masters possessed formidable skills and the will to use them to devastating effect. Word had spread of Katara’s feat with the three Fire Nation troop carriers, her control of blood, but besides her there was Toph, a prodigy discovered scamming and pickpocketing her way through the southern Earth Kingdom. The full story there was unknown, but she had no issues with bending whole boulders at people nosy enough to intrude on the avatar’s training.

At that moment, a cacophony of explosions shook the surrounding walls, echoing with shouts of encouragement and grunts of effort by turns as the avatar battled air with water. He evaded well, stepping in circles, throwing gusts of air to redirect Katara’s attacks, but unlike the solidity of earth or the charge of fire, the water only twisted around it, folding to the shape of the wind and relentless as it drove him back. Toph had blindfolded him, trying to mimic her own way of sensing the world to train him out of limitations, but so far, thrown off-balance and struggling not to evade the barrage of attacks, the results were… mixed.  

“Spirits, Katara, let up a little, will you?” Haru cried. He was one of the few White Lotus who dared to show up to their training, mostly because he was of a similar age to them and felt more at ease in their company than among the older guards. He had wanted to join up when he heard his father had been broken out of prison and joined the Water tribe to fight through the western wilds, and had proven himself.

Toph punched him on the arm. “How’s he gonna learn then, huh?”

“Do you think the Fire Nation will let up?” Katara demanded breathlessly as she redirected a water whip towards Aang’s head. “Do you think the Fire Lord would just let up?”

“He won’t get the chance if there isn’t an avatar left,” the young guard answered, and winced. The water whip solidified into an ice dagger at the end and ripped through the trailing edge of the avatar’s robes. “You’re meant to be sparring, not doing Ozai’s work for him.”

Katara only growled.

“Keep your guard up, Twinkle Toes!” Toph yelled.

Aang groaned from the other end of the yard. “Do you really have to keep calling me that – whoa!”

“You’re the one who persuaded me to leave Daejeon, don’t complain,” she shot back, just as he rolled to avoid a wave coming to freeze him in place.

“Come on, Katara, what’s going on with you?” Haru pressed, ignoring the familiar argument.

She puffed loose strands of hair out of her eyes and didn’t look at her friend. “Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Sweetness.”

“It’s that guy in the mask,” Aang said, taking off his blindfold and ducking away. “The one who tried to sneak in here.”

Katara growled again. “We’re not finished yet.”

“Nah, I think it’s time to call a break.” Toph’s smirk cut a devious line behind the hang of her hair. “Get over here.”

Aang eased a sigh of relief and carefully stepped around the carnage wrought by the mock battle. A few years ago, he might have used an air scooter, but the time since the siege at Ba Sing Se had worn away the short, bright-eyed boy and left in his place a tall, lanky young man who had witnessed as much as any seasoned warrior. His pace was measured, his gaze on Katara sympathetic in a way that felt heavy on her shoulders. She thought about the gold of Zuko’s irises, how earnest they could be, and how last time she had seen him they had been narrowed in livid, violent hate. That scar…

“It’ll be alright,” the avatar said, laying a light hand on her shoulder. “Sifu Hotman is with him now. He’ll sort this out – he always does.”

“You do know who that is, right?” Haru asked. “Prince Zuko, heir to the Fire Nation throne? Son of the man who keeps sending people to try and kill you? He’s probably here to have a go himself or something.”

“Or maybe he’s here to join our side,” Aang reasoned with a frown.

“Keep dreaming, Twinkle Toes.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.”

Katara shook her head and stepped away with a placating smile and a roll of her shoulders. “Toph, do you mind stepping in? It’s getting a bit too hot to train and I promised Sokka I’d go find him.”

The earthbender cocked her head, listening to her heartbeat, or maybe just considering whether it was worth her entertainment to be perverse. Finally, the younger girl shrugged and waved her away. “Do what you gotta do. He was getting too used to dodging iceballs anyway.” She grinned. “Time for the big leagues.”

Aang groaned again, but Katara barely heard what he called after her as she collected her things and wound through the maze of corridors that made up the Northern Air Temple. Truthfully, she had no intention of finding Sokka – he was probably holed up with the mechanist anyway, coming up with new war machines that grew ever more inventive by the week. The work kept him focussed, distracted from the march of the Southern winter and the slow countdown of what little time she had bought with her months of being a Fire Nation puppet. With just a few more ships, a few more weeks to let the rescued waterbenders recover, they might have taken the capital. With Ozai deposed, they might have been able to rebuild without fear of having it all torn down again. The war here too was one of attrition, a slow glide meant to slow down the enemy while they figured out a way to get the avatar within striking distance of the Fire Lord. As far as Katara could tell, nobody yet had a plan for what would happen afterwards.

And now Zuko.

She huffed, and started down a twisting path that led away from the temple complex towards a spring she had discovered while collecting herbs. The place was in a grotto screened from the nearest overlooks by thick trees and tall cliffs, and it was her secret, as far as she could tell. The only tracks besides hers belonged to fox-mice and the black, spiral-horned goats that made the mountain their home, and of everywhere she had been since coming to the Earth Kingdom, it was the one place she felt peaceful. The wind through the trees created a white noise like the sea, while the sweet clearness of the water pooled under its thin film of mountain ice like the pond in her garden. Another life.

“At least it’s not snowing today,” she grumbled as she stripped off her outer layers and settled into a beginning stance. The altitude made her a little lightheaded – gave her nosebleeds every now and then – but out here that mattered as little as everything else. She pressed through her forms, lost herself until the sway of her muscles occupied her whole mind. She definitely did not think about the meeting taking place in the Grand Master’s tower room, or about Zuko’s snarling accusations, or the feel of his ruined flesh under her fingers and the unavoidable, unnerving fear that it was entirely her fault.

[falcqns]

can u tell u s abkut some if the ither things your siblings have dine bc that post was funny asf lol

of course i can lol

my moms dog bit my brother so my brother bit him back

my younger sister tried to take down my 6'3 boyfriend and almost succeeded

older sister body slammed me through drywall when i was 14

my younger sister put fake spiders in my moms toilet and it scared her so bad she tripped backwards, knocked down the shelving unit beside it and ripped the towel rack out of the wall at 3 am

youngest brother got himself locked in the car, went to honk the horn and the horn got stuck and was in there for 20 minutes while we called the cops to help get him out bc the keys were in there too lol

i mentioned this in the last post but we fully convinced my brother that he was adopted a few summers ago and he started telling us stories of his 'birth family'

we were all in the car and my older sister saw a punch buggy, went to punch me in the arm but i ducked bc i knew she was gonna do it, she missed and clocked my younger sister in the nose so hard she was bleeding

younger sister got a concussion from trying to scare older sister - she was on top of the bunk beds and leaned over, lost her grip and fell head first all the way down

brother tried to name the group chat "Queer Queens" but typed "Queef Queens" and we bullied him so much for it but now we call each other pussy farts

brother scared my mom by hiding in the linen closet and scared her so bad she peed her pants

my youngest brother puts cucumber in his cereal

i accidentally pushed my younger sister off the bed when she was like 2 and she mustered up the strength of the devil and pushed me off the bed causing me to knock my head on the bedside table and need stitches

brother threw a board book at the tv and broke it because Duck Tales was taking too long to load

youngest brother ate more than a few handfuls of straight flour bc mom was making pizza and he was hungry and did it to prove a point

i once smacked my brother in the head with a broom at work (i work in childcare, he was in said childcare)and gave him a goose egg i hit him so hard

sister nose dived off her high chair once and gave herself a goose egg as well when she was a baby

i gave myself a swollen knee while trying to make my mom a mothers day cake. i think i spilled some oil on the ground bc when i turned back from putting something in the sink, i slipped like i was in fuckin looney toones or something and fell flat on my face, bringing the kitchen table down with me 💀

mom made brother pee himself in disney world by telling him there was an alligator behind him

on the topic of urine my sister hit me in the face with a water balloon so hard once my mom peed herself. we were outside. people were driving by and someone def saw my mom pee

our old dog was running once and fell into a fire pit

my mom laughed hysterically on NYE a few years ago bc we were watching Deathy Hallows Part One and when Dobby started unscrewing the chandelier my mom screamed at the top of her lungs 'HE CAME IN LIKE A WRECKING BALL'

i think thats about everything lmao

[frejahertziswritingthistime]

Teenage kicks  Chapter 2

A/N: Another chapter, new fun! Just a warning: this series is going to be full of crude language, a hat/hate/love-relationship and some VERY heated sex. I’m really in love with this story, and I can’t wait to share it with all of you! This is born from a request from the always lovely @theboundlesssoul!

This story is dedicated to @redeyedvixen, because she is without a doubt, the best person I’ve ever met, and she is one of the few people who can push myself to do even better every time I write something new. I love you, you wonderfully weird and perfect person.

Remember, I always say yes to requests, and feedback feeds the writer (seriously, guys, please comment, like, reblog or even send me an ask/message about the story, it warms my heart and makes me want to keep writing!)

 MASTERLIST

 Teenage kicks masterlist

Warnings: Language

READERS POV

Summer 1995

Your father had dragged you – very much against your will – to Bobby’s, when he had gotten a call. You were not having it, biting, snapping and sassing your dad at every turn, or as an answer to every question he had asked; you knew it was probably a bit too much, but hell, you were a teenager with heartache, and he would just have to live with it.

When he had pulled up to the old house, you had groaned and rolled your eyes; you dad had snapped his head towards you. “Shut it, Y/N. Stop this shit, right now, I don’t want to hear it. This is what’s going down, and that’s final, got it?” He had hissed at you, and you simply nodded – you knew better than to anger your dad further. You didn’t need a new bruise. You slowly stepped out of the car, the hot, august air breezing gently over your skin – you closed your eyes for a second, enjoying the warm wind against your skin, but your dad had yanked your arm towards him, eliciting a yelp from you, and dragged you towards the house and Bobby. “Ease up, Martin, she’s a kid, not a ragdoll.” Bobby had grumbled as he saw the grip on your arm. Your dad let go of you, but you didn’t dare move from his side. “You good, kid?” Bobby whispered. You nodded. You weren’t, not really, but you guessed it was a part of the life – your dad was overprotective as shit, and you didn’t really think further of it. You swung your hands lightly back and forth as you tuned the conversation between your dad and Bobby out, looking around. It was a mess, if you were honest, but that’s how you liked it. Nothing better than a bunch of overgrowth and tall grass, all swaying slightly in the light breeze. You hoped you could stay for a while. Bobby was like an uncle to you, and he doted on you every time you were here; being a girl in the hunting-life had its perks.

“Y/N!” A voice, very teenager-y, voice cracking at odd places, rang out and you turned around – Sam Winchester was running towards you. He had grown a lot, since the last time you’d seen him, all long and gangly, but still with the stupid hair flopping everywhere; you grinned and accepted the hug. “Hey, Samson! What are you doing here?” He nodded casually towards his dad and a brooding boy, who was leaning against the wall next to him. You raised your eyebrows as you took him in; he was wearing a leather jacket, two times too big, and a pair of acid-wash jeans. He was tall, and there was a bad boy-vibe all around him – he had full lips and hair, that begged to have fingers run through it. He must have girl swarming over him everywhere he went. Fuck, he was pretty. You cocked your head towards the bench further down in the garden, and Sam followed you, talking avidly about school and books he had read. You both sat down, and he told you about the last Lord of the Rings book, he had apparently just finished. He was gesturing wildly, and you could see his brother approach you, walking with a certain amount of swagger and tousled hair – he looked damn fine, if you had to say so yourself. You didn’t know much about the Winchester-boys, other than what Sam had told you, the one time, you met him. Dean seemed, for a lack of better words, like a god. He was always smirking a little bit, and when he got close, you could see freckles on the bridge of his nose. His green eyes were really pretty. He could be a Rockstar, if he wanted to. “And Aragorn was so badass, you know? He was just slaying people and leading them, and it’s so awesome. I like reading, you know.” He had said, almost shyly. Dean had sat down, seemingly not interested in your conversation. “That’s supercool, Sam. I do too.” You could see the very well-known movement of eye-rolling next to you, and you snapped towards Dean. “What?” He sneered and eyed you quickly, sending a slight blush to your cheeks; he was sizing you up. “Nothing. Nerds.” His voice was deep, and something about the whole ordeal made you super pissed – Dean Winchester, the Boy who could do it all, wasn’t about to reel you in. You knew better than that. “What, like you’re any better? I’m guessing you wear that stupid leather jacket to look cool, you have a bad-boy rep, and you’re a pain in the ass, probably to cool to get anything done, other than kiss chicks, drink before you’re old enough to do it and look at cars.” You said in a lofty, albeit snarky voice, turning back to Sam to continue your conversation with him. “What?” Sam snickered a bit, and Dean’s eyes narrowed at his brother, a finger pointed at his chest. “Shut it, Sammy.” You turned slowly to you, his eyes shooting daggers, and you almost recoiled under the intense stare, he gave you – but you would not let him win. “I don’t care what a goodie-two-shoes like you think. I bet you’ve never had any friends, have you? Fucking prissy.” He said bitingly. You could feel your stomach drop down to your knees – you had for some reason, hoped that Dean would just laugh haughtily at you, and leave it be. His words hit you hardIs words ,lgbmn, and you mustered the last bit of snark in you. “Fuck you, Winchester.” You stood up angrily. “Fuck you too, no-name.” He said casually. Your stomach curled, and you tried to bite the tears back. You turned to Sam, who looked a little scared, and softened your expression. “Sam, I’m happy you’re at least a decent human being, when you’ve got ass-clown over there as a brother.” You nodded towards Dean, before stomping off.

When you were far enough to no longer hear the brothers, you let the tears fall. You weren’t a soft-hearted girl by any means, but you had your fair share of self-esteem issues. You were a goddamn teenager after all, and his words brought back some very vivid and uncomfortable memories back. High school wasn’t easy, and you had been picked on so much, since you were always the new kid – it didn’t help, that you were somewhat gangly, not really “pretty” by the normal high school standards (plaid flannel all the way), and you had bruises everywhere; either from your dad, or the few hunts he let you go on. Mostly from you dad.

“no-name” rang through your head as you walked towards a very old swing-set, that creaked dangerously as you sat down. Fuck Dean Winchester and his smirking, stupid face.

 Present day

You sighed deeply, as you drove towards the motel, the black Impala trailing you. God fucking damn it, of fucking course it was the goddamn Winchesters, that would fuck this up for you. You hadn’t seen them since that horrible summer in ’95, and you had intended it to stay that way, but apparently, some god with a sick sense of humor had fucked that royally up for you. You sighed again, and slammed your hands on the steering wheel, cursing the best you knew, at the whole situation. You had spent so many years, trying to forget that fucking summer and that fucking ass-hat, but of course, he would be the one to screw up an operation, that had required so many weeks of prep-work, and you were blaming him so much – even though it might have been irrational, because he didn’t know, but still. He was a dick.

You pulled over, turning the engine off, before stepping out of your truck and without waiting, went into your room, leaving the door open. Sam stepped inside first. He was a giant; big, muscular, tall and still with the ridiculous hair flowing around his face. He smiled tightly at you, but you could see, that he was in pain – the cut above his eyebrow was still oozing blood, and you were slightly concerned about a concussion. That meant more time near these two dolts, which you weren’t really in the mood for. Dean stepped inside too, and he rubbed his neck – he had taken a few hard hits, you knew it, but anger still boiled at the sight of him. He was a douchebag of epic proportions, and you intended very much to let him be very aware of that fact. Who the fuck flirts after almost dying? You nodded towards the couch. “Just… Throw your shit there. If you touch anything of mine, you’re dead, Winchester.” You said with narrowed eyes at Dean, who simply held his hands up in a gesture of peace, and threw his duffel on the worn couch, before he slung himself on it, as well. He was about to put his feet on the table. “If you get your fucking blood-filled, ugly, dirty boots on this table, I will rip you a new one.” You snapped. He quickly put his feet down again, a scared look in his eyes, mixed with something you weren’t sure of. You snickered a bit, slightly happy you could scare him so much. You unzipped your jacket, letting it slide off of your arms, revealing the black tank top underneath, and you pulled your boots off as well, before you pointed to the bed. “Sam, sit down, before you pass out.” You said softly, and he obliged – he didn’t look too good, and it worried you. You quickly pulled the first aid kit you had in your bag, out, and turning towards him, assessing the damage.

He was already bruising slightly on his cheek-bone, but that wasn’t something to worry about. What was worrying, was the fact that his eyes were swimming and his breathing was slightly ragged. “What the hell did they hit you with?” You mumbled and tried to still the bleeding, before it ran into his eye. “Sharp.” He mumbled back. You rolled your eyes. “Wow, I had no idea, especially when your head is gushing blood, you ass. Sit still, I’ll try to patch you up.” Silence fell in the room, as you worked Sam over – the blood had finally stopped pulsing from the wound, and you could stitch it up just fine. You let a finger wander in front of his eyes, and he could barely focus on it. You sighed and turned to Dean, who had been watching the whole thing – apparently, he had been watching something very specific, because his eyes shot up from your backside, a faint blush on his cheeks. “He’s concussed.” “You cuss.” Sam mumbled as he fell backwards on the bed. You rolled your eyes. “As I said, concussed. You guys got rooms close to here?” Dean grimaced and shook his head. “We barely got into town, before we went to the barn. We didn’t have time to get one.” He said apologetic. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Fucking shitfuckergoddamnitasscrackonjesus.” You looked back at Sam. “Fucking fine, you’ll stay here. I’m not happy about it, and you’re still a dick, but I’m helping Sam, so deal.” You moved a little closer to Dean, looking him over briefly. “I need to check that eye, idiot.” You said lightly. He nodded and leaned a little forward, so you had better vision under the shitty lighting. “You’re… Good at this. How is that? Most of us suck at stitches and injures should be walked off, so…?” Dean said, clearly trying you start a conversation. You grunted. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but when my dad died, I went to med-school. Pre-med, so I learned a bit.” You put an alcohol-soaked rag on Dean’s bruised eye, and he winced in pain. “Fuck off, you big baby. You’ve had worse, from what I hear.” You snapped. He smirked. “You’re gonna fix me right up, doctor? I know just what the thing would be, to get me right-side up.” He winked, and you slapped his shoulder – hard. He winced again. “Stick that right back where the sun don’t shine, Dean. I’m not going to fuck you, not in this goddamn lifetime, you pompous dick.” He smiled despite your insults and clutched his hand in his t-shirt, right where his heart was. “Aw, you called me Dean!” You snorted. “Don’t get used to it, dickhead. Wake Sam up in half an hour, I’m going for snacks.” You mumbled – it was very hard to hate this man, if you were honest. Before you slammed the door behind you, you shouted out to him. “Don’t think for one second, you’re gonna stay long, ass-hat.” As soon as you were outside, the cool air hit you, and you breathed deeply – your anger towards the older Winchester ebbing out a little, as soon as you couldn’t see his smirking, fucking face. He was still good looking, but all of the choice words he had directed towards you in your youth, swam in your head, along with that day.

You groaned and walked to your truck. Fuck Dean goddamn Winchester and his good looks.  

 CHAPTER 3

TAGLIST: @hobby27, @trustnobodyshootfirst, @wingedcatninja, @supernatural-idjit-95, @superrandomnatural

FOREVERLIST: @redeyedvixen, @supernaturalmagicfolk, @al1y, @roonyxx

[welllpthisishappening]

Concussion Protocol (1/1)

She doesn’t see it at first. And, somehow, that’s even worse. Because the replay is in slow motion and they keep showing it and Roland won’t stop yelling and Henry won’t stop cursing and Emma’s going to do damage to her thumb if she keeps slamming it against her phone. 

He doesn’t play the entire third period. 

And Emma keeps tugging on her ring. Ruth keeps staring. 

Rating: Teen’like with swearing and hockey-type injuries Word Count: 8K’ish. Adjectives. Emotions. AN: So about a month ago @onceuponaprincessworld​ requested “What happened in November with Killian, did he got hurt and have a concussion? Is there gonna be a one-shot about it?” This is the one-shot! It helped that the Rangers were playing while I wrote this last night. The game bears a striking resemblance to last night’s loss in Nashville. I’m not bitter. It’s fine. Anyway, I’ll keep writing about this stupid hockey team forever, particularly if you guys keep sending prompts and questions and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate both. Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll

“You know you’re on some kind of point streak?” Killian lifted his eyebrows, mouth curling into something that almost looked like a smile and Mary Margaret threw a pot on the floor. He laughed when Emma jumped.

“Oh, c’mon,” Emma grumbled. “That was terrifying. She’s going to do damage to the linoleum in her kitchen.” “That’s not even remotely true,” Mary Margaret muttered and Emma made some kind of triumphant noise, as if that proved she was being eavesdropped on. “Hi, Killian! Hi everyone else in the locker room!” 

“Hi, Mary Margaret,” Killian grinned, eyes flicking to the top of the phone screen when Emma audibly gagged. “That’s just being polite, Swan. I don’t know why you want me to ignore Mary Margaret when she’s feeding you all weekend.” Emma rolled her eyes, slumping into the corner of the couch and it was just as uncomfortable as it had been when she’d been sleeping on it.

She’d slept like crap the night before, tucked under blankets with a pillow she brought from home and she didn’t mention that to Killian, but he probably knew anyway. And the NHL seemed determined to keep the Rangers on the road for Thanksgiving.

Roland was incredibly disappointed.

Emma might have been too.

Emma absolutely was disappointed.

But it wasn’t really a western swing, more just a three-game trip to Dallas Las Vegas and Arizona and front office didn’t think it was prudent to send her.

It made Emma roll her eyes every time she thought about it.  

And Mary Margaret had resolutely refused to accept even the idea of Emma spending a single moment of her weekend alone – so she’d gone a dozen blocks uptown on Wednesday night and slept on the couch and woke up early to watch the parade with fancy hot chocolate and a questionable amount of homefries and they’d made pumpkin pie.

David wouldn’t eat the one with rum in it until after his mom went back to the hotel.

That made Emma roll her eyes too.

“Ok, that’s just patently incorrect,” Emma said, wincing when the arm of the couch seemed intent on dislocating her spine. “I am perfectly capable of feeding myself throughout the weekend. And you don’t get to make a single comment about my food intake when I know for a fact that Scarlet tried to eat fried onions out of a can yesterday.”

Killian’s eyes went wide, the sound of Will’s laugh echoing through the phone and, likely, off the walls of the visitor’s locker room in Arizona. “How do you know that?” Killian asked. “Also I refuse to take responsibility for that. I am not Scarlet’s father.”

“God forbid.” “Swan. Honestly.” “You really can’t let Ruby know anything,” she smiled and the look on his face did something to her pulse. “Or help you plan some kind of Thanksgiving feast in a hotel room.” “It wasn’t quite a feast,” Killian argued. “More just a questionable amount of us stuffed into one room and Lucas demanding several types of alcohol we aren’t really supposed to be having.”

“Troublemakers.”

“And,” Mary Margaret added, dropping onto the arm of the chair and barely missing Emma’s hair. “If Ruby wants to consume a questionable amount of alcohol then she should have waited until she got home.” Emma’s eyes were going to sustain permanent damage from constant rolling. Killian might actually injure himself from laughing.

“How much rum went into the pie this year?” he asked, voice still shaking lightly and Emma wasn’t sure what she was doing with her face, only that he noticed.

Figured.

She should have demanded a spot on the road trip. If Ruby got to go, she should have gone. That didn’t make any sense at all.

She should have come up with some kind of fan event. About Thanksgiving. In Phoenix. And a team that hadn’t won more than ten games all season.

Mary Margaret bit back her knowing smile and, eventually, Emma would have to thank her for that, certain Ruby wouldn’t have stopped herself from voicing several different opinions on pie and rum and the way Emma’s entire expression changed as soon as Killian used the phrase this year out loud.

Like it was some of tradition or something.

She needed more rum-filled pie.

“A ton,” Mary Margaret answered when she realized Emma was having some kind of life-changing realization in the corner of her couch. “But that was mostly because you guys were on the PK and Emma kept running back to the TV to yell and forgetting how much she’d already put into the mix.”

Emma couldn’t really slump down the couch anymore – she was an adult human being, after all – but she certainly made an attempt, flush rising in her cheeks and the back of her, likely, bruised neck.

She was going to punch Killian as soon as he landed in New York.

That face was stupid and attractive and stupid attractive and he kept staring at her like several different words she was, maybe, willing to acknowledge.

“You were making pies while we were playing, Swan?” he asked and Emma was, at least, eighty-two percent positive she heard Will cackling somewhere.

She nodded. “Eric had some kind of private event and I think A was actually really mad because it broke a record or something of watching away games, but then Regina reminded her that meant she didn’t have to come into the city and that ended that conversation. So, yeah, there were pies made a few hours earlier than normal.” “Going off schedule, love, I’m impressed.” “Oh, shut up.”

Will made another noise in the background and Killian ran his hand through his hair, rolling his shoulders in a way Emma had come to notice meant something important. He was thinking and pondering and he really was on some kind of crazy point streak.

It was a sidebar in The Post that morning.

“And,” Emma added pointedly. “It wasn’t so much my decision to go off schedule as it was trying not to be too worried about your shitty penalty kill.” “That is unfounded criticism, Emma,” Will shouted. Killian shook his head, glaring when an arm worked its way into the frame and tried to tug his phone out of his hand.

“Get the hell out of here, Scarlet,” Killian hissed. He couldn’t really keep his balance on the bench in front of his locker, only one of his skates on, but he tried to kick at Will anyway.

He nearly fell in his locker.

“God damnit, both of you,” Robin sighed, joining the fray with a put-upon look on his face and Emma wasn’t sure who laughed louder, her or Mary Margaret. “Cap can you please put your skates on? There is an actual game to play here.”

“I am doing that,” Killian muttered, but he didn’t move towards the left skate, just kept staring at his phone screen with wide eyes and some attempt at telepathy that Emma nearly understood.

She smiled.

“Emma is making sweeping generalizations about our penalty kill,” Will said. He kicked Killian’s skate closer, elbowing his side until he slid to the edge of the bench. “We are not that bad, Em,” he continued. “And I really don’t think it’s fair that you’re yelling at us about it.” Emma hummed. “Of course you are, Scarlet. You’re great. That’s why you guys are twentieth in the league and gave up, count ‘em, two goals last night.” “That doesn’t seem very good,” Mary Margaret added. Will scowled.

“Ok, well, when you put it like that, it doesn’t seem very good,” Will conceded. “But! And this is a really big but, this Las Vegas team is questionably good on the power play. You have those stats memorized too, Emma?” “Third in the league on the power play. Something like twenty-six percent. It’s insane.”

“They’re a legit team now,” Robin muttered, waving slightly when Emma’s gaze flickered towards him. “Hey, Emma. Hey, Mary Margaret. I heard you guys baked incredibly alcoholic pies on Wednesday night.” “The string of gossip on this team is ridiculous,” Killian muttered, but there was a note of something in his voice and Emma wanted the game to be over and the plane to be in New York and her boyfriend to be back in their apartment with their incredibly comfortable bed.

She sat up a bit straighter, shaking her hair onto her back and she could see Killian’s shoulders shift when the slightly dim light in Mary Margaret’s loft reflected off the chain around her neck.

“Henry called me,” Emma pointed out and she hadn’t mentioned that in the last two days.

It felt like something big and meaningful and Henry was more than settled in his life with the Mills-Locksley family and the New York Rangers and the National Hockey League, but, sometimes, he was still a kid and still nervous about it all being ripped away and he called her.

She liked that he called her.

She liked that he, still, depended on her a little bit.

And he was almost as loud as Emma when he yelled at the TV.

“And,” Emma continued. “Henry’s got no proof of the alcohol content regarding those pies. I’m a responsible adult figure in his life, I promise.” Robin grinned. “Of course you are. I’m not ever disputing that.”

Her heart flew into the back of her throat, growing several sizes in the process and it wasn’t entirely comfortable. “And the PK is pretty awful,” Killian added, knocking his shoulder against Will’s when he made another noise. “It is, Scarlet. Even Rol knows it. He texted both me and Robin about it during your fried onion from a can feast yesterday.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Emma shouted and Killian flashed her a smile that sent her heart back to its predetermined spot in her chest. Where it promptly tried to beat its way out. “You can’t just steal my phrasing word for word like that.” “I think that’s a compliment, Swan.” “I think you’re a word thief.”

“Be prepared for Roland Locksley’s detailed opinion about our incredibly shitty penalty kill later on tonight, love. He’s going to need an outlet and Gina hates any stat that won’t help us get paid more.”

“I’m leaning more towards hearing about your point streak, if we’re being honest,” Emma said. “And a complete play by play of Robin’s goal on Wednesday. Apparently his post-goal celebration was the stuff of adorable legends.”

“It absolutely was,” Robin agreed. “There was jumping and some kind of rhyme scheme involved. He reenacted it for me yesterday.” “Aw, that’s even more adorable,” Mary Margaret muttered, sliding down the couch and resting her head on Emma’s shoulder. “You think he’ll do it for Ruth later? She’ll be charmed.” “Yeah, and then start questioning the impending arrival of her own painfully adorable grandchildren,” Emma muttered.

Mary Margaret’s eyes nearly fell out of her head.

“Yes and yes, on both fronts,” Robin said. “Although, I’m going to go ahead and assume Mrs. Nolan might have some other concerns before she starts trying to adopt my kid as some kind of pseudo grandchild.”

Emma ignored that – fairly positive that Ruth Nolan would have several questions about several different fronts and, with no David buffer later that night, would have no problem asking all of them until she got an answer she was pleased with.

Robin made a face when she didn’t argue, gaze darting between the phone screen in Killian’s hand and the side of Killian’s face because Killian absolutely, positively would turn his head, and Will was still, somehow, grumbling about penalty kill stats. “Ok, ok, can we backtrack for a second?” he asked sharply. “Em, why do you know about Las Vegas’ questionably good power play?” “Because they’re some kind of feel-good sports story and Ruby Lucas is the media relations manager for this team?” Emma asked, sarcasm falling from every letter.  Will made some kind of noise that might have been an agreement. “And,” she added. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Scarlet, but I also work for this team. And its shitty power play. I think that gives me some sort of rooting interest. Tell Sean he can’t try and block shots and then never get up again.” “Arthur mentioned that to him this morning,” Robin muttered, grabbing a roll of tape from the top shelf in Killian’s locker. “God, Cap, why do you have so much tape? It’s like you’re a convenience store up there.” Killian didn’t answer, just shook his head slowly and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and Emma was certain she was still blushing.

He hadn’t put on his other skate yet.

“Because my sister is dating our equipment manager,” he said. Will mumbled something that sounded a lot like playing favorites and Killian held his hand out expectantly towards Robin. “Give me that. I’m apparently on some kind of point streak. I don’t want to break my stick.”

It probably shouldn’t have been nearly as attractive as it was.

It was normal – Killian’s wrists twisting and tape turning around the blade of his stick and it was routine. Emma was sure she’d seen him do it eight-hundred times. She’d seen hundreds of hockey players do it eight-thousand times, but there was something about the whole thing, the rhythm he fell into and the practiced ease and she knew he wasn’t even thinking about it.

Robin let out a low whistle when Killian tossed the tape back towards him, stick wrapped and a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“Are you trying to set some kind of record, Cap?” he asked. “That was ridiculous.” Will muttered something else under his breath – a string of words suspiciously close to showing off for Emma – and Robin nodded in agreement, lower lip jutted out slightly when he tried not to laugh into the phone.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense,” Robin continued, clearly unaware that he was the only one participating in the conversation anymore. “Em, you going later?” Killian made a noise in the back of his throat – a mix between a groan and a sigh and maybe just the audible version of trying not to throw his skate at his teammates. Robin held up his hands in surrender, backing up until he was almost out of frame, and Will was doing an admirable job of not actually laughing.

He’d slumped onto his thighs.

And none of them were taking this game seriously.

It was, admittedly, the day after Thanksgiving and they’d be home that night and they’d been gone for nearly a week and she could almost make out the bags under Killian’s eyes. He probably hadn’t slept very well either.

“Am I going later?” Emma echoed, staring at Robin as if he’d lost his mind. “You know your kid has been texting me about your shitty power play all day too.” “Which one?” “Henry, obviously. He was more upset than I was when you guys lost on Wednesday night.”

“So that’s a yeah on the going later, then?” Will mumbled, mostly into his pads.

“Yeah,” Emma snapped. “That’s a yeah. A will have a conniption if we don’t all show up.” “We’re bringing more pie,” Mary Margaret said. She hadn’t lifted her head up yet. “On pain of death because A’s lost her mind.” “I think they call it nesting,” Will corrected, waving a dismissive hand in the air when Killian muttered oh my God under his breath. “Or just the precursor to insanity.” “How do you know that?” “I’m super witty and quick on my feet in conversations?” “Yeah, that’s not the answer you were looking for,” Emma sighed. He grinned at her. “Stop getting all your information from Belle, it’s cheating.”

Will stuck his tongue out – a picture of maturity in the middle of a locker room covered in Coyotes logos – and Emma tilted her head slightly, nodding towards the door she knew Killian couldn’t see.

He nodded.

They were getting good at that whole telepathy thing.

“Move, Scarlet,” Killian said, half a second away from pushing Will off the bench. He tapped his stick against Will’s skates, properly laced and on both of his feet, smiling back at the phone screen when Emma let out a sound that might have actually been a giggle.

Mary Margaret looked close to tears.

It took, exactly, three deep breaths, six, rather long steps, and one door slamming closed on Emma’s end for them to be, almost, alone. Killian never put his other skate on.

“The most frustrating group of human beings in the entire world,” Killian grumbled, sliding down a wall in a dim corner, but his smile was genuine when he glanced up at Emma and they were coming home that night.

“It’s your fault for answering the phone in the locker room,” she said. “You’re practically asking for an audience at that point.”

“Not on a normal team.” “This is a good team.”

He sighed, but didn’t argue and Emma bit her lip before she could start spouting a stream of increasingly sentimental thoughts. That couch had been impossible to fall asleep on. “Are you ok, love?” Killian asked, the edge falling from his voice and that was cheating.

She wasn’t sure what game they were playing, yet, but it was definitely cheating.

“I’m fine,” Emma said. It wasn’t a lie. She was tired, but that was almost expected on road trips by now and she was happy and they’d made pie to bring to the restaurant the night before. “Are you? You looked like you were gunning for a fight.” “On Wednesday?” “A little bit.” “That’s not really my game, Swan,” Killian said. “And if we’re going to try and get the league to listen to this Olympic idea, punching winless teams in the face isn’t going to help much.” “They’re going to listen,” Emma promised, well aware that she couldn’t, but Killian’s mouth twitched and he was almost smiling and that had been the point. “But Vegas wasn’t winless. What are you worried about?”

He didn’t answer immediately, eyes falling to his stretched out legs and he’d never put his jersey on either. “They’re taking their time,” Killian sighed. “This whole thing. It’s after Thanksgiving, Swan. They’re going to have to decide sooner or later and playing like crap is not going to sway anyone.” “Playing like crap?” Emma repeated skeptically and he sighed again, letting his head fall back against the wall.

And really she shouldn’t have been surprised.

Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers and emerging face of the entire goddamn NHL, needed something to fight for. It had always been a Cup run, but they’d done that and there was a parade and a contract extension and, now, the league was dragging its feet on the Olympics and opportunity and he was going to get them there.

Emma knew it.

Even if he didn’t.

“You know Arthur broke two whiteboards?” Killian asked, tugging on the hair curled behind his ear. “He spent most of the third period actually drawing on paper.” Emma nodded. “Ruby was mad. Some guy from The Daily News heard about it and wanted to make a big thing and she was trying to put metaphorical fires most of the night. I was getting live updates of her frustration.” “Is that why you didn’t sleep?” “Presumptuous.” “Nah, assumptive at best. Or worst? How would you define that?” “I’m not sure any of this is a compliment so…” “I wouldn’t go so far as compliment,” Killian admitted, laughing softly. “More observational. And Locksley is going to murder me if I keep mumbling about the stiffness of mattresses or the legacy of the Olympic games.”

Emma smiled, toying with the ring around her neck. “It’s going to work. Shitty power play notwithstanding, it’s not like you guys are on some crazy losing skid. And I wasn’t lying about that point streak.” “I know you weren’t, Swan. Rol’s been very vocal about that too.” “Jeez, beat to the punch by a seven-year-old. That’s kind of rough.” Killian shook his head and she could feel the nervous energy even on the other side of the country. “It’s not a race,” he muttered. “If it were, you’d be winning.” “That’s a bad line, Cap.” “True, but it doesn’t make it any less honest.” He took a deep breath, the pads on his shoulders shifting with the effort and Emma could smell pumpkin pie wafting through the air, like the world was trying to make some kind of heavy-handed point with desserts and scents and a questionable amount of alcohol. “I wasn’t entirely prepared to become the leader of the Olympic movement, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Emma nodded. “But there’s a reason for that.” “Swan…” “No, c’mon, don’t be like that. You win a Conn-Smythe and a Hart and get some crazy extension and you’re going to tell me that we don’t deserve to get to the Olympics too? That’s insane.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed as soon as the words were out of her mouth and for half a moment Emma wasn’t entirely sure what she’d said.

He dropped his phone.

“What did you say?” Killian asked, voice gruff and that nervous energy had multiplied tenfold and evolved into something that, Emma hoped, was excited. “It’s not certain yet.” “Swan, none of this is certain, but you changed pronouns.” “Well, it seemed unfair to suggest that we both won a Conn-Smythe and Hart.” “We did.” “Jeez,” she sighed, but she was probably blushing again and her pulse was doing something impossible in her veins. “Too much, Cap. Way too much.” “Why the change, Swan?” “It’s not certain yet,” Emma warned and he widened his eyes when she kept deflecting. She clicked her teeth together, trying to work out some of the residual energy she could feel racing through her and maybe the conversation would be easier if she started jogging up and down the hallway. “Rubes and I were talking about it when you started talking about it and neither one of us were high enough up any theoretical ladders for Sochi, so when the league decides to stop being a dick about this and agrees to let us all go, then uh...USA Hockey is interested in both of us going. And so is Zelena.” “You talked to Zelena about it?” Emma’s neck felt impossibly stiff when she nodded again and Killian hadn’t blinked in several decades. At least. “That was part of the meeting when they told me I couldn’t come on the swing,” she said. “And like I said, USA Hockey already reached out to Ruby who then told me and said she wouldn't go if I didn’t go and Zelena heard about it and, well, I think that’s a good sign, don’t you?” She’d probably think about the look on his face for the rest of her life and that tiny, little voice in the back of her mind that, occasionally, wondered if this was all real was a silent as it had ever been. Emma wondered if it had disappeared entirely.

Killian still hadn’t blinked and she was ready to make some quip about eye drops, but she was admittedly distracted by how goddamn blue his eyes were and the slight quirk of his mouth and the other side of the country had never felt that far and that close all at the same time.

She was going to eat so much pie later.

“I think that’s a good sign,” Killian muttered softly and Emma felt it in her toes. “You know I love you, right? Just…” He shook his head, the smile moving across his face in slow motion and Emma bit her lip. “I’d want you to go. If we go.” “When we go.” He beamed at her. His eyes were frustratingly blue. “When we go,” Killian repeated. “Then, at the risk of sounding incredibly selfish, I’d really want you there.” “That works out fairly well, since I already told USA Hockey I’d go if the league agreed.”

Killian dropped his phone again.

“Surprise,” Emma said when he was back on screen, waving her free hand through the air and slightly stunned was a very good look on him. “Rubes and I have been trying to brainstorm community relations ideas for weeks. You’re not very observant”

His laugh was shaky and treading slightly close to disbelief, but he was still smiling and his tongue darting in between his lips made Emma question all the reasons she hadn’t gone on the road trip – again.

“I think they’re going to agree soon,” Emma continued. “The league, I mean. USA Hockey is obviously all in on this and recruiting front office even if players don’t get permission. That’s going to wake up the commissioner's gang and then we can win a gold medal.” “Just like that?” Killian asked.

“I don’t see why not. You’re on some kind of point streak.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair and Emma could hear Phillip calling from the other end of the hallway, pregame sounds making their way through the phone speakers. “That is true” Killian said, nodding towards the bodiless voice and Phillip shouted hey, Emma. “You know, the greater Phoenix area has over two-hundred golf courses?”

Emma was going to do serious damage to her lip if she kept biting it, particularly if she kept trying to smile at the same time, but the muscles in her face hadn't gotten that particularly memo and they were really, impossibly good at flirting with each other.

“That seems like an impractical amount,” she said. “Who could golf that much? And in Arizona? Way too hot.” “It’s a dry heat.” “Ah, of course. Why do you know that?” “Swan. Everything. I know everything.” “Yuh huh,” Emma muttered, but there were butterflies in the pit of her stomach and the pie smell was getting stronger. She was positive. That felt like a sign. “The Coyotes logo used to be an actual Coyote with a hockey stick, which is as impractical as two-hundred golf courses. Although the new one kind of freaks me out too. So I’m not sure if it’s really better.” “It’s definitely not. The howling thing is ridiculous. Maybe that’s why no one comes to their games.” “Or, you know, they’ve set some kind of losing record to start the season.” He smirked at her, eyes just a hint brighter and the nerves gone as quickly as they’d come, falling back into banter and flirting and she was going to kiss several clichés worth of living daylights out him later that night.

“Yeah, that too,” Killian said. “You’d really go? To the Olympics, I mean. If we…when we go,” he amended when he heard Emma’s vaguely frustrated sigh. “It’s going to be a shit ton of overbearing team.” “You’re the one who’s looking fight-ready not me. Did you miss the part where Rubes and I have been talking about this already? Or how great it’d be not to go to New Jersey and get those Casino Night tables out of storage? Because that’d be fantastic.”

“That’s definitely why we should go to the Olympics.” “Obviously.” “Cap,” Phillip called, dragging out the nickname or, possibly, rank and Killian squeezed his eyes closed. “Arthur’s getting super pissy and threatening whiteboards again.” “You better go” Emma smiled. Mary Margaret dropped another pot. “I think Reese’s is trying to speak to me in code. Keep that streak alive, huh?”

He winked at her.

Idiot.

They were totally going to win a gold medal.

“Of course, Swan. Save me some pie.”

 Roland practically threw himself at Emma and Mary Margaret as soon the door to the restaurant closed behind them, Regina’s cry of be careful barely audible over his “Did you bring pie? Is there pie? Henry said you made pie!”

“There is pie” Emma said, the smile on her face natural as Rolan kept bouncing up and down on his toes. “But the game hasn’t even started yet, Rol. Don’t we have onion rings to eat?”

He deflated slightly, but he didn’t seem all that put out by the prospect of onion rings and, eventual, pie. “We thought you weren’t coming,” he shouted. “It’s almost puck drop and Henry said you made pie.” “We brought the pie, Rol. There is no pie emergency.”

“Good pie?” “Can you name a bad pie?” “Key lime.”

“That was a much quicker answer than I was expecting,” Emma muttered to Mary Margaret.

She shrugged in response, pulling Roland away Emma’s side so he wasn’t twisting up her jersey – the Stanley Cup jersey she’d gotten the season before and Ruth’s eyes had widened slightly when she noticed the patch on Emma’s shoulder as soon as she slid into the cab.

“I mean he’s not wrong,” Ariel said, joining the conversation with one hand on her stomach and the other pressed into the small of her back. She smiled when she noticed Ruth. “Hi, Mrs. Nolan, I’m so glad you guys could make it.” “As if we had another choice,” Emma said. Ariel glared.

“Did you talk to Cap about whatever he was doing with his face on Wednesday night? Because it was weird. It was weird, right Gina?” Regina waved both her hands in the air, taking a step towards Roland to wrap an arm around his shoulders. He only grumbled a little. “I’ve heard it’s going to be fine,” she said and Ariel groaned at the vague tone of her voice.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means the league might be done dragging its feet,” Emma explained. “And Arthur yelled at Sean.” “I’m surprised Arthur didn’t yell at everyone. Or make them skate blue lines yesterday.” “He did,” Regina and Emma said at the same time.

Ariel’s whole body sagged with the force of her sigh. “Damn, I miss everything now. Ah, sorry, Rol. Em, tell Cap I don’t like being out of the loop. Just because I’m not going on the road does not mean I have lost my...”

“Desire to know everything?” Mary Margaret finished.

“Ok, well, it sounds mean when you say it like that. And that PK looked like garbage in Vegas. It was like they were playing in slow motion. I don’t think Sean even realized he was still holding a stick. Or could use it.” “God,” Emma muttered. “Tell us how you really feel.” “I’m really mad we broke this streak. We were at, like, three straight seasons.” “So we start a new one.” Four slightly stunned expressions turned towards Emma and she would have retreated if there weren’t a seven-year-old trying to pull pies out of her hands.

Mary Margaret was definitely going to cry.

Or maybe start live-texting David updates of the entire night. He wanted updates of the game, anyway, and proof the entire New York Rangers contingent appreciate the pies they’d made.

He probably wasn’t expecting Roland to try and eat all of it.

Or for Emma to be some kind of font of positivity.

“What?” Emma asked and it was a pointless question because she already knew the answer. Ariel and Mary Margaret both shrugged, Regina almost looking like she was about to smile and Ruth’s eyes traced across Emma’s face, falling down to the ring that had, somehow, worked its way over the top of her jersey.

Figured.

“Nothing, nothing, nothing,” Mary Margaret promised, but here eyes were a little glossier than usual and Emma could hear her take a deep breath. “I just...nothing. We need forks to eat pie, right?” “Presumably,” Emma said, smile, somehow, getting even wider when Roland let out a noise that was fairly close to a yelp of excitement. “So, uh...Regina what if we didn’t eat food before pie?” Regina smiled.

It was a Thanksgiving miracle.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think we can do that.”

They made it through a whole pie by the time the first period ended – still zeroes across the board and the PK wasn’t horrible, but there were a few close calls, Roland standing on his chair because it made him shout louder, Emma and Henry punching air like he was getting ready to drop gloves.

It wasn’t a perfect game, but it wasn’t a bad game and, then, something happened. It was as if a switch had been flicked or someone had twisted a great, big dial that controlled the speed of NHL hockey games and, suddenly, there were hits and checks and whistles and a distinct lack of whistles.

Roland nearly jumped off the chair.

Emma’s eyes couldn’t keep up with the puck, gaze darting across the TV screen and she wasn’t sure she was breathing. Her lungs burned from the distinct lack of oxygen, tapping her foot impatiently when a Coyotes defender pinned Killian against the boards, trying to work the puck to his stick or his skate and they spent an eternity pressed on the glass.

“Move it, move it, move it,” Emma mumbled, reaching up to grab her ring before she realized her neurons had processed that particularly demand.

“What is that?” Ruth asked. Emma’s neck cracked when she glanced to her right, Ruth’s expectant expression entirely out of place in a restaurant full of anxious front office and family and Emma hadn’t stopped tapping her foot.

“Hmm?”

“That ring. You’re wearing a ring.” “Oh,” Emma blinked. Killian got the puck away from the boards, moving it up to Phillip who was immediately hit at center ice, spinning out and losing possession in the neutral zone.   

Roland might have growled.

Henry cursed.

“Hey,” Regina and Emma said at the same time, Mary Margaret’s tongue clicking in reproach.

Henry slumped in his seat. “That should have been a penalty,” he muttered, grabbing another forkful of pie. “He was totally defenseless.” “I mean, he wasn’t totally wrong,” Ariel admitted. She’d commandeered a pie for herself.

Emma winced when her neck did something else it probably wasn’t supposed to, glancing up when Robin missed the net wide right and they were still in the zone and still on the ice and they probably should have changed.

“Get them off the ice,” Mary Margaret shouted, half standing and half sitting. She was wearing a custom jersey. She’d bought it at the start of the season. “They’ve been out there forever. Look, Scarlet can barely skate.” “Oh, tell him that when they get home,” Regina chuckled. She tugged on the back of Roland’s jersey and it only took one incredibly pointed look and slightly raised eyebrow for him to sit down.

Emma sighed and she didn’t really want anymore pie, but she could feel Ruth’s curious stare boring into the side of her head and she needed some kind of distraction.

She really didn’t want to get drunk in front of Ruth Nolan.

Pie was her only option.

“That wasn’t an answer,” Ruth said a few moments later, the first line back on the ice and hits coming fast and furious and Emma was also considering standing on her chair. “I thought they were supposed to keep their championship rings.”

Emma glanced at her, trying to keep one eye trained on the game. “If you know what it is already, I’m not sure what it is you’re asking.”

“Oh, yes you do, sweetheart. And I think you’re thinking it too. About asking. And questions. Big, important questions.” “Seems rather assumptive don’t you think?”

“No,” Ruth laughed. “I don’t. And I don’t think you do either.” “Yuh huh.” “That’s not an argument. You’re wearing a jersey and a ring already, why not add another one?” “Are you trying to plan a wedding, Ruth?” Emma asked, silently pleased that she’d managed to get that word out without stuttering over her. Mary Margaret almost choked on her pie. “Because there is no wedding happening here.” “Tell that to the ring you keep tugging on when you get nervous.” “What could I be nervous about?”

Ruth shrugged, but it was the most knowing shrug in the history of the entire world. “I’ve known you for years, sweetheart and I’ve never heard you so certain of anything as you’ve been this entire weekend. And,” she added, tugging lightly on Emma’s sleeve. “You light up like several different skyscrapers whenever your phone goes off.”

“She’s not wrong,” Ariel murmured through a mouthful of pie. “Something, something, the top of the Chrysler Building.” “Are you quoting things at me?” Emma asked and Ariel twisted her mouth into something that was probably supposed to be the visualization of a shoulder shrug. “And it’s shine like the top of the Chrysler Building. If you want to get technical.” Ariel opened her mouth, but her eyes went wide before she could say anything and Henry cursed again, a string of words he’d definitely picked up from Scarlet.

Emma nearly ripped her ring off its chain.

Killian was down, helmet resting on the ice and Emma could just make out the slight shudder that went through his whole body, like he was trying to take a deep breath or rediscover his center of gravity.

She didn’t remember standing up until she heard the fork fall out of her hand, nails digging into her palm with her fingers wrapped around her ring.

“What happened?” Emma demanded, not sure who she was asking. She didn’t look away from the TV, bouncing slightly on the balls of her and Ariel was already on the phone.

She was dimly aware of the commentators in the background, the noise pumping through the speakers in the restaurant, but the words didn’t seem register –  went in fast...blindside...hit the boards hard...concussion protocol.

That one clicked.

“Concussion protocol,” Emma snapped, jerking towards Ariel, but she waved her hand through the air, pushing away from the table with her phone against her ear. “God damnit, show a fucking replay. Shit, ah, God, sorry, Rol.”

Roland was too busy yelling to notice. Henry was still swearing. So was Mary Margaret. Ruth looked stunned.

The replay in slow motion seemed to slink through Emma and she knew that was impossible, but she couldn’t catch her breath and her mouth had gone dry from hanging open for what felt like several years.

He’d been skating into the defensive zone, gone back to try and get the puck off the boards, shoulders turned towards the glass when a Coyotes winger slammed into him. Killian’s head hit first and Emma’s breath caught – even on the fucking replay – tongue darting out between her lips when he crumpled onto the ice.

He laid on the ice for a few moments and Emma could just make out the way his eyes squeezed shut, stick a few feet away where he’d dropped it. It took a few tries to get back up, working onto his hands and knees with Robin crouched next to him and Phillip trying to pull Will away from several different players in Arizona jerseys.

“Oh fuck,” Emma breathed. “That was...that really wasn’t a penalty?” Henry shook his head, lips pressed together tightly. He nodded back towards the TV and Killian was standing, but Emma could tell how shaky his legs were and it took longer than normal to get back to the bench.

“Ok, ok, ok,” Emma muttered, not quite sure what she was saying, but positive she had to keep saying it. Her heart felt like it was hammering against her ribcage and she couldn’t stop moving, jumping instead of just bobbing. “I need my phone. Where’s my phone? God, where’d A go?”

“Your pocket, Em,” Mary Margaret said. “And I think A’s trying to talk to Victor.”

Emma nodded – it felt like her brain was moving with her, bouncing around her skull and she couldn't get her phone out of her pocket. She was being thwarted by her jeans.

And she’d totally been thinking about the same questions Ruth Nolan had.

In their two-bedroom apartment with a stolen Conn-Smythe.

“Damn,” Emma sighed. They were taking him to the locker room. Or, at least trying, Victor yanking on the back of his jersey and nodding towards the tunnel and there was a cut on Killian’s forehead.

She nearly dislocated her thumb trying to text Ruby, demands for updates and information and updates as soon as there were updates to be had.  

He didn’t play the rest of the night.

And Emma didn’t sit down the rest of the night.

She brought the pie with her when she left the restaurant, promising Ruth and Mary Margaret she was fine and it was an insultingly obvious lie, but they didn’t argue her cab.

The text message came fifteen blocks before she got home, a quick buzz in her hand that took her by surprise and she coudln’t be doing her blood pressure any favors.

Not concussed. Bruised. Incredibly Sore. But not concussed. Also incredibly glad to be home. With you.

Emma exhaled, closing her eyes lightly and letting her head fall back against the top of the seat.

I was freaking out.

Lucas mentioned. Victor knows what he’s doing though. Definitely not concussed.

That guy should get fined. And punched. Several times.

He probably will. I can’t guarantee that second one. We don’t play in Arizona again for awhile.

Maybe I can get Scarlet to give me two minutes the next time.

Don’t tempt him, love. He’ll totally do it if you ask.

Emma laughed, the noise sounding foreign in the quiet cab and she still couldn’t catch her breath. She felt like she’d done several days worth of Arthur’s blue-line sprints.

Did you leave yet?

About to take off, actually. Now that he knows i’m not going to die somewhere over Kansas, Locksley’s already asleep.

Considerate of him.

I’m really glad you’re ok.

I think I made Ruby mad.

She’ll live.

There’s still pie.

It was, easily, the most ridiculous thing she’d could have said to her professional-hockey-playing boyfriend just a few hours after he’d been cleared of concussion-like symptoms, but she’d only just remembered she’d never actually answered his I love you earlier and Emma’s heart was somewhere on the ground in the middle of Amsterdam Ave.

What an idiot.

Ruth Nolan’s questions were echoing in her head.

Good.

It was after midnight when she heard the lock click in the front door and Emma didn’t really think when she flung herself off the couch, sprinting across the room and slamming into Killian’s gear bag as much as his actually body.

And, really, it probably wasn’t the right thing to do – even if he wasn’t concussed, he was still bruised and slightly battered and, quite obviously, exhausted – but Emma’s mind was racing and worried and Killian smiled when his arm inched around her waist, tugging her even closer so he could press a kiss to her hair.

“Hey,” Killian laughed, leaning back to try and look at her. He couldn’t. Her head was buried in his chest. “It’s fine, Swan. Everything’s fine.”

Emma took a deep breath, pushing up on her toes to brush the tips of her fingers over the slightly purple bruise on the side of his forehead. “Fine,” she challenged and he hummed in agreement. “I might punch that guy in the face.”

“Although I appreciate the offers to defend my honor, love, I don’t know if that’ll help inspire the league to let us go show off hockey to the world.”

“Yeah, probably not,” Emma grumbled, blinking quickly when she realized what he’d said. “Wait, what?”

Killian grinned at her, ducking his head to brush his lips over hers quickly and she’d probably think about his propensity to kiss first for the rest of the weekend. “It’s just a rumor,” he said. “But Victor told me he heard some of the med staff in Arizona talking about schedules for PyeongChang and how many people USA Hockey was willing to send. He claimed they all sounded fairly concrete.”

She could hear the excitement in his voice – the same pick-up it had from nerves earlier in the day replaced with optimism and hope and maybe they were both growing as people or something, right there in the doorway of their two-bedroom apartment.

“I knew it,” Emma said, tugging lightly on his league-mandated tie. “And, seriously, no concussion? How was that even possible?” “Are you doubting Victor’s diagnosis?” “Obviously not. I’m not hoping you’re concussed. It was just...it was a bad hit and they kept replaying it during the third period. The third period you didn’t come back out for.” “Precautionary.” “Because they thought you were concussed.” “Which I’m not.”

“So I’ve heard. What even happened?” Killian shrugged and his eyes widened slightly when he realized Emma was still wearing his jersey. “Is this the same one from the Cup Finals?”

“You’re deflecting.” “I’m curious.” “Killian!”

He licked his lips, directing them back towards the couch and Emma didn’t object when he tugged her onto his legs. “I honestly have no idea,” he admitted. “The first period was fine and then they came out flying in the second and we were always half a step behind and I didn’t even see him coming until I slammed into the boards. I think they’re just pissed at how shitty they are. You know, collectively, and we just got the brunt of that.” “But not concussed?” Emma asked again.

“Not concussed,” Killian said. “Why do you keep asking that, love? I’ve been hurt before. I will, presumably, get hurt at some point again. It’s kind of part of the deal.” “I know, I know, I know, but…” She trailed off, not entirely sure how to explain what she wasn’t sure she understood and Killian’s eyebrows furrowed when she didn’t say anything. “But?” he prompted, nosing at her neck and, probably, breathing in her hair.

“I love you,” Emma said, nearly shouting the words in his face and this was not going according to plan at all. There hadn’t been a plan. Killian smiled. “And I just...I realized I hadn’t said it before and that would have been such a shitty thing if you’d been hurt and we’ve got to go win a gold medal now and I want to do all of that. With you.”

And eventually, maybe, they’d stop doing that kiss each other in response to major declarations, but it wasn’t that moment and Emma wasn’t going to argue.

They were both cautious, moving slightly slower than they would have if there hadn’t been a concussion protocol earlier that night, but Killian’s tongue brushed over her lower lip and Emma’s fingers held onto the front of his jacket and she felt like she was breathing again.

She must have sighed or made some kind of ridiculous noise, because she could feel Killian’s smile when he moved to the curve of her jaw and the side of her neck. He groaned when she shifted over him, legs on either side of his hips and his fingers trailed across her waist, bunching up the bottom of her jersey.

Hs jersey.

“That’s the plan, Swan,” he whispered and it felt big and important and something about as long as we both shall live.

“Good. But the next time you get hurt, I better be there because I can’t deal with this string of information through a Ruby and, or Ariel filter. I thought I was going to go crazy. Or break my phone.” Killian laughed softly, pressing another kiss to the curve of her shoulder and her ring was back outside her jersey. “That seems fair, love. C’mon, I’m exhausted.”

The phone call came a few days later – straight from the league with, probably, smiles on their faces and expectations sky-high and they were going to the Olympics.

Together.

And Emma didn’t bother asking Ruby for any information as soon as Killian crash into the boards in PyeongChang, just sprinted out of the team suite and into the trainer’s room and he smiled when he saw her.

She told him she loved him in the car ride back to the hotel.

[sneaky-mermaid-renegade]

Claire-voyant Chapter 1

So here is my first youtuber ego story thing. I think its bad but my friend says its good \_(’_’)_/. Either way I sincerely hope you enjoy!

I would like to thank @retro-remix for being my editor since im horrible with words and @markiplier-egos for a very specific insult near the end of the story XD.

@itsdanimotherfreakingglitter @markiplier-egos @moonysmayhem @sunstar121  @ferociousfangirlofmanyfandoms I believe you guys wanted to be tagged for this? Sorry if im wrong! 

              I really messed this up.  Im sitting on a high ledge trying to evade a pink haired lunatic, a man with bandages over his eyes, some sort of 3-D filter demon, among others.  I must be nuts because the only thing that crosses my mind is ‘why do they all look alike?’ Oh, where are my manners! My name is Claire, and im currently stuck in some sort of large house belonging to some very crazy people.  You're probably asking what the heck is going on? Well, it's a long story, so I hope you have some time on your hands.

I guess it all started a while ago ...

        I hated today.  Today was the first day of the new school year.  All I had to do was make it through the day without catching the attention of bullies, and what did I do? Now i’m running down the streets being chased by kids two grades above me.  Sometimes being the odd one really bites me in the butt.  I look behind me, only to find that they’re still on my tail! I see the park up ahead and skid onto the path.  Surely i’d lose them in the thick woods that lined the park! Right? I rush into the woods, dodging trees and shrubbery.  I can hear them tearing through the undergrowth as I start to get stitches in my side from running, my knee high socks snagging on thorns.  I come upon a cliff and realize I can't get down without harming myself.  When I turn around there they are, Staring at me.  

        “Where you gonna run now, Claire-voyant? Dontcha got something in your “magic satchel?” one of them called.  I grit my teeth at the nickname, and hug my satchel closer.  It had all the things I thought would come in handy, which included, a flashlight, a multi-tool, some twine, and other trinkets I thought would be useful.  Although right now I didn't have much to fend them off with.  I had a pocket knife, but even deep in the woods they would find a way to get me in trouble if I pulled it out on them.  “What's the matter? Didn't see this coming?”  I don't reply as I edge closer to the cliff.  I don't need to engage them when they have me between a rock and a hard place.  “If you dont wanna play our game, you can always play with the bottom of the cliff instead!” the other shouted rushing forward.  I panicked and dove off the cliff.  Not the best idea, I admit, but I wasn't thinking.  The last thing I remember is a bright flash before I hit the hard ground, and everything going black.

        I'm sleeping.  I must be.  My eyes are closed, and I don't feel like getting up so it must be monday.  Except my bed feels like a rock, and my blankets must have fallen of in the night because im super cold.  I open my eyes only to close them tightly again.  It's too bright, and im getting a headache from it.  I bolt up at that.  I am not a morning person so my room always, always has the blinds shut.  This is not my room.  I look around to find im in some sort of studio.  ‘How did I get here?’ I think to myself.  I have vague memories about hitting my head, but I don't remember how.  I think back to the day.  I can remember everything up until school ended, then it gets hazy.  I hear ringing in the distance, no not in the distance.  My ears are ringing.  Wait .  .  .  headache, Light sensitivity, memory loss, ear ringing.  I think for a minute.  Aren't those the symptoms of a concussion? I'm not too sure, but whatever it is it can't be good.  I decide to try and find help immediately.  After all one thing I know for sure is that if not treated, concussions bring pain.  Unfortunately for me, this is the exact time someone walked through the door.         It was a man, wearing pink suspenders, and shock of pink hair.  He also had a silver gun in hand.  That made me worried.  The instant he saw me I bolted up and looked around for a place to hide.  There was two chairs in front of a fake brick wall.  I ducked behind the brick wall and climbed up a ladder that led to a catwalk.  Looking down, I see the bewildered pink man shoot his gun at me while running towards the ladder.  At the end of the catwalk I spied a door and ran to it, while hearing bullets ricochet off nearby metal objects.  I pull open the door and lock it behind me.  I then pull a pair of pliers out of my satchel and break the door handle.  I hear him yelling as he pounds on the door, but I dont stick around to hear what he’s saying.  I skid around the next corner and stop to catch my breath.  As the adrenaline ebbs away I feel a sharp pain through my skull.  My headache is getting worse.  Concussion or not I definitely need help, but is there anyone else here? If so, are they all as crazy as that cotton candy lunatic?         I decide it will do no good if I stay here and do nothing, so I set off down the hallway.  I open a door and slip through into a library.  Its really dark so I pull out a flashlight from my satchel, and I wander through the maze of bookshelves.  Some of them seemed like good books, but the jabbing in my forehead pushed me forward.  Suddenly I came upon a desk with someone in it.  I immediately hid.  I could hear the noise of a pen on paper and muttering, as I slowly inch away towards an elevator I see at one end of the room.  Through the books I can see he has bandages over his eyes.  This should be easy, all I have to do is make no noise and he wont be able to tell im there! I slowly walk across the floor.  Im a foot away from the elevator when I hear him talk.  “The Host believes you are hurt.  The Host will forgive you for sneaking around his library without his permission if you go get treatment. ” I stood planted where I was in shock.  How did he even know I was there? Then the cotton candy lunatic walks in, and we lock eyes.  This gets me moving.  I sprint to the elevator and press a random floor.  The elevator slams shut just as he runs up to the door.         The elevator door opens to a dark room.  It looks like some sort of office, with a desk in the middle of the room.  I walk over to the desk only to find papers strewn about it.  I pick up a newspaper clipping.  “Three people killed at Markiplier Manor. ” it read.  Before I had a chance to read the article the door opened to reveal a man.  I think anyway.  He was completely monochromatic with overlapping images of himself in blue and red.  Like as if someone had drained all the saturation from a photograph and added a 3-D filter.  Panicking, I ducked behind the door as he opened it.  He closed the door and walked to the desk.  He sat down and began to work on whatever papers that were there.  He hadn't  seen me.  He hadn't seen me! This was my chance! I carefully crept to the doorknob, keeping a watchful eye on the man.  At one point he looks up and sees me.  We both stare at each other until I break the silence by throwing the door open and bolting down the hallway.  I look behind him to see him speed walking towards me.  Why he wasn't running? I don't know, and I don't care because it gave me a big enough headstart.  I frantically look for a place he won't find me.  I look around and find a high shelf with potted plants next to a window.  I clamber up and pull up my feet just as the monochromatic man walks up.  I hear him dial someone on his phone.  “Tell everyone to be on high alert for a young girl. ” I hear him say.  He ends the phone call and walks away.  I lean my head against the window.  After all that the adrenaline has worn away again, and i'm left with a blinding headache.  The coolness of the glass takes away the edge of the pain, so I stare out the window.           Outside I see a beautiful garden, filled with trees, flowers and a pond.  On the other side there seems to be another place.  It's a lime green manor of sorts, with blue window shutters and a blue door.  Many people walk by, putting me on edge, but they always seem to pass.  I must be crazy because instead of being scared all I can think about is why they all look similar.  Like, they all wear the same face.  Are they twins? No there are at least 12 of them, maybe more Is there a word for 12 twins? Is it possible? If not what are these guys? Looking down at the passing people.  I spot the black and white guy, the bandage guy, and the pink carnival guy, but also new people.  There is a normal guy in a tux, a guy wearing robes and has a peanut butter beard, a doctor, four news cast guys, four robots, and a guy with a skateboard and a tank top.  

*time skip brought to you by doritos*

        I don't remember when I fell asleep, but I woke up to someone trying to grab my foot.  “What the-!”I screamed and pulled it up from where it was hanging over the edge.  Looking around I found that all of them were gathered around my hiding place.  I could barely think with my headache, but one clear thought I had was ‘I am so massively screwed!’ The monochromatic man cleared his throat.  “We would greatly appreciate it if you could get down from there. ” he said flatly.  “Why? So you can attack me, you desaturated demon?” I called down.  He didn't seem very pleased at my remark but said nothing.  “My diagnostics indicate you are already damaged” the robot in the blue shirt muttered.  I pulled out my pocket knife.  “Yeah, and I don't feel like getting ‘damaged’ even further!” I said slowly, clenching my fist in pain.  The regular guy in the tux spoke up “I hope you didn't ruin any of my plants up there!” The demonic 3D man knocked him upside the head.  “Thats not whats important right now!” he sneered.  That got me mad.  I wasn't thinking very straight with my headache, but this guy seemed nice.  Trust me when I say I can tell these things.  So I chucked my pair of pliers at him.  “Leave him alone you hot topic wannabe!” I shouted.  He lunged for me, but the man with bandages held him back yelling “The Host holds Dark back with all his might, just as Claire passes out from her concussion!”

And then everything goes black.

        I’m asleep again.  I’m sure of it this time.  I'm on a soft bed with the blankets pulled up, and i’m hugging my pillow.  Except it's still very bright.  I sit up fast.  The one in the doctors coat is at the end of the bed.  I inch back in the cot.  He hold up his hands.  “Its okay! Jeez, I won't hurt you! In fact im very glad you woke up! We were all very worried. ” he spoke softly.  I stare at him.  “Worried? You guys were chasing me! I was shot at!” I yelled.  He flinches.  “That was probably Wilford.  Look I only want to patch you up and send you home.  Dark isn't very fond of you after you called him a ‘hot topic wannabe’!” I mess with my blanket for a bit before saying “I don't really have a home. ”

[sending-the-message]

Meat by ecrowe

The events detailed below occurred six years ago. I've still not come terms with what happened, but I thought I'd share in the hopes this doesn't happen to anyone else.

Ghost Rock, Utah isn't much more than a rock. When my wife and I stopped there for a rest, the sun was setting. Sarah used the restroom, while I wandered from the car. We were traveling to the national park to camp, before visiting family.

Ghost Rock, what a strange name. I pondered this, while climbing. We were in the middle of nowhere; civilisation was miles away. It was so isolated. In the ten minutes I had been there, I'd not seen a single vehicle. Thinking about it, I'd not seen anyone for fifteen miles.

What if we broke down? What if we had a flat tyre? What we got sick? I pulled out my cellphone and checked the signal; one bar. That didn't satisfy me as much as I'd hoped. But one bar is better none. The view was beautiful though, especially now.

I waved to my wife as she made her way back to the car.

"Nice up there?" she asked.

"Incredible. I have to say if I take anything away from this road trip, it's the scenery."

Sarah got into the back of the car to sleep, while I took control and drove on. We'd decided to take turns driving and resting. While on paper this seemed a great idea, in practise it meant broken sleep and two very tired drivers.

A few miles later, as the sunlight faded into darkness, a small gas station came into view.

I slowed, the place looked more rural than the ones I had passed miles before. A wooden sign, lit by a single floodlight announced we were approaching Hilltop Gas. I checked the fuel gauge - it hovered barely over the quarter tank mark.

I stopped the car, confused by lack of gas pumps. A Ford pickup truck sat outside the building - Ed Lewis & Sons - Meat Distribution and Luxury Leather Goods emblazoned on the side. Large, unlit neon signs pressed up against the dark and dusty windows. I cupped my hands over the glass to get a look inside. I saw shelves stacked with cans and provisions, a cash register, and beyond, a wall of cigarettes. But no sign of life.

I turned to see my wife had awoken and was looking at me.

"I don't see anyone," I said, returning to the car.

She pointed at me.

"What?"

The car window opened.

"Behind you."

I looked over my shoulder and jumped. Two skinny people, wearing shorts and little else, lingered.

"Fuck, you scared me," I said as one of them opened up the front door.

"Can we help ya'll?" he said in a very southern drawl.

"Yeah, I'm looking for some gas, but there's no pumps. You are a gas station, right?"

"We sure are," he said, gesturing with his hand.

The wooden structure appeared like it had seen better days. The paint peeled, and parts of the glazing had been replaced with boards.

"I'm almost out," I said, "need a full tank."

"We can help. Youse don't have one of those diesel machines?" he asked, frowning.

"No, just regular."

"Good," he said, mustering a smile that revealed few teeth.

He sniggered before falling into a coughing fit.

"I'll get a can," he finished before disappearing inside.

The second man was now outside and working his way towards my car.

"That your wife?" He said.

"Yes, she is."

He placed his hand on the roof of the car.

"She surely is a purdy little thing," he said.

Sarah recoiled, pushing away from the window.

"Pa won't be long."

The older man went back in the store, the door clattering shut behind him.

"Eeew!" Sarah shouted, "Get the fuck away from me!"

I turned to look. The younger man had his hand buried into his shorts, moving it back and forth vigorously.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I demanded, pushing him away.

His sweaty fist fell out of his underwear and he stumbled to the floor laughing.

"We have to leave!" Sarah pleaded.

I got back into the car.

I glanced back to the building. The older man was nowhere to be seen. I'd almost looked away, but something grabbed my attention. A dim light shone from an upstairs room, it flickered as someone walked in front of it.

"Go!" Sarah shouted.

I didn't need another prod.

"I can't believe that, can you?" She said, flicking her clothes as if to clean them.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sure there'll be another gas station," I said, peering down at the fuel gauge. I didn't let Sarah know how close we were.

As I pulled away, I glanced in the rear-view mirror. Three men stood outside the gas station. One of them waved, almost knowingly.

You'll be back.

The older man whacked him around the head.

I didn't see any of them holding a gas can.

Tiredness had taken hold and I pondered if I had made the right choice. When one mile turned into ten, I began to regret my decision. My attention was split between the road and the fuel gauge that had ventured into the red. I began to panic. My phone squeezed out one bar of signal before going back to none.

I felt drunk, I was so sleep deprived. The sporadic street lighting had long since gone, leaving darkness. I checked the Sat-Nav for gas stations. The nearest was forty miles away in a small town in completely the wrong direction to where we were headed.

I watched as ever so slightly the needle progressed further into the red; my heart rate increased. I wondered what would happen if I ran out of gas. I conjured up images of us trying to flag down vehicles. All alone, we'd be in trouble when the temperature dropped. And with that, there was a bang.

The car swerved from side to side as I tried my best to keep control.

"What?" Sarah said, sitting up, dazed from sleep.

"I don't know," I said anxiously.

Every time the car lurched to the left I'd turn to the right and vice versa. I did my best to keep the car on the road, but God had other plans. The traction gave way completely, the car spun to the right and we veered off the road, heading straight for a ditch.

I don't remember the moment of impact. I don't remember when I awoke. But I remember Sarah's face covered in blood, lying on the console between us.

"Oh shit," I exclaimed, as my senses returned to me and my vision stabilised.

"Are you okay?" I asked, not wanting to touch her for fear of disturbing her.

She groaned.

"Thank God."

"What happened?" she slurred.

"Are you hurt?"

"I don't know," she said with genuine fear.

"Stay where you are, I'm going to get help."

"Don't leave," she wailed, trying to lift her head.

"You may be hurt," I said, hoping she didn't notice the blood that matted her face and hair.

I left the vehicle and took out my phone.

"Fuck it!" I exclaimed, seeing the lack of signal.

I dialed 911 and waited.

Nothing.

"Babe, stay here, don't try to move, I'm going to see if I can get a signal."

"Jeff, please don't leave."

"You've been in a car crash, don't try to move. I'm calling the emergency services."

"A crash?" she asked, a combination of sleep and a possible concussion came through in her voice.

"Everything will be fine; stay there."

I walked away from the vehicle and looked for higher ground. Canyons and crannies were waiting for me to step in the wrong direction and send me tumbling down rocky outcrops.

I treaded carefully, making my way up a small rock face. The early moon did its best to illuminate the place. My vision slowly adjusted to the low light. A chilly wind whipped up, sending small amounts of dust into the air. The environment now felt like an enemy, trying to stop me forging ahead.

I held the phone above me in a last effort to find a signal. Nothing changed.

I fell to the floor, like the strings holding me up had been cut. I felt helpless and scared. I sat on the ground and put my arms around my knees. I held back the tears that charged forward, worrying that if they breached I wouldn't cope.

I was cold. From where I was, I could see the interior lights shine. I wanted to go back to my wife, but what could I say? No help is on the way, sorry. No signal out here.

The road stretched out in both directions into complete darkness. The stars in the sky did nothing to brighten the terrain. The quarter moon was all we had, it illuminated my path back to the car. I pushed myself up and began to jog.

A light rose in the distance; I thought it was a plane at first, its flicker reminiscent of a strobe. I slowed my pace and tried to focus on it. One became two, and my heart skipped a beat; it was another vehicle. I raced back to the car, hoping I wasn't going to be too late.

I stumbled and tripped on the rocky ground, waving my arms above my head like a lunatic.

"Hey, over here!" I shouted across the road.

As it neared, its immense size came into view; it was a semi-truck. He signalled and turned off the road. It's hydraulic brakes hissed when it came to a stop.

Peering in the car, I saw Sarah had propped herself upright.

"Jesus, are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes," she said wincing, "I don't think anything is broken."

"We'll let a doctor tell you that."

I turned my head to the sound of the cab door slamming. The mountain of a man crossed the central reservation, to our side of the road. His frame silhouetted against the semi's headlights.

"Looks like you got yourself a little car trouble," the man said.

His beard protected his mouth like a bouncer at a nightclub.

"Thank God you came along. I don't know what happened. My wife, she's bleeding."

"Yup," he said, studying the back of the car.

"I know what this is," he continued, "you see how the tyres are ripped off, exposing your rims. That'll be spike strips."

"Why would the police leave them out like that?"

"Not police, locals."

He walked to the other side of the car, looking through the window.

"Lucky I found you first. This your wife?"

"Yeah, that's Sarah. Is she badly hurt?"

"Nothing serious, she moving okay?"

"Think so."

"Get your stuff, you can travel with me. I'll see your wife to a doctor."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said, calmly walking away in the direction we came.

"Where are you going?" I asked, he ignored me.

"Honey, do you think you can walk?"

"I think so."

"I'm going to get your coat and purse out of the trunk."

I slammed the door to see Sarah already in the road.

"You should have waited for me."

"I'll be alright," she said, as her foot gave way.

She caught her balance and put out her hand, "Stop worrying, I'll be fine."

"I'm not taking any chances," I said, putting my arm in hers.

The man approached, in his hand was a large string of metal.

"See," the man said, "spike strips."

The sounds of scraping metal rang out in the wilderness as he dragged the device. He crossed the road and threw it in the back of his cab.

"This way," he beckoned us over.

Gingerly I led Sarah over the road. She stumbled on the uneven ground of the central reservation.

"Let me help you Miss," he said to Sarah, holding open the door, then lifting her up with his big hefty hands.

I was not afforded the same treatment.

He got in the driver's seat, started the engine, and we were back on the road.

"You guys hungry?" the man asked.

Initially, I was going to say no, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised I was hungry.

"Got some jerky here," he said, reaching for a box on the dashboard.

I joked, "I'm not sure I should accept meat from someone whose name I don't know."

"The name's Lonnie, now take one for you and one for your sweet wife over there."

Hesitantly, I reached in and picked out paper wrapped pieces of jerky. I read the label - Ed Lewis Jerky - Utah's finest - Limited Edition. The ink unevenly applied, as if it was pressed by a stamp.

"Wow, this is good," I said surprised.

"Best in all of Utah," Lonnie said, continuing to watch the road ahead.

Sarah nibbled on hers, not a fan of dried meat.

"What is it? Doesn't taste like beef."

Lonnie scoffed, "No, that's pork. Mostly local, but some is sourced from out of town."

He laughed hard, and a puzzled look drew on my face.

"You know your jerky."

"You should know where your food comes from. Guess it's different in the city."

"Do you mind me asking where the nearest hospital is?"

"Hospital is forty miles that way," he said, pointing out the driver's side window.

"What?" I said, beginning to feel a little angry, "You said you were taking us to a doctor."

"I am, calm down. But I ain't taking you to the hospital - that's too far. I know a local guy, he'll be able to sort your wife out good," his voice laboured on the good.

I felt relieved and I leaned back into the seat. I was clearly still in shock, but Sarah was not as injured as I'd worried when I saw all that blood.

"What do we do with the car?"

"Nearest garage is gonna be at least twenty miles. I'm sure my friend will be able to put you up for the night, he's a nice guy, an old buddy of mine, go way back. I'm sure he'll let you stay there."

"Where does he live?"

"He runs a small gas station."

A cold sweat broke out on my brow.

"I thought you said he..." I stumbled for my words, "he was a doctor?"

"He's that too, that a problem?" he asked.

His face scrunched up and his knuckles went white, as he gripped the wheel tighter. I had the feeling this wasn't a favour after all.

"No; no it isn't."

I glanced at Sarah, she was asleep. The almost fully intact jerky sat in her lap, her right hand still cradling it. She snored gently. I slipped my hand in hers. She stirred but didn't wake. I began to panic.

"We're here," Lonnie said.

The semi came to a stop and he got out.

The headlights lit the faces of the men we had left only an hour before. The front of the gas station was bright. Dark shadows cast on the weathered wood, as the people smiled back at us.

"Sarah, wake up," I said, pushing her shoulder.

"Huh," she said squinting against the bright light.

She began to scream as she recognised the faces of the men. Instinctively I slapped my hand over her mouth and shushed her.

"Calm down, honey, everything will be okay."

She squirmed under my grip.

"What's up?" Lonnie asked.

"We stopped here on the way, and this little freak started masturbating in front of my wife."

"That'll be Bobby."

"You know him?" I said surprised.

"Yeah, I'm sorry you had to see that; he ain't too clever in the head."

"We can't stop here," I pleaded.

Lonnie waved at them.

"Everything will be fine, I promise."

"I'm not getting out," Sarah said, her voice reverberating with fear.

"Miss, don't worry. I know these folks really well."

The older man approached the cab.

"Hi Ed, got you a couple of refugees," he said with a chuckle.

"No way!" Sarah demanded, "Keep driving."

"Hello there," the older man said through the open window, "I saw what my son did. Now that wasn't polite. I've seen to him, he won't do that again. What's happened to your head?"

"They were in a car crash; spike strips," Lonnie said, exiting the semi.

"Son of a gun," the old man said, "those bastards and their little traps. You were lucky you came across ol' Lonnie here."

"I think she needs some medical attention," Lonnie replied.

"I think she does. Let me help you out of there sweetheart."

Sarah stared at me. I nodded encouragingly.

"I don't want to go," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Please," I whispered, out of ideas.

Her face fell, knowing I was right.

She took the older man's hand and anxiously stepped out of the cab. I followed closely behind.

"Don't be shy, follow me," he said turning away.

"I know he don't look too conventional, but I swear, he's one of the best doctors in Utah," Lonnie consoled.

He's the doctor? I thought to myself.

"Come inside, take a shower, make yerself at home."

A younger man we'd not seen before stood by the door, he didn't say a word.

"He don't bite," Lonnie said, leaving us where we were standing and entering the gas station with the other man.

"Drew, stop staring like you ain't seen no woman before," he shouted at the younger man, "I'm so sorry about him. Never went to no school. He ain't like Bobby though. Don't hold his meagre mental acuities against him."

"Drew, in!" he shouted at his son, like you'd shout at a misbehaving dog, he followed.

The three of them left, the door swinging shut behind them.

"I don't like this," Sarah said.

"Nor do I, but if he's a doctor..."

She cut me off, "Does he look like a doctor to you?"

"No, but..."

"I'm not going in there. That creep will still be there."

I snapped, "What else are we going to do?"

I pulled out my phone, "Look, no signal. There is no signal all around this fucking place. Are you going to wait out here? You think it's cold now, imagine what it's going to be like in a couple of hours. We have no car. We are fucked, do you understand me? Fucked!"

Sarah began to cry. A sharp pain of guilt stabbed me in the stomach.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry."

I hugged her.

"We'll let the man examine you, then in the morning we'll phone the garage, get the car picked up and go with them. The car will be fixed and we can go home."

"What about my parents?"

"Fuck your parents. I didn't mean it like that. I mean, we don't need to go there this time. They'll understand. Right?"

"Yeah," she said hugging me back.

"You coming inside?" Lonnie shouted from the door.

"Coming," I responded, taking Sarah's hand and we followed him in.

We moved through the front of the store, in the light it looked less foreboding. The provisions were dusty, like no-one had touched them in years. A large stand displayed pristine leather shoes and jackets.

A door to a back room was open and the men sat around a round table. It was surprisingly spacious. The floor was decorated with a large square rug; deer heads hung from the walls.

"Nice trophies," I said, trying to break the ice.

"Thanks," the older man said, "been hunting all my life. Tried to go with Drew over there, but bless him, he couldn't hit a deer if it was held down in front of him."

Drew stood with a gormless look on his face.

We hovered in the doorway, not wanting to enter.

"I know we don't look like youse city-folk, but you can't judge a book by its cover, now can yeh?" he said grinning, "The name's Ed, this is my son."

He offered his hand. I accepted.

"Pleased to meet y'all."

"Are you a doctor?"

"No," he said chuckling.

A shiver tingled down my spine.

"I used to be, out in Wellington. But when the place started expanding, they didn't want someone like me to be to be seeing their kids. Fucking ignorant bastards," he finished by feigning a spit.

"Now let me see to your wife there. Why don't you, Lonnie and Drew have some moonshine. I brewed it myself."

"I don't really drink."

"Oh come on, you're in ma home. It's good, I promise."

Sarah didn't move an inch.

"You'll be fine," I said to her.

"Can you come with me?" she pleaded.

"I understand why you're nervous, you hardly know me. I promise I won't let Bobby anywhere near you. And you?" he said pointing to me.

"Jeff."

"And Jeff can come and check on you at any point."

Sarah shuffled forward. He took her hand.

"There's a bedroom through here. I'll examine you there."

Sarah turned and glanced at me. I managed a smile. She was worried.

"I'm going to be out here, I'll come and check on you, I promise."

The door closed behind them. I realised I was in the middle of nowhere with a toothless hillbilly and a trucker I didn't know. Lonnie sat at the round table and began pouring from a big glass bottle into shot glasses. I joined them.

I took the shot glass in my hand and necked it. I coughed as the alcohol burned my mouth and throat.

The other men laughed.

"Shit, that's strong stuff."

"It's more of a sipping drink," Lonnie said, "so, where were you headed?"

I coughed a few times more before responding.

"Out to the national park, camping for a few days before visiting my wife's family."

"How did you happen upon this place?"

"We were almost out of gas, so we stopped here. Ed went to get some gas and then I guess it was Bobby? I couldn't believe it. He had his hand down his pants, jerking it like he'd never seen a woman before."

Drew stared at me.

"Again, on behalf of Ed and Drew here, I can only apologise for that. We're not all hillbilly fuck ups."

"I'm sure you're not. You've been nothing but kind. I still can't believe our luck that we ran into you. What are the chances?"

Lonnie forced a smile and sipped his drink, "You want another?"

"Sure," I said, as a feeling of genuine relief started to take hold. I pushed the glass across the table.

The bedroom door opened and Ed came sauntering out, wiping his hands with a cloth. Small smears of red stretched across its fabric.

"She's gonna be alright," he said, flinging his towel, "some superficial cuts on her head - I patched them up good."

"Can I see her?" I asked, my face warming from the alcohol.

"She's sleeping now, how about you check on her later. I see you've tried my moon-shine?"

I held the glass up in front of me to study it, the viscous liquid inched down the side as the glass swayed.

"Yeah, it kind of blows your head off, doesn't it."

"Hunnerd twenty proof Tennessee moonshine, can't buy that in a liquor store. It's just like Pa used ta make."

Ed sat next to Lonnie.

"You not from around here?" I asked.

"What, with an accent like this? You really aren't local."

"No, city boy through and through. I'd be hard pressed to name all the States never mind pinpoint where the accents came from. I appreciate you taking us in on no notice."

"Ain't no mess. You never know who you'll bump into when ya'll out in the sticks. We could have been some of those hillbilly crazies."

The man cackled, picked up his drink, took it back and slammed the glass on the table.

"But lucky you," he said, leaving to enter the store.

"Ed's a little unpredictable," Lonnie said, offering me another top up, "He's a good guy, don't worry about him."

But that is exactly what I did.

I usually count my drinks. But tonight with insanely strong moon-shine and a jug full of it in front of me, that was not something I was able to do. I tried to count on my fingers, I checked them. Yeah, it was a shitload. My head swum from the alcohol and lack of food. Ed had joined us again and asked to see Lonnie. That left Drew and I sitting round the table. Trying to strike up a conversation with him was like trying to extract information from a prisoner of war. I had long since given up.

I leaned back, my arms dangled freely at my sides and hiccuped. Drew laughed before stifling it, as if he was told to be seen but not heard. I took in the bodiless animal corpses that decorated the room. Through mildly blurred vision I tried to focus on the heads. A stag, something that appeared to be an elk, was it? A bear, a big black bear - such a shame for it to be here, unless the rest of it was on the other side of the wall, and it was resting. But no, it stared for eternity into this little back office room. I thought about how lonely that would be and I thought of Sarah.

I got up from my seat and misjudged how drunk I was. I stumbled over to the wall, coming face to face with one of those majestic animals. Its jaws against my face. I'd never been this close to a bear, albeit a dead one. His fully open jaws could have wrapped around my head and crunched it like a nut.

More careful this time, I made my way to the door to the main store and opened it. I was about to shout to Ed, when I saw Lonnie passing something over to him. I squinted to get focus; it was the spike strip.

"You done good, Lon, but this time, two out-of-towners, still breathing. You must have the gift of the gab," Ed said.

He peeled off a couple of bills from a roll of cash.

"Here you go, there's a little bit extra for you."

Lonnie tucked the money into his breast pocket and tapped it.

"Nice doing business with y'all, as always. Same time next week?"

"Same time next week."

They shook hands and Lonnie left.

In my drunken state, I didn't leave, I stood in shock. Ed was now looking at me, he didn't seem to mind that I'd stumbled upon their conversation. He smiled knowingly. Knowing I knew what he knew and that I had no place to go.

My footing faltered as I turned. Drew stayed in his seat, like a dog to heel. I crawled my way along the walls and opened the door that led to the hallway. The door at the end was ajar. I moved as fast as I could, hearing a screaming from within. I swayed from side to side, using the walls for ballast. I checked behind me to see Ed calmly walking towards me, something long and metal glinted in his hand.

I fell into the door and crashed to the floor. I saw the bed.

"Carry on struggling girly, it only makes this more fun."

A naked Bobby held Sarah down, her face buried into the bedsheets. He dragged a knife along her naked back.

"What are you doing to my wife?" I demanded, trying to stand up, but slipping on the bloody floor.

"Jesus, Bobby, you really fucked up this time!" I heard Ed shout from behind me.

"But Pa, I'm almost finished," he said, pleased with himself.

"Look what you're making me do!" Ed cried.

And with that, I felt a crack to the head and the world went dark.

My head thumped and I felt nauseated. It took a few moments to get my bearings. I was on the floor, the room was pitch black. I heaved and stopped myself from being sick. My heart thumped so hard I felt it in my ears. I crawled, unable to get to my feet. The rough wooden boards dug splinters into my knees; I cringed at the pain. I found a wall and searched around. I counted the surfaces, I was up to four, assuming I was going around in circles until I found a door. My hand reached for the handle and pulled. Through the grace of God, it opened. Light poured in and I crunched my eyes shut.

Gradually I reopened them, then took in my new surroundings. I was in some sort of barn. The high corrugated metal ceiling stretched into the darkened distance. Still on my hands and knees, I wriggled myself out of the room and into the barn proper. The smell of rotting meat hit me like a hammer. My stomach lurched again. This time I couldn't keep it down. I vomited on my hands and the floor in front of me. I rolled out of the way, trying not to fall in the feculence that I'd extruded from my mouth.

I became aware of a low rumble, my mind having trouble making out the sounds I could hear. I continued crawling forward, making my way along the concrete covered in straw. To my sides, I could make out empty animal enclosures. As I progressed, the noises became more and more pronounced until I recognised them; pigs. I froze. A loud scream rang out, silencing the pigs momentarily, until their cries of hunger returned in a crescendo of excited noise.

"Please! Stop!" I heard a man shout.

"You're doing it all wrong," came a voice I recognised, "What are you, fuckin' stoopid?"

"Sorry, Pa," another man responded.

I grabbed the metal bars of an empty pig sty and pulled myself up. I saw a man lashed with chains that hung from the tall ceiling. His arms pulled taut above his head. A large flap of skin hung from the man's back. Blood streamed over it like a waterfall and dripped on the dirty floor below.

"You dumb piece of shit. How are we supposed to use that?" Ed said to his son. Both of them standing behind the man, "I know he's your brother, but that's no excuse. And this goes for you as well, if you treat women like that, I'll string you up here too. You can kill 'em, but you can't fuck 'em like that. You understand why that's wrong, don't you fuck-face?"

Drew nodded.

Ed snatched the knife from Drew and sliced off the dangling skin with an angry motion.

"Shit boy; you've ruined it. You can't make a shoe out of that, never mind a jacket," he said, flapping it in front of his son. Speckles of blood landed on his face, before he threw it to the floor.

A german shepherd dog came into view. Gently it picked up the skin, then trotted off to its bed. It slobbered as it chomped down on the human leather.

Ed cracked his son over the head, "I'll show you one more time. If you don't get it right, I'll feed you to the fucking pigs. Understand me?"

Drew nodded nervously.

"You have to use bold, confident movements," he said.

The knife ran along the shoulder blade of the man, who screamed again.

"Shut up," Ed shouted, picking up a cattle prod and ramming it into the man's ribs.

He juddered until the device was removed.

"Now you try."

He handed over the knife.

Drew nervously took it and dragged it down the man's spine. The skin came away like a banana peel.

"Much better," Ed praised his son.

The knife ran along the top of the man's buttocks and then back to the shoulder.

"Be ready for when it falls off."

Ed caught the large piece of back skin.

"Jesus, do I have to fuckin' do everything. Go get that woman ready, and we need Bobby processed before he dries out. Make sure you wake him up, too. That last batch was a little too tough."

He thumped a button. Loud beeping rang out as Bobby's limp body slowly moved through plastic curtains. Ed wiped his hands on his shirt and strode in my direction. I ducked and panicked.

In a split second I used all my might to jump into the empty pig sty next to me and hide. I made myself small against the back of the concrete wall and waited. I heard thumps and the sound of newly excited pigs.

I huddled in the corner, and the pigs got louder. With a large thunk something landed in front of me, in the middle of the sty. It appeared to be offal, something like a heart and a set of lungs. I went white when I saw what accompanied it; a skinless forearm and hand as well as a foot.

My stomach rose again. A steel shutter on the other side of the sty cranked open. Eight fully grown pigs ran out and grabbed the bloody meat, fighting with each other for the best pieces. Up close the snorting was terrifying and so loud. They began to decimate what was there as if it were sirloin steaks.

My breathing increased, and my head thumped, my vision became hazy. I knew I didn't have much time until they saw me as their next meal - as a fresh dessert. I got up and peered over the side to see Ed drag a large trolley with a blue plastic lining. He continued to throw chunks of meat into the animal enclosures to the sides of him.

I was ready to vault back over when he stopped. He saw the open door in front of him, where I had been kept. He spun around to look behind him. I ducked again.

"Drew!" he shouted, "Get your fuckin' ass back down here, we have a live one!"

His voice was almost lost in the murmur of lunching pigs. I made myself small and waited.

The trolley squeaked past. When I was happy he was out of sight I opened my eyes and didn't move. Four of the pigs now stared at me. They approached. Their noses tasted the air around me curiously.

I tried to still my breathing, but my fear took over and I let out short, snatched breaths.

Closer and closer they moved until they were inches from me. Their snouts pushed up against my clothes, sniffing this curiosity that didn't react to them. They made their way across my legs, up my t-shirt and into my face. They smelled like compost, a combination of rotting fruit and grass. Their interest didn't relent. Their mouths opened, revealing short stubby teeth and wrinkled tongues. They began to bite, softly at first, as if they were testing the tenderness of my flesh before biting down for good.

"Please don't," I begged them impotently.

I kicked at them with my feet. Initially they backed away. They returned with restored vigour; they were having fun with their food. They pulled on my shoes, and I gripped the bars behind me. The snorting increased, as if these large animals were communicating with each other. They tugged in unison. My feet strained to stay attached to my legs and I screamed.

It's strange. You never expect to be in a situation where your feet are being eaten. You'd expect to feel panic, which I did. But the thought that overwhelmed me was, at least it wasn't my face.

I held on, not wanting to be dragged into the centre and be fair game for the others who waited behind patently. Like a fleshy tug of war, they pulled one way and I pulled the other. With a crunch, something gave.

I crashed to the ground to see blood on my socks. But my feet were still there. All eight of the pigs started fighting over my shoes and I didn't delay my escape any longer.

I vaulted over the gate and ran. My wet socks slapped on the floor. The pigs had finished their meals and aggressively pounded on the gates to their pens. They were trying to get to me, smelling the blood that now oozed out of my feet.

The door to the barn was open. Staring through, I saw in the distance the lights of the small gas station. Someone stood in front, facing me. Did he recognise me? He purposefully walked in my direction, then sped up to a jog.

Fuck.

Turning around, I ran in the direction I'd seen Bobby skinned. In his absence, a large pool of blood had gathered and spread out into the gangway. The dog licking the sticky substance was not paying attention to me as I worked out my next move.

The concrete paths stretched out to the left and right. One direction was occupied by that dog, which clearly liked the taste of human flesh. I opted for the other way.

The feeling was coming back to my feet, and with every footstep the pain shot up my legs. I winced, hoping I could make it out of here before I couldn't walk any further. Slowly, the door at the end of the path came into view through the dim light. It was metal, not something someone in my state would be able to break through. I pleaded with some higher force that it would be unlocked.

"Stop," a voice boomed from somewhere out of sight.

The surprise sent me tumbling to the floor.

It was Drew.

"Youse got to get out of here, he'll kill youse."

Confused, I said, "I need to find my wife!"

"Youse gotta go now. I put her somewhere safe."

Drew dragged me with super human strength. I struggled against him, but his grip was tight. He opened the door, cool night air rushed in. He closed it behind me and let go.

I sat on the floor catching my breath.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.

"He'll kill me, like he did mama. He made me skin my own brother. Get help."

"Where can I go, I have no car! There's nothing for miles."

The door burst open, Ed stood in the threshold, seething.

"You little shit, I saw what you did," he said to his son.

"Stop it, Pa, I don't want to hurt anyone else."

"Where did you put that woman?"

"I'm not telling youse."

Ed let out an annoyed grunt before running at his son. Drew stepped out of the way and tripped his father.

"The pickup; the keys are under the visor, go!"

I scrambled to my feet. The sharp rocks pierced through my socks and the pain doubled. I hobbled as fast as I could, stealing glances behind as the two fought for supremacy over the other.

The pain became excruciating, and my gait slowed. I didn't look back. I focused on the gas station, its silhouette getting larger and larger the closer I got. My left leg gave way, and I stumbled, trying my best to catch myself, before falling flat on my face. The grit scratched my chin like claws as I bit my tongue and tasted copper as it bled. There wasn't much further to go. I forced myself to my feet, my body now a temple of pain.

The back of the gas station sign was close. I stopped and thought about going back into the building and searching for Sarah. The crunching sound of impatient footsteps could be heard behind me and I knew Ed was getting nearer. I mentally promised my wife I'd be back and shuffled around the front of the gas station. When I saw the pickup, I felt a huge sense of relief.

I got in the driver's side and checked the visors for the keys Drew said were there. But nothing slid out. I slammed my fists on the steering wheel in frustration and resigned myself to not getting away. The glovebox popped open, the interior light illuminating the set of keys that sat on top of some papers.

I slipped the key into the ignition, and the car struggled as it tried its best to turn over. Ed now came into view, dragging a limp foot; Drew had really done a number on him. His face was streaked with blood. But as he was still walking I feared for his son.

The pickup continued to splutter.

"Please," I said as the battery started to strain.

Ed fell onto the bonnet, his bloody hands coming to rest on the window, trying his best to drag himself up.

"Don't you want to see your wife again, she's still alive," he shouted, spittle landing on the windshield.

Like a lion the vehicle roared into life. I jacked it into reverse and slammed on the gas. Ed crumbled to the ground face first. I didn't wait for him to get up. I put it in gear and raced off down the highway in the direction I had travelled hours earlier.

My heart thumped as the pickup raced along the deserted highway. I watched the fuel gauge hover over the halfway point and wondered how far it would go before running out. I brought the speed down until I was travelling 55, hoping it would be the most fuel efficient.

I thought about my wife. My heart pined to turn back. I wondered where Drew had put her. I wondered if she was still alive. All I knew was that the only way I was ever going to see her again, if ever, was if I got help.

The road stretched to eternity. I passed Ghost Rock, and a single tear rolled down my cheek. Knowing the longer I drove, and the further away I was from the gas station, the less likely it was I would see her again.

I drove into the night, passing through small towns. I contemplated searching for a sheriff, but this time of night, all the buildings were dark. I decided to drive until the vehicle ran out of gas.

I entered Grand Junction, Colorado. A small police station came into view, and the vehicle spluttered to a halt. I hobbled in, and told my story. Officers greeted me, they rolled their eyes. They were clearly too tired to deal with this. Frustrated, I shouted at them, telling them my wife may still be alive. They said they'd need to contact Utah police, it was out of state and not their problem. I should get some rest and come back in the morning.

A couple of days after I got home two packages arrived. Both were emblazoned with the Ed Lewis & Sons - Limited Edition company name. A note accompanied them.

I'm sorry I could only send some locally reared jerky. I would have preferred to send you some exotic out-of-town meat. But you took that with you. I do hope you like the leather shoes, they should fit snuggly. Size nine? I thought so.

I couldn't show the police the note, as I didn't give them the boxes.

The pickup, that's where they found Sarah, under a tarp on the flatbed. They said there was no chance she would have survived, the amount of blood and skin she'd lost. But I still wonder, if only I checked there before I left. Drew said he put her somewhere safe.

I asked if she was still alive when I arrived at Grand Station, they refuse to answer this. I guess because if they do, they are admitting negligence.

I went to therapy for a long time. How do you get over something like that? You don't. The whole thing changed me.

I only ate a little at first, I knew what it was, but it tasted so good. Ed was right, the shoes were a perfect fit. They are my "for best" shoes, that's what my wife would have wanted. It's all I have left of her.

There's only a couple of packets of jerky left now. I don't think the rest will last another six years. I don't know what I'll do when they run out.