#I spent 9 hours in the hospital and I hesitate to say that was the worst part but I'm also not fully lying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jackrrabbit · 4 years ago

Text

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?��

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #tw dubcon #tw sacrilege #tw christianity #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut

2K notes · View notes

the-bau-quinjet · 4 years ago

Text

Nervous

Hello! This is honestly just a bunch of fluff (a tiny bit of angst bc Spencer worries about everything) and the reader being very nervous! I am currently writing a sequel to take place directly after this one! Read part two here!

Summary: Reader is arrested by the BAU! Little do they know, she is dating the one agent who is currently on medical leave...

warnings: none!

Word Count: 4954

“Are you sure you can pick her up today?” You are currently running around your apartment, phone held to your ear with your shoulder. You have to be at work in fifteen minutes, but first you have to drop your daughter off at school, and you’re running very late.

“Babe, yes. I’m almost completely healed and I don’t go back to work until tomorrow. I’ll pick her up after school and then meet you at your apartment when you’re done working. Okay?” Thank God for Spencer Reid. He has been on medical leave for 5 days, slowly going insane. But, it meant more time for you and Lily to spend with him, so you’re not complaining.

“That’s perfect, thank you so much! I gotta go, I love you!” You are in such a daze, you don’t stop to think about the three words that just came out of your mouth. You hang up before Spencer can respond as you wrestle with your six year old to put shoes on. Grabbing both of your coats, you run out the door.

You met Spencer Reid 9 months ago when he came into the hospital you work in with a concussion and some pretty bad bruises. It was really a chance meeting. Normally, you don’t even deal with patients because you work in research. But, your best friend asked you to run some lab results to a patient’s room and you couldn’t say no. Dr. Spencer Reid happened to be that patient.

He wasn’t supposed to be in the room, but apparently something happened with the CT schedule, and he was done earlier than expected. So, instead of simply dropping off forms in an empty room, you hit a man with a door. Why he was standing behind the door is still a mystery to you, but you felt awful. This man is in the hospital and to make matters worse, you come along and hit him! With a door! You offered to get him some coffee as an apology, and in his concussed state he said “Only if we can go together.” You’ve since realized that was smoother than he normally acts, but you don’t care. He is the most lovable man you’ve ever met.

You met up for coffee three days later, and have been dating ever since. He met your daughter, Lily, on the second date. They clicked instantly. You knew then and there that you would love this man forever. You have not, however, actually said I love you before this morning. But, you’re still in too much of a rush to stop and think about it… or even realize it happened.

You pull into the parking garage at the hospital 7 minutes late. Honestly, better than you expected. The morning flies by as you work on research grants and hospital studies. All in all, a pretty average day. That is, until you walk back into the building from your lunch break.

You don’t get a lot of visitors in the research wing, so it’s strange to see two pretty official looking individuals at the front desk. It’s even stranger to hear your name come out of one of their mouths.

“Hi there. We are Agents Morgan and Rossi from the FBI. We’re looking Ms. Y/N L/N. Is she here?” That must have been Morgan talking.

Spencer has told you a lot about his team. You feel like you know them all already with how many stories he’s told you. You’ve been hesitant to meet them though because of Lily. You don’t want her to get too attached to him and his friends if things were to go sideways. You haven’t really dated anyone since her father, so you’re a bit nervous. Spencer, of course, completely understands. He just wants you to be happy. It’s hard not to love him even more at the thought.

You are immediately thrown into a panic at the sight of the two agents. Your thoughts are running wild with possibilities. They must be here because something happened to Spencer. Wait. That doesn’t make sense. He’s not even working today.

Your panicked train of thought pulls to a stop when the two agents walk up to you. “Ms. L/N? Can we speak with you for a moment?” You nod, leading them toward your office.

“Of course. My office is just down the hall.” You can’t help but feel nervous at the prospect of meeting Spencer’s coworkers without him. Especially if it has to do with a case they’re working. These are the people he loves most in the world. They are his family. What if they don’t like you? What if they think you’re an idiot? What if they think Spencer can do better? It also doesn’t help that you know they can tell you’re nervous because you know they are profilers. You sit down behind your desk, offering them the seats on the opposite side.

“Ms. L/N, you’re in charge of the research department, correct?” Rossi says it like a question, but he clearly knows the answer.

“That’s right.” You are trying everything you can to get your nerves to settle, but it just isn’t working. You’re basically lying to two human lie detectors, even if it is just by omission.

“So if items were to go missing from this laboratory, you would be responsible for reporting it.” It was Morgan who spoke this time. It’s hard for you to follow their line of questioning. What would go missing? It’s not like you wouldn’t notice if a fume hood suddenly disappeared.

“I suppose so, although it depends on what items. We don’t have a specific inventory of commonly used products like syringes and gauze, we just order more when we get low.” You can’t decide which agent to focus on. Your eyes are flicking nervously between both of them.

“What about human tissue?” When the words come out of Morgan’s mouth, you freeze for just a second. You don’t have any human tissue in the lab, so how would it go missing? Of course, the profilers take the delay in your response to mean something other than confusion.

“We- we don’t use human tissue in this specific laboratory. We focus on small animal models. The other research lab is responsible for human tissue protocols.” You stutter through your words under the harsh glares of the two agents. It is really not helping your nerves.

“Then how do you explain this?” Rossi slides a paper across your desk. It’s housed in a large plastic bag with “EVIDENCE” across the top in big, block letters. It’s a form you have never seen before. The kind someone would fill out to transfer human tissue between labs. Your hands shake as you hold the paper, slowly trying to figure out what it is. You almost puke when you reach the bottom. It has your signature as an approval of the request. You drop the paper as if it has burned you.

“I’ve never- I didn’t- how did-” You’re cut off before you can try to finish your sentence, but you don’t hear what they are saying. You feel the cold click of metal around your wrists, tight enough to just pinch your skin. They lead you back out of the building, to a waiting SUV. You can’t help but be grateful that nobody was there to witness your arrest.

The ride to Quantico is silent. You keep trying to figure out how someone could have signed your name on that form, but you can’t focus. Your mind keeps drifting to memories with Spencer.

You remember your first date in the coffee shop a block away from the hospital. He ordered a black coffee only to pour in an exorbitant amount of sugar. He blushed slightly, as if he was embarrassed by his drink preferences, only for his features to transform into a soft smile as you did exactly the same thing. The two of you talked for hours, only ending the date when you had to go pick up Lily.

You remember running into him in the park with Lily, what you would come to refer to as your second date. He looked ethereal sitting at a table playing chess. Lily ran up to him, or rather the chess board he was sitting in front of, before you could stop her. She wanted to know what the horsey was for. You watched as he patiently explained to the five year old that it was a knight responsible for defending the king.

He told her how it moves on the board. He told her how it was special because it is the only piece that can jump over other pieces. He must have spent 15 minutes talking to her about this one piece. And she was enthralled. When he was done, he looked around to find the child’s parents only to meet your eye. You’ll never forget the way his smile grew when he realized Lily was yours. The three of you spent the rest of the day in the park, playing chess, walking around the pond, and getting to know each other.

You remember the look in his eyes right after he kissed you the first time. You remember how worried you were the first time he was injured on a case. You remember Lily asking you if he could be her daddy, and crying yourself to sleep that night because you wanted that too, more than anything, and you were so scared it wasn’t going to happen.

Then you finally remember he’s picking Lily up from school today. Suddenly, the car ride isn’t so quiet anymore.

“I need to call someone.” The words come out frantic and rushed. You are absolutely sure the expression on your face screams crazy, but this is about your kid, so you really don’t care. You need to call Spencer. Then he’ll come fix this. Explain how you couldn’t possibly be involved. The agent’s response is shorter than you expected.

“Why?” Rossi sounds skeptical when he asks it. You would later suppose that he had a reason to be skeptical of you. Right now though? You didn’t do anything wrong so the whole innocent until proven guilty thing feels a little fake to you at the moment.

“My boyfriend is picking up my daughter from school. I need to call him.” You don’t really know how to tell them said boyfriend is one Dr. Spencer Reid. You weren’t supposed to meet his friends yet and definitely not without him. You aren’t really in the right headspace to be deciding if right now is the best moment to out your relationship.

“If he’s already planning on picking her up, you shouldn’t need to call him.” It feels to you at this moment that they don’t even believe you have a child. Of course, they must know because they have the one and only Penelope Garcia to find out every little thing about you. Before you can say anything else, they are dragging you out of the SUV and into the building. You are pushed through security into an elevator that takes you to the fifth floor. The BAU. You thought the first time you visited Spencer’s work would be a happier occasion. And that he would be here. The whole situation would actually be kind of funny if you weren’t so worried and nervous.

The first thing you say when you are lead through the very intimidating glass doors is “JJ.” You would come to understand why that might earns some stares. The whole room is looking at you as if you have grown another head.

“How do you know my name?” That’s a loaded question. Spencer has showed you pictures of his godson, Henry. JJ happened to be in some of those pictures as he is in fact, her son. Of course, you can’t really articulate that because you are too stressed and nervous to form full sentences. It takes a lot out of a person to be arrested, dragged from their place of work, shoved in a car, driven two hours through DC traffic, and then pulled into the FBI building as a suspect.

Instead of properly calming yourself down until you can form a complete sentence, your eyes go wide and you say “Henry” as if that is enough of an explanation. If looks could kill, you would be dead.

“How do you know my son’s name?” JJ’s words are so harsh, you physically flinch.

“I.. it’s just that… You… Well… I-” You are a loss for words, yet again. You didn’t expect for Spencer’s best friend to ever look at you with such disgust. It’s honestly a little overwhelming to think the people he calls family all currently hate you. Even if they don’t really know who you are.

“Maybe a few hours in here will jog your memory.” And with that you’re left alone to sit in a cold metal chair and stare at your reflection.

Throughout your relationship, Spencer has tried not to worry. You frequently come home from work a bit later than you originally planned, especially if you feel like you got a late start. So, when you don’t enter your apartment right at 5:30, he doesn’t think anything of it. When 6:00 rolls around, he texts you. At 6:30 he calls. By the time it reaches 7:00 and he still hasn’t heard from you, he’s actively pacing your small living room. When his most recent call goes to voicemail, he breaks. He packs up Lily’s stuff and the two of them are on the way to Quantico, finding you being the only thing on his mind.

He replays his favorite moments with you in his mind as he drives from your DC apartment to Quantico. Normally, he’d take the metro, but if you really are missing it’s safer for Lily in the car.

He remembers the look on your face when you realized you hit him with a door. He couldn’t imagine a more beautiful person. You looked so guilty, he felt the need to hug you to tell you it was okay. It was a foreign feeling for him. He’s never been one to physically comfort people. Maybe it was the concussion. It was definitely the concussion that gave him the courage to ask you to coffee.

He remembers the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach when he watched you pour almost as much sugar as him into your coffee. The soft smile on your face as the two of you spent hours talking about anything he could think of to keep the conversation from ending.

He remembers the utter joy he felt upon realizing the five year old who inquired about the horsey on the chess board is your daughter. He remembers how he felt when he looked up, expecting to find an annoyed parent given that he just lectured a five year old on one chess piece for 15 minutes, but was instead met with your kind smile and loving eyes. He loves Lily just as much, if not more than he loves you.

He remembers how you hung up the phone this morning before he could say “I love you too.” And now the thoughts he’s tried so hard to block out are circling in his mind. The words repeating in his head, over and over. What if I never see her again? What if I can’t tell her I love her?

He pulls into the garage, carrying Lily so he can run faster into the building. He puts her down when they finally reach the elevator. She’s been surprisingly calm despite Spencer’s nervous attitude.

“Spencie, where is Momma?” Spencer’s heart constricts at the sound of her sweet voice. He doesn’t know where you are, and it terrifies him.

“We are going to find out! How would you like to see my desk? You can play with the cube I showed you at home!” He pulls a Rubik’s cube out of his satchel, placing it in Lily’s small hands. He guides Lily to his desk, telling her to stay there while he looks for his friends. She looks so tiny in his desk chair, he would stop to take a picture if his phone had that feature.

He finds the team in the round table room. His eyes scan the room, landing on JJ’s concerned expression last. He’s surprised to find Will in the room as well. JJ notices him before anyone else.

“Spence, thank God you’re here. We need fresh eyes.” Before he can protest, Morgan is filling him in on the events that have unfolded.

“We brought a suspect in from DC, and she knew JJ.” Spencer’s eyes go wide. If the team is in trouble, that could be why Y/N was taken.

“When I asked her how she knew me, her only response was ‘Henry.’ Something doesn’t add up.” Movement in the doorway catches everyone’s eye.

“Spencie, did you find Momma yet?” Lily stands in the doorway, looking straight at Spencer.

“Not yet sweetheart. I have some cookies in my bag, why don’t you go back to my desk and eat them, okay?”

“Can I have two?” The little girl holds up two of her tiny fingers, unaware of the confused glances from every adult in the room that isn’t Spencer.

“Of course, sweet pea. Whatever you want. You can even spin around in my chair!” The child nods before running back to Spencer’s desk. Spencer turns around to find all eyes on him. The entire team wears similar expressions of shock and awe.

“Spencie?” Derek questions the nickname.

“Sweetheart?” JJ’s more focused on how Spencer responded.

“Who the heck was that 'sweet pea’ and why have you kept her from me?” Garcia is glaring at Spencer for hiding such a cutie pie from her for however long.

“She’s why I’m here. Well not her, her mother. We’ve been dating for the last 9 months. I picked up Lily from school today. We were supposed to meet back at her apartment, but she never came home. She’s not answering my calls and I don’t know where she could be.” Spencer breaks down as he tries to explain what’s going on. He can’t imagine a world without you in it.

“Reid, give Garcia her phone number to track her location. This could all be related to our case. If someone is targeting the BAU, we will find them.” Hotch’s no nonsense tone calms everyone in the room. Again, movement in the doorway catches everyone’s attention.

“Sir, she keeps saying she can explain everything. I know you said 3 hours, but I think she’s ready now.”

“Thank you, Anderson. We’ll be right there.” The agent leaves without another word. Hotch turns back to continue filling Spencer in on the case. “Reid, we’ve got a suspect in custody. She doesn’t match the profile, but we think she knows something.”

“She mentioned a boyfriend in the car. He might know something too.” Morgan pipes in as well.

“I want to talk to her. If she knows where Y/N is, I have to talk to her.” Spencer is out of the room before anyone can stop him. He’s practically running across the bullpen to get to the interrogation room.

“Y/N?” Morgan questions to the agents left in the round table room.

You are so cold. They must have the air turned down to put you on edge. You have finally calmed yourself down enough to form actual sentences instead of useless mumbling.

“Please. Let me explain! I can tell you everything. Well, not everything, because I don’t know how my signature ended up on that paper, but I can tell you about JJ! And Henry! Let me explain!” You never thought about how weird it would be to know someone could be watching your every move. You feel like you’re talking to nobody as you beg for them to let you explain.

The door flies open with so much force, you fall out of your chair in shock. There are hands on you, pulling you to your feet before you’ve even registered hitting the ground.

“Where is sh- Y/N?” Spencer’s tone of voice changes so quickly your brain can’t follow. You just look into his before you burst into tears.

“Oh thank God. Spencer, I was so scared. I was so nervous when Derek and Rossi came to interview me. I didn’t want them to hate me, you know? Even though they didn’t know who I was. And then I saw JJ, and I got even worse. I mean, she’s your best friend! And she sounded so angry, which was my fault, but I couldn’t even form words to explain myself because I was so sure these people- the people you consider family- were going to hate me and I made everything so much worse. But I-” Spencer knows if he doesn’t cut you off, you’ll ramble endlessly. It’s always like that when you spend too much time alone. As if all the energy you could’ve spent talking to someone pours out of you all at once.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. We can explain everything. I’m so happy to see you. To know you’re okay. God, I love you too.” You turn your tear stained face to look up at him.

“Wha- oh my God. I said that. I didn’t even realize I said it. But it’s true. I love you so much. I can’t imagine a world without you. That’s why I was so nervous about meeting the team. And they wouldn’t let me call you, so I couldn’t ask you what to do.” The two of you continue trying to fill each other in on what has lead you to this moment.

Hotch and JJ make their way into the room without either of you noticing. They both sit down before either speaks. “Reid, I’m going to need you to leave the room.” Spencer turned around with you still in his arms, your head pulled tight to his chest. He glares at his boss before responding. “No. She didn’t do this. The dates from the case file you gave me, they don’t line up. April 17th, we watched the new episode of Doctor Who and spent the rest of the night discussing theories. April 20th, we went to dinner to celebrate Lily’s sixth birthday. April 22nd we watched Tangled with Lily until she fell asleep and then we…” He trailed off, turning a bright shade of pink. You wiggled in his arms, trying to hide the blush on your face as well.

“Spence, where’s Lily?” You know he needs to leave if you are ever actually going to get out of this room.

“She’s at my desk. She looked so tiny in my chair.” He practically has heart eyes as he thinks back to where he left your little girl.

“Why don’t you go tell her you found me? I’ll be okay.” You wipe the remaining tears from your eyes as you sit back down in the cold metal chair. Spencer looks as though he would rather read Twilight again than leave you, but he reluctantly walks out of the room.

You start rambling before the agents get a chance to ask you a question.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve probably wasted so much of your time. I just freaked out when I realized I was meeting Spence’s family. That’s why I know your son’s name.” You turn slightly to look at JJ. “He talks about him all the time, and he’s shown me pictures. I’m so so sorry that you had to worry about your child’s safety because of me. I was just nervous to meet you. That’s why I haven’t met you yet actually. Because I didn’t want Lily to get too attached if something happened and we broke up. Not that I can imagine breaking up with Spencer. I would spend the rest of my life with him if he gave me the chance.” You can feel the tears brimming again. “I really don’t know why my name is on that paper. I never would have signed it! My lab doesn’t use human tissues.” You try to stress that point.

“Ms. L/N, we believe you. We never thought you were responsible, but it was a suspicious situation. You can never be too careful in our line of work.” Hotch still looks extremely serious, but his tone is slightly more relaxed than when he threw you into this room.

“Of course. I would’ve thought I was guilty if I didn’t know the truth. Is there anything I can do to help?” You are so relieved to know they don’t think you’re a crazy murderer.

“We need to ask you a few questions about the people who work in your lab.”

“Oh. Okay.” You have to actively force yourself not to start rambling again.

“Do you know any of these people?” The agent shows you three pictures of young women. They couldn’t be more than 25.

“No…” You can’t put your finger on it, but they look familiar.

“But?” JJ encourages you to continue.

“I’m not sure. They look familiar for some reason.” All three women have brunette hair and green eyes. Their face shapes are even shockingly similar.

“Do you know anyone who looks like these women?” You don’t know how they know that, but you do. They’ve planted the seed, and it instantly grew into a massive oak.

“I do! Her name is Renee. Um... Renee Watkins. She works in the hospital, in the lab where they run blood tests.” You look at the agents with hope in your eyes. Maybe now they’ll let you leave. They both stand up without saying anything else. Hotch leaves first. JJ stares at you for a minute.

“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just, you’re his best friend. If you hate me, we won’t work. He cares about all of you way too much for me to get in the way of that.” You honestly still feel awful about the unnecessary fear you’ve caused her and her family.

“He cares about you too. He’s been happier than I’ve seen him in years. I knew something was up, but I didn’t want to push him.” You can’t keep your smile off your face at her words. “Let’s forget about all of it. I’m just going to focus on the relief of knowing nobody is after my son.”

“Thank you. I really am so sorry though.” You feel the need to keep apologizing.

“Really, it’s fine. Come with me, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

JJ leads you back to the bullpen. Right as you turn the corner, you can spot Spence playing with Lily and Henry. He’s captivated their attention with a magic trick.

“He’s so good with them.” Almost involuntarily, your hand brushes over your stomach.

“He’s always wanted to be a father.” JJ eyes your hand before giving you a rather pointed look.

“Oh! No, I’m not pregnant.” You let your arm fall back to your side. “He’s just so good with Lily; she asked me if he could be her dad.” You can feel the tears coming again. “I just know that one day I will have that man’s babies.” JJ snorts and suddenly the two of you break out laughing. Your laughter makes enough noise to capture Spencer’s attention, two little pairs of eyes following his lead. All three of them are suddenly running across the room to you and JJ.

Lily jumps into your arms, much as Henry does to JJ. You pull her close, leaning into Spencer as his arms circle around you both. The moment is interrupted when Penelope Garcia comes running into the room.

“I’ve got him. Shane Harrison, 28. He dated Renee Watkins in high school. He was recently fired from his position in the human tissues lab at Children’s National Hospital. There are reports of him breaking in, although nothing was reported stolen due to falsified transfer documents.”

“What made him start killing?” Morgan asks while you and JJ desperately cover the children’s ears.

“Renee recently got engaged. She posted all about her new fiancée on social media. I already texted you the address.” JJ says a rushed goodbye to Will and the team is out the door. Lily runs back over Spencer’s desk with Henry so she can show him the Rubik’s cube.

“Aren’t you going to help them?” You turn to Spencer who hasn’t left your side.

“I think they can manage this one without me. I’m needed somewhere else at the moment.” As if to prove his point, he leans in to kiss you. It’s short and sweet and everything you needed at the moment.

The sound of someone clearing their throat pulls the two of you out of your bubble.

“Hi, I’m Penelope Garcia. I’m sure the Genius Doctor has told you all about me.”

“He has indeed. You’re even lovelier in person.” Garcia is just as bright and bubbly as Spencer described her. It makes you smile to think that the team has her never ending positivity while they are surrounded by so much darkness.

“We are having a team gathering at Rossi’s tomorrow night. You should both come. And Lily!” Garcia smiles again before walking away.

“You know that means we have to go, right?” Spencer asks you the obvious question.

“I know honey. You’re afraid of what Garcia could do to you if you get on her bad side.” You laugh at his pout, pulling him down the stairs and over to Lily. It’s about time you all head home.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #Criminal Minds #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #spencer #spencer reid one shot #mgg

2K notes · View notes

chloebeale · 3 years ago

Text

february drabble challenge, day #9: “rainbow”

rating: t

pairing: bechloe

word count: 869

read below or on ao3!

There is absolutely no exhaustion, no level of tired that can come anywhere close to the aftermath of literal childbirth.

Perhaps because it is not solely a need for sleep; it is elation and excitement despite the physical and emotional pain, it is the euphoria of finally meeting the tiny human you have spent the last nine months growing and the last nine years dreaming of, all wrapped up with a bow made of worry and fear.

Honestly, before the tiny, wriggling bundle was placed delicately on her chest hours earlier, swaddled in the comfort of a soft blanket with her doll-like hand peeking out from beneath the fabric, Chloe wasn’t sure it was actually possible to feel so many things at once—nor that she could feel even more only moments later.

“Bec,” Chloe had whispered, voice hoarse and croaky from the obvious.

She hadn’t even had to ask the question; Beca’s arms had been outstretched and waiting already, tears glistening in those familiar eyes and residual disbelief lingering in her expression. She’d leaned down to cautiously take the bundle in trembling hands, with Chloe carefully handing her over, and the second Beca had pulled their baby close to her chest, eyes locked on her perfect face, Chloe’s heart had practically burst.

“Hi,” Beca had whispered, voice soft but shaking with emotion. “Hi, Sutton. I’m your mama.”

Eventually, likely due to a mixture of, well, childbirth, and the helpful drugs alongside it, Chloe’s eyes had fluttered shut, and she’d drifted into a light yet restful sleep, comfortable in the knowledge that their baby girl was in hands as safe as her own.

How much time passes while she attempts to recover behind closed lids, Chloe doesn’t know. All she knows is the familiarity of the sound to rouse her, soft and peaceful, and something she never wants to interrupt.

“...Your true colors, true colors are beautiful,” Beca sings so softly that it is practically under her breath, “like a rainbow.”

“I think she likes that,” Chloe says after a moment of silence, voice quiet and croaky yet still audible enough.

“Oh, shi—” Beca pauses, thinking better of her word choice—she is holding a newborn baby, after all. The correction causes Chloe to grin. “I’m sorry, Chlo. She was starting to fuss, so I figured I’d just try something to see if it’d soothe her or whatever. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No,” Chloe shakes her head, palms pressing to the hospital mattress beneath her, before she pushes her body a little further upright. She winces with the movement, and Beca almost lunges forward, though Chloe sends her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. It’s fine. I’m not trying to miss any of this anyway.” Her eyes, sore and tired yet filled with immeasurable joy, move toward the baby laid sleeping in Beca’s arms. “Come and sit up here.”

Beca hesitates for a moment. “You sure? I don’t wanna, like, jostle the bed and hurt you or whatever.” Regardless, she slowly edges closer, and Chloe softly chuckles under her breath.

“Positive,” she nods.

With Chloe’s reassurance, Beca cautiously perches on the very edge of the mattress, baby Sutton sleeping peacefully in her arms.

“Can I?” Chloe asks, arms sticking outward and hope painting onto her features.

“Of course,” Beca nods, twisting her body to carefully transfer the baby from her own arms and into Chloe’s.

Chloe wonders when they will stop treating her like they are about to break her if they move like they normally would, though she supposes that’ll come; for now, Sutton is still so new. They are still so new to all of this, but already, Chloe can tell that their family is complete.

“True Colors,” Chloe hums, eyes cast down on the baby as she pulls her protectively into her chest. She glances toward Beca then. “That’s not your usual kind of stuff.”

“You wanted me to rap for the baby?” Beca teases, amusement in her expression. It is mirrored right back at her from Chloe’s face.

“Okay, fair.”

Where they normally struggle to keep their eyes off of each other, they now both stare at the baby like they never want to stop, though Beca drops her hand to rest gently against Chloe’s thigh, fingertips soothingly brushing through the thin fabric of the hospital blanket. “There was a rainbow outside,” she explains, shoulder shrugging lightly. “Just made me think of that song.”

“A rainbow?” Chloe questions, eyes finally lifting from the sleeping bundle.

“Mhm,” Beca nods, lips pulling into a soft, kind smile. “Just like you said there would be.”

“I knew he’d be here,” Chloe says through a small, contented sigh. Despite the way Sutton is still sleeping peacefully, Chloe gently lifts her upward, bringing her closer to her own face, where she is able to place a delicate kiss against her rosy cheek. “That’s Grandpa Jack,” she whispers to the baby. “He isn’t here on earth with us anymore, but he’s still here. Whenever you see a rainbow, like the one Mama was just singing about, that’s Grandpa Jack. That’s when you know he’s here.”

Chloe doesn’t see it, but for the second time today, Beca’s eyes mist over with silent tears.

#beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe #bechloe fic #bechloe fanfic #mine #mine:writing #february drabble challenge #february drabble challenge: day 9

66 notes · View notes

txdxsh1 · 3 years ago

Note

hi! can i request ushi, kuroo drabbles (and iwa if you decide to do hc instead) with whatever angst idea you had in mind?

USHIJIMA AND KUROO ANGST SCENARIOS

genre: fluff and angst but mostly angst

warnings: MAJOR mentions of death in ushijimas, but no mention of gore or anything, just death

author's note: AAAAHHH this was so fun (but also painful) to write, hope everyone enjoys !!

song recommendation while reading: as the world caves in matt maltese for ushijima and puppy love by paul anka for kuroo

-> ushijima knocked on your hospital room door, holding a bouquet close to his chest as his shoulder leaned against the door. you let out a weak "come in" and he entered with no hesitation. he walked to your side quickly, handing you the yellow flowers he had brought you. it was the 5th bouquet you had received from him this week. you smiled as you took the flower and smelled them before placing them beside you along with the many others. they brought a sense of color in the dull and depressing room.

he pulled up a chair beside your bed to sit as you to both talked about your days. the room was filled with your delicate laugh and ushijimas smile as he held your hand, not letting go for even a second. you both spent the whole day chatting, with the occasional doctor coming in to check on your condition and the nurse bringing in your lunch. soon the sun began to go down and a cotton candy sunset was on display out your window. without even noticing, you both had grown quiet. before you were sick, silence was never unusual as you both quite enjoyed the silent atmosphere you shared as you walked home hand in hand or ate at a local cafe. but ever since you were admitted, that changed. you both were nervous in the sound of silence, feeling the need to make every second count with one another. before...

“y/n...” ushijima spoke softly. you turned your head to look at him, sparing him a faint smile as you stared into his olive eyes. his grip on your hand grew slightly tighter as his face fell into a slight frown, “are you going to be okay?”. you brought your hand to his cheek and held it there, rubbing your thumb back and forth. “i’m not sure...but i’m trying really hard to recover ushi, i promise” you say, now sadly smiling at your boyfriend. although your words were mostly true as you really were trying your best to recover for him, you knew that you weren’t getting better. about a week ago, your doctor had given you the bed news about the incredibly low chance you would ever recover from your sickness.

you suddenly heard a noise that you’ve never heard from ushijima. your eyes opened widely as you peered at your boyfriend. what you heard was a small sniffle that came from him and when you went to look, he had a tear slowly running down his cheek. in all the years you had known him, it was the first time you had ever seen him cry. you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and held him tightly as he hugged you back, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. “y/n, i don’t want to exist in a world without you” ushijima spoke as he continued to hold you securely. those words are what broke you as you immediately broke into tears, “i know baby, i know...i don’t either”. ushijima began to cry a little more at your response.

this rest of this saturday was spent holding one another and crying in silence. the sky went from a beautiful pink and blue to a stunning dark blue as the stars began to shine. and as the hours passed, you two were able to calm down and shared i love you’s and kisses before visiting hours were over. as the clock struck 8:00pm, your boyfriend was forced to leave. before he left, he gave you a chaste kiss, smiling at his favorite face in the world. when he finally departed, you were left in your hospital room alone.

around 9:00pm you began to feel strange but believed it to be nothing major. by the time it was 10:00, you had doctors surrounding your bed as you could barely keep your eyes open. at 11:00, you were experiencing the worst pain you had ever felt in your entire life as you were being rolled away in your bed quickly by the group of nurses and doctors. the last thing you remembered was the sound of your doctors’ voices as you fell asleep.

at 9:00pm, ushijima was eating dinner, watching an old volleyball match as he ate his meal. around 10:00, ushijima finished night time stretching and picked up his phone to send you a “goodnight, i love you” text. by the time it was 11:00, ushijima was fast asleep.

you were pronounced dead at exactly 12:00 am. your parents were called earlier in the night when you first started to feel odd, now crying by your bed. they had decided to not your boyfriend yet, letting him rest instead. unknowingly, ushijima had spent his last day ever with you, now sleeping in an ignorant bliss. his motivation, his soulmate, the love of his life was now dead. but for now, ushijima will sleep, spending his dreams with you just like every other night. and just before he wakes up, he tells you he loves you. and when he wakes on sunday morning, ushijima begins to get ready to go see you again.

-> kuroo and you had been in a relationship since your first year of high school. you can still vividly remember the day he asked you out as he stuttered out a very lame pick up line that still managed to make you giggle. you both slowly started to become more comfortable with each other as your relationship developed. most days, you two would walk home holding hands, sharing earbuds as the golden sun descended behind you both. and on the last day of your first year, you two both shared your first kiss. it was as perfect as you could imagine (if we exclude kuroo laughing erratically afterwards from nerves).

your love was it’s pinnacle in your second year. one of you would always be at the others house and whenever you both had the time, you would go on dates. whether it was a picnic at the park, a trip to a museum, or just an at home movie date with pizza, you were bound to have the best time with your boyfriend. you would often visit him at practice and were always in attendance at his games, cheering for him amongst the crowd. it was in your second year that you both said “i love you” for the first time, as it quickly became your favorite phrase to say to one another.

things started off well your third year but went downhill quickly as the year went on. kuroo became increasingly busy with volleyball this year which wasn’t too strange but he didn’t make as much effort to you as he would previously. he always said he’d make it up to you but you soon learned those were empty promises. though, it’s not like only you could complain. kuroo found that when he finally was free, you were always busy with schoolwork, trying to make you grades the best they can be before university. this adversity obviously left you both a bit frustrated but the two of you continued to fight through it. however, this didn’t last very long…

eventually the time that every third year prepares for has come around: choosing your path after high school. both you and kuroo had decided on going to college but problem struck in this area. usually you two would communicate something as important as this but that wasn’t the case here. without letting the other know, you two picked completely different schools that were hours and hours away from one another. this is when trouble really started to arise.

kuroo and you had been nonstop arguing for weeks, not just about the whole university issue, but also about various insignificant problems. the last weeks over your third high school year were spent in anger with one another and a lot of misunderstandings. until one ungrateful night, you both decided to end things. you two were a little shaken up by the idea but you both knew that things couldn’t continue like this for any longer and that it was for the best.

a few days before the last day of your third year, kuroo had decided to visit you after school. you were surprised as you opened the door to your now ex-boyfriend, rubbing his neck as he asked if he could come in.

“what do you want, kuroo?” you say with venom laced on your tongue, though you’re not exactly sure where it came from as you didn’t hold any negative connotations against him. it seems you were still stuck in the mindset of when you would argue for days on end.

“ouch…i’m just here to return some stuff of yours that i thought you might want” he told you in response, a little hurt by your words but brushing it off quickly before you could notice. he held out a small box to you and you grabbed, placing it on your living room coffee table. kuroo suggests that you look through it to make sure that he had retrieved everything for you. you decided he was right and took a seat on the couch to look inside, kuroo following suit.

as you took off the lid and began to look at all the items inside, old memories began to flood your head. you were met with the sight of your locket that kuroo had gifted to you for your 1 year anniversary that you had forgotten at his house after a sleepover, a pen that kuroo had lent to you from your first interaction with one another, and many more items that held so much meaning.

“i’m sorry things ended the way they did” kuroo spoke suddenly. you gave him a half smile in return, knowing he meant the words he told you. “me too, but it’s for the best. we can focus on ourselves and careers…it’ll be good for us” you say, seemingly trying to convince the both of you that the situation was okay. kuroo merely agreed quietly to your statement. soon enough, you and kuroo had to began to bring up more memories of your relationship, giggling and reminiscing on the sweet past. as you two settled down, you shared a silence for a few moments before true realization had set in your head.

without realizing it, you had begun to cry. kuroo looked at you in shock, unsure of what he should do now that you weren’t together. though once he heard a sob spilling from you lips, he abandoned all of his concerned thinking and quickly pulled you into a hug. you allowed yourself to cry into him as he rubbed your back soothingly, secretly shedding a tear himself.

“if i asked you to stay…would you?” you asked kuroo, peeping up at him despite the tears still flowing down you face. it didn’t take more than a few seconds to respond and despite the sob stuck in his throat he still answered sweetly with an “anything for you angel”. he kissed your forehead, though you both knew it was completely innocent. and so, kuroo and you had spent the rest of the evening in each other’s arms, being the only source of comfort you two had know for a long time. and although your relationship with kuroo had ended, you knew that you both would continue to love each. who knows, maybe in the future when things are better, the universe will make you cross each other’s path, still holding that past love deep inside of both of you.

231 notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Note

I would for sure read a continuation of the birth photographer fic if you feel comfortable writing it/have time! Xx

a/n sorry I kinda combined these two together, I hope this is okay!! sorry ive taken so long too!! my requests are still open, just going a bit slowly :)

summary: literally just birth + harry

dad!tom x reader

warnings: childbirth, mentions of fainting, squint for suggestiveness too

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Your doing so good darling, just keep breathin’ like that for me, in-out-in-out”

That had pretty much been the soundtrack to your last 3 hours. And yes it was MORE annoying than it sounds. Of course, that’s also ignoring the insane amount of pain your uterus was putting you through - as it spasmed while the little bug in there was wriggling away. Giving birth was not easy but giving birth with a husband-turned-midwife wittering away in your ear? Un-fucking-bearable.

“Tom…. I love you but..” Everything had really been starting to ramp up in the last half an hour, you were a panting sweaty mess now. “Please… SHUT THE FUCK UP” Tom would’ve recoiled completely away from the bed because of your tone, if it wasn’t for the absolute death grip you had his right hand in. Instead, Tom settled for straightening straight up and staring helplessly and dejectedly across the room at his brother - who of course was trying to hold back laughter, knowing it would be very easy for you to switch your target to him.

Clearly it wasn’t a social call to the hospital, Harry was here under the premise of taking photos when the baby arrives for Tom; but really to stop his brother from having his own breakdown - as commissioned by you. Lets just say, however scared and mortified Harry was of this ‘event’ he was taking a lot of enjoyment from how his brother was acting currently.

“It’s okay sir, if you were pushing a watermelon out of hole that normally was the size of a whiteboard marker, I’m sure you’d be a bit tetchy too.” That lady was your favourite midwife and in a lull between the sets of contractions, you actually managed a laugh. Wide-eyed, Tom just nodded jerkily, murmuring some sort of agreement. It was at this point a flash of light reverberated around the whole room, causing you to breathlessly laugh, Harry’s face informing you the picture he just got of Tom was priceless.

The laughter didn’t last long though, the next contraction had you bearing down on the bed, face contorted in pain as you sucked desperately on the gas and air tube.

“Okay Y/n I think we might be getting there, let me call the senior midwifes in okay?” The midwife had your legs hiked apart, a blanket attempting to cover your modesty - but at this point she was basically sticking her face in your noon. Modesty was out the window.

“Already?” Tom was shocked to say the least, from all his reading and research he’d learnt that the average labour time was more like 5 hours. Lets just say, Tom never exceled in school, never much enjoyed reading - which made the hours of highlighting baby books and pregnancy leaflets all the more extraordinary.

“Babies don’t stick to the script sir.” You could tell she was proud of the pun there, because you know, Tom’s a moviestar. “Professional improvisers, the lot of them.”

The cream walls of the hospital room very quickly filled with more and more people - Harry staying like a fly on the wall, now nervously biting his nails as he watched an obscene amount of medical people all take their turn oggling his sister-in-law’s bits. This was a weird ass situation.

Almost immediately it was at the point the midwifes were telling you to push, which after 9 months of holding a baby in (as well as your ill functioning bladder) sounded like an absolute dream. But it was also absolutely terrifying and exciting and horrifying all wrapped in one. Naturally then, after nodding hesitantly at the midwife between your legs, you’d craned your neck across to tom .You might’ve just told him off, for trying to encourage you, but now? You needed his encouragement.

What met you though, was his face completely drained of colour, mouth hanging slightly open as he hadn’t moved - still staring intently at the midwife. She followed your gaze, only taking half a second to survey the situation before knowingly smiling.

“Can we get a bit of help for dad please?” Immediately one of the more junior looking midwives was directing (pushing) Tom into the chair next to the floor. Suddenly actually concerned, you looked with wide eyes to the lady between your legs, who you felt bad for not remembering her name. With a comforting squeeze of your ankle she reassured you he’d be right as rain after a few moments of having his head between his knees. Also sensing you needed your support, she arched up, beckoning over to Harry who had an equally bemused look on his face.

“No - I-um I’m not.” His squeaking protests were interrupted by a large scream on your part, as another contraction tore through your body. Helplessly Harry glanced between Tom, who was still hunched over on a chair with a nurse squatted infront of him; and you, writhing around on the mechanical bed. He didn’t hesitate then, in jumping right to your side, allowing you to start crushing all the bones in his hand too.

And then it was all happening, a blur of activity and screams. It didnt take long for Tom to pull himself together and then you were flanked on both sides by Holland boys - both giving cheesy encouraging words (which you would’ve again told them to shut the fuck up for, if you’d been able to), Tom also stroking the top of your head. He found it pretty impossible, watching the woman that he loved go through such immense pain - especially when he was technically half the cause. Well… actually more that that, it had been him who had been… well shall we say *needy* those nine months ago.

“Okay Y/n the heads crowning, I know you’re tired but we need a few more big pushes, can you do that for me?”

Merely 5 minutes later and the most beautiful sound in the world echoed through the 4 creams walls. You were absolutely spent, eyes closed as you panted, knowing tears were flooding down your face too. Immediately though, familiar hands cupped both sides of your face, a forehead resting on yours.

“You did it Y/n/n.” His eyes were glassy, watering and red and the way he scoffed a smile in disbelief had you mirroring him exactly.

“We did it.” Your voice was hoarse and scratchy from all the yells of pain but it didnt matter. The midwife calling you by the name ‘mum and dad’ got both of your attention, a title you’d no doubt start getting used to.

“Meet your beautiful baby girl.” Another choked sob escaped your throat, as this little roughly wrapped up pink alien looking thing was placed onto your chest. Both you and Tom just gazed at her, completely transfixed at the way she wriggled her head slightly, nuzzling into your chest. Tom gently hovered his palm against her little head, while you pressed down the blanket gently, just so you could see all her features.

Then a flash echoed around the otherwise silent room, making you all look up to Harry who was gritting his teeth in apology. “Do mum and dad want to smile for the camera?” The question was posed so hesitantly and quietly, really it wasn’t funny either. That didn’t stop you and Tom both pulling out the biggest grins and chuckling away, allowing Harry to capture the perfect moment. Being referred to as mum and dad - it was bloody comical.

“You gonna tell me her name now?” You looked from Harry to Tom, nodding in approval for him to spill the beans.

“Amber. She’s Amber.”

You’d squabbled for months before ending on Amber. It had been a long relentless process, Tom claiming that your baby might just have ended up as ‘as yet untitled’ which you and your hormonal state had stormed out at. It hadn’t taken much to forgive it though, Tom had long since worked out that Ben and Jerrys was the way to your heart.

The nurses took Amber back to do some tests, properly cleaning both you and her up and after that everything was weirdly calm. Harry had left to give the twothree of you a moment alone and Tom was about to do his turn of skin to skin.

“This really is it isn’t it?” He murmured, whilst carefully scooping Amber from your arms.

“Mhmmm… your stuck with two girls who’ll go psycho on you without a moments notice.” He seemed to accept it though, just nodding in response.

“And I still can’t bloody wait.” His eyes penetrating deep into you, had you blushing like a nervous teenage girl. “ ‘m still so proud of you, you grew this little human.”

“Your not allowed to call her little because you didnt have the ‘little’ thing rip your insides apart.”

“Hey! I’m upset about it too! Was like I had to watch my favourite pub being burnt down.” Of course, trust Tom to make a dirty joke at a time like this.

“Don’t kid yourself, you weren’t watching, too busy fainting.”

“I didn’t actually faint!” This time he protested a bit too loudly, causing Amber to mewl a little and bury her head into the crook of her Dads arm. “I think Ambers just told you to shut it too.”

“You annoy the hell out of…” Your grumbling was interrupted by an impressive, ear-splitting yawn. “ You annoy the hell out of me.”

“But you love me?” He sing-songed, now back to a hushed tone.

“I hope so, otherwise we’re in a bit of trouble.” He scoffed, but nodded his head, taking the hand that wasn’t cradling Amber to tuck some sweaty, knotted strands of hair behind your ear.

“I do owe Harry though, he was at least able to stay on his feet.”

“He was a better birthing partner than you too, much much less condescending and annoying.” You sniggered, making Tom pout once again, only wiping the look off his face when you yawned again, rubbing an your eye like a toddler would.

“If your done insulting me… get some rest love, I got you.” All you did was nod, with a small groan (because below your waist still hurt like a bitch) rolled over so you could fall asleep to sight of the two of them.

“Got you both, my two beautiful girls.”

hope you enjoyed, would love to hear any thoughts <3

taglist: @hollandfanficlove @hallecarey1

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fluff #Tom Holland blurb #dad!tom #tom holland imagine #harry holland

253 notes · View notes

neoculturetravesty · 4 years ago

Text

We met in online class - Part 8

Image adapted from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, angst, fluff Warnings: Strong language, descriptions of anxiety and trauma response, a character gets Covid-19 Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: The Dreamies are best friends and you can’t change my mind.

What do you do when everything that makes you a person starts to feel rudimentary? When you start to feel like an imposter in your own body? When nothing feels real and everything feels inconsequential and the world spins but you stand still?

You do what you’ve always done. You let your body keep you alive.

And that’s what Renjun does. He lets his body take over. He lets it put one foot in front of the other. He lets it make him breathe in and out. He lets it keep his heart beating.

Because his mind had stopped functioning. He felt a numbing take over. Like a warm trickle that started from the crown of his head had run down to his shoulders, numbing everything in its wake. Like his kind body knew that his mind needed protection that way. He feels numb and that’s all he feels.

So he concentrates on every breath. In and out. In and out. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, outside the hospital ward, counting every breath this way. Has it been weeks? Months? Years? Why does time have no meaning? Who decided when the hours would turn to days and days would turn to weeks, anyway? Who decided that time must be measured in the ticking of clocks and in the flips of calendars? How did any of this make sense?

Time should be measured in other ways that would make it seem more real. Time should be measured in the number of times Renjun had hid under the stairs so he could block out his parent’s fights. Time should be measured in the instances Renjun had fed himself dried laver because his parents had a screaming match about whose responsibility it was feeding him. Time should be measured in the days Renjun was alone and scared, waiting for his parents to come home. Time should be measured in the nights that Renjun had spent trying to make peace with the fact that he might never get to return home and that he’d have to stay with his grandmother for all the nights to come. Time should be measured in the last time Renjun felt happiness. Time should be measured in the last time somebody had loved Renjun. Time should be measured in stolen childhoods and resentments and broken relationships and the number of times a person can be abandoned.

Because that would make a lot more sense than seconds, hours, and fucking days. But how long had it been in any of those measures? He still has no understanding of that.

So he lets his body take over. He breaths in and out. He keeps his heart beating. He puts one foot in front of the other. And he has no idea how doing so has led him to this place. Like his feet carried him where his mind didn’t even know he wanted to be.

But he has walked and there you are. Walking down the stairs looking like you always do. Smiling. Happy. Content. Looking more beautiful than you’ve ever looked. Did Renjun ever think you looked anything less than the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen? Renjun doesn’t remember the time. But you look up then and see him standing there. And your smile fades. The light in your eyes dim. The skip in your stride falters. Of course. Renjun was putting out lights everywhere he went.

You see him and approach him, slow and cautious. Like one would approach an injured cat. And Renjun wonders what he must look like. He finds himself speaking out of his body’s own accord. Because he spoke the words before his mind had even had the thought.

“I know you hate me.” he says, although he doesn’t recognize his own voice. His body is here, doing all the work for him. But where is his soul?

“I don’t hate you, Renjun.” you say quietly and Renjun finds himself smiling a sad smile. Of course you didn't hate him. You weren't capable of hatred. It was one of your biggest flaws that had made him fall.

“You should hate me.” Renjun tells you. And he watches your pretty face moving. Like you weren’t sure what you had walked into outside of your own home.

“I…” you pause, maybe to read his face. Like you were picking your next words carefully, weighing them against what you saw before you “... Renjun, are you okay?”

Renjun looks away. Was he okay? What did it mean to be okay? Had he ever been okay? He looks back at you. How could he tell you that nothing in his world was okay? How could he tell you that he didn’t even feel like a person? How could he tell you that he felt like a punching bag for his family and his life and the universe? Why couldn’t you just tell?

“Renjun… um, I know it was a lot. What happened. But, your friends care about you, you know? I know you fought but… it’s nothing you can’t work through…” you’re speaking to him carefully, like if you make one wrong move, Renjun would lash out at you. Truth be told, Renjun is not sure how he’d react to anything anymore. His mind is numb. He doesn’t know how he’s still moving, breathing, speaking. He doesn’t even know why he came here, to you. But his body answers.

“Can I come in for some ramyeon?” he asks suddenly. When was the last time he ate? He doesn’t remember. Why doesn’t he remember anything anymore?

“Um, I…” you hesitate a bit but stop when a car drives in and pulls up in front of you. And that’s when Renjun notices that you’re pulling a travel bag behind you.

“Are you…” Renjun begins to ask but the car’s window has been rolled down and Wong Hendery is waving at the two of you. Even through his numbness, Renjun can feel his heart clench. Of course. Renjun thought he had the power to break your heart. How very conceited he had been to think that. He had probably been a roadblock for you at best. It made sense. You should be with Wong Hendery. He was taller and stronger and more handsome. He came from better means. He was probably nicer to you. He probably listened to you when you talked. He probably got to know you. He probably knew your favorite tea because Renjun certainly hadn’t taken the time to find out. He probably admired you and took you out and knew your life and all your problems. He was a much better man for you than Renjun ever was.

“I… I’m going to be out of town for a bit.” you say slowly, and if Renjun wasn’t so numb, he’d think that you almost look apologetic.

“Oh. Okay.” he replies.

“We can talk when I get back?” you ask cautiously.

“Okay.”

“If you want to, I mean.” you add.

“Yeah…”

“Okay… I’ll see you, then.” you say, looking at him like you’re trying to say something but deciding to move ahead instead.

“See you.”

You walk on, rolling your bag behind you when you slowly turn to look at him. “Renjun, um…” your stop for a bit, like you’re not sure whether you should say what you want to say “... take care of yourself.” you sigh and walk away from him.

Renjun watches as Wong Hendery gets out of the car and helps you load your bag into the trunk. He even opens the door for you and helps you put your seatbelt on. Had Renjun done any of these things for you? Probably not. What was it that Renjun had wanted from you, again? He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember a time when he was with you for a reason other than your company. Other than wanting you by his side. So what the fuck was it that he had wanted from you? All the material benefits he had ever wanted seem so pointless. So small. So incredibly inconsequential. How could he have possibly wanted them from you? How did he ever think that you were anything less than the most giving person in the world? How did he spend all that time blocking you out when you had brought him so much lightness? Why didn’t anyone ever tell him that all that he had wanted would mean absolutely nothing when you were walking away from him with another man?

Renjun wants to stop you. ‘Don’t go with him. Stay with me. I need you.’ he wants to say. ‘You only fight with the people you truly love,’ you had told him. So why didn’t you remember your own words?

But walking away you were. And that was the truth of it. Renjun didn’t deserve happiness in any way, shape or form. Who was he to stop you after all he had done to you? This is what he deserved. To be beaten down till he didn’t feel like a thinking, feeling person. Just a breathing, walking body.

So his body carries him home. Although Renjun had never known what home really meant.

As it would turn out, home meant the apartment, where he lived with his friends.

Or what had been his friends before he had done everything in his power to push them away. He doesn’t know how his body remembers his code or how it automatically rids itself of his shoes and jacket. How his feet carry him to his room of their own accord.

He pauses only when he sees Jisung sitting there at his desk, playing video games. He looks up startled as he sees Renjun at the door.

“Renjun…” the boy says, game forgotten. His eyes follow him as he makes his way from the foot of the door to his bed. He waits, eyes wide, hesitating.

“Where have you been?” Jisung asks, turning in his chair, eyes taking in Renjun’s demeanor.

Renjun is silent for a moment. He doesn’t know what to say. He sits on the edge of his bed and he feels that trickle once again that starts from his head and crawls down to his shoulders. Except this time, it weighs him down. Like a stronghold was actually pressing him down till he felt he was sinking, sinking, sinking. He feels his lips moving.

“My grandma has Covid.” he finds himself saying.

Had he looked up, he would’ve seen how Jisung’s face had gone from being cautiously surprised to openly panicked. How the boy was struggling to find something to say. “Is she okay? Where is she?”

“In the isolation ward.” Renjun says and he is surprised by how normal his voice sounds.

“Wait… hold on, Renjun, please… stay right here...” Jisung begins as he scrambles out of his seat and out the door. The poor boy never knew what to do in these situations. Renjun feels bad. The boy was way too young and innocent to have Renjun around him right now. Because Renjun’s shoulders were carrying the weight of the world. His heart was carrying nothing but emptiness. His presence was burdening, and that’s exactly what he didn’t want to give his young roommate: his burden.

He hears more people walk in. Jisung had apparently gone out to call for backup. Because no way was the boy equipped to deal with what was unfolding in front of him on his own. And now Jeno and Jaemin are walking in behind him, concern on their faces as they approach Renjun.

“What’s going on?” Jeno asks softly as he sits next to Renjun, turning his attention to him fully. Jaemin and Jisung stand by the bunk bed, waiting for Renjun to speak.

“My grandma has Covid. She is in the isolation ward. It’s bad.” Renjun repeats. A pause hangs in the air before anyone speaks.

“Fuck, Renjun… I am so sorry.” Jeno finally says. He exchanges a look with Jaemin and the boy grabs the wheelie chair and brings it closer while Jisung sits on the floor. They all huddle around Renjun, waiting, listening, protecting.

“How long has it been, Renjun?” Jaemin asks kindly.

“Um. I don’t know how long she had it before she was brought to the hospital. No one’s really told me much.” Renjun replies, looking at nothing, looking at no one. He can see Jisung sitting by his feet, looking up at him. He can feel Jeno and Jaemin close on either side of him. But he dares not meet any of their eyes.

“Is that why you haven’t been home much this past week?” Jeno asks.

“No, I, uh. I only found out yesterday afternoon.” Renjun answers and he’s surprised that he replied in actual time units. “Before that, uh. My… my parents are getting divorced. So, I had been going down to see them. It’s why I wasn’t at the party.”

There is a profound silence in the room as his friends absorb the information. Jaemin is the first one to break it.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Renjun?” he asks softly, kindly.

“I, uh…” Renjun thinks for a moment. Was it only last week that the taxing calls from his mother had resulted in him blocking out all the people from his life? Was it only a couple of days ago that his biggest worry had been his parent’s failing marriage? Was it only two nights ago that he had avenged his bad luck by lashing out on all his friends? “... I don’t know. I didn’t want to bother you guys, I guess. You all had exams.”

“We would’ve wanted to be there for you even if we had exams, Renjun.” Jaemin says, leaning his head down to face Renjun so he would look into his eyes.

Renjun peeks up for a moment but wishes he didn’t. Because now there is a lump in his throat. Jaemin was looking at him so kindly even though Renjun had done nothing to deserve his kindness. He swallows so his voice would be steady before he speaks.

“Still. I, uh. I didn’t want you guys to worry.” he says.

“It’s okay for us to worry about our friend, Renjun.” Jeno says and this time, Renjun can’t possibly hold back the tears that sting his eyes.

“Renjun… have you eaten?” Jaemin asks, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Um…” Renjun’s voice comes out husky. So he clears his throat. “No, I haven’t.” And suddenly he feels how hungry he really was.

He feels a scramble at his feet. “I…” Jisung speaks awkwardly but purposefully. “... I’ll get some food.” and Renjun realizes that if Jisung is the one putting himself in charge of food, then his friends must really be pushing themselves to take care of him. The boy gets up and leaves the room and Jeno speaks again.

“When did you find out about your parents?”

“Um… maybe last week? I don’t know. My mother had been calling me a lot during exam week. I went to see them the day of the party.” Renjun is finding that the more he talks, the more he feels the heaviness in his shoulders ease.

“You should’ve told us. We would’ve come with you.” Jeno says and Renjun sees that he’s wearing a crease between his brows.

“You guys had the party.” Renjun says and somehow saying it out loud makes him realize how dumb this reasoning was.

“You are more important to us than any party, Renjun.” Jaemin says and Renjun doesn’t know whether to cry or to smile. It wasn’t often that his friends spoke this way. But it was oddly comforting that they were speaking this way now. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to hear the words they were speaking to him.

“Yeah… I… I guess I didn’t know that.” Renjun purses his lips because he’s sure that any breath he lets out would choke him. So inhales deeply through his nose.

“Your grandma… do you know how she is doing?” Jeno asks.

“I don’t really know. My mother’s been with her. I could only wait in the lobby. I just know she’s on life support. And that can never be good.” Renjun bites his lip.

“People have survived Covid even after they’ve been on life support, Renjun.” Jaemin says.

“Yeah, but. She’s so old and frail…” Renjun’s voice cuts off and he’s not sure he can go on any longer. He balls his hands into fists as he fights his tears.

Jaemin takes his hand, gently prying it open before he holds it. “She’s stronger than you know, Renjun. She brought you up all on her own. She’s been living all on her own. She’s been supporting you all this time. Older people have been cured in hospitals. She will be, too.” Jaemin says with so much certainty that it fills Renjun’s heart with hope. He nods. It was so strange having another perspective presented to him. One that told him that being in hospital didn’t mean death and misery. That it could mean cure and recovery and health as well.

“Are you allowed to see her in some way?” Jeno asks.

“No. But they needed a family member on the outside to get like… medicine and stuff. My father has been there but given the situation with my mother… I don’t know how much longer he’d want to be around.”

“We’ll take turns.” Jeno says looking at Jaemin and he nods. “You can rest tonight as long as you’d like. We’ll all go one by one.”

“I’ll take the first shift. I’ll go in the morning and Jeno can take over in the afternoon.” Jaemin nods.

“I’ll call my mother and ask her what things we might need during this time.” Jeno plans some more.

“I’ll make a list of all the duties we will need to be on top of. Medicine, food, any change of clothes Renjun’s mother might need.” Jaemin adds with purpose.

Renjun feels the tears again. He hadn’t even asked for this but his friends were already making up a rota to help him during the worst time of his life.

“I’m really sorry.” Renjun says, only now he is saying it mindfully.

Jeno smiles gently and puts an arm around Renjun and brings himself at his eye level. “What do you have to be sorry for, huh?”

“I don’t know… just for everything…” he tries to explain but finds his throat getting thick again.

“We’ve been really worried about you, Renjun. We just wanted to give you some time.” Jaemin says in a soft, nurturing tone.

“Everybody, man. Chenle told us that you must be going through some real shit and Mark gave us an earful for not probing you for information. But Jaemin said you would probably like some space.” Jeno tells him and Renjun is surprised to find out that his friends had picked up on his aloofness. At the same time, and as if in a sudden moment of clarity, he is not surprised at all. Of course they picked up on it. These people were his friends.

“That was a stupid idea, though. I don’t think we should’ve left you alone. Let’s always probe him in the future.” Jaemin reflects, shaking his head.

“Yeah, let’s always probe him.” Jeno repeats and Renjun finds himself sniggering through the tears.

Jeno rubs the back of Renjun’s neck. “We’ve got you, man,” and finally, and miraculously, he believes it.

Jisung walks in right then, holding onto what looks like laundry. “I… I put this in the drier. It is nice and warm. You… you should shower and change because you’ve been in the hospital.” Jisung says awkwardly. Renjun looks up and can’t help but smile because he can’t believe the boy that was most like a younger brother to him was taking care of him. “And uh, you both as well. Shower and change and uh… I’ll change and sanitize these sheets.”

Jeno looks up and smiles at him as well. It’s such a weird feeling, this odd sort of pride when you realize that your youngest is growing up and taking care of you. This is an extraordinary, bizarre moment in every possible way. But Renjun accepts this moment with open arms over all the moments he had been given these past couple of weeks.

“Um… I think you have to put your contaminated clothes in like, a plastic bag. I’ll Google how to disinfect them. But you should all shower before the food gets here.” he says again, awkwardly moving from the foot of the bed to his desk.

“Okay, Jisung.” Renjun says, smiling a tired but genuine smile.

“Yes, big brother.” Jaemin chuckles.

“Okay… let’s shower and disinfect.” Jeno says, patting Renjun on the back before getting up.

The four boys reconvene in the living room later, fresh and clean and comfortable, sitting round the coffee table on the floor, looking up in surprise as Jisung brings in boxes of pizza and sets them up.

“Is Jisung really setting up the food he bought?” Jeno asks in mock wonder. But set them up he does and he even goes so far as to place a piece in front of all his friends and pour out coke for them in little paper cups. And when Renjun doesn’t pick up his slice right away, Jaemin leans in and feeds him his own. And eating makes Renjun feel so much more hopeful. The four friends eat and talk as if the fight hadn’t even happened in this very place just a couple of days ago. Like all was well and the only thing that mattered was that they needed to be there for Renjun when he was hurting.

And in that moment, Renjun realizes that his body was kinder to him than his mind had been. Because his mind had been telling him to hide away, to block everyone out. To suffer in silence and believe that nobody cared for him. To never open up because nothing good could ever come out of it. His mind had told him that his friends didn’t worry about him. That nobody in this world cared about him.

But his body had kept him alive. His body had numbed his mind and led him to all the people he loved. His body knew that Renjun had friends who truly cared for him. Who would sit and listen to him without judgement. Who would hold no grudges and be there for him when he needed them. Who would huddle around him to protect him, hold his hand when it needed to be held, feed him when he was hungry and tuck him in so he could finally get some sleep.

His mind had worried and worried till it could worry no more because it was so damn tired. But his body had been so kind. His body reminded him that he mattered. That he was loved. That he was not alone. Because he always had his friends. And him and his friends had always been a dream team.

#renjun fic #renjun fluff #renjun angst #kpopscape #ficscafe #neowritingsnet #dreamwritersnet #huang renjun #renjun #nct fic #nct angst #nct fluff #nct dream #nct dream fic #nct college au #renjun x reader #we met in online class

282 notes · View notes

dreamingaboutreid · 3 years ago

Text

Hospital Bed Confessions: Chapter 7

*Continuation*

*Flash-forward*

Spencer was truly in awe. It had been 8 months since you joined the BAU.

Hotch seemed much happier with no more mountains of paperwork on his desk. All the files were neatly filed in Y/N’s office and his workload was greatly alleviated. He also had someone to confide to and understand a little bit of the pressure he had been experiencing.

Emily loved having a fellow Chesapeake Bay alumnus. With JJ being on mom-duty, Emily had a friend to go out with after she returned to the team, and they seemed to have plethora of things to talk about and relate to. He often heard them discussing their love of Kilgore Trout or favorite traveling destination.

Penelope was ecstatic to have another affectionate and loving member on the team. Y/N spent a lot of time with Garcia on deciding cases and it was evident how much they cherished each other. Y/N often brought in colorful collectibles and helped Penelope arrange them in her office.

Rossi respected Y/N’s focused yet good-natured character. They shared stories of their time in the military, which they rarely disclosed with the other members. He thought of Y/N as a daughter and took pleasure in sharing his knowledge of cars and whiskey.

JJ treated Y/N like a sister. It was obvious how similar they were. Both attentive and considerate with remarkable people skills. Y/N also became JJ’s go-to babysitter as JJ full heartedly trusted her with kids, which was a huge compliment coming from JJ.

Derek enjoyed Y/N’s company, who had a surprising knowledge of football, and would often make fun bets on what team would win the next game. He would also come to you for solid advice when he needed someone to level with him.

Not to mention, everyone was thrilled to go home at least an hour earlier normal, thanks to your fast but thorough write-ups you continued to do every day on behalf of the team.

For Spencer, you were a whole new world. He not only appreciated you as a hardworking member but as a new best friend.

You never interrupted him and seemed genuinely invested in whatever he said. Whether it was a new book he was reading or a new foreign film that came out. You truly made him feel heard and cared for. After he told you about Maeve, it felt like something was taken off his shoulder. Like you knew his pain and rather than only feeling sorry for him, they shared it together.

He also truly admired your ability to talk to people. Whether it was a serial killer who was holding a gun to someone’s head or a sobbing parent who had just lost a child or even an abrasive detective they had to work with, you just knew exactly what to say.

Spencer couldn’t place a flaw in you. The way you smiled, talked, listened, walked, ate, slept, heck everything, seemed so perfect to him.

When Blake came to his apartment to say her farewell, he was devastated. Another person was walking out of his life. But for the first time, he didn’t wallow up in his apartment by himself, blaming his eidetic memory for repeating all their conversations in his head or contemplating then shutting down his mental debate on taking dilaudid.

He didn’t hesitate to dial your number, and you appeared in front of his door in a matter of minutes. You had the ability to listen to his problems and somehow make them go away, or at least make him feel better.

While he always appreciated it, it bothered Spencer after a while how you never came to him when you wanted to feel better. You managed to carry all that weight without yourself ever breaking.

But he realized that it wasn’t anything personal. You just never showed much emotions to anyone, except for happy ones.

Spencer remembered when Derek asked you one day,

“How come you never come to us when you’re feeling down? There’s no way you’re always a ray of sunshine. Even baby girl has her emotional breakdowns.”

You had quickly brushed it off and said, “I’d rather make people smile than worry or cry.”

And it was the end of that.

Spencer often thought about this. Derek made a very good point. You were human after all.

But he knew that there was something much darker in you.

While you didn’t voice your emotions, your eyes told a different story.

When you were interrogating unsubs, your eyes became cold but your words remained calm and almost soothing, as if you were luring them out their lies to know their true intentions. When you were talking to victims or victims’ families, your eyes showed sympathy and it comforted whoever you were consoling when explaining that the unit was doing our best. And when you were talking to the ones you loved and cared about, you allowed your eyes to relax but there was a twinkle that he couldn’t keep his own eyes off of.

He hoped that you would open up to him, like he had to you.

But, it wasn’t too long until his wish was answered and he witnessed something that changed everything.

Y/N’s POV

You were exhausted.

It wasn’t the workload or rigor your job came with.

It was the emotional tole. You learned how to compartmentalize your feelings well from losing the ones you loved from experience.

But this job was different from talking to soldiers or serial killers. You were talking to normal people. You had unconsciously put your guard down and the emotions hit you little by little.

Every day, you walked in to deciding which cases to solve and you walked out hoping it was the right one to choose. The extra work you were doing actually helped keep your mind out of all the feelings and reality and helped focus your energy on something tangible.

You weren’t sure what came over you that day, but you had been on edge the whole jet ride back from a case. When everyone arrived back to the office, it wasn’t just you who was drained.

“Everyone go home early and get some ready. You deserve it. But report back tomorrow at 9 to finish your statements,” stated Hotch.

“I think I’ll stay back. Finish some of the paperwork,” you stated with a weak smile.

Hotch looked at you reluctantly.

“Are you sure? Everyone’s worn out. It’s okay to go,” Hotch said.

“It must be all the coffee,” you joked lamely, hoping Hotch took the excuse.

Hotch didn’t seem to notice as it was quite normal for you to stay late.

“Alright. Well, everyone thank Y/N on the way out and report back tomorrow at 10,” Hotch said as patted you on the back as he exited.

“Thanks for the extra hour of sleep,” Rossi stated as he walked towards the elevator.

“You’re an actual lifesaver,” Morgan commented.

As everyone said their respective greetings and left, you quickly ran up to JJ.

“Hey, JJ. Can I ask you a favor?” you asked.

“Of course! I owe you anyways,” JJ said.

“Do you mind if you give Spencer a ride home? Usually I take him, but I don’t want him to wait for me and he seems pretty tired,” you stated.

While you truly loved the arrangement you had with Spencer, you needed some space right now.

“Sounds like a plan. Just tell him I’ll be waiting in the car,” JJ said as she grabbed her belonging.

You thanked her and gave her a quick hug.

You turned and found Spencer already reading a book by his desk. Even though you thought Spencer always looked handsome, you had to admit that he did look tired.

“Hey, Spence. I think I’m going to stay a little late today.”

“Yeah, I heard you telling Hotch. I don’t mind waiting,” he said.

It must have been the pent up emotions you had been suppressing as you could feel your eyes slightly tearing up. You quickly forced them away, praying Spencer didn’t catch on. No matter how many times Spencer displayed his kindness and patience, you always appreciated his small acts of compassion.

“No, no. You must be exhausted. I asked JJ to take you home, and she’s waiting in her car for you. Seriously, get some rest,” you reassured Spencer.

After a bit of reluctancy, Spencer replied,

“Okay, I probably shouldn’t keep JJ waiting for too long. Thanks, Y/N. Don’t stay too late.”

You simply nodded and you watched Spencer walk away while looking back.

You waved, indicating that it was okay to leave.

After he finally left, it was just you, all alone. You turned off the lights in the pit, making it pitch dark, and walked into your office.

Closing your door and only turning on the light on your desk, you went to the corner of the room and sank down as you burst into tears.

It wasn’t the first time you had a breakdown. But it was always behind closed door. In the bathtub in your house. In the comfort of your bed. At the safety of your house. But today, you couldn’t hold it until you went home.

As you wept, you hoped the tears you released would somehow erase the remorse you felt. You sobbed without anything holding you back until you felt a looming presence over your crouched figure.

“Oh my gosh, Spencer. You startled me, I didn’t notice you were here,” you quickly said as you tried to wipe away the evidence of your momentary vulnerability. You didn’t need a mirror to know that it was an unsuccessful attempt.

“Sorry, I saw the light in your office and thought you’d be in here.”

“Did you forget something?” you asked, puzzled by his unexpected return.

“No, I just didn’t want you to be all alone so I told JJ that she could just go home,” Spencer said softly.

He continued, “I also saw you were a bit uneasy earlier.”

So Spencer hadnoticed.

“In fact, it seemed like you were stressed the whole day. Are you okay?” he asked.

You weren’t sure if it was the display of Spencer’s empathy again or the fact that he recognized something was bothering you when you were able to hide it from a group of profilers, but you felt the tears reappearing again and you didn’t want to hold back.

You broke into sobs for the second time that day and slowly slid back into the position you were originally in.

Spencer didn’t hesitate to join you as he sat and put a tight protective arm around you while he just let you cry.

“Am I making the right decisions? Who am I to choose who dies or lives? What if….” you trailed as you muffled all your worries into his chest.

For the first in a long time, you felt safe in the arms of someone else. You didn’t have to, or heck, want to hide yourself anymore. When Spencer held your hand, you knew.

You looked up to see the most understanding eyes, and you knew right then and there that you had found your person.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #criminal minds

65 notes · View notes

hopeintheashes · 3 years ago

Note

BTHB: Eddie + “beside vigil” but he’s in the bed. While Buddie would be cute, can I actually get Dad!Bobby doing the vigil instead? Maybe he sent Buck home to get rest and watch Chris, idk.

@badthingshappenbingo, Bedside Vigil square 9-1-1, Bobby and Eddie. Set during 4x14. 550 words. Hurt/comfort, Angst. Canon-compliant references to topics such as past loss/grief, religion, and substance abuse. Read it here or on AO3.

"I'll stay."

She looks up, a little tearful, still; exhausted and numb. Overwhelmed.

He forgets, sometimes, that most people haven't lost track of the hours spent waiting in hospital rooms, waiting for the people they care about to wake up, or not.

She nods, hesitant, and he blinks back the layers of images stacked before his eyes. The deepest, most painful one threatens, and he exhales. Brings the focus back to the here and now. To Eddie, bandaged and bruised, pale and still under the anesthesia sleep. Held together with stitches and glue. New blood flowing in his veins.

She gathers her things and goes; unsteady, unsure.

He wonders, sometimes, if the advice he'd given Eddie had been sound.

It doesn't matter, now. There will be time.

Another breath, steadying himself with the certainty.

There will be time.

He settles into the chair at the bedside.

Takes Eddie's hand, the way he'd done with Chim. With Buck.

This vigil, under the harsh florescent lights.

He prays.

Silent, at first, and then, when he moves from the personal to the ritual, aloud. Letting the familiar refrain wash over both of them.

The chaplain makes the rounds.

"I wasn't even there," Bobby says, and his voice is choked. "He's one of my men, and I wasn't even there."

"You're here now," the chaplain says, steady and calm.

"Can I make a confession?" Holding tight to Eddie's hand.

"I'm not a priest, but I'm here to listen. Whatever you need."

"I want a drink." Low. He doesn't want Eddie to hear.

The chaplain waits for a beat, then asks, "And I take it that would be a bad idea?"

A half-laugh. "Oh, yes."

"Do you have someone you can be with? When you leave here?"

"My wife."

"Tell her what you told me."

They sit in silence for a while, and then they pray, and the chaplain's hands are on him and on Eddie and yes, it does feel like a moment of divine peace, here in the midst of the anger and the fear.

"Visiting hours will be ending soon," the chaplain says, gentle, like he's used to delivering the news.

Like he's used to delivering worse news.

Bobby swallows, and nods.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he says to Eddie, but he doesn't get up to leave.

"You have some time," the chaplain reassures him. "But when you do go, remember, he won't be alone."

He means the nurses, probably, and the doctors, and everyone else on staff. But, it being the chaplain, he probably means in the spiritual sense as well.

"Thank you," he says, and the chaplain nods. Pauses in the doorway.

"Do you have a plan? For not being alone?"

He nods, and he means it. "I do."

He sits, holding Eddie's hand, until the nurse comes around to gently usher him out. Other people, too. Family members.

There's a church next door. Nine p.m. meeting.

One of the women from the hospital— someone else who was waiting, and hoping, and praying, and fighting back the urge to dull the pain— holds the door to the meeting room open. He smiles and holds up one finger, I'll be right in, and dials Athena's number.

"I just needed to hear your voice," he says. "I'll be home soon."

#badthingshappenbingo #911fic #hurt/comfort #4x14 survivors #my bthb fics #fandom: 9-1-1 #square: bedside vigil

22 notes · View notes

moonbeambucky · 5 years ago

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 9)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3827 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 8 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

The lobby of Stark Industries is bright and almost blinding compared to the dull grey that looms over the city outside. To make matters worse, the sky would darken into a deep black in just a few hours, a depressing casualty of setting the clocks back.

It was mid-November with winter closing in. You bundle up your coat, adjusting your scarf before daring to step outside. You were having a conversation with Steve, or at least you thought you were.

“He’s been like this all day,” Mr. Lee said, laughing as a confused Steve finally picked his head up from his phone.

Steve apologized as his cheeks turned pink, again. He was texting Peggy and he just couldn’t help the way he felt about her. They had gone on a few dates since they met on Halloween weekend and Steve was one-hundred percent smitten.

“Well anyway, I have to head to Metro-Gen now so you boys have a good afternoon,” you said, saluting them before stepping outside.

Your internship was going well. It had only been a few months but you were very comfortable working in this type of environment. You were familiar with the hospital and some of the ER staff other than Sam. You assisted Elena with her cases and tried not to forget everything you’ve ever learned while under pressure. It was scary but exciting and most of all you were happy to provide assistance and care to those that needed it.

When the weekend finally came you were thrilled to finish up your hours at the hospital. You were cold and tired, and really wanted to take off your bra immediately. Wanda was coming over which was rare since she and Sam became official. Any time he had off they tried to spend together and you understood it, especially with the hours required for his job but you really missed her and were happy to finally hang out after so long.

“So you seriously can’t eat this?” you said, taking a hefty dip of guacamole onto your chip.

“Uh yes I can bitch, don’t hog all the guacamole,” Wanda joked, pushing you aside as she grabbed the dish for herself. “I just can’t eat the chips.”

Wanda was always trying new diets, not that she ever needed to be on one. She was doing the Keto diet now and while you applauded her commitment you could never give up carbs like that.

She sat cross legged on your couch, moving her fork around her bowl absentmindedly as she worked up the courage to speak. “So I wanted to ask you something…”

A pang of anxiety hit your stomach as it tends to do whenever someone says those words, but you tried to remain neutral, wondering what Wanda was going to say.

“I know we usually have Thanksgiving together but Sam happened to be off this year and I know it’s really soon but he invited me for dinner at his parents’ house and I haven’t said yes yet because I wanted to speak with you first because I know it’s our tradition to do something together but– ”

“Wanda!” You had to shout her name so she could stop and take a breath. You smiled at her, letting her know you were okay with her having Thanksgiving with Sam. “I’m really happy for you,” you said against her ear as she leaned over to hug you.

That night you thought about Wanda and Steve, how they both got into a relationship on Halloween. Meanwhile, the only thing you got that night was a blister on your heel.

“Hey neighbor.”

Bucky’s voice echoed from down the hall as he stepped out of the elevator, seeing you locking your door, with a laundry bag at your feet.

With everyone’s new relationships and Natasha prepping for a case no one has gone out since Halloween and things definitely felt a little weird.

“Hey,” you replied shakily, offering an awkward smile in return.

The truth was you were still upset with Bucky on Halloween. Well, not just you but the whole group. It had been weighing on you each day that passed without seeing him. The closer Bucky got to you and his door, the more nervous you felt and you really wanted to get this off your chest.

“Bucky… sorry this is out of the blue but…” You chewed on your lip trying to figure out exactly what to say.

His brows knit together. “Is everything alright?”

You forced a tense smile, wishing you hadn’t said anything in the first place, especially with the way concern filled those ocean blue eyes of his.

“Yeah I just…” With another big sigh you pushed the words out. “I thought it was kind of rude for you to ditch everyone on Halloween without saying goodbye. I know we’re not that close and you don’t owe me or anyone an explanation for wanting to leave or whatever but I don’t know, I just… needed to say that.”

Your lips pressed together firmly, feeling your heart pound rapidly against your chest as you waited to face whatever backlash there was after sharing your feelings.

Bucky sighed, letting his shoulders slump down. “I’m sorry Y/N. Honestly, that’s not how I wanted that night to end. But you were talking with that guy so I didn’t want to interrupt anything and everyone else had each other so I thought I’d do my own thing.”

“Guy? What guy?” You wondered out loud. When Bucky described him you realized he was talking about Bruce. “You thought something was going on with me and that guy? No, no. He’s a friend from work, just a friend.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to block… anything… just in case.” Bucky chuckled, flashing his bright teeth as he smiled. “Still that was a dick move of me so I’m sorry.”

You accepted Bucky’s apology, feeling a little better about why he left the way he did. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t have left with that girl anyway, not that you care, because you don’t. Although now that most of your friends were in relationships you were feeling a little envious. It’s not that you didn’t want to date but you were too focused on work and school at the moment.

“Well I guess I’ll see you later,” you said, picking up your laundry bag.

“Wait!”

Throughout your conversation one thing stuck out the most in Bucky’s mind, when you said you weren’t close. He really thought you were and he’s not sure why it affected him so much but he wanted to change that and make it right.

You’ve definitely become a good friend of his even if you hadn’t gotten off on the right foot. And maybe he’s been a little busy lately, he hasn’t kept up on the group chat and didn’t think about how his lack of communication impacted anyone else. You were his friend, and so were Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint and Wanda. He wanted to do better and be there for everyone so he might as well start now.

“If you wouldn’t mind the company I actually need to do my laundry too.”

There wasn’t any hesitation as you nodded back to him, your lips pulling into a smile that grew wider when he returned one of his own. Bucky took a few minutes to gather his laundry and together you walked a few blocks to the laundromat.

It wasn’t too crowded for a Sunday afternoon which was a pleasant surprise so the machines were pretty available. Bucky shared his detergent with you which was kind, saving your quarters from buying the single use packs the shop offered.

You sat beside him on uncomfortable chairs, bouncing your leg to keep warm as you shivered. There was some heat circulating through the room, a muggy wet heat that poured out every time someone opened the machines to check on their still damp clothes. Bucky was a good distraction, keeping you focused on your conversation as you caught up on what’s been going on in your lives.

“Thanksgiving’s going to be a little weird this year with Wanda and Steve doing their own thing but it’s alright.”

Bucky heard the disappointment you tried to hide in your tone but your face didn’t mask the emotions as well. He listened as you explained this was your tradition since you moved to New York. Since you couldn’t afford to fly home for both Thanksgiving and the holidays you had to choose, and so every year you spent the day with friends.

“Why don’t you spend it with me?” he asked, watching as the corner of your mouth slowly began to turn upwards into a smile.

“With you? You don’t go to your parent’s house?”

Bucky’s expression softened, “Normally I do but this year they’re flying out to spend Thanksgiving weekend with Rebecca.”

“Where does she live again?”

“It’s ‘they’ and Arizona.” Bucky rubbed the chill from his arms despite wearing a jacket. “Kinda wish I was there right now,” he chuckled.

The machines shook for their final spin cycle and you and Bucky got up in preparation to grab your clothes.

“You didn’t want to go with them?” you wondered.

“I’ve got a lot to work on plus I’ll see Bex soon, they usually come in for Christmas. So… is that a yes? I know I’m not Wanda or Steve but I’m still your friend.”

Bucky’s expression was hopeful as he awaited your answer. A beaming smile spread across your face as you replied, “Yes. I’d love to have Thanksgiving with you!”

If you looked at Bucky’s browser history over the last few weeks you would find a lot of food related searches: How to cook a turkey, how long to cook a turkey, how to cook a turkey fast, easiest way to cook a turkey, simple Thanksgiving dinner, Thanksgiving for 2, best Thanksgiving sides.

He wanted to make your Thanksgiving special but truthfully Bucky wasn’t the best in the kitchen. He could cook a few things but the idea of making a full Thanksgiving dinner was daunting and he couldn’t exactly ask his mother for help.

Since it was going to be just the two of you he finally found his answer– Thanksgiving dinner on a sheet pan. Bucky wrote out the list of groceries he needed, making sure he had everything needed so he could prepare the dinner.

You were working a full day at the hospital so Bucky had extra time to prepare for your arrival. His clothes were folded neatly, placed in his drawers that could now actually close. He made his bed, well he made sure the pillows were straight and draped his comforter over everything neatly. His instruments were gathered together neatly beside his desk and he made sure his bathroom was clean. Bucky spritzed his cologne in the air for good measure to make sure everything smelled nice.

Once that was done it finally dawned on him that he didn’t have a table. “Good job Barnes,” he scolded himself as he cleared away the last remaining clutter on the trunk that served as his coffee table. It would have to make do.

Bucky opened the package he bought at the store, a harvest themed tablecloth that was entirely too big for the trunk but with a few extra folds he made it look alright. It was an extra touch he hoped you would be happy to see. Checking his phone Bucky began to prepare the food, hoping to time it right for when you were coming by.

“No, no, no,” you cried, passing another bakery that was sold out of pies.

You hadn’t planned this properly. Not one bit. With Bucky preparing dinner you offered to bring the dessert and for some reason you thought making pumpkin pie from scratch would be easy. You were very wrong.

By the time you got home last night you were too exhausted to even look at the recipe. You needed sleep and had no shame in going to bed pretty much right away. The fact that it gets dark before five o’clock definitely helped you justify your early bedtime.

The genius idea you had was to wake up a little early so you could make the pie crust which might have worked out if you hadn’t overslept. Yes, despite the extra sleep you got your body wanted more.

Although you made it to work on time you ruined any shot at trying to snag a pie from any bakery along the way. Now you were headed home, defeated and upset with yourself for ruining Thanksgiving.

You trudged through the hallway, sighing heavily as you stood outside of Bucky’s apartment. Your knuckles rapped against the door, waiting for him to answer. Bucky pulled open the door with a smile that dropped the moment he saw your face.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” His hand came upon your shoulder as he offered comfort.

With another deep sigh you shook your head, “No… well yes.” You reconsidered your words, not wanting to worry him. “I ruined Thanksgiving.”

His mouth opened but Bucky didn’t speak, silently wondering why you think you’ve ruined something that hasn’t happened yet.

“I said I would bring dessert and I wanted to bake but I was too exhausted, so I thought I’d get something from the store but everything was sold out and now I feel like a shitty friend.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the way you pouted so seriously over something as insignificant as dessert.

“Hey, c’mere,” he said, opening his arms. You rested your head against Bucky’s chest wrapping your arms around him as he rubbed circles on your back through your jacket. “You didn’t ruin anything, doll, I promise.”

With a few more reassurances from Bucky you pulled away from his embrace, feeling a little better even if part of you was still disappointed. You told him you would be over in a few minutes, desperate to change your clothes.

Bucky’s door was unlocked and you let yourself in, now wearing a loose sweater and black leggings that would allow you to feel comfortable as you stuffed your face, and casual slip-ons your feet thanked you for. Bucky was equally casual, in a dark grey t-shirt and black jeans so you didn’t feel bad for underdressing.

You stepped inside seeing the coffee table set up in a themed tablecloth and a scented pumpkin candle that smelled delicious as it spread throughout the room.

“Dinner should be ready in a minute or so. Can I get you something to drink?” he asked as you set your bag down beside the couch.

“Wine, I guess?” You weren’t really picky to be honest, happily taking the glass of Pinot Noir as Bucky poured for you and himself.

Bucky barely had a chance to take a sip before the alarm on his phone was going off, his reminder to take the food out of the oven.

“I hope this is okay,” he said, pulling out the sheet pan of turkey breasts surrounded by stuffing, green beans and sweet potatoes.

Your mouth was watering as you inhaled the enticing aroma. “Mmmm it looks delicious. Do you need any help?”

Bucky shook his head, telling you to relax. It was hard, because even though you were still pretty tired from the day you felt like you should be doing more than sipping wine on his couch. You stared at Bucky as he stood in the kitchen, dividing the food amongst two plates.

The muscles of his back were entrancing to watch as they moved beneath his shirt. Dropping your gaze you couldn’t help but stare at the way his jeans hugged his butt.

“You like what you see?”

Bucky’s voice seemingly came out of nowhere as you hadn’t realized he was looking over his shoulder.

“What? No, I’m… tired and stuck in a comfortable stare,” you laughed quickly, masking the awkwardness of definitely getting caught staring at his ass.

Bucky chuckled under his breath. He placed both dishes down, proud of the work he had done. Pressing his lips together Bucky had hope written across his face as he waited for your reaction.

Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to chew fast enough so you could tell him how delicious it was. A smile stretched across his face, happy that he made you happy, and then Bucky began to dig in.

There wasn’t much to watch after deciding to skip over all the football games and sitcom reruns but choosing from Netflix wasn’t much better. There were a dozen cheesy, romantic Christmas movies but neither of you wanted to watch any of those.

“Oh how about this?” Bucky asked as he flashed by Nailed It! Your eyes lit up with delight as you nodded your head. If there was one show that made you feel better about your baking skills it was watching these hilarious disasters.

Bucky had the cutest laugh. The sound itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary but the way that his whole face lit up while he was laughing. The joy reached his eyes first with crinkles pulling at the corners, his nose scrunched up reminding you of a bunny, and that smile… Bucky had one of the nicest smiles you’d ever seen because it had the power to make your own greater just by looking at it.

You were crying with laughter as the contestants revealed their cakes, each one somehow more horrifying than the last. By the third episode you found yourself comfortably resting your head against Bucky. It was nice to have someone to hang out with like this again especially since Steve had rightfully been spending most of his free time with Peggy.

“I hope you don’t get your baking skills from this show. Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t make pie,” Bucky teased. Your immediate response was to playfully smack his leg. “Ow I’m kidding!”

“It would have been good, a thousand times better than this,” you gestured towards the screen.

Bucky cocked his head to face you. “So let’s make it now.”

Your head shook rejecting his suggestion. “It takes too long. The dough needs to rest for a while after you mix it and I don’t want to eat pie at two in the morning. Not when I have to get up early again.”

With another day off from Stark Industries you’d be spending a full day at the hospital, trying to chip away at all those hours you needed to do.

“It’s still early, we can make something right? Cookies? Is that the same dough?” Bucky asked, because even though you had to be up early he still wanted to spend time with you and he could also go for dessert.

“It’s not exactly the same but I have all the ingredients. Do you want to make cookies?”

Bucky’s stomach rumbled as if on cue making both of you laugh.

Since it was easier to bake in your apartment you helped Bucky clean up the dishes you made in his, feeling it was rude to leave things a mess. Bucky didn’t want you to clean but you at least insisted on rinsing the plates clean and since you were at the sink anyway you ended up washing most of them.

You didn’t see the way Bucky smiled while watching you. This was probably the only time he’s felt comfortable having a woman linger in his apartment. His flings all begged to draw out their time, promising him pancakes or the best eggs and bacon he’s ever had. As hard as they tried, he shut them all down ushering them out quickly but things with you were different. You were friends and closer than he would ever be to any of the random names in his phone.

In your apartment Bucky helped gather the ingredients needed. Counter space and New York didn’t exactly go together, not in your price range, but together you cleared space on your kitchen table and set everything up there.

Bucky ignored his phone that rang as he cracked eggs into the large bowl you were using to mix everything together in. He picked up the bag of chocolate chips pouring a generous amount in the dough, not that you minded; the more chocolate the better!

Together you scooped up balls of dough onto a baking sheet and placed them in the oven.

“Bucky!” You turned to find him swiping his finger through the bowl of raw dough and eating it.

“What?”

“You can’t eat that you’ll get sick!” you protested, taking the bowl away from him and washing it before he could risk his chance of getting E. coli any further.

He sucked his finger into his mouth, smiling, “No one has ever gotten sick from eating raw cookie dough.” His comment had you look back, blinking in silence. “Okay well I’m sure someone has but it’s never happened to me.”

“I want you to enjoy these cookies Bucky, not vomit all over the place.”

He brought over the rest of the bowls that needed to be washed, this time taking over and returning the favor since you washed his dishes. “You mean you wouldn’t take care of me if I got sick?” He pouted, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows.

“Not a chance,” you said teasingly, unable to hold back your smile.

Checking your phone you pulled out the cookies just in time for them to be crisp and chewy. After letting them cool you let Bucky take the first bite this time, watching as his eyes rolled back as he let a sinful moan slip.

“So fucking good. You’re amazing.”

This isn’t the first time you’d heard similar praise coming from Bucky, and combined with the orgasmic look on his face it made you turn away with embarrassment, now having a visual of what things might be like at night on the side of the wall. You grabbed a cookie to distract your mind, biting into buttery perfection with a massive amount of chocolate thanks to Bucky’s heavy hand.

“Thanks for a great Thanksgiving Bucky. Tonight was awesome,” you said, kissing him on the cheek before wrapping your arms around him.

“You’re welcome Y/N,” he murmured against you, squeezing back a little tighter, both of you now aware of the friendly kiss you had given him.

Bucky left with a dish containing most of the cookies at your insistence. He couldn’t help but eat a few more when he was back in his apartment. Before getting into bed Bucky listened to the voicemail he received earlier.

“Hi James, it’s Mom. We missed you tonight. I don't know why your deadline was on a holiday but I hope you finished everything. I set aside some leftovers in case you wanted to come over tomorrow. Call me back. I love you.”

PART 10

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

785 notes · View notes

ofcowardiceandkings · 3 years ago

Note

I think you mentioned listening to podcasts? Do you have any favorites to reccommend? I've run out of content :(

that i do !

im not entirely sure what kind of podcast you'd be interested in but i'll throw out a few of the goodies in my huge library of stuff , i'll miss out a few of the HUGE podcasts that have been all over tumblr though

a LOT of it is true crime or human interest stuff , or history because im nerd ,, and a few of these dont have nearly enough attention so [shrug] i'll try to keep this short i guess lol this isnt EVERYTHING ive got in my library or listened series' by any measure

i AM gonna pop a shout to both Stuff You Missed in History Class and Stuff You Should Know from iHeartRadio because their HUGE archives have kept me from losing my mind many times over , and they cover a wide range of both important and wacky topics

BomBARDed (ongoing) this is the only fiction podcast i have happening right now really but its DAMN GOOD ONE .... it's an actual-play D&D 5E podcast in the DMs own musically-inspired world, focussed on a group of multiclass bards going to music school !! and all players (+DM) are members of the Texas band Lindby !! and they actually use and play music in the show with one original song an episode !! Kyle's worldbuilding and storycraft are truly incredible, and (Nick) Goodrich, (also Nick) Spurrier, and Ali's characters are in depth and interesting as well as an absolute powerhouse :') i actually made a piece for its first fanzine, Bardic Dreaming, which published earlier this year and is free to view now, all the players and the community are super wholesome its just very good overall 💙

History & Humans;

Fall of Civilisations (ongoing) legit one of my favourite podcast finds, im so glad my youtube autoplayed one of these ... it took me like 2 hours to realise it was 1) not the same as what was playing before and 2) had been on for 2 hours and wasnt near finished lmao. anyway, this is a series by historical fiction writer Paul Cooper, and is honest to all thats good one of the best documentary series ive encountered in years - and ive consumed a LOT of documentaries. it covered the downfall of various civilisations through history, and the episodes run from an hour to FOUR hours depending on the topic. its so chill to listen to and just get done, but over the pandemic all of the episodes have been given full movie-quality video versions too on youtube if youre more of a visual person.

Casting Lots: A Survival Cannibalism Podcast (on series break) yeah that says that lol ... its a SUPER niche topic but its very interesting and treated very well despite being kind of comical at times, the hosts are just naturally funny lol ... it delves around from the history of cannibalism in whole regions to specific incidents as recently as the 1970s, and of course the first episode is about the Donner Party, and it covers things ive never heard of despite being kind of important ?? anyway Alix and Carmella are good eggs

Sawbones (ongoing) i probably dont need to mention much here other than say that Justin and Sydnee saved me from being SO BORED sooo often, the history of medicine is wacky as hell and its what most of my history GCSE was on so [shrugs]

Cautionary Tales (on series break) this was a wild-card find lol ... it's by Tim Harford "the undercover economist" who writes for the Financial Times, and its topics kind of weave modern topics and science with how to learn from historical errors ... its a bit weird but well worth a go, also each series has a few celebrity guest voice actors which is pretty awesome

Ephemeral (ongoing) this is a very strange but thought provoking series about sounds and other things just barely saved. topics include the last castrato, the hello girls, hand-stamped records, the spread of kīkā kila music, and acoustic fossils of wild places.

Neat! The Boozecast (ongoing) history and bartending whats not to like lol ... hosted by Teylor Smirl and now their dad Tommy, they're just digging around in how important booze is to human culture

True Crime (white collar and weirdness);

Swindled (ongoing) this is an amazing show full stop. A Concerned Citizen details some of the most impactful and unruly things to happen in white collar and corporate crime. very factually accurate but given the sheer bullshit of the topics the deadpan snarking is [chefs kiss] absolutely warranted ..

American Scandal (on series break) this one is a series within a series type, and spends a few episodes at a time poking holes in some of America's biggest scandals, from a dramatised but fact-based point of view. such as what the hell was going on with Enron, how big tobacco was forced to own up to covering its own ass, how Iran-Contra happened, etc. it also now has a sister show called British Scandal, which does the same thing for British cases but with a slightly different format.

Missing in Alaska (finished) this was a fascinating series, a deep dive into what happened to two US government officials who disappeared on a small chartered flight in Alaska in 1972. it goes some really strange places, but it actually turned up a lot of previously unknown information through the audience. John Walczak's new series in a new feed is Missing on 9/11 which looks into what happened to Dr Sneha Philip.

Pretend (ongoing) Host Javier Leiva holds interviews with anyone living a lie, or who have been touched by them. con artists, snake oil salesmen, former cult members, catfishing victims, anyone and everyone.

Power: The Maxwells (finished) hosted by journalist Tara Palmeri, the story of media tycoon Robert Maxwell from nothing to empire to mysterious death and the scandals uncovered after he was gone.

Lets Talk About Sects (ongoing) Sarah Steele covering cults from around the world, in particular those in Australia - where she is from. She often has former members on the show to share their stories, and share knowledge of how they left. each story has the relevant content warnings at the start of each episode.

Brainwashed (finished) investigation of the CIA's covert mind control experiments, centred on the experiments performed at a hospital in Montreal, and its cultural impact.

Dr Death (2 series finished) two series investigating huge cases of fraud and medical malpractice, and how they were brought to a stop. series 1 covers Dr Duntsch and his horribly butchered neurosurgery, series 2 covers Dr Fata and his fraudulent cancer clinic

The Immaculate Deception (finished) untangling the weird and disturbing fertility fraud of Dr Jan Karbaat, who fathered children himself through his fertility clinic, and the impact of his deception. later episodes also touch on other similar cases.

True Crime (Violent/General);

The Casual Criminalist (ongoing) Simon Whistler of-the-many-youtube-channels cold reads a script about the case of the day, with some of his daft commentary thrown in.

Southern Fried True Crime (ongoing) Crimes from the American South hosted by Erica Kelley, she puts all the facts out there but refreshingly for true crime she doesnt hesitate to tell you if she thinks someone is human garbage lol

They Walk Among Us (ongoing) probably one of the most popular UK crime podcasts, very measured and well put together, not weird or annoying about it either.

All Crime No Cattle (ongoing, feed slowed down for now) specifically about crimes from Texas, hosted by Erin and Shay, they're very sensitive hosts and a lot of the cases they cover shed light on why the Texas criminal system is how it is or show an impact at a national level

Canadian True Crime (ongoing) Canadian crime from an Aussie who's lived there for a decade, Kristi is again a sensitive and measured host covering some important topics

True Crime (Violent/Deep Dive);

Hitman (finished) journalist Jasmyn Morris digs around in the sticky tangle around a book published by fringe publisher Paladin Press, and its apparent use as a blueprint in the killing of a mother, her friend and her 8 year old boy for financial gain.

Camp Hell: Anneewakee (ongoing) this series is exploring how a wilderness camp "correctional facility" was endorsed by the Georgia care and juvenile reform system, despite widespread abuses and shady practices the whole time. warning for csa and child cruelty throughout.

True Crime Bullshit (on series break) this one is a huge huge rabbithole but a very interesting one where the host Josh Hallmark has spent years digging into the life and potential crimes of Israel Keyes. Keyes is often mentioned as a serial killer with no pattern, but in picking it apart thats not quite true, and has sparked some re-evaluations of missing persons cases and stumbling upon information the FBI has redacted organically. there's also a series in the middle looking into the crimes of Kelly Cochran

Forgotten: Women of Juárez (finished) this series looks into the huge numbers of missing women of Ciudad Juárez, the strange circumstances surrounding them, and the potential cover-ups and corruptions on both sides of the border, trying to give a voice to all of the forgotten women and girls and their families without answers. the series itself is finished, but a spanish language edition is being released every week now.

aaaaaand i'll call it there before i list everything lol, i hope you find something to plug your boredom hole with !!

#audio #rory's ramblings #podcasts #asks #anon #long post

34 notes · View notes

onlysarah235678 · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Bit Part 16

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: Happy Friday!!! It’s been a long week. Here’s the next chapter. Enjoy! This might be one of my favorite gifs by illuminated-blue.

Warnings: angst, mentions of assault and discussions about domestic violence

5 am arrives as quickly as you thought it would, and despite your insistence that you’d be able to go back to sleep, you find yourself still tossing and turning after Billie’s gone. She had actually woken up a little earlier than she needed to, and had snuck out of bed to get ready. She hadn’t wanted to disturb you, but once it was 6 and she really did need to leave, she wakes you up to say goodbye.

Billie kisses your forehead and your nose before you start to stir. You’d been deep in sleep, but the tickle you feel makes you realize that someone was trying to get your attention and you smile as you finally wake up. You yawn before opening your eyes to see Billie standing over you with a smile.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. I just wanted to let you know that I was leaving.”

You take a minute to look at Billie and your smile widens as you notice that she’s not nearly as dressed up as you thought she’d be. She looks good, as always, but your sleep-addled brain wasn’t working at full capacity yet. Not even half honestly.

“Good morning. You look cute. Is that what you’re wearing for the interview?”

Billie rolls her eyes at you before shaking her head. She mentions that she’ll change and all that once she gets to the studio and you just nod before you have to stifle another yawn. You go to sit up but Billie stops you with a hand on your shoulder.

“You should go back to sleep, Y/N. It’s still early.”

You sigh before nodding in agreement. You hadn’t really planned on getting up. You were just trying to get closer to Billie. You pout slightly as you shoot her a questioning look.

“Can I have another kiss before you go?”

Billie sighs as if it’s such a chore to do this for you before she leans in with a smile. She kisses your lips this time before pulling away and running a hand through your hair with a teasing look.

“I love your bedhead. Y/N.”

You groan in embarrassment as you hide under the covers and you attempt to fix your hair. It works about as well as you thought it would and you end up making it worse as you peek out at Billie from beneath the sheets. She just chuckles before checking her watch. She really needs to leave now.

“Billie.”

You whine pitifully as Billie just turns to leave the room. She smirks at you before waving as she disappears out the door.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

You nod to yourself as you push your hair out of your face. You know it doesn’t matter now, but it’s actually bothering you. You speak up right before Billie leaves and she shoots you a grateful look before she’s gone.

“Okay, good luck, Billie.”

Instead of going back to sleep, you only manage to lie in bed underneath the covers for an hour. Milo was up and he was being good, but you were actually getting restless. You were nervous about how today would go for Billie despite your conversation last night. You sigh as you think about how nice it was to spend the night with Billie again. You may just be getting better, but you’d slept more soundly by the blonde’s side. You hope that this will continue because when you finally roll out of bed a little after 7, you’re feel better than you have in a while.

You yawn as you lead Milo out into the hallway before you realize how poorly dressed you are. It probably isn’t very cold, but you don’t know how long Milo will take and you don’t want to be caught wearing something too revealing. You retreat back into the bedroom, ignoring Milo’s whines, as you look around for something to wear. Billie’s closet is still open and you look inside to see if there’s something you could borrow. Just for your walk.

Milo’s whining starts getting louder and you hurry to grab something as you wave him off.

“Milo, I know. Just give me…”

The first thing you see is Billie’s sweatshirt, and you hesitate for only a second before grabbing it. You pull it over your head before pushing Milo off as he jumps on you. You can detect a hint of Billie’s perfume and shampoo mixed in the fabric, and you’re thrilled that it’s finally more soothing than off-putting. You walk out into the hallway and remind yourself to check on the kittens soon before heading downstairs. You are already thinking about what you’ll eat for breakfast as you grab Milo’s leash and lead him to the backyard. It’s not fenced in and you don’t want Milo out for too long, but as you walk outside and realize how cold it actually is you curse yourself.

You shiver slightly as you stand by Milo who’s peeing on a tree. You look around quickly and see nothing interesting before following Milo back inside. He’s excitedly panting as he sits and waits for you to take off his leash. As soon as it’s off he’s racing to the food bowl that is set up just outside the kitchen. You grab his food and put in just a little more than usual before leaving Milo to his breakfast. You head to the fridge and open it and stare inside for a second before just settling on eating leftovers again. You’re too lazy to make anything else and you just grab a bowl to heat them up.

You stand around and watch Milo drink for a few seconds before you realize you don’t have your phone. You decide to run upstairs and get it while your food is cooking, just in case you need it.

You go upstairs considerably slower than a run, but that’s fine as you make it upstairs without your head protesting at all. You yawn again because you really should have stayed in bed longer before you arrive to the bedroom and see your phone on the side table. You grab it and decide to lie down again before turning it on.

You wait until the home screen pops up and you are about to just check your email when you’re bombarded with over a dozen text messages and several missed call notifications. You didn’t realize how out of touch you’d been for the past few days, and you suddenly feel bad when you read through the texts from your concerned friend who had started following you in the news.

You squint slightly after writing a response and you realize why you aren’t supposed to be looking at screens. Your head starts hurting after just a few minutes so you decide that anything beyond a quick check in can wait.

Nearly five minutes later you are done and heading back downstairs for breakfast when your phone beeps. You stop in the middle of the stairs to check it and you see that it’s Billie.

Don’t forget to take your meds. I left them in the bathroom so Milo wouldn’t get them.

You sigh as you groan at your forgetfulness before starting back upstairs. You find them quickly and take them before returning to the kitchen. You reheat your food before moving to the living room. You respond to Billie with a thank you before you start eating. It’s not until you’re halfway done and find yourself looking at the television that you realize you don’t know what channel Billie is going to be on.

You quickly text her back asking this before lying back on the couch with a sigh. You have nearly two hours to kill before Billie’s interview and you’re not sure what you’re going to do with your time.

Billie was sitting in her dressing room just waiting to be called out. She was smoking her first cigarette in what felt like days as she scrolls through her phone absentmindedly. She’d considered texting you again, but she thought better of it. She knew that you weren’t supposed to be on your phone, so she was just killing time in the only way she knew how to at the moment.

She took another drag as she read yet another article about your hospital visit. She didn’t get nearly as far into this one as the others because they were all the same at this point. No one knew anything, and they all used the same damn picture. Luckily, no one had followed them home to get another one, but Billie was getting sick of seeing you on a stretcher in front of your clinic.

She had already decided that she wasn’t going to disclose much about that night. She wanted to protect you from the media as much as she could, but sometimes it felt like she was fighting a losing battle. As Billie scrolls past yet another article about you, she finds her mind drifting to your ex.

Billie had seen a glimpse of the effect she’d had on you last night. When you talked about her, your entire demeanor changed. You grew more reserved, more anxious and Billie hated to see you retreat back into your shell. You’d been growing more confident and relaxed with her, and she loved that you asked her for things that you wanted.

Like last night. She was thrilled that you’d asked to come stay with her. She was glad that you had been feeling better last night and this morning, but she knew that you couldn’t rush things. You had the rest of the week off from work, and Billie intended to make sure that you did as little as possible until then.

Billie puts out her cigarette when there’s a knock on the door. She sighs as she turns to see that one of the crew members is standing in the hall looking far too stressed for so early in the morning.

“Ms. Howard. We’re ready for you.”

You’re practically running down the stairs when it’s close to 9 o’clock. You had gotten distracted by the kittens and you had spent way too much time with them. They were all looking so good. You were tempted to let them roam around with Bit, but you had an interview to watch, and a big dog who had proven to like kittens. You let Bit out though because Billie said that you could, and you and Bit head downstairs to the living room. Bit runs off somewhere and Milo perks up slightly before just turning to you as you jump onto the couch. You find the remote before turning on the television with a sigh.

You are about to change the channel to Billie’s interview, but you don’t get a chance before you hear Milo bark. You cringe at the sound before turning to see him with his paws up on the window looking into the backyard. You frown before standing up to get him down before he breaks something. Milo continues barking and you grab him by the harness before glancing outside. You frown as you look around, not noticing anything at first, but then you see something in the yard that doesn’t belong there.

You open the back door, leaving Milo inside for a second as you go investigate. You can’t tell what it is immediately, but as you get closer to it you realize it’s a box. Your first thought is food because your mind is always on food, but then you realize it’s a box of cigarettes. You stare at them for a moment before shaking your head with a sigh. You bend down to pick them up before remembering that you’re late.

You hurry back inside, locking the door behind you before leading Milo to the couch. You sit down quickly and change the channel before cursing when you realize the interview has already started.

“-this season?”

You just sit back and listen to Billie talk about her show for the next few minutes. You don’t realize it immediately, but you have the dopiest smile on your face as you watch Billie talk animatedly about her work. You’re so excited for her, and you’re looking forward to watching her show with her. Sure, you’re behind a couple of seasons, but that doesn’t matter. You were determined to not fall asleep on her, for once.

Billie talks a little bit about how shooting had gone, and she mentions names of people that you don’t know. You make a note to ask about them at some point before your phone vibrates next to you. You’re tempted to ignore it though because you can barely turn away from Billie. She looks stunning in the blue dress she’s wearing, and it’s definitely a step up from the sweats she’d had on this morning. Not that you didn’t appreciate those too.

You eventually look to your phone because the interviewer is asking Billie about past seasons and how this one differs and you really can’t focus on that. Your head is hurting a little and you open your phone to see an angry text from your friend. Whoops.

Apparently, you weren’t allowed to drop off the face of the Earth after getting a concussion.

You text her for a couple of minutes before a question the interviewer, Wendy asks catches your attention.

“Now I have to ask since I’ve been hearing about it for a while now. You’re seeing someone, is that right?”

You look to the screen as Billie smiles genuinely before nodding in answer. You focus on how her hair bounces with the movement before you realize what she’s saying.

“Yes, we’ve been seeing each other for about a month. Since I took my cats to her.”

You listen as Billie tells the story you’ve lived, about how the two of you met. You thought back to that day with a smile before returning your attention to the television. You squeeze your eyes shut for a minute before trying to look to the screen again. Your head is hurting so you decide to lie down before it gets any worse. You close your eyes and just listen to what Billie says next in response to what you’ve been dreading most.

“I heard about Y/N’s accident at work. I hope everything is okay.”

Billie’s smile fades slightly as she thinks about the incident that put you in the hospital. She sighs as she nods before mentioning your fall.

“She’s doing better, but she’s still taking it easy. At least she’s supposed to.”

Billie smiles as she says this and you roll your eyes at what she’s insinuating. You are doing exactly what you’re supposed to. Sure, you might be peeking a little from where you’re lying on your back, but only a little. Only when Billie talks.

“Does that mean she’s not watching now?”

Billie just shrugs at this and you watch as she glances out to the audience. You really wish that you could have been there. You sigh as you listen to Billie say that you probably are before you reach out for Milo.

“Come here boy.”

Milo had just been sitting by alternating between watching you and the television. He hurries up to you and puts his head in your face so he was practically licking you. You groan before pushing him back and scratching him behind the ears with a sigh.

“You’re such a good boy.”

You watch as Milo turns away from you and sniffs the cigarettes that you forgot you just left on the couch next to you in your hurry. You move them away before sitting up with a groan. You grab a pillow and bury your face in it until you hear your name again.

“Y/N is doing her best to ignore it, but sometimes—the more persistent ones get to her.”

“Like those who sneak into backyards?”

You watch as Billie frowns at the thought of the reporter that you’d run into two too many times. You scowl as Billie just shakes her head before responding.

“Exactly.”

Wendy was smiling as she shot Billie a look that you didn’t particularly like. You just wait for Billie to respond to the question you know she’s been agonizing over for a while.

“From what I’ve been told he definitely interrupted something.”

Billie merely smirks at the thought before shaking her head. She, Michelle, and Jeff had all discussed how she’d answer this and they had decided that she should be the one to bring it up first. Tell the truth, but don’t give too many details.

“Actually Y/N’s dog, Milo is to blame for that. He’s very protective of her and misread what was happening.”

You nearly sigh as Billie says this because you’re so glad that you aren’t having to answer these questions. You had been put on the spot and well, the first time it had happened to you, you’d barely been coherent. You knew that Billie could do a better job of explaining everything, and you were grateful that you both had talked about what she was going to say.

You had told Billie that you didn’t care what she said. You’d been fresh out of the hospital and a little too tired to be sincere, but after you’d slept a little more the two of you had a serious conversation. You were only a little worried about people knowing too much about you. You figured that some things were public record and could be figured out easily enough, so you didn’t care much about that. The only thing you really had been concerned about was the topic that Billie was discussing now.

She was doing exactly what’s she’d promised and you couldn’t be more appreciative.

“I guess you haven’t earned his approval yet?”

Billie just smiles as you roll your eyes at the thought. Milo loves Billie and is honestly wagging his tail just from watching her on TV. He comes up to jump next to you on the couch and you sigh before deciding that it’s fine, if he sits on your lap. You pat your lap and your 70lbs dog eagerly scrambles on top of you before turning back to the television.

You already feel his weight and you know this won’t last long, but you like watching as Milo stares at the television.

“Not quite.”

You sigh at the lie before your phone vibrates again. You shoot it a look but it’s just out of reach so you leave it be for now. The interview is finishing up and you breathe out a sigh of relief before frowning in confusion. What time was it? That seemed to fly by. It was just before 9:30, but it felt like it had only been a few minutes since you sat down. You push Milo off of you with a groan before standing up to stretch. You grab your phone to send Billie a text before you look to your friend’s message. You wander into the kitchen and refill Milo’s water bowl. As he takes a drink you look out the window at the backyard. You look at the garden for a minute trying to figure out what is different.

Billie had showed you pictures of her garden, and you’d seen it when you walked Milo, but you could tell that something was off. You leave Milo inside as you go out and investigate, and you hurry over to the garden to take a better look.

The flowers on the right look about the same as when you’d seen them last. There were a lot of vegetables next to these that made you hungry, but then you saw the lettuce on the left and frowned.

“What the...?”

You kneel down to get a closer look, and your frown deepens as you confirm that the lettuce was squished. The head was crushed and torn by what looked like a big footprint. Who would be walking back here other than Billie? You blame your concussion on the fact that you don’t realize it immediately, but once you remember what you’d found earlier you manage to connect the dots.

The cigarettes.

You never really got a good look at Billie’s cigarettes. She always kept them in a case so you couldn’t tell what kind they were. That didn’t matter much because you doubt that Billie would leave them in the yard, on purpose or otherwise. As you wander back inside and meet Milo at the door you remember how he’d barked too. He doesn’t usually bark unless he has a reason. Aka if he wants your attention or if he’s trying to tell you something.

This thought makes you stiffen before you head toward the front door. You make sure to lock the back door behind you though because suddenly you’re on edge. You stop at the front door, deciding not to open it, and you go to the next room over to look out the window. You don’t see anyone or any cars on the street, so you relax a little, but you still don’t let your guard down.

Had someone been watching you?

Billie is on her way home from the studio when you text her again. She hadn’t stuck around long after the interview because she wanted to get home to check on you. She of course had to stay for a while to talk to the host, but she didn’t linger for long. Although the interview had gone pretty well in her opinion, that didn’t mean that Wendy wouldn’t try to ask more invasive questions behind the scenes. Billie had answered all that she wanted to about you and she really just wanted to get home.

Billie responded to your first text about ‘killing it’ before she started the drive home. It was almost half an hour without traffic, so Billie was lucky to be home in only 40 minutes. Once she’s home, she closes the car door behind her and hurries inside. She is as quiet as possible as she opens the door in case you are sleeping, but she realizes that it doesn’t matter. You hear her anyway and are quick to greet her.

“Billie, you’re back already?”

The medium turns around from shutting the door just in time to catch you as you run into her. You wrap your arms around her tightly as you pull her in for a hug and Billie is a little caught off guard by your enthusiasm. It seems that you’re feeling better. She hugs you back before nodding and pulling away to pay attention to Milo too. He’s pawing at her and whining as you and Billie embrace. After a quick scratch behind the ears, Milo is placated and just sits and watches the two of you to see if you do anything interesting.

“Traffic wasn’t bad. Are you feeling alright?”

Billie smiles as she asks this because she can definitely tell that you are, and she loves to see it. She loves the smile she receives in response as you just nod enthusiastically and talk about how you’d been since she left. You two make your way to the kitchen for a drink as you ramble excitedly.

“Yes! Much better thanks. I had to lie down and just listen for the last half of the interview, but I loved it. You did so well! I know I don’t know much about all of that, but I think you did great. Also, you definitely looked TV ready. You looked--.”

You trail off as you take a second to look at the medium who really does look amazing. You love this dress on her. You look to Billie’s hair again before you stifle the urge to smile wider and reach out and touch. You completely forgot what you were saying and you watch Billie pour herself a drink before smiling at you. She asks if you want one, but you just shake your head in response.

“You know enough dear, thank you. Your opinion means more than anyone else’s.”

You roll your eyes at Billie’s words before you change your mind and grab Billie’s drink before she can. Billie shoots you a look and you shoot it back before you just smile and hand it to her. You’re not in the mood to be too bratty right now.

“Did you get my text?”

Billie hesitates as she thinks about this before nodding. She had been driving and forgot about it, and she says this with an apologetic look that you just wave off. You leave the kitchen and wander over to the living room where you left the box of cigarettes. You grab them before holding them up for Billie to see. You return to the kitchen and glance outside as you explain what had happened while Billie was gone.

“It’s okay. I was just asking about these? I found them outside, and it also looks like someone stepped on your lettuce. Sorry.”

Billie frowns as she looks to the box of cigarettes that definitely doesn’t belong to her. She holds out her hand and you give them to her, watching as she inspects the box. It was fairly new and must have been left there recently. Today probably given how often you two went out there with Milo.

“How did you say you found them?”

Mason scowled as he returned to his office empty-handed yet again. Ever since he had been lucky enough to get the shots of you and Billie last week, he had been working hard to prove his worth. He had been following you and Billie constantly, but he hadn’t been able to get more than a few shots of either of you.

He had been at the clinic when you passed out, and he’d followed you to the hospital. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to get anything there since security wouldn’t let him in, and he wouldn’t have been able to get into the emergency room anyway.

He hadn’t seen Billie again until she started walking your dog. Mason wouldn’t admit it, but he wasn’t brave enough to confront Billie when she was with Milo. He didn’t want to get attacked again and he just watched as the medium walked him through the neighborhood. It wasn’t until a couple of days later that you joined her.

As cute as this domestic crap was, he couldn’t really use any of it. No one would really care about it, and he would be laughed at by his peers and criticized by his boss. No, he needed something else, but he just wasn’t sure how to get it.

He was still looking into your accident, but he couldn’t figure out much. You hadn’t said anything, and Billie hadn’t said anything helpful during her interview today. After failing to get anything useful from you, he’d hidden and waited until Billie got back from her interview. He literally had nothing but you and Billie walking your dog, the dog that had caught him in the backyard just seconds after he got there.

He just hoped that his contact at your apartment panned out, or else he would have nothing.

Billie had two more interviews this week, specifically on Friday. You hadn’t remembered about them immediately despite her telling you, and you felt guilty about it. She tried to reassure you that it wasn’t a big deal though. You were recovering, but you were still pouting as Billie looked at some of the materials Michelle had sent over.

“Do you need to work for the rest of the day?”

You’re lying on the couch looking through your phone when Billie looks over to you. She’d been a little more lenient because you were feeling better, but Billie was still wary of you spending too much time reading. Still, she knew you were probably working so she left it alone for now.

“I shouldn’t no. Maybe another hour or so. Why? Did you have something else in mind?”

You laugh at Billie’s tone before rolling your eyes at her suggestion. You knew she was partially kidding, but your mind wandered to what else you two could do other than what you’d originally planned on. You put your phone down because you’ve done all you’re going to at the moment. You had emailed your boss yesterday and confirmed that you could work on Monday. Since then, you’d been scanning through the few emails you’d gotten since Sunday.

For once, you were glad that news traveled fast because it meant fewer emails for you to go through. You looked at the time and did a little math before deciding to go for it. The worst Billie could say was no.

“Well, if you have time, I was thinking that maybe we can go to my place later to grab some of my things? Not that I don’t love wearing your clothes.”

Billie actually laughs at this before she really thinks about your question. She had invited you here for an unspecified amount of time, but if you really were going to stay until you had to work you raised a good point. Billie was running out of clothes to give you. She sighs before realizing that she was getting a little ahead of herself. She should check and see what your intentions were before making plans with you.

“Did you want to stay here for the rest of the week? I know Dr. Skinner said at least that long.”

Billie wanted to say more. She wanted to tell you that you were welcome to stay here, but she didn’t want to pressure you. Despite her earlier comment she wanted you to be comfortable and recover as fast as possible. She didn’t want to mess that up in any way.

You nod before groaning as you sit up and run a hand through your hair. You definitely wouldn’t mind staying with Billie, but you don’t want to overstay your welcome. You loved being around the medium, but if she was going to be working for the next couple of days, you didn’t want to be in the way.

“I won’t annoy you with my presence? Or Milo’s for that matter?”

Billie simply smiles before shaking her head. She would want nothing more than for you to stay here with her. She had planned on spending this week with you, and selfishly she was glad that it was here so she didn’t have to worry about the kittens. She knew you probably weren’t as comfortable here, but she was hoping that over the next couple of days she could change that.

“Of course not, Y/N. I would love if you two stayed here.”

You smile gratefully before nodding to yourself. You were blushing slightly but you shake it off as you open your mouth to ask again, but Billie beats you to it.

“How about I finish this up and then we go? Does that work?”

You agree to this and you let Billie get back to what she was doing as you start to make a list. You don’t want to forget anything, but as you get started you realize that you’ve forgotten something major.

“My car!”

Billie turns to see you staring wide-eyed at your phone before you look up at her. She doesn’t get a chance to ask what you’re talking about before you shake your head.

“I forgot about my car! Is it still at work? Wait, of course it is.”

You scold yourself for being so dumb before you sigh and try to figure out how you’ll get it back. You don’t realize how far down the rabbit hole you’ve gone trying to figure this out until Billie speaks up and clues you in on something that she and Erin had briefly discussed when they were arranging for Milo to be dropped off.

“Y/N. I talked to Erin and she said that she could bring it over, or it could stay there until you work again.”

You nod in thought because although you’re not supposed to be driving for at least a week, you don’t like the idea of your car just sitting in the clinic parking lot. Either way, there’s not much that can be done about it now, so you just let it go for the time being. You are just glad that you will be able to go to your apartment soon.

While Billie finishes up working, you check on the cats and take Milo into the backyard for some time outside. He is eager to sniff around and even tries to eat some of the vegetables before you redirect his attention. The two of you just sit on the deck, Milo on his back so he can get belly scratches as you take time to just relax and be outside. You want to go on a walk, but you’re too lazy and don’t want to risk a headache before you go to your place. You plan on bringing Milo because you don’t want him left alone at Billie’s house with the cats.

You have another reason for wanting to bring Milo with you though. You didn’t think you’d run into trouble, but you haven’t been there since leaving for work Sunday. You were only a little freaked out about the idea of going back and running into Doug again. You hadn’t really considered it much because you didn’t want to for all the reasons you’d given Billie, but now?

If you weren’t going to report him to the police, you at least were going to do a better job of ignoring him. Or being more alert when he was around.

Milo yawns before rolling onto his stomach and shaking fur and dirt everywhere. You groan in annoyance as you close your eyes and wipe the dirt off your face. You look at the time and decide that you should eat more before you go. You’re also just a little anxious about going back and eating a little might help you with your nerves. You lead Milo back inside, making sure his feet weren’t muddy before heading for the kitchen. You stop a couple steps in though when you don’t hear Billie on the phone, and you head her way to see what she’s up to.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

Billie looks up just in time to meet you for a quick kiss before sighing in response. You move to lean against the chair across from her as Billie takes one last look at her computer.

“I’m almost done. Are you ready to go?”

You’re surprised by this and your eyes widen as you hurry to speak. You shake your head before standing up straight again.

“Oh yeah, but I wasn’t rushing you. Just being nosy.”

Billie only smiles before shaking her head and mentioning that she was done anyway. She had tomorrow to work on this and she wasn’t as worried now that she had an interview under her belt. The first one was always the worst. At least that’s how it was supposed to go.

“You’re not, Y/N. You can ask anything. You know that.”

You blush slightly but nod in understanding as Billie shuts her computer and stands up with a sigh. You smile as she looks to her clothes, probably deciding on whether or not she should change before she looks back to you. Her smile changes to one that’s softer as she comes to stand by you. She reaches out for the hoodie that you had forgotten you’d put on this morning.

“This looks good on you, sweetheart. I thought you didn’t like wearing my clothes?”

Billie’s teasing has the desired effect and she watches as you laugh to cover your slight blush. You are getting used to Billie teasing you, but despite this, you know Billie likes to see you blush. You shake your head finally before following Billie as she heads to the kitchen to grab her things.

“I never said that. I just—you know, miss my jeans.”

You honestly just said the first piece of clothing that would come to mind. You don’t really miss much in particular, but if you had to pick something you would have said your sweatpants. You’d wear them all day everyday if you could.

Your thoughts are cut off as Billie just chuckles as she grabs her keys and her phone before turning toward the front door.

“I miss your jeans too, dear.”

You stop short of waving Milo over to you when Billie says this. You rack your brain for a time where Billie has actually seen you wear any. You frown and go to say this, but Billie cuts you off with another laugh. She opens the door for you, waiting as you get Milo ready to go.

“Wait…you haven’t even...?”

“You’re right. I haven’t, but maybe we can change that?”

You hurry through the front door so Billie doesn’t see you blushing, and she just follows you smirking the entire way to the car.

When the three of you arrive to your apartment building you have to resist the urge to run inside. There are a lot of people here, like usual, but you suddenly feel overwhelmed. You keep Milo close to you despite his excited attempts to run ahead of you, and you grab Billie’s hand without thinking. You go to pull it away because you didn’t ask, but Billie just holds yours tighter before following you into the building.

You head over to the elevator, not making eye contact with anyone as you press the button a little too hard. Billie frowns at this but she doesn’t say anything until you’re in the elevator with Milo practically running circles around you, he’s so excited. You’re too agitated to tell him to calm down and you just sigh as Billie squeezes your hand tighter.

“Are you alright, Y/N? You’re tense.”

You bite your lip as you think about whether or not you want to tell Billie what’s going on in your head. You just sigh before nodding and watching as you reach the second floor.

“A little bit. I just didn’t think coming here would be so…nerve-wracking. It’s stupid.”

Billie’s about to tell you that it’s not stupid at all, but the door opens on the third floor and you and Milo step aside to let whoever it is on. It’s a kid, maybe 10 years old who’s wearing his swimsuit. He looks vaguely familiar to you and you just smile as Milo’s tail starts smacking against the wall. You don’t notice immediately because you’re staring at the number 3 displayed on the wall waiting until you can get out, but Billie notices the amazed, baffled look on the boy’s face. The brunette is staring at Billie and she just smiles before reaching out to pet Milo.

The elevator finally dings as it arrives to your floor and you sigh in relief as the door opens. You hold Milo back as he tries to run out, and he whines as you shoot him a look.

“Milo stop it. Wait.”

You wait for the little boy to go first and then Billie before you walk out. You miss the small wave that Billie gives the boy who’s still staring at her in awe as you make your way down the hall. You grab your keys from your pocket and sigh when the lock clicks. The door swings open and you let Milo go and run to where ever he wants before looking around for Billie. She’s trailing behind and you realize that you’d been a little inattentive so you shoot her a smile.

“Sorry, Billie. Come on in.”

Billie did and you were quick to shut the door behind her and lock it. You are about to run to your room and start getting things together when you see Billie wander toward the kitchen. It reminds you that you’re still too tense to be your usual self and you sigh as you follow Billie into the kitchen.

“If you can find anything that you want, it’s yours. I haven’t gone shopping since…last week?”

Billie just smiles as she shakes her head at you. She had been heading over to Milo’s food and treats because she figured you needed them. She was going to try and collect it for you to take back to her house. You smile as Billie says this and you try to figure out what would be best. You stored it in a bin too big to lug around so you hurry to find a container that will carry enough to last the week.

“Do you have any bags, or...?”

Billie trails off as you shake your head and pull out a Tupperware container. You know that Milo will not hesitate to eat through the bag to get to his food and you don’t want him to poop out plastic again.

“Uh, here put it in this. It’s safer from him this way.”

Billie just nods before she opens Milo’s food and starts scooping it into the container.

“I’ll handle this. Go get your jeans.”

You laugh at this before getting on your tiptoes to kiss Billie in thanks. You pull away with a smile before turning and leaving the kitchen.

“Thanks, Billie.”

You pass Milo who is rolling around on the carpet in the living room on your way upstairs. You pull your phone out to look at your list before you go to your closet to grab your bag. You hurry because you need to get back to Billie’s house sooner rather than later. You’d left the cats alone which should be fine at this point, but they still needed to be checked on periodically. For this reason, you start stripping as you reach into your closet for a change of clothes. Despite it being warm out you pull on a pair of jeans, before wandering around aimlessly looking for the next item on your list. You haven’t decided what shirt you wanted yet and you’re still walking around half dressed when Billie finishes up in the kitchen.

She’s packed Milo’s food and some treats, but there wasn’t anything else that he really needed. So she wanders around a little before deciding to head upstairs and see if you needed help. She hadn’t expected you to be mostly done already, or to only be half-dressed when she showed up.

Billie knocks on the door frame since the door was open and you jump before turning around as you zip up your bag. You have everything you need but a damn shirt. You smile slightly as you wave Billie into the room. You turn back toward your dresser to grab a t-shirt. You’re going to be in the Billie’s house for the rest of the day. It’s not like it really matters what you wear.

“Come on in. I’m almost done.”

Billie smiles as she walks into the room and looks around for a moment. She’s never been in it before, but it was almost exactly what she expected. It was very clean and the bed had some of Milo’s fur on it.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

You smile and nod as you pull your shirt over your head and run to grab your phone off the bed. You check the list one last time before making sure that you have your charger and your computer too. You probably won’t use it much, but you want it just in case. You don’t want to have to use Billie’s when she’s so busy.

“Yeah, sorry. I just needed to decide what to wear.”

Billie frowns slightly at your apology before shaking her head. She isn’t sure why you feel the need to apologize so much when you’ve done nothing wrong. She walks towards you and reaches out to straighten your hair with a smile.

“You don’t need to apologize, Y/N, but I like your decision.”

You smile a little before nodding to yourself. You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything, but it was just a habit. It left your mouth sometimes before you even realized it. You let Billie play with your hair for a few seconds before you respond with a sigh.

“You’re right. Are you ready to go?”

You and Billie are back in the elevator with Milo a few minutes later. You’ve got your bag and Milo while Billie’s holding the bag with Milo’s food. You make it to the lobby without any trouble, but as you’re passing the front desk you remember that you haven’t checked your mail in a while. You sigh as you look to Billie who has noticed that you stopped and you shoot her a questioning look.

“I forgot to check my mail. Can meet you at the car?”

Billie just nods before she reaches out for Milo to take him with her. Instead, you give her your bag and hope that she doesn’t question it. She just adjusts what she’s holding to take your bag and you smile gratefully before turning toward the mailboxes. You’ll make this as quick as possible.

“I’ll be right there. Thank you.”

Billie just nods and heads outside as you hurry to check your mail. You grab your keys from your pocket checking to make sure Milo is sitting out of the way before opening it and checking to see what you have. You keep the couple of bills that you see, but put everything else back in the box for now. You’ll worry about it later.

You’re leaving the room and heading back toward the front doors when you spot someone that looks like Doug at the end of the hall. You don’t even bother to confirm that it’s him before you practically run outside. You feel your head swim, but you ignore it as you take a second to slow down once you’re outside to let Milo pee. You sigh before walking to where Billie’s parked and already waiting with the car running. You put Milo in the back seat, looking for his buckle before you remember it’s in your car. You’re frazzled and you’re afraid it shows when you get into the front seat next to Billie with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry about that, I’m ready now.”

Billie just shakes her head before shooting you a look that you don’t notice. You’re looking out the front of the car, specifically at your apartment building.

“What did I say about apologizing, Y/N?”

You sigh before cringing at your mistake as you try to calm down. You need to relax. It’s not like he’s going to attack you in broad daylight. You weren’t even sure it was him.

“So—Right. Thank you for helping me, Billie.”

Billie spends most of the drive home wondering what had happened. She had realized pretty quickly that you were anxious about going back to your apartment. She wasn’t exactly sure why until you wanted to keep Milo with you to check the mail. It seemed odd and as she was sitting in the car thinking about it, it hit her. She hadn’t even realized that you were worried about running into Doug again. How could she forget that this was the first time being at your apartment since it happened? She mentally kicks herself as she follows you into the house. She watches as you let Milo run free and stumble slightly as you try to take off your shoes.

“Are you alright?”

You hold back a sigh as you lean against the wall to keep yourself steady as you take off your other shoe. You turn to Billie with a frown. You had been feeling worse since you started worrying and now your head was practically pounding.

“My headache just got worse. It’s not a big deal, I just need to lie down.”

Billie frowns as she watches you head over to the couch absentmindedly dropping your bag on the way. She looks to the clock, realizing it’s too early for your next dose of medication. She still goes to get you water though before coming to sit beside you.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

You smile at Billie before shaking your head at her. There really isn’t anything else that she could do, but you do need to sleep. You lean forward and rest your head against her shoulder and she pulls you into a hug before you close your eyes with another sigh.

“Can I just sit here with you for a second?”

Billie smiles before pulling you closer with a nod. She almost starts to run her hand through your hair, but she figures that will make your headache worse. Instead, she merely sighs and shifts slightly so you’re both leaning against the couch. Billie listens to your breathing even out as you relax against her as the minutes pass. You’re almost completely on top of Billie by the time you fall asleep only ten minutes later.

You wake up around dinner time. You’re sure of this because it’s the sound of Milo scarfing down his food that rouses you from your sleep. You groan and sit up as you look around to see Milo’s tail sticking out from behind the counter. You take a second to sit and get acclimated to being up before you risk standing. You stop short; however, when you see the glass of water and the bottles on the table in front of you. You sigh before opening them and taking your pills before heading to the kitchen.

You find Billie standing at the counter watching Milo as he demolishes his food. You only look for a moment to see how much is left before giving up. You’re sure that Billie fed him the right amount, and if not, you don’t really care. You spoil your dog all the time.

“Did he wake you?”

You shake your head despite the fact that Milo had woken you up, but you ignore this fact since you have a better excuse. You smile as you meet Billie for a hug before stifling a yawn.

“No, I was just hungry. Have you eaten yet?”

Billie shakes her head as she places a kiss on your brow before checking the clock. You’d been asleep for about two hours and Billie was going to wake you up after walking Milo. She says this and you smile appreciatively before saying that you’ll go with her. Billie doesn’t say anything in response to this, instead she changes the subject.

“Are you feeling any better?”

You nod as you mention that you are and that you’d taken your meds. You look to Milo who is now finished eating and standing at your side watching you and Billie intently.

“I am thanks. I think I just got a stress headache from worrying so much.”

You pull away from Billie slightly as you say this, but you don’t move too far before you’re speaking again. You spare Milo a glance and scratch his head with a smile.

“I guess I was a little nervous about running into Doug again. I didn’t think-.”

You pause as you try to figure out what you were going to say. You didn’t think that you wouldn’t consider what happened when you went to your apartment? That you wouldn’t be worried about seeing Doug and potentially getting hurt again? It seemed silly to say, but you had told yourself when you’d decided not to go to the police, that you’d handle it. That it would all be fine.

You suppose you haven’t really learned much since your dad died.

“Didn’t think what, Y/N?”

You didn’t realize how long you’d spaced out until Billie asks this. You turn back to her before shaking your head with an apology on the tip of your tongue. You stop short as something you haven’t heard in months comes to mind, and you hate yourself for cringing at the mere thought of her voice.

Don’t you dare apologize.

Billie feels you stiffen and move away from her, and she watches as your expression turns dark. She isn’t sure where your mind just went, but she doesn’t get a chance to ask before you’re speaking in a tone that betrays your calm demeanor.

“I didn’t really consider it, but it was fine. We didn’t see him.”

Billie didn’t get a chance to respond to this before you turn to Milo and tell him to go grab his leash. She expects you to just run off with him, but you stop after a couple of steps before sighing in defeat. You turn back to Billie before shooting her a guilty look. You don’t apologize but you do promise to talk about this later. You just need to calm down a little.

“I’ll tell you Billie, I just need a minute.”

Part 17

#american horror story #ahs #ahs fic #ahs imagine #ahs murder house #my fic #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard imagine #billie dean howard #a little bit

50 notes · View notes

maatryoshkaa · 5 years ago

Text

young god | chapter 13

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 3.5k

warnings: foul language, implied sexual assault, mentions of trauma and mental illness

description: Yang Jeongin, the only living witness of the Miroh Heights Murders, is finally awake, casting a new shadow of possibilities onto the entire investigation. Han Jisung knows deep down there’s only one place left to go, and takes his chances with a familiar blond detective -- but they find that where chances are given, lives may be taken away.

watch the trailer here!

13| give and take.

They say when you have a close brush with death, you see your life flash before your eyes.

Jeongin supposed there was some truth to that. One moment he had been squinting at the golden-haired boy in the darkness; the next he had found himself collapsed against the forest floor. The sky had spun above him like a broken kaleidoscope, until the unbearably hot throbbing in his head had finally forced his eyes shut. He had felt the strength seeping from his limbs, like blood being drained from livestock, and had let the numbness wash over him like an icy tidal wave.

That was when Jeongin’s life had flashed behind his closed eyelids — choppy flashes of memories and people’s voices, warped and dizzying.

“Life in prison?” Jeongin’s own voice sounded tinny in his ears, and his father gave him a sad smile on the other side of the plexiglass. “B-but all you did was—”

“A man lost his life because of me,” his father spoke slowly, eyes steady on Jeongin’s distraught face. Slow, steady, careful. Kind. That was how Jeongin had always known his father — a gentle man who wouldn’t hurt a fly — yet now he was sitting across from him in an inmate’s uniform, handcuffs locked tight around his wrists.

“But he—he hurt Mum first,” Jeongin whispered, barely able to push the words out of his throat. “He—you said he—”

“He did.” His father’s face had darkened, his normally soft jaw clenched. “I...lost it, and what happened to him was what that bastard deserved — but nothing changes the fact that I...killed him.” He let out a deep, weary sigh, and Jeongin was suddenly struck by how much older his father looked. “He got his punishment for his sins one way, and now I’m paying for mine. It’s as simple as that, my boy.”

The buzzer sounded and the door behind him clicked open, a stone-faced officer stepping into the room as his father stood. “Take good care of your mother, would you?”

“Dad, if—” Jeongin’s shaking voice made his father turn back around. The question was odd, but it had been burning at the back of his mind since the beginning of the visit. “If you—had the chance to go back. Would you still have...done it?”

Silence fell between father and son like a curtain. His father inhaled deeply, raising his eyebrows before meeting his son’s eyes again. “I don’t doubt it,” he finally replied, voice soft. “What could I do? It was for someone I loved.”

From then on, Jeongin’s mother had spent the better years of her life working whatever job she could find, and the two of them lived off minimum wage and money sent by estranged relatives — until the poor woman had finally fallen ill. No one would hire a sickly old woman — especially not one that had been involved in a sexual assault case, all those years ago.

That was why Jeongin worked with four different delivery companies at a time; that was what he could never bring himself to tell Hyunjin or you. Work four jobs, graduate, and make proper money to pay his mother’s hospital bills, to dig himself out of the poverty he’d known his entire life. Yang Jeongin’s one-way, masterplan. Until…

The coma.

He had become almost comfortably numb, like a body submerged in the middle of a pond — yet occasionally, something would pull him above the surface, even if just for a brief moment. A voice, a pressure, a light. It was almost always Hyunjin, the soft-hearted barista talking to him about his day as if Jeongin had simply sat down to chat in Glow Cafe, not rendered immobile and unresponsive by a concussion. Sometimes, though, the older boy would be crying, silent sobs shaking his lean frame until he was so exhausted he’d fall asleep by Jeongin’s side. And Jeongin wanted nothing more than to reach out to reassure him, to pull his friend into a hug, but he couldn’t will his body to move no matter how hard he tried.

Until now.

An incessant high-pitched beeping was growing louder and louder, the tips of his fingers prickling. Jeongin’s heartbeat surged into his temples, pounding against his eardrums like fists demanding entry. The darkness behind his eyelids was shifting, pinpricks of light poking their way in — and like a breath of air had been knocked straight into his lungs, Jeongin felt his entire body lurch forward and his eyes shot open.

For several seconds he could only take deep, gasping breaths, obsessed with just the feeling of it all, vaguely registering the inhaler pressed against his mouth. His eyes were still adjusting, flashes of white light and black stars painting his blurry vision. There were shouts from all around him, a deep rumbling as everything seemed to shake.

It was as if the entire sky was falling above him, he thought vaguely.

He blinked, hard, and his vision finally focused, the incongruous voices and sounds growing clearer. The incessant beeping had been the heart monitor by his cot, keeping in time with his gasping breathing. And the yelling was coming from none other than Hwang Hyunjin, whose dark hazel eyes were wide with disbelief and already brimming with tears of shock.

“J-Jeongin? He’s — he’s awake,” the taller boy nearly tripped getting to his feet, yanking aside the curtains and disappearing from Jeongin’s sight. “He’s awake!”

Jeongin winced, a throbbing pressure beginning to press at his skull. His fingers twitched twice and he flexed them gingerly. Suddenly remembering, his hands weakly scrabbled for his pockets, desperately feeling for a familiar metal box but coming back empty.

His Walkman was gone.

The deep rumbling passed by him again and he realised it was the sound of carts full of medical equipment speeding across the halls — like there had been yet another emergency. Jeongin could only make out some of what the hospital staff were saying as they rushed past.

“Stab wound to the chest...brought her in...no sight of him.”

Jagged fragments of his memory were coming back to him, the empty feeling in his chest beginning to fill with a sinking sense of dread. The strange boy. A dismembered corpse.

What on earth happened while I was out?

━━━━━━━━

Run.

Jisung’s feet slammed into the pavement, puddles splashing cold rainwater onto his bloodstained jeans.

“He’s a runner, that’s what he is.”

His chest was burning, ribs feeling as if they were closing in on his lungs. He could still feel your warm body pressed against his, widened eyes fluttering shut as he could only watch in horror. With strength Jisung didn’t know he had left, he had carried you in his arms and bolted into the alley just as the police had turned into the diner’s back lot. The hospital was only a block away. He had burst into the lobby, nearly collapsing as he shouted for someone, anyone to help — and nearby, stunned doctors had loaded you onto an empty gurney before whisking you into the emergency room. Once they returned, Jisung was long gone.

“You ran away from her, too, yeah?”

The gang’s taunting voices echoed in his head, the sky rumbling above him — just like how his father’s voice had always rumbled, shaking the thin walls of his childhood home. And now, Jisung was ten years old all over again, clutching his camcorder in his bloodstained hands.

There had been a fine layer of dust coating the dented metal when Jisung had seized it from his dorm closet. Just touching the metal made his hands slippery with cold sweat, but he forced himself to grip it harder, counting the memory cards before he took off. Running, one last time.

“Try running now, Han.”

He wasn’t running away.

If he wanted to reverse the horrible things he’d done, there was only one place left to go.

“Han Jisung, always running away.”

“Not this time,” Jisung breathed through gritted teeth, almost welcoming the way the falling rain burned at his eyes and nostrils. “Not anymore.”

━━━━━━━━

Bang Chan didn’t realize how long he had been pacing the room until his feet began to ache in protest.

The detective hadn’t left the police precinct since Woojin had called him over, the pair pulling out files and chasing leads from dawn till dusk. Kim Seungmin had popped in for several hours before he had been called back to the law office. The moon had come and gone, until telltale sirens sounded not long after noon, and Woojin was called onto the scene of yet another emergency.

Another hour or so had passed since then, and Chan was replaying the same conversation with the police chief over and over in his head.

“I didn’t want to believe it, Chan, but from the beginning I had this—this feeling—”

“A hunch,” Chan finished, and when the police chief looked hesitant, Chan continued, “is almost always based on something more concrete, whether you know it or not. Something familiar, or strange. We’ve hit all the dead ends; a hunch is one of the better things we can hope for right now.”

Woojin exhaled, then spoke slowly. “The victims’ backgrounds, how they’ve all had pasts connected to abuse, or adultery. Not to mention the modus operandi that stood out the most — you remember the fire, and numerous counts of brute force.”

“I thought something was familiar, too,” Seungmin had interjected, his brow furrowing. “I studied this...case back in law school — a shotgun marriage, their young son growing up in an abusive household, until one day —”

“The house went up in flames,” Woojin finished, nodding. “It’s the same case, the most infamous amongst domestic abuse cases in Miroh Heights. The names were withheld for privacy reasons. Though the case was closed over a decade ago...the accuracy of the final verdict, and the true events that transpired that night, are still unknown.”

“Victims of cold cases often reappear as suspicious persons,” Chan muttered. “It’s a reach, but if you look at the similarities...”

“We’ve been blindsided this entire time,” Seungmin said slowly, his fingers raking through his hair. “Not a substance abuser, quite possibly not a cold-blooded killer.” He looked up at Woojin, whose brow was furrowed in deep thought. “So if your hunch is correct, then—”

“This is the aftereffect of a cold domestic violence case from over a decade ago,” the young police chief said firmly, eyes flickering up to Chan. “And we can’t afford to let it slip away again.”

Something had been pricking at the back of the detective’s head since Woojin had begun talking — no, far before he had even arrived at the police station. Chan had always been known for having a quick mind; it was one of the things that separated him from other, more mediocre detectives in his field — but this time, something was blocking him from reaching the final conclusion. He didn’t lack evidence; there were no flaws in his logic. It was the horrible feeling of familiarity that made him choke, that forced him to hesitate. Because he knew this case, he had seen it before.

“And it’s not a reach, Detective,” Woojin continued, voice gentle but eyes firm. “Because I believe you know the story yourself.”

Seungmin turned towards Chan, eyes questioning. The detective shook his empty coffee cup in his hands, eyes skirting over the countless case files and papers they had been sifting through for hours.

“The perpetrator is—”

A blond boy burst into the dimly lit room, breathing so hard Chan thought he was about to have a stroke. It didn’t take longer than a second for the detective to recognise him.

“Han Jisung,” Chan finished the flashback aloud, the name hanging in the tense air. His eyes scanned the shaking boy from head to toe, a cold feeling running down his spine. He wasn’t even trying to hide the blood soaking his clothes and skin, Chan thought numbly. This was his friend, someone he’d always looked at like a little brother—but he had seen, solved too many of these cases not to recognise the stricken look on Jisung’s pale face.

This was the shell of a man who had just lost everything.

“What brings you here?” Chan asked, watching him carefully. The same tousled golden hair, he noted, pushing down a pang in his chest; the same boyish round cheeks, although there was a smattering of bruises and cuts across them now.

“You told me I—I could talk to you or Woojin. Anytime.” Jisung’s voice faltered, wiping at his face as if to clear away some of the muck, but the dried blood on his palms only smeared more across his jaw. He looked like a lost dog, a stray that had turned up on the nearest warm doorstep and was watching him with almost apologetic, apprehensive eyes.

Chan set down his notebook, nodding slowly. “That I did,” he finally replied, glancing back up at the younger boy before pulling out two chairs. “Woojin got called to a scene, though. You okay if I listen for now?”

Jisung felt a flood of indescribable emotions wash over him. The same twist in his gut he had felt back at the 3rd Eye, when the Chan had pulled him close and asked if he was okay.

I’ll listen.

That was more than anyone had ever offered him since the incident thirteen years ago. The therapists, the police, the social workers — all they had ever wanted was for him to listen to them, to heed their advice and bury his past behind him.

Other than you, of course. The memory of your fading eyes burning into his own shook him back to the present.

“I think you know, Chan,” Jisung said softly, marking the way the detective was warily scanning the blood covering him from head to toe; the dishevelled look Jisung must have had on his face.

“I have a hunch,” was the detective’s reply. He sounded as if he were repeating someone else’s words, but his voice was steady as it had ever been. “But you’re going to need to help me on this one, kiddo.”

Jisung met the older boy’s eyes — Chan’s always tired but unfailingly kind eyes, always willing to give the benefit of the doubt. Maybe that was what made him such a meticulous detective, respected by criminals and citizens alike — never jumping to conclusions, always seeing a problem out till the end. The detective’s gaze dropped to the silver camcorder in Jisung’s hands.

“You used to carry that around everywhere you went, I remember. Never showed anyone what you’d film, though.”

“Do you have...anything that can play memory cards?” Jisung swallowed a painful lump in his throat. “I need to—show you. Now.”

Wordlessly, Chan moved his laptop over on the table, and made the younger boy take a seat next to him.

Jisung had always thought his past was something to be kept buried — below the ashes of his childhood home, or six feet under his mother’s grave, or bottled deep within his chest. That no one would ever truly know — would want to know — what had happened that day, let alone what had been happening for the years leading up to that day. And yet, for the second time in two days, he was sat next to someone who, to his surprise, didn’t make him want to run. Someone he was willing to take the risk of revealing the darkest parts of himself with.

For the next hour, Chan watched the footage in silence, from the very first Christmas to the day Jisung’s father’s mistress had pressed burning cigarettes into his bare skin. From the fateful day their entire home was brought to the ground with alcohol and fire at the hands of a ten year old boy, and to the choppy records from the years that followed. Jisung had taped his encounters with the incompetent officers and dismissive social workers at the police station, and the mandatory therapy sessions they had subjected him to. He had taped the kidnapping, and his years at the children’s home with Minho.

He had not taped any of the killings.

Chan sat through it all, reliving Jisung’s nightmares the way the younger boy had every night for the past thirteen years, an ugly childhood told through the fisheye lens of an old camcorder. By the time the last tape had finished, the detective had not moved, but Jisung knew him well enough to catch the tension in his jaw, the shaken look in his normally bright eyes.

“You were the cold case,” Chan finally said, a long exhale leaving his now-dry lips. “From thirteen years ago. The one they couldn’t solve, and swept under the rug.”

Jisung didn’t respond, too busy forcing every inch of his body to remain still — to not stand and sprint out of the room, out of the police station he had been avoiding his entire life.

“Why are you telling me this?” The detective asked, turning his body to face the younger boy.

“Because I—I killed—all those people,” Jisung wove his hand towards the files Chan had splayed onto the desk, the headshots of victims lying at the very top. The words were heavier than weights in his mouth, and and the truth of it all tasted more bitter than poison. “And then I—I couldn’t stop. I sound insane, I know I do. I know I p-probably am. They were—flashes at first. Triggers, seizures that went too far. And soon it became like--like an impulse, until I started blacking out completely—” Jisung’s breathing caught up to him and he choked, but he managed to force the last words out. “And today, I...hurt...y/n.” He saw the alarm flash across Chan’s eyes. “The last person who made me hope...made me want to hope that life was worth living, after all.”

He sounded insane.

He sounded like a serial killer trying to make excuses for something inexcusable.

He sounded like a monster.

“You sound like you’ve been through a lot.” Chan’s voice made Jisung look up from his shoes. The soft look in his eyes was back, and though a bit of the blood had drained from his face, the warmth in his voice had never left. “Thank you. For telling me.”

That was the final blow.

“S-stop. Don’t—say that,” Jisung could feel his voice breaking, the tears burning at his throat. “Chan, you have to turn me in, make them give me the death penalty, I-I—”

“Han Jisung.” The detective’s voice was stern, his normally gentle eyes narrowed. “You turned yourself in. The case from thirteen years ago needs to be reopened, and all the factors reinvestigated to be fairly taken into account. You do not deserve the death penalty.”

Jisung was shaking his head numbly, lips unable to form protests as the detective continued, a blazing look in his eyes Jisung had never seen before. “You’re not gonna be a martyr now, you hear? Han Jisung, you’ve been hurt by everyone else your whole damn life. I’m not about to let you hurt yourself.”

There it was again. That feeling of unfamiliar warmth aching deep in his chest, like an old bruise being pressed into. Before Jisung could speak, a slow, sarcastic clapping echoing through the room made both of them raise their heads and turn in alarm.

Prosecutor Kang pushed the door aside, eyebrows raised in amusement and mock sympathy.

“What are—you can’t—” Chan leapt up from his seat, but Kang only looked more amused as he looked over his shoulder at the open doorway, where a huddle of prosecutors and police officers alike were gathered with expressions of horror. Seungmin was among them, his face white.

“You all heard him, didn’t you? Detain the murderer.” Kang smiled triumphantly as the officers surrounded Jisung, seizing his arms so roughly he felt like they were being pulled from their sockets.

Chan looked livid, eyes darting wildly between the officers and Prosecutor Kang. “Let him go. Keep him in the precinct until Woojin comes back, Kang,” he protested, but the older prosecutor only sneered.

“Detective Bang, aren’t you overstepping your boundaries? Wait for Kim Woojin? Don’t forget—” Kang took a step closer to Chan, eyes narrowing. “Personal relations with the perpetrator cannot participate in the investigation.”

Chan felt his gut twist, scanning the whitened expressions on the surrounding staff’s faces. How much had they seen, overheard? Kang watched the detective’s eyes flicker momentarily, and laughed.

“Besides,” he continued, “I’d say it’s time the prosecution did its part.” He shot a meaningful glance at Seungmin, who had been glaring between Jisung, Chan, and Kang with his fists clenched. Kang clicked his tongue, sighing. “Kim Seungmin, Kim Seungmin — I can’t believe I have to do your dirty work.”

Chan’s mind was reeling, all options coming back blank. This was the District 9 Precinct, and as a homicidal detective, he had no power over Woojin’s men. In fact, after what Kang had said, Chan wasn’t even sure if Woojin had power over Woojin’s men anymore. You fucked up, Bang. You fucked up bad.

Chan risked a glance at Jisung’s face and immediately regretted it. What he saw had no traces of anger, no more hate, no signs of struggle. His eyes were wide and dark, as if the boy had shut down completely. Kang scoffed at the detective’s sudden silence, turning on his heel and motioning towards the officers.

Chan could only watch helplessly as Jisung was dragged out of the room like a limp doll, his once-rounded cheeks still shining with blood and fresh tears.

691 notes · View notes

pi-cat000 · 4 years ago

Text

MSA time travel idea (part 39)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25 Lewis POV 3, Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34, Lewis POV 5, Mystery POV 2, Lewis POV 6, Vivi POV 5

Part 40: here

...

LEWIS POV

Lewis comes to welcome the dark interludes which provide a brief reprieve from the parade of fake-Arthur-memories. The cold, empty silence is preferable to the increasingly dour scenes depicting the day-to-day struggles of fake-Arthur and fake-Vivi as they fail at dealing with fake-Lewis’s death. Not that either of them know about his death. Arthur doesn’t remember the cliff or the body snatcher, thinking fake-Lewis is alive and lost somewhere. Vivi doesn’t remember him at all. He’s been erased completely from her mind, leaving her confused and Arthur distraught. Lewis has no idea how long he’s spent watching them struggle. The scenes come and go at varying lengths and changing levels of detail. He must have lived through several weeks’ worth of fake-memories now. Months of Arthur’s life flit by, broken up into chunks.

...

A conversation with Vivi, trying and failing to convince her that the other-Lewis had existed at all.

“Lewis…you know, Lewis. Please remember.”

“I’m sorry, I blanked out for a second there…what were you saying?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing…”

“Oh shit…I was...how long was I out for this time?”

“An hour...You were gone for an hour.”

“I’m sorry Arthur.”

“Don’t worry about it. Was my fault…Mentioned something I shouldn’t have.”

Fights with Lance when the older man attempts to intervene and stop Arthur’s increasingly destructive behaviour.

“This behaviour isn’t healthy.”

“What am I supposed to do!”

“Maybe, stop and actually think about this…”

“Lewis is out there somewhere, and you want me to just give up!”

Hours spend online and in police stations trying to convince people to look for the other-Lewis.

“Kid. You’re friend is listed as missing. We have alerts out in the neighbouring states and so far there’s been no word. Search parties, caving experts, were combing those old mine shafts for six days after you came in. There was nothing there.”

“Something happened there...something bad...if you would just...”

“The cave is just a regular cave. Those old mines are old mines. Nothing weird or spooky about them, just very easy to get lost in. There’s nothing more to be done so go home, eat a hot meal, get some sleep. If your friend shows up you’ll be one of the first to know. ”

...

It’s like watching a highlight real, only nothing about these memories is a highlight. He’s almost sure the fake-memories are selected and purposefully skewed towards negative experiences. Surely, even if this were real-it’s not real, it can’t be real-Arthur’s life wouldn’t be this bad without Lewis there.

When the darkness falls away, transitioning into another memory, Lewis wants to yell out in frustration.

…

Lewis’s eyes open of their own accord and he’s looking out at the world, experiencing life from his friend’s perspective.

…

This memory starts with Arthur staring as a door handle, hesitating to pull it open. Lewis recognises it of course, he’s seen this door serval times, scattered in amongst the most recent lot of fake-memories. It’s the door to Vivi and Arthur’s apartment in Milton, faded green in colour and rusted around the hinges.

Arthur lets out a long breath which tranistions into a yawn, fiddling around with a set of keys with his one, good arm. Lewis tries not to worry when his friend drops the keys to the ground, hand slightly shakier than usual. Arthur probably hasn’t been sleeping properly. Not-sleeping is a running theme for this fake-memory-Arthur.

When the door does finally swing open, it is to reveal an irate Vivi. She is blocking the flat’s narrow entryway, her hands on her hips, expression creased into a scowl.

“In what universe does ‘I’ll be back early’ mean 11:30 pm?”

Arthur winces. Lewis can’t see his expression but his friend is probably grimacing. Most memories that feature both Vivi and Arthur involved an argument of some sort. Another form of torture for him no doubt. Seeing them struggle to come to terms with his disappearance was always a painful viewing experience. Lewis braces himself for some sort of emotionally charged argument, wishing he had the power to intervein. These fake-memories are some of the hardest to sit through.

“A lot of the guys in the lab work late hours.”

Vivi looks unimpressed, “And I suppose they’re all recovering from a recent amputation as well are they?”

“It’s been four months …It’s healed plenty.”

Lewis feels the echo sensation of pain as Arthur drops his bag to the floor, freeing up his remaining arm. Arthur lying to Vivi about his wellbeing is another common theme in these fake-memories. Vivi knows it too, Lewis can already see the tension in her shoulders.

“I’m fine,” Arthur tries to reassure, skirting around Vivi, avoiding eye contact. “The prototype for the new arm is almost done, we’re just waiting on the guys in programming to double-check some of the coding….”

“This new arm isn’t going to be worth much if you’re too exhausted to do anything with it.” Vivi interrupts angrily, following Arthur as he slinks past the small kitchen towards bedrooms at the back of the apartment.

Lewis feels her grabs the back of Arthur’s shirts, pulling the other up short.

“I said I’m fin….wait.”

Vivi drags Arthur to the narrow kitchen bench just big enough to fit two bar-chairs, ignoring his objections.

“Sit.” She orders, stopping over to the frig, pulling out a bowl and thrusting it into the microwave. The hum of the microwave makes the following quiet twice as uncomfortable. Even Lewis feels it.

Arthur clears his throat to speak and is cut off when the microwave lets off a loud ping.

Vivi all but slams the streaming bowl down in front of Arthur.

“You really don’t have to…” Arthur tries.

“Oh yeah? What did you eat for dinner?”

Silence.

“Lunch?”

“…”

“Because I only know you ate breakfast because I was there for it.”

More silence hangs between them.

“Eat.” She instructs and glares until Arthur picks up the spoon. Lewis can feel Arthur shift in awkward discomfort as he starts eating. After living through so many of these fake-memories, Lewis is becoming an Arthur body language expert.

“How was work?” Arthur breaks the silence, glancing at Vivi. She is sitting with her arms crossed, still upset, still annoyed. Lewis can read the worry fuelling her frustration clear as day.

Her expression clears as she deliberately puts the issue of Arthur arriving late to one side, “Work was good. Duet is a real character but they’re nice and super knowledgeable when it comes to the occult and other supernatural stuff. They’re helping me research memory-related curses and whatnot. The first person, apart from you, who doesn’t think I’m crazy. So that’s a plus.”

“When my arm is fixed, we can hit the road and follow up on any leads you hear,” Arthur murmurs between mouthfuls and Lewis wishes he could face-palm because that is the exact wrong thing to say. Not for the first time, Lewis longs to be physically present so he can smooth over the sudden tension which spikes in the room. “Or we could go before that…I mean…I don’t really need two arms.”

“It’s not urgent or anything,” Vivi responds with the forced cheer of someone holding back on speaking their mind. “I bleary notice that the memories are gone most days. Your arm is more important.”

“Don’t say that,” Arthur stops eating to frown.

“Don’t say what? That I’m fine postponing the search for my memories for however long it takes you to get better?”

“That’s not…what I mean is that your memories are important.”

Vivi’s expression hardens, becoming terse, “Not more important than your health.”

Arthur tenses.

“My missing memories can wait,” She insists. “I’ve been doing fine without them. Especially now we live here and not in Tempo. I haven’t had a blackout since we moved.”

“It’s not just that…” Arthur retorts, frustrated.

“Then what.” Vivi snaps, almost yelling now, “Do you hear yourself speak? ‘I don’t really need two arms,’…are you kidding me! What could possibly be more important than your health.”

“You know I can’t tell you.”

Vivi lets out a long, frustrated breath, standing. “You promised, when we moved closer to the hospital labs, you promised that you’d make an effort to actually look after yourself.”

Arthur doesn’t respond as Vivi continues. “When your arm is finished. When you look like an actual person and not a zombie. When we don’t have to have this conversation every day. Then we’ll go searching.”

The bar stool squeaks on the floor as Vivi pushes it back, “I’m going to bed. I’ve got work early tomorrow. You should sleep as well…when you’ve finished.”

A long silence stretches between his two friends, all the heat gone from the argument. Lewis can’t see Vivi anymore, Arthur’s vision is now fixed on his spoon which is resting on the lip of the bowl.

“I would tell you everything…if I could…” Arthur doesn’t look up. His voice is strained.

Vivi pauses in the doorway. “I know.” She sounds tired. Lewis’s heart aches. “That doesn’t change anything.”

Arthur flinches.

A sigh and Vivi adds, “I better not find you awake in an hour because I’m going to set my alarm to check.”

“What?” Arthur finally looks up. “You can’t do that.”

“I can and will.”

“…but you just said you have work in the morning.”

“If you’re not gonna sleep then I’m not gonna sleep.”

“But….”

“Just the way it’s gotta be apparently,” Vivi finishes, strolling out of the room, leaving Arthur- and, through him, Lewis- to stare after her.

Arthur slumps, “God…damnit…” rubbing his eyes. There’s no anger to the word.

No matter how many times he’s seen Arthur and Vivi argue in the weeks and months following his counterpart’s death, it never got any easier. They were both too stubborn for their own good. Arthur’s got a quiet, methodical stubbornness about him while Vivi is loud and abrasive. Mix that with emotional stress and an obvious concern for one another and the result was a whole load of tension. Lewis knows Arthur has low self-esteem and tendency to beat himself up and blame himself for stuff that definitely wasn’t his fault, but he’s never seen him this bad. It never seemed like that big a deal when both him and Vivi had been around to help. Vivi too, he’s never see her so stressed and angry at seemingly everything. Or maybe Lewis doesn’t know Vivi or Arthur as well as he thought he did.

There is movement in the corner of the room and Lewis notices Mystery for the first time. The not-a-dog had been lying in the corner.

“What.”

Mystery just cocks his head to the side.

“I know you can understand me,” Arthur mutters, shifting with discomfort. Mystery doesn’t speak or do much of anything, trotting out of the room after Vivi. Not too surprising. Another trend in these illusions was that Mystery tended to just sit and watch.

Sometimes, Lewis wonders if he just imagined the whole ‘giant fox’ thing. His memories for the car park confrontation are fuzzy, he’d been in a lot of pain at the time and probably suffering a bit of blood loss. He’s lived through so many of these memories that the real would seams so far away. Then he remembers those shinning teeth biting into him, and very real physical pain. That was real.

The real world was still out there.

None of these memories were real. He had almost forgotten.

“I’m not crazy,” Arthur murmurs, eyeing the dog uneasily before turning back to finish what’s left in his bowl. Lewis can’t read Arthur’s thoughts, but he suspects that his friend might be having similar doubts about Mystery’s true identity as well.

“I’ll find you, Lewis…”

For a second, Lewis thinks Arthur is addressing him directly before remembering that that’s impossible. This fake-memory-Arthur is addressing the ghost of a best friend he doesn’t know is dead. Lewis is only a passenger, watching life through Arthur’s eyes, invisible and stranded.

“I’ll find you …no matter what it takes. I’ll find you. And everything will go back to normal…”

…

The memory fades, darkening and Lewis is once again back in the dark.

...

“DAMNIT!”

He slams both fists into the ground, watching the darkness ripple under the impact. His yell doesn’t echo, swallowed by the nothing.

“Damnit…DAMNIT…DAMN IT ALL!”

Feelings of frustration and anger smother his hurt and sorrow. He growls, smashing his fist into the ground again. If this were the real world, he’d have to worry about bruising his knuckles or breaking his fingers. The void offers little in the way of resistance.

“I GET IT, ALL RIGHT! They’re miserable…they’re struggling…I get the point!”

Nothing responds to his shouting. He’s alone. He shouts again, screaming into the void. He’s stopped questioning the motive behind what he was seeing long ago. They were illusions masquerading as his friend’s memories. Designed to hurt him as much as you can hurt a person without touching them.

“Just stop already!” He rages. Nothing responds.

Fury, white-hot, is better than the creeping sadness threatening to drown him. Sure, being angry about things had never worked well for him in the past. He’d been a very angry child and it was only thanks to his adopted patents and then Vivi and Arthur that he’d put the unpleasant emotion behind him.

None of that mattered here. Here, in the dark, the anger is his only defence against the green bastard’s torture.

Lewis regrets not punching the asshole when he had the chance. He wishes he’d done a lot of things differently. Lewis continues yelling right up until the dark once again fades into another memory.

NOTE: Resurrecting this fic in anticipation for a possible new video maybe? One can only dream. Sorry if it reads slightly different, i’m a bit rusty.

Part 40: here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #arthur kingsmen #Lewis pepper #angst #despression #interpersonal conflict #coarse language #HEAVY ANGST #lewis has a bad time #getting stuck watching anther person's memories? is there even a tag for this?#fanfic

69 notes · View notes