#I’ll not respond for 5 weeks and not even think twice about it there is no malice there I’m just a fully grown adult that gets tired

[junglejim4322]

Bro how are people taking someone not responding within an HOUR personally are you literally 12 years old. Your situationship is just your own personal cocomelon at that point

[brackishkittie]

flatline, abby anderson

— abby anderson x black!reader

“I was out there on the road, life out of control.”

synopsis: due to the fact that your girlfriend is an extremely busy woman, you grow distant from her and she doesn’t know why until some events occur and now she’s too late.

c/n: angst, suggestive but nothing happens, mentions of sex, cursing, and abby being extremely oblivious like an idiot.

a/n: hi everyone. :) I’ve been gone for months and I finally got a bit of motivation and time to post. I don’t know if this’ll have a sequel or anything of the sort but we’ll see. also listen to the song while reading this. ( makes more sense when you listen. )

daily click | ways to help palestine | important tlou post

it was late. very late. abby hadn’t called nor texted you to update you about her whereabouts or how long she was gonna take to come back home, so naturally you were pissed. you looked at her location and saw it pinning towards her job. “of fucking course..” you mumbled to yourself. you called abby, the phone ringing for what seemed like forever. no answer. you try again, and again, and again..and then silence.. “hello?” she answered, sounding gruff and stressed. “abigail, what the actual hell are you doing?” you say, irritation clearly in your voice.

“I’m working, y/n. this is pretty a bad time. what’s wrong?” she sighs softly. there was never a good time. “what’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s fucking wrong. you’re barely at home anymore. it’s rare that I even wake up to you in the bed next to me.” you say angrily, getting mad at the fact she made it seem like it was nothing. she remains silent as you put your head down in disbelief. “y/n I’m trying..but—” she finally says but you cut her off quickly, “you aren’t trying, abigail..you aren’t. you said last time would be the last fucking time that something like this were to happen and you’ve done it again? ” you pinch the bridge of your nose as you wait for her response.

“baby I..I promise I’ll try harder. I’ll take a week off for me and you.” she mutters, trying to make the situation better somehow. you think about it carefully before taking a deep breath and replying to her, “fine.” you reply monotonously, hovering your finger over the red button to hang up but abby starts speaking again, “that’s my girl. I love you.” she utters into the phone. you take a few seconds to respond but give in, replying with a small ‘love you too’.

the new week came pretty quickly. as you sat up in your bed, expecting to start your day alone again, you heard a groggy voice call out to you. “where are you going? come back to bed..” it was abby. you whipped your head around and looked at abby, who was now sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “morning.” she smiled at you, reaching over to you and pulling you into her arms. she places a gentle kiss on your forehead while rubbing your back comfortingly.“you’re here..thank you.” you whispered to her. “of course I am. anything for my girl.” she said. this is all you wanted. all you ever asked for. her time. as happy as you were though, it just didn’t feel the same..but she was here now and you were gonna make the most of it.

☆

you placed her plate of breakfast onto the table and sat down across from her. you watched her take a few bites of her food before her phone rang. you watched as she let it ring out twice but the call seemed inevitable. she finally picked up the call and went into a different room, leaving you alone. you sighed, realizing what was about to happen. she comes back about 5 minutes later, her face clear with guilt. “my boss called..he said I have to come in.” she muttered quietly. you clenched your hands and shut your eyes, not even asking if she told him no because deep down..you knew the answer. you would always be a second choice for her. “go.” you say sternly. “are you su—” you cut her off once again, “just go.”

abby rubs the back of her neck, feeling ashamed. “I’m sorry.” she says quickly before walking back into your shared bedroom and getting ready to leave and head to her beloved job. “un-fucking-believable..” you scoff, standing up from the table and heading into the living room. you fall back onto the couch, closing your eyes and sighing as you throw your head back in agitation. you were so angry and frustrated but at the same time sad and understanding. you knew abby cared a lot about her job and being a manager to a company is something you’ll never understand..but she would always pass up a chance to miss work. on weekends she would go in too, even if she didn’t have to.

it was a never ending cycle with abby and for some reason she just didn’t understand why you were so mad. the whole house felt so gloomy. there was so much tension and unspoken things that seemed to be lingering. abby came out the room and stopped to look at you, frowning slightly as she fixed her collar. “baby I promise I’ll try to make it home early tonight. I mean it.” abby bites the inside of her cheek while she waits for your response but all she’s faced with is silence. she takes a deep breath and grabs her keys, opening the door to leave but not before saying ‘I love you’ and closing the door. you feel your eyes sting, tears threatening to leave them. it might’ve been selfish but you missed when abby wasn’t a manager. back then, she used to make her schedule as flexible as possible to accommodate the both of you but now her schedule was just mainly work. everything was becoming too much and you were fed up.

☆

3 days had went by since then. barely any words had been exchanged between you two since you rarely see her and when you do, she’s “too tired to argue” and goes to bed. abby genuinely thought that you didn’t want to talk to her..at least civilly of course. she questioned a lot about why you were distant but never got the chance to ask you. you gave up on calling her and asking about where she was because you knew where she was. though this night was different. abby actually came home but..out of it? she seemed tipsy or almost completely drunk. she looked like she had been crying her eyes out for hours and when she spotted you on the couch, she basically lost it. “baby…” she murmured as she stumbled towards you. her hair was extremely disheveled and her breath reeked of alcohol. “abigail, are you drunk? how did you even get home? are you ok?” you bombarded her with questions immediately, standing up and inspecting her carefully.

“I’m fine. I had a co worker drive me home.” she looked away from you, obviously sounding ashamed of herself once again. “but don’t worry about me, I just wanna make things up to you..” she looked back at you before wrapping her arms around you and kissing you passionately. you almost gave in but pushed her off of you gently. “abby..no. I’m sorry but you can’t keep thinking that sex can fix everything…and you can’t keep brushing everything off like it’s nothing. you’re literally drunk and you’re telling me not to worry? forget about it.” you turn around and walk into the bedroom, abby following close behind you. “y/n, wait please. I can make it up to you a different way..I’m sorry.” abby sounds desperate now. her voice strained and raspy, you almost feel bad for her but you were at your limit. you grab a small bag and throw some clothes into it, as well as any other necessities you had needed and turned to finally face abby.

“abby I— I can’t do this. you don’t have time for me anymore and you always think that fucking me will magically make me forget about how you treat me. I’ve tried so hard make things work but every time I think you finally realize how I feel, you show me that you clearly don’t.” you pick up the bag swiftly and go to leave the room but abby blocks you. “y/n, baby, please..we can fix this..I can fix this.” she’s hysterical now. her face red and wet from her tears. you can tell she’s probably sincere but you were too angry to care. “it’s too late, abby. I’m done.” you move her off of you and shove past her. “I’m gonna stay by a friend. please don’t call me. I don’t wanna talk to you for a while..or at all. I’ll have the rest of my stuff out of here by the end of next week.” you look back at abby who looked so distraught yet wasn’t saying anything. abby had now realized what was wrong. not like she didn’t before but she had been oblivious to the severity of the situation and never bothered to actually have a conversation with you about anything.

you took up your car keys and left. abby rushed over to the front door and watched as you got into your car and drove away. and although you were pissed, abby was someone you expected to stay with for eternity. you two were together for so long that you would’ve never guessed that your rival would be her job. as you drove up to a red light, you could feel yourself slowly unraveling as you screamed in the car. you hit your steering wheel harshly as you cursed and wailed to your hearts content. you knew you still loved abby badly, but you couldn’t even keep up with her. despite the times you would see her, all she would do is eat, sleep, and leave for work. this was your breaking point. you heard the vibration of notifications coming from your phone and ignored it, continuing to drive even while wildly crying behind the wheel.

☆

when you finally pulled up to your friends house, composed and collected, you looked at your phone and felt your heart sink. abby called you over 10 times and only now had resorted to texting. you felt yourself gradually becoming reckless again as you read the few messages she sent you.

‘I’m so sorry. I feel like I just lost everything.’

‘we can work things out. I promise. please come home.’

‘I never meant to hurt you baby. I never wanted the relationship to end because of me.’

‘please respond. at least let me know that you’re ok.’

you can sense yourself getting sick by the second. you felt horrible. but if abby wouldn’t put you first, then you had to. you didn’t respond to her messages and for great measure, you made the harsh decision to block her. you had to stand your ground. you felt better. at least you thought you did. you made the right decision right? you couldn’t turn back now anyway. this was for the best.

tags: @softlysunrays @mariefilms @aouiaa 🎀 ( I love u guys )

[kitthepurplepotato]

MWRMI part 5

My Weird Roommate, Midoriya Izuku

Week 3 Part 1 - Reality Check.

~•🥦•~

Summary: Living with pro hero Deku was too good to be true; when Midoriya doesn’t come home one night, Y/N realizes how painful it is to love the Number One Hero.

Warnings: Injured Deku, swear words, a hint of angst.

First part Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

After having Midoriya around you for a whole day the house feels cold and strange without the green haired nerd. Your moping got to a point when even All Meowt felt sorry enough for you to come out and keep you company so needless to say, you definitely look pathetic right now.

Sometimes, when the urge to see your flatmate got unbearable you messaged him about stupid things; random hero fun facts, fan arts, screenshots, a picture of you cooking his favorite meal and for your surprise, Midoriya responded to all of them.

After a while he also started to send you random pictures about his patrol; sometimes it was just a lovely picture of the sunset but sometimes they were grimy and disgusting; pictures of his injuries or a selfie of Midoriya with a massive black eye. Usually, by the time the greenette came home the injuries were gone thanks to the amazing healer guy they have on their team, but that doesn’t make it easier to see him like that. Being close to a hero isn’t a fucking dream, it’s more like a nightmare. You never know when it’s the last time you see him and you can never sleep soundly until you hear the door open; what if he ends up in a hospital and no one informs you? What if he comes home thinking he’s all okay but there is an internal bleeding killing him slowly while he sleeps?

Yeah, being close to heroes suck.

But let’s come back to the present now; to the present that’s also not so pleasant.

You wake up in the middle of the night to a notification on your phone; you dozed off on the table again while working on another project. The notification almost makes you throw up; it’s an article about a massive fight in the middle of the city, not too far away from your current home. You turn on the TV as the article states it’s being aired live; you can see pro hero Deku, barely standing on the sidelines while the rest of his team finishes the work in the middle. Dynamight manages to catch the last villain, so technically the heroes won, but you can’t help the tears trailing down your cheeks from seeing your friend wobbling to the nearest emergency station before passing out in the nurse’s arms.

You try to keep calm but you can’t stop yourself from sending him a message.

You: Please send me a message when you wake up, Midoriya!

Just as you expected, there is no response coming back. Fuck.

Thankfully, All Meowth graces you with his existence and lets you pet his fluffy little head. What a supportive little animal.

After a few dreadful minutes; 40, to be exact, there is a notification on your phone.

Midoriya: ….!hehdgeuehdbgenevrm

Midoriya: I!m oksbdgeb

Midoriya: fuxk

Midoriya: Hey Freeloader, stop freaking the shit out, I’ll bring him home as soon as he’s coherent. Make him some soup or some shit, the fucker didn’t take a break today. I’m also hungry by the way and I deserve a fucking serving.”

You don’t need to think twice to know who wrote that message. You sigh and take a deep, shaky breath.

He’s fine. He’s coming home.

~•🥦•~

“We’re home!” Dynamight’s loud and hoarse voice breaks through the silence.

In any other situation, you would probably take five to ten minutes to fangirl over the fact that Dynamight is here; he might be rough and abrasive towards everyone but his good looks and heroic deeds still managed to take him to the second place on the hero rankings; but right now, you can only see the green haired man who’s holding into his shoulders like he can’t even stand straight without help.

“Midoriya…” You run through the living room to check up on him but Dynamight puts his arms out to stop you in your tracks.

“He’s high.” He declares. “Our healer’s quirk likes to kick you in the ass when it’s overused. He’s not aware of his surroundings, so don’t even bother.” The blonde hero rolls his eyes and makes his way towards the kitchen, the greenette limping after him, still holding the guy’s shoulder like a lifeline.

“Izuku, we are going to eat and then you are going to bed, okay?” Dynamight pushes Izuku’s chin up to force eye contact; he speaks to him with a soft, reassuring voice like he’s a random toddler he found on the street. They sit down next to each other on the dining table then Izuku nods but doesn’t move towards his food; the blonde sighs and takes the spoon in his hand. “Open your fucking mouth, you big baby!” Dynamight screams at the clearly high greenette, who obeys without hesitation.

… it’s 5 fucking AM and here you are, staring at motherfucking Dynamight force feeding pro hero Deku with your soup at your fucking dining table.

This fanfiction got really weird, really quickly.

“Where is Y/N?” Izuku speaks up after gaining some color in his cheeks. You perk up at the sound of your name but you decide not to get involved in their conversation.

“She’s literally sitting opposite of you, you dump fuck.” The blonde grumbles, clearly fucking done with the situation.

“Is she okay?”

This is such a Midoriya thing to do that you can’t help but smile; the guy comes home after almost dying on the battlefield yet his first coherent question is about someone else’s wellbeing.

“No, she’s probably scarred for life after seeing me feeding you, to be honest.”

Well, what were you expecting from Dynamight, sugar coating? Nah.

“No…” Midoriya’s voice trembles. You really want to hug him. “I don’t want her to be mad. I don’t want her to leave!”

Fuck, your face is wet. You never ever want to see that look on Midoriya’s face, it’s absolutely heartbreaking.

“She’s not going anywhere you moron. She made this soup for you, so eat it.” Dynamight grumbles at him again, but Deku only smiles at him.

“What the fuck are you smiling at me for?” The blonde is clearly not a big fan of affection, his face contorts into a frown from all the cheesiness.

“Y/N’s soup is even better than yours.” The greenette answers with a lovesick smile on his face but apparently, this wasn’t the right thing to say as the blonde’s face heats up in anger.

“Now take that back you asshole or I’ll push this spoon down your fucking throat.” Dynamight looks like he’s about to explode but Deku is clearly unaffected by the empty threat.

“No, Kacchan is mad.” Midoriya’s shit eating grin is so huge it can probably be seen from the top of Mt.Fuji. The blonde decides he’s done with Deku’s shenanigans and literally throws the guy into his bedroom without a single warning. He comes out after five minutes and sits down on the sofa; he holds his hand out and stares at you until you put one and two together.

Ahh, he’s asking for food.

“I really wanted to hug him before he goes to sleep.” You reprimand as you make your way to the sofa with a big bowl of soup. You made a special batch for the spice loving blonde as a thank you. Dynamight rolls his eyes and nods approvingly at the taste.

“I don’t want to listen to him bitching about embarrassing himself in front of you again. For some fucking reason he really cares about shit like that when it comes to you.” Bakugou answers nonchalantly, like you’ve known each other for ages and this isn’t your first ever conversation. After seeing your confused face, he elaborates on the topic. “He won’t remember you being with us because I didn’t let him look at you. He’ll wake up tomorrow thinking you were fast asleep and he won’t beat himself up about it.”

“So long story short, you being an asshole is all an act and you are actually more like a protective big brother.” You poke at the sleeping bear, but for your surprise, he doesn’t get offended by you seeing through him.

Okay. This is new. This is not how people portray Bakugou in their fanfictions.

“We are all family. We support each other. Being a hero is a lonely job so if we are not there for each other no one ever will ever be.” The blonde answers with a straight face but his voice gets melancholic by the end of his sentence.

You don’t know what to say to that. You understand the sentiment but at the same you can’t help but wonder how the fuck is the pain not worth it. These people; both Midoriya and Bakugou; are the most protecting, most loving people you’ve ever met in your life. They are loyal to a fault and they go out of their way to make their loved ones feel safe.

“You guys deserve the fucking world and some blood and the lack and of contact during missions won’t change my mind about that. This night was the worst day of my life but I would do it over and over again if it means I can stay close to him, because he’s worth it.”

You definitely overshared a bit, but by the look of it, Bakugou doesn’t care nor comments on it.

“You are different than the rest.” He mumbles, playing with a piece of meat at the bottom of the almost empty bowl.

“Different?”

“Yeah. I didn’t like this whole roomie idea, you know.” He admits. “It’s dangerous, even with a mutual friend. A lot of people tried to use him and he’s so fucking naive. But I can see it in your eyes, you know… That you care about him. And he also can’t shut up about you, so.. welcome to the family, or whatever. Also, gimme’ your phone number so I can update you on all the shit so you don’t freak out.” Bakugou throws his unlocked phone into your lap; his background is a picture of the gang sitting on each other on Deku’s sofa. He’s so cute.

“Thank you… for accepting me. It means a lot.” You mumble sheepishly, your whole face red as a tomato. Bakugou snaps his phone out of your hands and throws it in the air to catch it, just to be cool and edgy.

“Save the cheesy shit for the nerd, Freeloader.” The blonde grins. “Make sure he sleeps enough. He’ll be good as new by the afternoon.” Dynamight stands up to put the dishes into the dishwasher. “Thanks for the food, send me the recipe.”

And with that, the hero is gone and the the silence is back; you lie down on the sofa and listen to the noises coming from Deku’s room, but after a few rustles, everything quiets down and only the soft, content snores can be heard from the room next door.

You fall asleep on the sofa, not having the energy to go into your room; at least you will be there in case Midoriya needs help during the night.

~•🥦•~

You wake up to Midoriya’s footsteps around 9 AM; barely a few hours after he came home last night. He looks disheveled and confused as he tries to put on his hero costume.

“Midoriya… go to sleep.” You pull yourself up; the hero jumps in surprise by the sight of you. “How do you want to fight evil if you can’t even sense me sleeping on the sofa, huh?”

You know that’s a low blow, but you’d do anything to keep the hero from going out today. He needs to stay home and you also need him to rest for your own sanity. He looks pale and all over the place, there is no way you’ll let him go out like that.

“Y/N, I’m fine. I can’t skip work…” Midoriya is just about to start rambling about the importance of his job, but you don’t let him finish. You throw your phone towards him which he catches in one swift move.

“Read it.”

Dynamight: Yo, freeloader. Tell Deku he’s not needed today. I found cover for him. If he leaves the house I’ll kill him.

“How does he know your number?”

Fuck, you didn’t think this through. Midoriya is not supposed to know about yesterday.

“He left a note with his number on the table, so I sent him a message.” You lie, feeling terrible for doing so but it’s all for his sake.

Deku doesn’t say anything just sits down next you; his face looks sad and heartbroken, but he doesn’t say a word about it. You really want to hug him but you are not sure it would be appreciated right now.

“Mido…” You are just about speak up, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“You are lying to me.” He declares with a heartbroken smile. He knows. He doesn’t remember but he’s a clever guy and you are a terrible liar.

“Not all lies are bad. Sometimes, people lie for the sake of their loved ones.”

“I also lied.” Midoriya admits. “About me being okay. I’m really tired. Mentally. Physically. In every single way.”

“I know.“ You can’t help it; your hands move towards Midoriya’s frizzy curls. Midoriya melts into the touch, clearly desperate for affection now that the air is clean between you two. “Put your head into my lap and let’s watch a movie, okay?” That way he can fall asleep and you can keep an eye on him for the rest of the day. Win-Win.

~•🥦•~

As the movie starts, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. It’s a dumb and fluffy movie, something that takes his mind away from all the violence in the real world. Midoriya’s hair is full of knots under your palm, so you slowly rake your fingers through the mess, detangling it lock by lock as the green haired hero contentedly sighs, urging you to keep going. It’s way too domestic and way too intimate but you can’t stop; Midoriya clearly needs the attention right now, he’s melting into your touch, his cheek buried into the soft throw that sits between your things and his head for more comfort.

When the movie ends, you realize you didn’t even look at the screen once but neither did Midoriya; he’s fast asleep on your lap, drooling like a golden retriever after a full day of fun. You try to clean him up a bit but he’s not having any of it; he murmurs in his sleep and takes your hand in his, subconsciously caressing the skin. A shiver goes down your spine from the soft touch, churning your insides with it, but you don’t have the heart to wake him up.

Midoriya is too much. He’s so kind, so beautiful, so affectionate, and so-so full of love; you can’t believe you are on the receptive side of all of this. You really feel like you don’t deserve Midoriya’s attention and deep inside you know it doesn’t mean the same to him as it means to you but right here, right now, you let it all in, ready for the biggest heartbreak in your life when this is all over.

~•🥦•~

You wake up after a few hours, still in the same position. Midoriya’s now flawlessly fluffy head is still resting in your lap but he’s facing the other way around; he looks up at you with sleepy eyes, a tired but honest smile decorating his handsome face.

“Good morning, sweet pea.” He mumbles half asleep, hiding his face in your tummy for a few more seconds of peace.

The nickname almost makes your heart stop, but you try your best to ignore the fluttery feeling in your chest.

“I’m quite sure it’s afternoon.” You strike back with a sass, which the green haired hero blissfully ignores.

“Whatever. It’s nice.”

“Yeah.” You admit with a red face, and this is the moment Dynamight chooses to barge into the flat with a bunch of other people behind him.

Okay, this is extremely awkward.

Do these people know how to knock?!

“THE MIDORIYA CHEERING UP SQUAD HAS ARRIVED!” Chargebolt yells while the others hide their faces in embarrassment.

“By the look of it, shitty Deku has a good enough time already.” Dynamight snickers and Deku jumps up like a happy puppy to forcefully hug the shit out of the annoyed blonde. While everyone is busy staring at the two hugging each other, you take a moment to take a look at the intruders; every single of these people are heroes you follow on every single available social media.

Don’t freak out.

Don’t. Freak. Out.

Don’t…

“OH MY GOD, THATS RED RIOT THAT’S FUCKING RED RIOT, Midoriya!”

Fuck.

… Next Part!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Random ramble from the potato:

- Thank you so much for all the love on this series I'm so happy you love it as much as I do, this is baby😭💚

- Also, you are not ready for the next part! Ask my bestie, she has a lot to say about it. 😂 @porusuniverse

- I accidentally bought a Deku figurine today. And a Todoroki one. It was an accident, I swear. Kacchan was lonely, he needed a friend.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated as always 💚 Tell me your thoughts! 🥦

Taglist: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo (wanna be added? Just tell me in the comments/send me a message!)

[zoeysdamn]

Bloodied petals - Xavier Thorpe x reader | Part.7

Summary: Trying to get as much time with Xavier as you can, you’re getting worried when his nights seem to be as restless as yours. Wednesday’s surprise birthday party has to be cut short, but the evening she’s suggesting to make up for it can’t go wrong, right? Right? 

Warnings: angst, mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, slight description of panic attack

A/N: the timeline is absolutely CHAOTIC, there’s a lot of fast forwards in here, you’ve been warned for the bullshit

[Masterlist] [Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3] [Part.4] [Part.5] [Part.6]

Bend over the toilets, you were spurting flowers and blood for the past five minutes. Throat raw and burning with the flow of petals, you almost choked to death twice already. Tears escaped from your eyes and you tried your best to breathe through your nose but it felt like your whole body didn’t want to respond anymore, weakened by every gurgling. Even the hand rubbing soothing circles on your back couldn’t do much to help. Though you appreciated it. You gladly accepted the tissue handed to you at the last bloodied flower spit. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled weakly. 

“Are you okay?” asked the soft voice of a distraught Enid. “This was a pretty bad fit.” 

The only thing you could do was nod, while your roommate continued to rub your back while kneeling beside you. Classes had already started, but she would not leave you for the world; for that, you were eternally grateful.  

Telling Enid about your condition hadn’t been a pleasant discussion. Just after Wednesday’s father had been released from custody and the parents’ weekend had come to an end, you had asked Enid to find you in your room to talk about something important. As usual, your roommate had waltzed in with her characteristic gleeful smile; but as soon as she had caught sight of your solemn expression, she had known something was wrong. The moment the words “I’m sick” had left your mouth, Enid hadn’t been able to refrain her tears. You hadn’t told her the whole story, only about the flowers and the irreversible effects it had on your health. She already knew that you were in love with Xavier, if you had told her that those unreturned feelings were the cause of this, she would tear Xavier into shreds. 

Managing to get yourself up and to the sinks with the help of the blonde werewolf, you rinsed your mouth the best you could. Some of the sticky red liquid was still stuck in your throat and you gurgled on it. 

Enid’s anxiety beside you was practically palpable. “Do you want me to get Xavier here?” she offered, unsure of what to do to help you. 

You shook your head, whipping your mouth clean, “No…no need to call him, I-I’m think I’ll be good enough to go to class in like…10 minutes, okay?”

She winced but didn’t push it further, knowing that it would be useless. Given your condition, Principal Weems had granted you with an unexpected gift, one of her indulgence. She knew you needed support from your close ones, help even. Knowing your history with Xavier, and Enid being your roommate, she allowed them to quit their classes along with you when it was necessary. And if she knew about you slipping in Xavier’s room every night – which she probably did, – no one had told you anything. 

“There’s no rush okay,” assured Enid, linking her arm with yours for support, “I’m sure Mrs.Thornhill would understand.” 

Again you refused, “No, no I’m going…class will do me some good.”

In the same way she had granted Xavier and Enid some liberties to help you through this difficult times, Weems had relieved you of your obligation to attend classes. Given this was probably your last weeks alive, she said that she understood if you didn’t want to spare you now very limited time trapped in classrooms. But you didn’t use that privilege as much as Weems had thought. Truth is, being in class keeps your mind busy. You were always trying to keep your mind out of the plaguing thought of your upcoming death, no matter how much hope Xavier gave you. That’s why you casually asked Enid to talk about the secret birthday party she was planning for Wednesday on your way to your classes. 

“Oooh you’ll see it’s gonna be so great!” squealed Enid, glad to be able to alleviate your troubles doing what she did best – gossiping. “I got everything covered, cake, decorations, music - although not my usual playlist y’know. It’ll be awesome!!” 

At first Enid hadn’t been so sure on telling you about this surprise party. She had came up with that plan around the time you had told her about your disease; ever since she had been hesitant. Enid didn’t want to rub a joyous occasion - especially concerning Wednesday - on your face while you were dying. But she wasn’t as subtle as she wanted to be, and Ajax had a loud mouth; he may or may not have accidentally spilled the beans to you. You had reassured Enid, telling her that on the contrary, this party might lift your spirits and that you would be happy to be here. 

“Do you need me to do anything?” you asked. 

“No worries, the only thing you need to do is to come! Maybe some of your potions for hangovers might be nice though,” she giggled knowingly. “Yoko’s gonna mix some drinks!”

Her eternal optimistic personality made you laugh. 

Later that day, you were laying next to Xavier in his bed like you got used to for the past week. He was sleeping on his back, a hand always on your hair or on your hip while your smaller form was curled on his side. Even if your lungs still hurt, the nights with Xavier were usually calm, only with occasional nightmares or raw coughing fits. You still drank weed killer every night before going to sleep to prevent it; Xavier didn’t know about that, you knew he would beg you to stop drinking this poison otherwise. 

The night was calm, your breathing relaxed for once and hand next to your head on Xavier’s chest. He had one of his arms around your waist, tucking you closer. 

All of a sudden a shake rose you from your sleep; not instantly, it was more like a series of erratic movements tugged you from the limbo of sleep, grasping from the borders of consciousness. The more you awoke, the more you became aware of the whimpers coming with the tossing. Groggily opening your eyes, they widened when you realized what was the cause of all of this. Xavier was tossing and turning, gripping on the bedsheets for his dear life while whimpering incoherent words. Some of his hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat, eyebrows furrowed in a silent expression of horror. Jumping to your knees you immediately reached for his hand, trying to give him some physical contact to hold on to within his current nightmare. 

“Xavier!” you called out, trying to get him out of his infernal trance, “Xav, can you hear me?”

He didn’t seem to hear you, still thrashing around, faintly pleading for whatever he was dreaming of to stop. His taunting looked so dreadful, panicked worry formed in your stomach. 

You cradled his face with both of your hands this time, calling him again. “Xav, it’s me please wake up. Xavier!” 

His eyes shot wide open at your last call, frantically searching for something in fear. You felt Xavier’s whole body trembling under you with his erratic breathing, sweating like he just had the fright of his life. You gave his face a light squeeze to help him focus on you. 

“Hey,” you called softly and he jumped a little to your voice, “hey it’s fine, it’s over okay?” 

Xavier pant, clumsily grabbing you hand cradling his face, like to make sure you were real. “Y/N…you’re here?...”

“Yes I’m here,” you soothed him, brushing away the few tears that had escaped from his eyes with your thumbs, “It was just a nightmare, you’re okay now.”

Even if his eyes were still slightly panicked, his ragged breathing gradually slowed down as he recognized where he was. His mind seemed to slowly reconnect and his body to calm down, but his hands were still shaking. Noticing it, you caressed his face in an attempt to calm him further. 

“You’re okay?” you whispered. 

Xavier gulped slowly, “I- yeah…yeah ‘t was just a nightmare…”

Nodding silently, you couldn’t help but feel like there was something else. “Wanna talk about it?” you offered, still whispering. 

At first, he shrugged, trying to brush it away. But then, his eyes were clouded by tears again, brought up by the overwhelming emotions his body couldn’t control. Xavier’s lower lip started to tremble. 

“It’s just- it’s just visions I’ve had for a while…”

“Visions?” you frowned slightly, “what about?” 

Letting out a small whine Xavier bit his lips, hesitant to tell you; or afraid to. 

“It’s…the monster that’s killing people, I- I think it’s what I see.”

Your eyes widened at his words, “The monster? You’re sure?”. He nodded weakly and you let out a ragged breath, “But why?”

“I don’t know,” he let out with a broken sob, “It’s been taunting me in those visions for days now, I-I-I can’t get it out of my mind!” 

Instinctively bending closer to him you squeezed his cheeks lightly to ground him and avoid another panic attack, “Shhh it’s okay, it’s okay you’re fine, you’re in your room, everything’s fine,” you soothed him. 

“It’s always here Y/N,” sobbed Xavier, “every time I close my eyes I see it…it’s plaguing my fucking mind.” 

His distress made your heart clench, even more, when you didn’t know what to do to help him. The only thing you could do was to keep caressing his face to keep him grounded and for him to know that you were with him. Xavier’s sobs gradually tuned down, and so did the fright from his visions. It gave you enough time to connect the dots; he hadn’t said much, but you knew him like the back of your hand. When visions became too insistent, even just for a day or two, Xavier let out of the pressure they had built within him by painting. He was always one to draw a lot, but those fixations could be borderline crazy, but they never last more than a couple of days. And before the eventful night of the Rave’n, he had spent a lot of time in his art shed. 

“Do you see something else in those visions?” you tried to push gently. 

He shook his head frantically, and you knew he wouldn’t say anything more. You had never seen Xavier in such an emotional wreck, not even after some of his toughest fights with his dad. And seeing him like that broke your heart even more than before. 

Feeling lost and helpless, you couldn’t think of any words that could somehow help him. So you did the only thing you could possibly think of; you leaned in slowly, and without really thinking about it you kissed Xavier. At first he didn’t react and you were afraid that he would reject you like last time. But as you were about to pull away with bitter regret, his lips moved back against yours and a weight lifted from your heart. 

The way he kissed you back made your head feel light, mouths pushing and moving again one another lazily like you had all the time in the world. One of Xavier’s calloused hands came on the back of your neck, caressing the base of your neck gently, pushing your mouth further down on his. You let out a small moan at this, opening your lips for him to slip his tongue in your mouth. The contact of his tongue around yours made you press your body flush against his, laying almost completely on top of him. Xavier let out a soft groan, muffled by your kiss as your hand came from his cheek to his shirt, gripping it tightly. When air came to miss eventually, you pulled away a few inches from his full lips; Xavier leaned his face up in the same motion, stealing one last peck on yours. 

Slowly opening your eyes, you met his glossy gaze. 

“Sorry I really wanted to do this,” you whispered. 

Xavier gave you a lazy smirk, “Don’t be, I kinda wanted to do this too. Definitely helped to ground me though.” 

You chuckled and hid your face in his shoulder to hide the blush on your cheeks. Your embarrassment made him laugh slightly and the sound made you feel lighter. Xavier wrapped his arms around you, holding you close which you absolutely didn’t complain to. The both of you needed each other, now more than ever. With that thought, you tried to feel more hopeful as you tried to sleep again. It could work, you were certain of it. 

Very much to Enid’s grief, the surprise party for Wednesday’s birthday was cut short. Everything had been planned perfectly though; Ajax, Xavier and you had managed to bring everything needed to the old crypt in the woods while Enid distracted your goth roommate. None of you knew what she could have told her to bring Wednesday to the place, but the surprise sure worked; the shadow of a smile might even have crept its way to her face. 

But then she had touched a wall and fell into a sort of vision trance; that certainly ruined the mood. 

The next day, you were on your way to your room, a small box in your hands. Even if you were spending more and more nights in Xavier’s room you slept at least once a week in your own room. Enid had whined about the failed birthday party all day long, frustrated by the turn it had taken. So you had made a detour to the school’s cooking workshops to bake three little cupcakes with black and white icing. Weakening powers or not, you still knew a thing or two about baking, and maybe you could still have a small birthday party for Wednesday. Ever since the hospital, your roommate seemed to soften a little to you – not that Wednesday would ever admit that. Her discretion about your condition was truly appreciated. Knowing her and her habit of unraveling truths, you would have thought that she would have spilled the beans to either Xavier or Enid, or even Weems. You were glad she didn’t and respected your wishes. 

Pushing the door open with your hip, you were welcomed by excited screams from Enid. 

“Y/N guess what!” she clapped excitedly, “Wednesday suggested we’d do a girls night out to make up for her birthday! Isn’t that cool?” 

You lift a surprised eyebrow to the Addams, who only slightly shrugged in response. 

“Well, we’re synchro today,” you grinned, holding the box up, “I’ve come bearing gifts.” 

Enid sneaked behind you to catch a glimpse of the mysterious box as you put in on Wednesday’s desk and motionned her to open it. 

“Oh my God, birthday cupcakes!” squealed Enid, “You’re the best!”

“They’re extra dark chocolate red velvet,” you said. At Wednesday’s surprised expression you explained, “I asked Thing for advice on your favorite flavor.” 

“That was very considerate of you,” she observed sharply, “I guess I should thank you then.”

You offered her a small smile in return and you all dug into the box to grab a cupcake. 

“Cheers!” smiled Enid before taking a bite, eliciting a moan from her, “Oh my god what do you put in these to taste so good?” 

Wednesday let out an appreciative humm, “They are highly acceptable.”

“Wow, that much?” you laughed. “That makes me think, I have something else for you…here, happy birthday,” you said, retrieving a small box wrapped in black paper. 

“Present time!” cheered Enid, jumping to her side of the room to grab hers. 

Wednesday meticulously unwrapped the paper, revealing five small bottles filled with dark purple liquid. 

“I hope this is poison,” she said flatly. 

“Nope,” you laughed slightly, “even better. This is the silencing spell I’ve been using to tune down Enid’s music all the time. Figured out how to synthesize it in a potion, so I thought you’d appreciate it.”

The faintest of smiles stretched Wednesday’s lips, “If I had the physical ability to experience romantic feelings, I’d ask you to marry me, witch.”

You scoffed, “Wednesday Addams, you sure know how to seduce someone. The potion will not make the sounds mute, but will have a deafening effect on you. You’ll be soundproofed for an hour.”

“Fantastic.” 

Enid waltzed to your pair, holding a colored package to Wednesday. 

“Here you go roomie! Happy birthday!” 

As she unveiled the package, Wednesday gradually frowned. “What is…that?” she asked perplexedly, holding up a black woolen scarf between her fingers.

“It’s a snood!” smiled Enid. “And look, we’ve got matching ones!” 

Enid pulled a colorful matching piece around her neck proudly. At the mortified look on Wednesday’s face you let out a snort. 

“Don’t worry Y/N, I made you a matching one!” she winked, handing you a similar one knitted in your favorite colors. “It’s a roommate’s thing now!”

The “snood” was horrendous but the sweet gesture touched you, so you took it wholeheartedly. 

“We can all wear it tonight in Jericho!” 

The werewolf’s words made you frown a little, “I, uh, I’m not sure I'm coming Enid.”

“Of course you are,” she insisted, “it’ll be good for you!”

“Look Enid, I’m glad you’re having this girls night-out for Wednesday’s birthday but I don’t think I’m in a good enough state to go with you,” you said in a sorry tone. 

“You should come,” quipped Wednesday in her usual flat tone, surprising both you and Enid, “you’ll be a great asset.”

If your eyebrows rose in surprise, Enid clapped in delight, “Aww, Wednesday wants all of us to be there! C’mon Y/N, for her birthday? If you’re not feeling well we’ll go easy okay?” 

You pondered her words for a moment. Sure, your condition wasn’t really improving, but it had no serious setbacks for the past two days thanks to the potions you drank and the relatively calm atmosphere. You still coughed a lot of petals, but you had seen worse. Plus, Xavier had mentioned to you that he needed to spend a few hours in his art shed tonight, given it was the day of the week you weren’t spending the night in his room; basically you had nothing better to do. 

“Fine,” you finally conceded, “but if it’s too much for me, I’m returning to Nevermore, okay?” 

Both of your roommates nodded their heads in agreement. This would be a fun night. 

Turned out half an hour later that it was definitely not a fun night. 

First, the Uber who was supposed to take you to Jericho turned out to be Tyler fucking Galpin and you almost aborted the mission on the spot at the sight of him. The sole face of this guy got under your skin and if it hadn’t been for the sake of Wednesday’s insistence you would have gone back to your room. When you all arrived at the creepy and very much abandoned house, you thought that maybe you should have. 

Tyler cursed loudly as he unsuccessfully tried to open the door. He and Enid started to bicker about this and you rolled your eyes at their antics. The faint shudder in your backpocket made you pull out your phone, checking your incoming text. 

Xav:  ur up? how r u feeling?

The way he worried about you and made sure to check on you even when you had different plans brought a smile on your face. You quickly texted him back that you were okay, while Enid tore the lock apart with her claws, allowing your lot to go in. 

“Y/N come on,” called out the werewolf as Wednesday lost no time hurrying inside. 

Lifting your head up you saw that you were far behind them, “Yeah, I’ll be here in a second.” 

Before catching up with the rest of the group, you quickly texted back Xavier, informing you of where you were. They could call you paranoid all they want, but something felt wrong with this place. 

“Tyler, Y/N, scout the ground floor,” ordered Wednesday, “Enid and I will cover the upper floor.”

“What are we supposed to look for anyway?” you asked, a flashlight previously handed to you in hand. 

“Anything looking suspicious about the Gates family.”

Enid scoffed, more terrified than amused, “This whole house is looking suspicious! Can’t we go now?”

Wednesday rolled her eyes and made her way to the stairs promptly, quickly followed by a whining Enid. An awkward silence took place and you could cut the uneasy tension emanating from Tyler. You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Let’s split up,” you said, scanning around your flashlight. 

“What?” he stuttered in panic, “but-but shouldn’t we stick together? Y’know, like…like in horror movies?!”

A long sigh left your lips and you turned sharply in Tyler’s direction, “Listen Galpin, I don’t like you, I don’t want to be here with you, I barely even tolerate you. So don’t become all whiny all at once, Wednesday might actually like that.”

He choked on his own breath, taken aback by your words, “Look I-I-I don’t know what I’ve ever done to you, but I’m sorry okay?”

You scoffed loudly, a bitter laugh escaping your throat, “You’re sorry? No, I can assure you that you’re not. You enjoyed every punch you gave to Xavier.”

“Thorpe?” he frowned, “wait it’s about him? Come on, it’s been like two years ago and–”

“And now you’re no longer a jerk?” you snapped at him bitterly. “Save it, your sorry face won’t change the fact that you’re a fucking bully. I’m not trusting you,” you spat. 

This time, it was his turn to scoff in disbelief, “I’ve paid for it okay? Why do you care anyway, you guys dating or something?”

The death glare you gave him was enough to make him shut up. 

“I’m taking the rooms on the left,” you groaned. “We rally in ten minutes.”

Before Tyler could add something, you hurried to the adjacent room. You didn’t know what you were looking for, you just wanted to put some distance between you and Tyler. The fucking nerve this guy had! Acting all innocent while he had beat up Xavier to a bloody pulp with his friends for fun. A fucking prick, that’s what he was! 

A sharp pain rose in your chest at the memory of the bloody face of Xavier, all bruised when he had come back from the Outreach day two years ago. Petals spilled out of your lips, coming out covered in blood. Harsh coughs rocked your body while you tried to tune them down and let flowers fall on the dusted floor. Light flickering from bookshelves to chests of drawers, you tried the hardest to ignore the dreadful clench on your heart squeezing your lungs. The taste of blood filled your mouth, as did flowers. Nothing looked useful in this room, so you went for the next one, apparently joining a kind of workshop room. 

Another cough rasped the column of your throat, racking its insides like the flowers fighting their way out of it were made of sandpaper. The stifling sensation made your head feel light and spinning. Bracing yourself against one of the walls for support, you paused a moment to catch your breath. In your discomfort, you failed to notice the gurgling sounds and racking of nails on the floor coming from behind you. Sinister hisses reached your ears a second too late. you whipped around to the dreadful noises, only to face a tall, menacing dark and bony figure with claws glistening in the moonlight. The flashlight you held lit its face for a second, revealing two globulous mad eyes and sharp teeths in a grotesque mouth. 

The gut-wrenching scream that escaped your flower-clattered lungs didn’t stop its claws to lunge in your direction. The moment after, everything went black. 

Panicked calls of your name and hands shaking your shoulder roused you from the depths of unconsciousness. Fluttering your eyes open came with a great pain crashing into you as your body seemed to remember where you were. A hot blazing pain erupted from your hips and upper thigh and you let out a strangled moan. 

“Y/N! Can you hear us, please say something!” 

Rolling your head on the side to see who was calling you, your eyes met the distressed faces of Xavier and a crying Enid. Between two coughs, croaked Xavier’s name. 

“I’m here sweetheart,” he soothed you, his hand gripping one of yours as he helped you to move to a seated position against the wall, “it’s okay, it’s okay.”

“Oh my god she’s bleeding,” whimpered Enid, pointing at your left side. 

You looked down to where she was referring to, still a bit groggy. The side of your hips and of your thigh was bleeding profusely, shreds of your jeans and shirt dandling covered in blood. A weak whine escaped your lips. 

Xavier examined your wounds carefully, eyebrows knitted and trying his best to not panic. 

“It doesn't look too deep,” he said trying to sound reassuring, but the tremor in his voice failed to hide his dread. “We’re going to help you stand, do you think you can handle that, love?” 

Mind fogged by the excruciating pain from your side and your chest, still aching, you nodded slowly. Enid came to your other side as Xavier carefully put one of your arms around his shoulders. They helped you get up clumsily, and the very moment your feet touched the ground and the weight of your left side was put on them you cursed loudly. 

“What the fuck happened?” you mumbled through gritted teeth. Your mind was less and less foggy but you still couldn’t remember a single thing after the horrendous face of the monster flashed before you. 

“We…we heard you scream,” sobbed Enid, “and then- then the monster came upstairs and we r-ran.” 

You looked up to Xavier, thinking about how he ended up here before remembering the text you had sent him earlier. He must have come here to check on you, and come across Enid or Wednesday. Speaking about your goth roommate, you finally managed to locate her in the room, kneeling next to Tyler. He too, seemed to have been injured judging by the claw marks on his chest. 

“Did any of you see the monster?” asked Wednesday, “Where did it go??”

Groaning in pain you slumped against Xavier, unable to stand on your own, “Briefly,” you mumbled, “I don’t remember much, must’ve passed out because of the flowers before he touched me, or else it’d be much worse.” 

Sensing you sagging more and more against his shoulder because of your weakened state, Xavier decided that this was enough. 

“We need to get out of here,” he said, looking around for the exit door. 

Enid started to panic, “What? With the monster out here? Are you crazy??”

You coughed roughly, more flowers coming out from your lungs. The high stress this whole mess put you under wasn’t good for your condition. “There’s no fucking way I’m staying here,” you rasped. 

On his spot Tyler slowly got up, wincing at every move of his injured chest. Between that, the insistent or pleading looks from Xavier and Enid, Wednesday sighed in resignation, “Alright. They both need medical attention, and the monster is probably long gone by now.”

“My home isn’t that far,” said Tyler with another wince, “let’s get there, it’s closer than Nevermore.” 

Despite none of you being really keen on the idea of going to the sheriff’s house, you were short on choices. So you all exited the abandoned house and followed Tyler in the night. 

A few minutes later, the odd lot of you found yourselves sitting in sheriff Galpin’s kitchen, a first-aid kit opened on the table. Enid was pacing nervously, biting her manicured nails while Wednesday attended to Tyler’s injury silently. You were sitting on the edge of a table the best you could without hurting yourself, waiting for Xavier to come back with the stitching kit Tyler had mentioned earlier. The room was filled with heavy silence, no one daring to address anything about the elephant in the room. Xavier came back, thread and surgical needle in hand; without giving any other a single glance, he came by your side and grabbed some compresses and dabbed them in alcohol. Glancing up to you, his soft doe eyes met yours. 

“I have to disinfect it,” he whispered softly, “is that okay if I…”

At his awkward motion at your shirt, you nodded slowly and rolled up the shredded hem of your shirt to your ribcage. At the same time Xavier carefully tugged down your jeans, just enough to expose your wound. On any other occasion this would have been a more sensual gesture, but the sharp outburst of pain it caused reminded you that it was definitely not. The red, angry and bloody flesh was definitely not a sexy sight. Xavier’s eyes flickered back to yours. 

“This gonna sting a little,” he excused in a hushed tone. 

Face paler than usual you nodded, “It’s okay,” you breathed weakly, “go on.” 

The first dabbing of the compress on your abused skin made you let out a sharp hiss that you immediately muffled with your hand. Xavier's unused hand grabbed your other one, thumb drawing soothing circles on your skin to try to ease the pain a little. As he continued to dab on your flesh, you gripped hard on his hand to try to not cry. The pain in your chest was almost more bearable. When Xavier finally finished disinfecting the injured area, you let out a ragged breath, glad this was over. Yet, you knew that the worse was to come.  

Xavier grabbed the tread and stitch-needle and maneuvered himself to get the most of the light on the wound, to have a clear spot on where he would have to work. Doing so he ended up standing in front of you between your legs, needle ready to stitch you up. 

There was no one except Xavier who would have been allowed to do so, even if it was to tend your wounds. Growing together also meant that you had to encounter wounds and injuries resulting from your mischiefs, this was definitely not the first time one of you had to tend to the other’s wounds. At some point, the maids of the Thorpe household had been so fed up with your pair coming asking for band aids and calls to the doctors they had taught you the basics to dress an injury. So even if his hands were slightly trembling, you trusted Xavier. 

His eyes flickered to yours, silently asking if you were ready; you nodded and inhaled sharply. When the needle pierced your skin you wailed on the fisted hand in your mouth. Xavier stopped momentarily, cradling your neck to gently bring you closer. You buried your face in his shoulder, gripping his shirt with your other hand. Xavier whispered shushing sounds in your ear, like it could ease the raging pain on your side. After a few seconds of rest he let go of your neck and got back to work. The quicker he’d start to stitch you up, the sooner it’d be over. The first stitches made you whine loudly, the sound muffled on his shoulder as he tried to work carefully. He continued on the remaining of the stitches in a dreadful silence, only broke occasionally by the weak whimpers you couldn’t hold back as your tears dampened his shirt. 

After what felt like an eternity, Xavier cut off the thread and circled his arm around your slumping shoulders. 

“It’s over,” he whispered, “it’s all done sweetheart you’ve been very brave.” 

The whole area of the wound felt numb now, but the faintest twitch of nerves would arouse the pain in the blink of an eye. Xavier pressed the softest kiss on your forehead. 

“You’re safe,” he reassured in a breath, “it’s okay now.” 

With ragged breath, you slowly let go of the grip you had on his shirt, “Thank you,” you mumbled, “for being here.”

You felt him smile against your forehead. “Always, sweetheart. I’ll always be here”

From her spot Wednesday rolled her eyes. 

“If we can cut off this unnecessary sickening display of affection, it’ll make the air more breathable.” 

Her words made Xavier whip around in her direction, the previous softness in his eyes replaced by a furious stare. 

“What the fuck was that Wednesday?” he spat angrily. “What did you expect to find in there, uh? Bringing all of them in that abandoned house and thinking that it was without danger?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Curious you speak about danger Xavier, when there was no evident sign of it in that house until you showed up.”

This time, it was Enid’s time to scoff loudly, “No evident sign?” she repeated almost hysterically, “this house was fucking creepy from the beginning, and Y/N and Tyler got injured!” 

“You put everyone at risk!” carried on Xavier ragefully, “and for what? To prove that you’re right?”

Feebly grasping his sleeve, you tried to calm him down. “Xav, please…”. You were so tired, you just wanted to go to sleep. But he ignored you and kept his angry gaze locked on an unimpressed Wednesday. 

She only shrugged, “I’ll make my point eventually. Thought it’s ironic of you to be the one to speak about foolishly putting someone’s life at stake.”

 Her words pulled the angering tension on hold, surprising everyone in the room. Xavier frowned deeply, not getting what she meant, while Enid and Tyler exchanged dumbfounded looks. You, on the other hand, started to slowly register the hidden meaning behind her words and your eyes widened. She couldn’t…she wouldn’t, right? 

“I’m not putting anyone’s life in danger,” seethed Xavier. 

“Really?” Wednesday scoffed, “why aren’t you asking the very person you’re threatening right now?”

“What?” said Enid, “that doesn’t make sense!”

“Wednesday don’t,” you whispered faintly, but you knew she had heard you. 

“You’re fucking delusional, I’m not a monster,” snapped Xavier angrily. 

“No?” said Wednesday, tilting her head to the side. “Yet how convenient it is for you to show up just after the monster’s attack tonight. I wonder how you knew where to find us.”

Xavier threw his hands in the air, exasperated by the Addams’ infuriating behavior.

“Because Y/N texted me where you were! I was worried so I came to check on her, okay?”

Wednesday’s eyebrow rose slightly, unimpressed. “So it was guilt, wasn't it?”

“Wednesday,” you warned a little bit louder. She ignored you again. 

“Another proof of your murderous dispositions.”

“For FUCK’S SAKE,” exploded Xavier, “I’m not a murderer!” 

Wednesday jumped on her feet, boring deep into Xavier’s brown one in defiance. 

“Then why is Y/N dying because of you?”

In an instant, the world froze around you. The whole room fell silent and in the blink of an eye, everything that you had ever built crumbled to ashes. Every pair of eyes in the room gradually from Wednesday, to Xavier, and eventually to you. The weight of their stares was nothing compared to the utter look of shock and betrayal, tainted in doubt, that Xavier gave you as he slowly turned to you. 

Wednesday was many things, and you were willing to call her a cold-hearted bitch. But she was no liar; and Xavier knew that. That’s why…that’s why even if he couldn’t believe what she said, it somehow was true. 

“What are you talking about?” mumbled Xavier, his anger fading away as the doubt sank into him. 

“You’re the reason why Y/N is in her current condition,” explained Wednesday flatly like she hadn’t realized she had just dropped a bomb, “It’s your fault if she’s sick.”

“Wednesday STOP,” you snapped. The sharpness of your tone couldn’t hide the tremors in your voice. 

As if on cue, a cough erupted in your throat and flowers escaped your lips, falling on the ground bloody and torn apart. The violent fit rocked your body and the pain emanating from your hips erupted under its pressure. You clamped a hand over your mouth, feeling blood starting to run down your lips. You started to feel lightheaded, when hands came to gently cradle your shoulders. Tentatively looking up with teary eyes from coughing, you met the worried gaze of Xavier. His eyes, so big and so soft, were filled with worry and fear. They searched for confirmation, or denial, anything. For an answer from you. 

“Is it true?” he whispered feebly. 

You shook your head, but deep down you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him again, “I didn’t want you to find out,” you whispered back, ignoring the other people in the room looking at the both of you in confusion. “I’m sorry.” 

A loud bang at the entrance cut him from saying anything back, and a very angry man tumbled into the room. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” roared Sheriff Galpin. 

As soon as you returned to Nevermore, Xavier led you to the infirmary. To say that the trip back to school was awkward was the statement of the year. None of you had talked, Enid walking on the front gripping her own arms wrapped around her. Xavier and you were behind her, walking at a slower pace due to your injury and your arm draped over Xavier’s shoulders for support. Far behind, Wednesday casually followed like nothing happened. None of you exchanged a word, not even once the school’s gates crossed. Secretly you were glad that you wouldn’t spend the night in the dorm; this night was definitely not done with heavy and awkward tension. And if you stayed another minute with Wednesday, you might actually murder her, no matter how ill you were. 

There was no one in the infirmary at this hour so Xavier had to rummage to the drawers for a little bit before managing to find clean bandages. Sitting on a bed with your head hanging low, you didn’t dare to look at him. How could you look at him when you had hid the truth to him all along? The dip of the mattress next to you didn’t make you react either. 

“Hey,” Xavier whispered softly, “we need to wrap your stitches. Are you okay with this?”

Unable to answer verbally, you nodded and presented your injured side to him, lifting your shirt. His calloused hands brushed over your skin delicately while wrapping the gauze around your lower stomach. As he dressed the wound, only the clicks of scissors and sounds of adhesive bandages being ripped filled the room. Once the dressing was done, Xavier put what was left of the supplies on a bed table. 

“Xav,” you gasped weakly, “I-”

Before you could continue, Xavier put a hand on your shoulder, gently laying you down on the bed, “Shhh,” he whispered, “you need to rest now.” 

Lips wobbling, you felt your eyes fill up with tears once again, “No I-...I really need to say something…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner” 

Xavier grabbed one of your hands, holding it tightly, “Tell me now,” he breathed out, “please.”

You gulped slowly, knowing there would be no turnbacks of this. “I- my sickness…it’s called Hanahaki disease…it’s a very old condition not many people know about…”

Xavier nodded in understanding, silently encouraging you to continue. Licking your lips, you went on, “It’s making flowers grow in my lungs,” you said even though he already knew about that part, “it’s triggered by…by the acknowledgement of…,” you gulped, “of one-sided love.”

Xavier’s grip on your hand faltered suddenly. Mouth hanging open he could only stare at you with wide eyes and tears at their corners. 

“You…you’re sick…you’re dying because of me?...” he stuttered, frozen in shock. 

Trying to shake your head to reassure him, only a raw cough answered him. His left hand immediately went to your cheek, caressing it in the hope of bringing you some comfort. 

“It’s not your fault,” you wheezed between coughs, “you couldn’t know.” 

“Of course I could have known! I should have known,” he said, his voice breaking into a sob. “It’s my fault if you’re laying here and coughing flowers, fuck.” 

His sobs made your heart crumble in your chest. How much were you going to destroy each other with your feelings? 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he pleaded in a whisper, hot tears falling down his cheeks.

Trying to form a sorry smile, you nuzzled your cheek closer to his palm. “Because you deserve to choose.” 

“What if I choose you?” he replied immediately in a whisper. 

Your eyes widened at his confession, heart swelling suddenly. 

“I don’t want you to force feelings down on you for my sake,” you begged in a tired voice.

Xavier choked on his own breath, horrified by your words. “You deserve everything Y/N,” he breathed shakily, “and- and I don’t have to force anything to love you.”

Throat tight with emotions, you blinked away a few tears. “You love me?” you whispered faintly. 

Despite his own tears, Xavier smiled softly at you. Petals and blood were still coating the corner of your lips, dark circles underlined your puffy eyes, but you were the most beautiful girl in the world in his eyes. Because right now, there was only you. 

“Yes sweetheart,” he whispered back, “I love you.”

His face lowered onto yours and gently, so very gently, your lips met. It was soft and sweet, and even with the salty taste of tears there wasn’t a place you’d rather be at that moment. This was it, this was right. It felt right. Your whole body felt lighter, like something got off your chest and you felt yourself smile into the kiss. 

Slightly pulling away, Xavier lazily smiled at you. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to realize this,” he whispered softly. 

Brushing your hands on his cheeks you smiled faintly. “What made you realize that?”

He chuckled awkwardly, “I guess…it took a little longer than I thought to wrap my mind around the fact that I’ve loved you more than a friend…maybe I’ve never thought about you and me being in love before because I didn’t need to, you were already there for me.”

Pressing a loving kiss to your knuckles, a flash of regret came through his eyes, “It wasn’t fair of me to think that if denial was enough for me, it was for you too…I’m sorry I’ve ignored your feelings for all those years.” 

“Hey,” you called out softly, “it’s okay now. I wasn’t fair either, I…to be honest, I thought that you were faking your feelings as a last wish for poor little me.” 

He shook his head, leaning closer to you again. “Never,” he breathed against your lips, “I love you Y/N, and that’s the truest thing I’m sure of right now.”

Once again, his lips found yours in the utter sweetness. The delicious feeling lasted for blissful seconds, until a sharp pain erupted from your lungs, making you choke on the kiss in a dreadful way. Before you could even think about pulling away from Xavier’s lips, petals escaped from yours with a gurgling sound. Xavier immediately broke the kiss, allowing the bloodied petals to spurt free in droplets of blood. 

“Y/N!” he called in horror, “Y/N, what’s happening?”

More flowers escaped your burning throat and you clawed at it desperately, pathetically trying to get some air. Realizing what you were trying to do, Xavier hurriedly rolled you on your good side and patted your back, helping you to spit out the remaining flowers. When he heard your loud gasp, he put you on your back once again. Breathing heavily, you brought your fingers to your nose, gasping at the blood coating them when you glanced again. 

“Why…why am I still sick?” you mumbled in disbelief. 

Xavier’s face showed equal worry, “Maybe it’s just the flowers getting out once and for all?”

Shaking your head negatively you retorted, “No…I can still feel them in my chest…fuck.”

And then you broke into tears. Xavier loved you, he had confessed his true, pure feelings so…why did the disease not disappear? Unable to know what to say to comfort you, Xavier immediately gathered you in his arms into a tight hug. Little did you know, tears gathered in the corner of his eyes, too. This time, you truly felt helpless. Maybe Xavier’s love wasn’t enough, like aunt Cordelia had predicted? Suddenly, it clicked in your mind. 

“The visions,” you breathed out. 

“What?” he mumbled. 

Pulling away from the hug you looked at Xavier, gripping on his arms. 

“It’s because of the visions,” you said with a trembling voice, “the ones you have about the monster, that plagues your sleep.” 

A veil of uneasiness draped over his face, “What of them?”

Licking your lips, you carefully continued, “You told me they’re plaguing your mind, and- and tormenting you to the point you can’t get it out of your mind, right?”

He nodded silently. 

“I’ve seen the monster,” you let out with a ragged breath, “I’ve seen the darkness it held…if you’re seeing it every day…Xav I think it’s plaguing your mind too.”

Xavier frowned lightly, “So you think I’m the monster too?”

“No!” you said hurriedly, “no, never. But I think those twisted visions are obscuring your heart…and it doesn’t leave enough space for me.”

“What?” he exclaimed in a whisper, “No, no I love you, you know that!”

You tried to smile at him, but didn’t succeed in the slightest, “I know,” you sobbed, “but the disease has spread too far now…I don’t think it’s enough to cure me…”

Tears spilling from his eyes, Xavier looked like a broken man. 

“So what can we do? I can’t- I can’t lose you Y/N.”

“I know,” you said, this time being the one to hug him, “the only thing we can do now is to hope that the monster’s identity will be discovered…and that it’ll be taken down quickly to free you of those visions.” 

In lack of a better explanation, Xavier could only nod, heart feeling heavy. He would do anything to try to stop or at least contain those visions if that could save you. While laying down with you in his arms on the infirmary’s bed that night, he only prayed that he wouldn’t lose his mind before he could achieve that. 

For the next two days, you were assigned to the infirmary bed to give enough time for your wound on the hip to heal. You had a visit from Enid, who had bitterly explained how she had fled out from the room to avoid Wednesday, staying at Yoko’s instead. She had enough of the Addams’ dangerous antics, and the outing at the Gates mansion had been the last straw. Even if seeing her this upset saddened you, you couldn’t deny that you were furious against Wednesday too. Spilling out the beans like that had led Xavier to confess, but she still had no right to spill your secret like that. 

Speaking of Xavier he spent all of his time with you, completely ignoring his classes. Sometimes when you felt strong enough he helped you walk to the quad to get some fresh air and see some of your friends. Enid and him had swore they hadn’t told a soul about the true nature of your condition, but everyone could see that you were sick – badly sick. The pity wasn’t necessary, but it felt good to see those you cared about the most you could. 

At the end of the third day you were allowed to move out of the infirmary to go back to your room. There was no way you’d live with Wednesday again so you had decided that you would stay at Xavier’s. You practically lived here now, anyway. Putting on the last strap of adhesive over your fresh gauze, you waited for him to arrive; he had promised that he would come get you in the evening to go back to his room together. 

As you were about to text him that you were ready, End barged into the infirmary, hair wild and eyes wide. 

“Y/N!” she screamed in horror, “You need to come, quick!!” 

“What? Why, what happened?” you asked, panicked by her frantic behavior. 

Swallowing up a harsh sob, the werewolf looked at you with her big eyes full of tears. 

“It’s Xavier,” she sobbed, “The police just arrested him.”

[Part.8] 

A/N: you can hate me later for this cliffanger uhuhuh, I have good news! The next chapter will most likely be the last! (maybe I’ll write an epilogue, it’ll depend on how I write the last chapter), so the excrutiating wait will soon be over my lovelies :DD

And no, I won’t ever forgive Tyler for being a bully; I hate bullies, I don’t care of ‘young and stupid’ they were, those fuckers destroy lives believe me I’ve been there

Same as for being stitched up, I know from experience this isn’t pleasant blblblbl (and I had a sedative, poor reader had NONE)

Thanks everyone for your incredible support, I hope you enjoyed this part ♥ Hope you’re all doing okay, take care of you ♥

Taglist:  (no need to ask at every chapter, you're added once, and you're added for the whole fic :D)

@apocalypticnova​ @libdarkheart​ @ameliabs-world​ @certifeidlovergirl​ @aeisnoa​ @cat-loves-music​ @coolchick333​ @eringaitskill​ @sweaterxav​ @sssleepless​

 @l4venderia​ @persipeoni​ @coldheartedmar​  @littlebabyk​ @pinksirensong​ @nushy​ @raribella​ @igotanidea​ @ali-r3n​ @chaosfrisur​

@miinnttyy​ @hershey2813​ ​@cafeaueva @queenofshinigamis​ @xxhospital-for-soulsxx​ @imtherealslimmoony​ @one-oblivious-nerd​ @amphitritesangels​ @valckenaux​ @aliciahlewis​

@lilsunshine1092​ @ell0ra-br3kk3r​  @ahmya-4​ @katkoosik​ @maggie-da-rat​ @hopelessnessforthehopeful​ @mk-the-great​ @neenieweenie​ @steviesbergthuis​ @rayliz793​ 

@poison-ivy-737​ @katiemrty​ @vanillaarr​ @corpsebridenightamare​ @ghswlz​ @siriusblacksl0ver​ @poppyalice2001​ @mypsychoticlove​ @jointherebellion215​ @siriwhitewolf​ 

@teaganthemorningstar​ @oblivion-void​ @fandomstoryreader25​ @darkdaydreamer​ @engenelxver @maddiechapman15​ @hannahnikohl​ @pajerita19​ @i-like-trains​ @tinafuentes​ 

@slngarza​ @lqveharrington​ @honethatty12​ @users09​ @honestlyka @athenalive​ @sunnytkm23​ @mjpark15​ @joselyn001​ @mermaid-painter​ 

@sagegreeeeen​ @hayleesworld96​ @sunnyteume​ @itssomeonereading  @vaebeau​ @spencershotwife​ @negasonicteenagefathead​ @iamlycan​ @meilvr​ @alessioayla​

@sucker4angstt​ @levylovegood​ @bananasplits-world​ @thekidscallmebosss​ @reallysparklychaos​ @noelyccf @lauratstrange​ @nj01​ @tiktoks-aphrodite​ @lovesickollie​ @rihnnx​ @v-i-o-l-e-t​ @mystic-collector-nature-blog​ @wifeyofeveryone @oliveswiftly​

Usernames unfound by Tumblr:  

@flowersownme @eileen201804 @peacheskiwi @spiceyhotsherbet @ramiiroll @theweirdone2468 @tempressofthetarot @bambi-munson @apollo 3475  @hes-club

 Plz tell me if I’ve forgotten you in the taglist (or if you wanna join!)

[mediumgayitalian]

Im writing a ficlet to post here on tumblr and I got inspired by ur writing but everytime I read the mere start it's just a big no no What do i do???

first of all send it my way if you like!! second of all you have a few options:

1. Just Keep Going

remember you can go back and fix things!! if you keep writing you’ll stumble into a flow, and then you can go back and edit the beginning or middle to fit your vision.

2. Fuck Beginnings

the number one obstacle i had with writint when i was first starting out is that i could never think of a damn beginning. even now i struggle with it. best way to handle that: fuck beginnings. wherever you have a scene, start: in the middle of an argument, the middle of a scene, hell, the middle of a damn sentence. wherever the start of your idea is is the start of your story! don’t force something that doesn’t exist. (that 10k will angst fic i just wrote? started w the sherman & will argument scene! i had Nothing beforehand! and you’ll notice a lot of my stuff starts in the middle of a conversation, cause it’s easier!*)

3. Start Over

sometimes i’ll try so hard to make something i’ve already written work, even if i’m stuck, because i’ve already sunk so much time in it that starting again feels like a waste of time. but, dude, trust me — if you’re that stuck, just start over. maybe not the whole damn piece, but you can definitely rewrite a paragraph or chapter. personally, i tend to cut and paste whatever isn’t working into a new doc so i don’t lose it (in case i manage to reuse it elsewhere) and then i begin again, with uncluttered space.

4. Post What You Have

i should really link y’all to the first post i ever made. it was Hot Stinky Garbage. i don’t care. it Helped, you know? it started me out. maybe your thing isnt perfect — post it anyway. maybe nobody cares — post it anyway. (took like two weeks for someone to care about what i was posting on this account, and i posted daily. my first fic had zero notes for eight days.) you might even find that you’re just being too hard on yourself!

5. Dialogue Prompts My Beloved

dialogue is so so easy for me to write. it’s WAY easier for me to script a conversation and then build facial expressions, emotions, actions, and intention behind it, because i never shut up! i have a lot of practice. as you may have noticed i’ve been using the @p0ck3tf0x 100 ways to say i love you list — i’ve put it in a spinner wheel lol. so i spin the wheel and write the prompt, then i don’t have to make a decision. if i don’t like what comes up i spin again.

good luck!! wish you all the best!!

*it is a thousand times easier to build exposition through context. example:

Kayla walked up to her brother, who was sitting morosely on the porch. “Hey, Will. You good?”

Will shrugged. “I’m okay.”

vs.:

“Will. Hey. You good?”

“‘M okay.” He tried for a smile. “Thanks though, Kayla.”

see the difference? in the first, i am outright telling you that 1) kayla is walking over to will 2) he is sitting on the porch 3) he is sad 4) he is answering her question. this are all stated things, either by the narrator or by the dialogue. this is clunky! this is so clunky!

but why?

you know all these things. you know ‘hey’ is a greeting — so obviously kayla is newly approaching will. kayla calls will by name — you know who she’s talking to. will mumbles, and ‘tries for a smile’ — both things that indicate he’s feeling morose. he responds to kayla by name, so you know who he’s responding to. when you over-explain or state too much in your writing, you’re telling your readers twice, which can feel awkward.

[quietlyimplode]

The language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 15 - I’m fine

Warnings: aftermath of recovery, discussion of red room procedures

Word Count: 2.4k (gif not mine)

Summary: Natasha recovers in Okinawa and tells Clint some of the horrors of her past. The relationship still young; she’s not sure he’s ready to hear it.

A/N: <3

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

OKINAWA

2010

.

She dreams of drowning.

Water filling her lungs, pressure all around her.

She can’t take a deep breath.

“Breathe,” comes a whisper.

“Breathe.”

But it hurts, no one should be breathing in water.

Her arms are held by the water, a cruel taunt in trying to swim up for air, and she fights it, once, twice, then… arms like lead, she lets the water take her, absorbing her, drowning her.

It hurts, she thinks, but maybe she deserves it, and then sinks into unconsciousness.

.

She sleeps a lot.

Coulson comes and smooths things over; he pulls strings at the American airbase that Natasha is transferred to, and it allows them to be frank in conversations, rather than understanding half of it.

She wakes and seems to realise she’s in a hospital, looks for Clint and goes back to sleep. Even as they taper down the pain medication, she sleeps just as much.

Clint worries.

They tell him it’s just her body’s way of healing.

He thinks it’s more than that.

It’s worse than the dissociation, or seems to be, because she doesn’t talk to him, doesn’t respond to his questions and just goes through the motions when she is awake.

He doesn’t know what to do.

The nurses come and go, and the doctors give her a cursory check, and every time, she’s asleep.

At 2am, she watches him closely.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” she croaks.

He smiles and touches her hand gently.

“Where else would I go?” he whispers.

He doesn’t want to tell her that sometimes her nightmares make her thrash, and that the nurses are scared of her at nights, that he seems to be the only one to calm her.

He doesn’t tell her that he’s been so worried that he wants to bundle her up and take her away from the hospital because it seems to be causing harm, not to her body but to her mind.

So he just rubs his hands over the top of hers and then kisses it.

“Thank you for staying with me,” she says, staring.

He nods and kisses her hand again.

“Go back to sleep, Nat, I’ll be here.”

.

She has a fever.

She think he’s someone form the red room.

He spends the night telling her stories again.

Finds facts about the place.

She thinks she’s going to die.

Clint assures her she’s not.

.

“I want to leave,” she moans to Clint, half conscious and trying to get out of the bed.

A growl passes her lips as she looks around in anger.

“I want to leave,” she says, Clint looking on in sympathy.

“You’ve broken your ribs, a collapsed lung, and are recovering from surgery, as soon as we can ween you from the antibiotics you can go,” the doctor says in frustration.

“I understand hospitals aren’t your favourite place but leaving now, would be detrimental to your health.”

Blatantly, she ignores him.

“Can we go?” she asks, trying again, this time standing.

“Please?”

Clint’s heart pounds.

It feels like a test.

“I’ll take care of her, we have a place nearby, we can come back if there’s anything wrong,” he argues.

He just knows that this place is not good for her.

Nightmares nightly.

Dissociation daily.

They’ve been here almost two weeks and already he can see how much weight she’s dropped, only eating and drink enough to avoid further intervention.

The doctor stares, Natasha already out of bed, trying to pack things into a bag.

He swallows and then nods.

“Fine, but you’re going against medical advice. We can’t keep you here. Come back in three days for a check, and if okay next week, I’ll sign you off for flying,” he starts.

Turning to Natasha, he continues.

“Antibiotics, every 5 hours, with food. No skipping them. Strap your ribs, and keep the cast on your arm. Do not leave the country. They need at least another week. Do you know how painful the flight would be on delicate lungs with the altitude? Let alone flying with broken ribs on a plane? No, I repeat, no skipping the country.”

He turns to the nurse to draw up scripts and turns back.

“Three days.”

Clint nods, apprehension pulling at him, wondering if he’s up to the task of taking care of an injured friend, lover, whatever they are that’s slightly undefined.

“Three days,” he nods back.

.

“I’m fine,” she growls.

“Just let me help?” he replies, frustrated.

“No, I can do it, I…”

The cereal pours everywhere. Natasha stares at the little pieces going everywhere and he swears he sees her bottom lip trembling. She covers it, swearing instead, but he feels he knows she’s teetering on the edge.

“Go have a shower,” he sighs, “I’ll clean it, and then maybe we can go to the beach?”

She nods, stalking off before he can say another word and he sets to picking up all the tiny pieces.

He’s glad for the separation and the slight time alone, wondering at her capacity and if he needs to seek help from Coulson or Fury.

He knows some of the trauma and difficulties with hospitals, but he also feels he’s missing something. She’s getting better, but also, it’s like nothing he says, nothing he can do is helping.

They go back to the doctor tomorrow and whilst the last day has been better, it feels like it’s going downhill again.

It’s like before, when he first bought her into Shield, maybe not that bad but it feels akin to it.

He wanders into the small bedroom, and finds her sitting on the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

She stares for a moment, then looks to him.

“I can’t have children,” she says abruptly.

It’s so left of field that Clint doesn’t answer straight away.

“I didn’t lie to you, but I didn’t know how to tell you,” she says quickly.

“What?” he says dumbly.

“In the Red Room, they take away your ability to have children. They call it Graduation. They put you in hospital, sedate you, and then celebrate the fact that they’ve just performed major surgery on you with another test. The last time.. The last time I spent so long in hospital was when they took…” she pauses.

“They took my choices. Any choices, for their own reasons and own gains.”

Natasha stares at her hands as she finishes and Clint feels the pieces fall into place.

“Nat…” he says dumbly, sitting next to her on the bed.

“You don’t have to say anything… and if this; whatever this is needs to stop and we can just be partners or not, you can decide that too, I just wanted you to know. I know… the last two weeks, I can’t… I couldn’t hold it together. But this, I think I needed you to know. I needed to tell you. It’s not fair. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a relationship like this and…” she sighs; stopping the tirade as he pulls her into a sideward hug.

“You think, that not being about to have children, that the evilness that others did to you, matter to me? That it would make any difference to how I see you, only to consolidate my view of how brave and strong you are?”

He shakes his head.

“You’re an idiot” he finishes.

She’s silent and he’s worried he’s said something wrong.

“Nat, hospitals - they’re not good for you are they?”

There’s tears that he can see on her face as she shakes her head.

“I should be better than this,” she says, shakily.

“They make me lose time, make me panic, the smell mostly, it becomes all I can think of. Gloves, the sound of the beeping on the machine, I see, hear and smell it and I’m back in the red room.”

There’s so much more that makes sense now, in her reactions at the hospital.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologises, “I didn’t know.”

She shrugs, “what could you have done? You got me out of the there.”

He wants to do more.

“For the record, the whole not being able to have children thing, doesn’t make a difference in how I feel about you. It doesn’t make you any less, and it certainly doesn’t change what this is between us.”

He sighs heavily, hugs her harder, and then stands, offering a hand.

“Tomorrow we have to go back,” he starts, “how will I know what to do for you?”

She frowns, “what do you mean?”

Clint thinks, remembers Coulson, when he was struggling with talking in therapy and words just seemed too hard.

“There’s like a traffic light system,” he ponders, “red for triggered, yellow for getting there and green for okay.”

He pauses feeling like he’s explaining it all wrong.

“I’m explaining this wrong.”

Natasha isn’t stupid, and she’s been in enough therapy that it makes sense to her.

“I have to go?” she says in a small voice, and he doesn’t want to make her with all his heart.

“An hour,” he promises, “a quick check and then we can come back, go to the beach and you can choose dinner.”

Not meeting his eyes, she nods.

“Okay,” she says quietly.

“And if you say red, we can leave, okay?”

She nods, a small movement.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, feeling she wants to talk more but perhaps doesn’t have the words.

“Can we go to the beach,” she asks, “I don’t know how you got this house, or even have it this close to the beach but, I think it helps. It’s like a holiday.”

He smiles.

“It’s pretty cool isn’t it? We are on holiday, by the way. Fury knows we never take leave. We have two more weeks, so there’s not rush on anything. First we just need to get you off the antibiotics, those ribs healed and then we can go back, but because we are on leave, it doesn’t matter.”

There’s a small shift in mood as he tells her this.

“We aren’t going to get fired? You’re not going to get in trouble for staying with me?” she asks.

Clint laughs, derisively.

“You thought they’d fire us?”

She nods, slowly.

“Nat, we are the best two operatives they have, they’re not firing us. In fact, they sent Coulson, who fixed things and then he signed off on the house so we were safe.”

He helps her up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you before, I assumed that you’d assume we were okay, and you’d be on leave.”

Natasha shakes her head, and points to the bathroom.

“Join me?” she asks, pulling her shorts down, and moving away.

He laughs.

“Of course.”

.

He thinks it’s the ocean that helps to heal.

Small conversations on the Red Room, she indulges him with answering questions, and he only pushes so far.

It’s easier as they’re walking on the sand, to ask the harder ones.

She asks them back, and they grow closer. The time comes to an end and he calls in, Fury and Coulson sending through mission packets to the small house by courier.

Natasha sighs.

“I knew it was coming, but I don’t think I was ready,” she tells him on the last morning.

“This was my first holiday,” she confesses, “and I didn’t hate it.”

He laughs at her.

“I’m glad,” he says, opening his own mission packet and then watching as she opens hers.

“Separate missions,” he says glumly.

She nods, scanning the information.

“What do you know about Tony Stark?”

Clint swallows, he knows the name, just about everyone in the city does.

“Do you mean Iron Man?”

They both laugh, Natasha moving off the couch to grab the paperwork that she’d just picked up.

“It’s my next mission.”

She hands him the envelope and he grabs his.

“I’m going to New Mexico,” he returns.

“Why solo missions?”

He shrugs, grabbing his mug off the table and sitting down next to her.

“I don’t know.”

Natasha frowns.

“I think I just got used for working with someone.”

The last five weeks have certainly done wonders for team building, he thinks.

“Do you think it’s punishment?” Natasha asks.

“Okinawa was a shit show,” Clint admits, “maybe they’re testing us.”

He goes to refill his cup, lifting it to ask her if she wants one as he considers their words.

“Maybe not a test, maybe more that they want to see what we can do alone.”

She scans his paper.

“Avengers Initiative? Mine says that as well.”

Clint sits next to her, grabbing the paper and sighing, “Nah mine’s more boring, there’s a spike in geothermal land, and Fury thinks it’s alien.”

Natasha laughs, and then looks at his face.

“Oh, you’re serious,” she clarifies.

“It’s more about protection of the scientists, if it is alien,” he surmises.

She sits near him, flipping through the paper.

“They’re looking at you, for the Avengers,” she says reading further.

He laughs, easily.

“I think it’s us, they’re likely looking at, who better than an ex carney and a former Red Room graduate?”

She nods, “scraping at the bottom of the barrel, really.”

“Stark is up for it too,” she tells him.

“I’ve got to submit a portfolio, for the undercover shit,” she says, annoyed.

“And be hired.”

Clint smiles as he reads the parameters.

“God, Stark’s going to be a creepy man, isn’t he? He wants evidence of work, and they’ve put that he values modeling here.”

She groans.

“I’m good at taking photos,” he grins.

“Why can’t he be gay? Or married? Why models?” she complains.

“Nat, he’s going to take one look at you and hire you on the spot,” Clint assures.

“Come on, let’s spend our last day here before our flight, and when we get home, I’ll take your photos.”

Natasha stands, the bandages invisible under her top.

“Rich people suck,” she grumbles again.

“I know Fury has only done this to give me extra time, but still, I’d prefer your low ball mission to New Mexico rather than playing politics with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.”

They make their way out, Clint checking twice that the door is locked.

“You never know,” he says, still grinning, “you might make a new friend.”

“Shut up,” she replies, throwing the car keys at him.

.

[mad-hare]

I found a new place to ride! (yes I look miserable at the end of the lesson and the horse is pregnant not fat)

I had a lot of reservations about the first place I rode for over a year. I think a lot of the slow slightly weird approach was helpful for riding (a lot of focus on sitting and seat).. After riding for about a year twice a week I still can’t confidently canter because all the horses I was on were incredibly old lesson horses that were so dead to the leg that I basically had to use all my leg strength to keep them in the trot and would just get told to whip them when I ran out of leg (to maintain…. Trot). One of my last lessons I broke down crying because the horse was so insistent on riding off the wall that I was basically sat outside the saddle leaning to the wall with constant leg pressure and he just wouldn’t respond at all.

It was also… incredibly expensive… I was paying $75/hour to ride in a tiny yard and they had a horrible rat problem that made me not want to ever board a horse there (like rats everywhere you couldn’t lift things without a jump scare). This place is like 5 times larger with tons of fancy stuff! heated light wash room, two massive indoor arenas!) and I’m paying $50/hour for lessons. The two coaches have the exact same level of coaching certification so it’s not even that.

So I can now afford to going back to two lessons a week, and if I manage to have enough time to ride three times a week I’ll be able to lease a horse here affordably… there’s lots of trails and another endurance rider recently started boarding so I’ll actually be able to work on my personal goals too. 🤞

[spacesapphi]

"Moving Forward, Spiraling Downward Chapter 5- The Ties You've Severed"

Chapter 5.... ough...

Summary:

It's been over a year since that Winter Star party, and everyone's been struggling since. Marnie is struggling with the fallout, finding solace in her friendship with Pam through it all. She desperately hopes for a positive change, but who knows when that will come.

Too embarrassed to face Marnie again, Shane has completely cut her off from his life, leaving his aunt confused and angry. Things are coming to a head in his life where his only options are to swallow his pride or continue to drown. It would take a miracle… or a disaster to get him to do anything but drown.

CWs include : mentions of illness, disordered eating, death, and addiction

AO3 Version is here!

Tumblr version below the cut:

Over a year had passed since that Winter Star party. Marnie had hoped dearly that it was just a matter of Shane needing some time to cool off and think before talking again. The boy could be like that sometimes, go off sulking for a bit before he came back to act like an adult about things. But this time was different. Conversation went from near daily calls to maybe twice a week, then once, then the occasional text, and then nothing.

Shane hadn’t responded to any of her messages or calls in six months now, completely cutting off his life from Marnie. The poor woman just couldn’t understand why. She tried to, she truly did. Even though she knew she’d get no response, she’d attempt to talk to him anyways, letting him know she was still there for him. Even if he wasn’t willing to speak, she wanted him to know she still cared. But seeing that ‘delivered’ status on every single message, a reminder that he wasn’t even reading them, it just punched a hole through her heart. 

She raised that boy for over 20 years now, treated him like her own son, put his needs and wants above her own. It wasn’t like she saw it as something that he needed to repay, but would it hurt to just speak to her once in a while? Did he understand how much it hurt for him to purposely rip her away from the last family she had in this world? 

She began to think that she was the problem. Maybe if she had just reacted differently that night, had talked it out then, then maybe things would be different. Maybe Shane and Jas would still be in her life. But then again, she had every damn right to be angry at him that night and she knew it. Replaying those words in her head, being told to ‘shut the fuck up already’ , oh it made her blood boil. Going to bed to sleep on it was probably the best decision at that moment, but it didn’t make the outcome any better. Why would he just cut off all interaction, why did he just leave without a word and never explain why?! There were so many questions, and Marnie had the gut feeling she’d never get the full answer. 

Sitting at her usual stool in the saloon, she stared down at the reflection in her wine glass, seeing just how tired she looked. Running the ranch was hard, but having the support of her little family made it easier. She didn’t have that anymore though, she had nothing. Yoba, she was a mess nowadays. 

“Yer not lookin’ good, Marn,” Pam frowned, sliding in closer towards her friend, “What’s buggin’ you now?”

Marnie just shook her head, taking a hefty swig from her cup, “I’m fine, really.”

Pam sighed in a frustrated tone. It was so obvious something was wrong. When she had gone to see Marnie the day after the party, she was obviously distraught, and she’d been upset nearly everyday since. Even still, she insisted she was ‘just fine’, and pushed through each and every day. 

“I’ll tell you this much, that stubbornness runs in yer fam’ly,” Pam scoffed, motioning aimlessly with her hand, “If I had a 100g note fer every time I heard one of ya’s tell me yer fine I could be livin’ in a damn mansion ,”

Marnie breathed out through her nose, closing her eyes tight, “It’s just… That boy, he… Oh I don’t know what to do with him anymore.”

“Has he still not talked to you?” Pam looked shocked, shaking her head disappointedly, “Marnie yer a damn saint, I’d never put up with that shit… Lemme tell you, if my Penny ever pulled somethin’ like that there’d be hell to pay.”

“Was I too harsh with him….? I just wanted to help! He needed a wakeup call, I just-” Marnie held her head in her hands, groaning in frustration. She looked up to the man behind the counter, “Gus, what would you do if you were me?”

The barkeep knit his brows together in concern, gently wiping down a glass as he spoke, “I don’t have kids but… I think you’ve done all you can. You can only do so much once they’ve left the nest, right?”

Pam slammed down her bottle, raising a brow, “If you ask me she’s too damn soft on ‘im!”

“He’s been through a lot…” Gus reminded her, giving Pam a knowing look.

“Ain’t we all!” Pam protested, throwing her hands up. She turned and pointed to Marnie, “Look, you got a nice enough boy, Marn. But ya gotta put your foot down at some point. March up to the city ‘n tell ‘im to come home, drag ‘im by the ear if you have to!”

“I just get so… angry with him,” Marnie grumbled, looking to Pam with such an exasperated look, “Is it too damn much to ask that he takes care of himself when he has a kid?! I put myself through hell and back to raise him, I did everything to keep myself together for him, why is he so-!” she slammed her head down onto the table, grumbling angrily, “Pam… I’m so furious…”

“Whuff, if it’s got Saint Marnie swearin’ up a storm, you know it’s bad,” Pam chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Marnie turned her head just enough to show her scowl. Pam smiled apologetically, “Sorry…”

“Eugh… Another one, Gus.” Marnie mumbled, motioning to her glass and letting her hand slump to the table pathetically. He made a face, looking to Pam of all people for help. She nodded in silent understanding, pulling the glass away from her. 

“Listen Marn, if yer makin’ me look sober, you should prob’ly stop for the night,” she suggested, genuine concern in her tone, “Besides… it’s makin’ you look a smidge hypocritical there, mm?”

“Yoba, I hate when you’re right…” Marnie complained. She turned her head to rest her cheek on the table, looking at Pam, “You’re a good friend, you know,”

“Ain’t I just,” Pam sighed, “C’mon now, I’m takin’ you home.”

The pair trudged back to the ranch, Marnie completely silent as Pam rambled on about the day, “Penny tried to make me breakfast today. She tries, bless her heart, but she’s terrible Marn,” she chuckled, “How do you burn and undercook an egg?”

She saw her attempt at lightening the mood had fallen flat once again, that same blank stare on Marnie’s face. Pam wrapped an arm ‘round her back, squeezing her shoulder tight, “I’m sorry, Marn… I hate seein’ you like this...”

“I feel like a failure… ” Marnie mumbled, “Was I really too soft on him? Should I have been harsher?”

Pam pursed her lips, thinking for quite a bit, “Remember back in college, when we first started dormin’?” she asked, “You were the shyest little thing, sweet too. You put up with all my bullshit and I never understood why…”

Marnie raised a brow, “Where are you going with this?”

“What I’m sayin’ is it’s yer nature to be sweet and soft. Ain’t a flaw, ain’t anythin’ bad. Showin’ your family love like that, that’s somethin’ to be admired.”

The two stopped to look over the river, giving them a quiet moment. Marnie never knew Pam to be the introspective type, but she appreciated little moments like this. Pulling her shawl tighter over her shoulders, she looked over the rippling water, “What do you think I should do?”

“Distract yerself. Get back into a hobby! Do somethin’ fun!” Pam grinned, “How long’s it been since you touched a hook or needle?”

“Weeks…” Marnie huffed, “Maybe a month or two. Haven’t had much inspiration lately, I suppose.”

“Can I inspire you with some cash? It’s gettin’ cold, and Yoba knows we ain’t got proper heat in that trailer. Me n’ Penny could use a cardigan or two.”

“I’m not charging you Pam, you’re my friend.”

“Bull shit you’re not chargin’ me! Name a price,”

Marnie scoffed lightly, “Just come over sometime to talk, it’s been a while. I’d accept that instead.”

“I’d do that anyway, Marn, that ain’t any compensation. Just you wait, you’ll find some extra g in yer purse when you least expect, and I ain’t takin’ it back,”

A small, soft smile found its way onto Marnies face, a quiet, soft chuckle escaping her, “Thank you… for trying to make me feel better,”

“Aww there she is!” Pam squeezed her a little tighter, “Been missin’ that laugh,”

She looked over to the path leading into the woods, “Think it’s time for you t’ head home now. You ranchers gotta be up with the sun, or somethin’ right?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Marnie shrugged. She pulled Pam into a hug, “Again, thank you.”

“Heh, don’t mention it,” Pam mused, giving her a firm pat on the back, “And listen, if I ever see yer boy I’ll give him an earful for you, okay?”

“Pam…” 

“Seriously, Marn…” Pam sighed, “Lemme know if there’s anythin’ I can do. Can’t take seein’ you mope around like this.”

“I will, I promise.”

The women waved each other off for the night, heading in opposite directions towards their homes. Closing the door behind her, Marnie swiftly made her way to her room, resigning herself for the night.

The crickets outside the window chirped loudly as Marnie readied herself for sleep. Sitting at her vanity in her nightgown as she combed through her hair, staring off into space as she let her mind wander. She looked over to the framed photo sitting right next to her mirror, sighing softly. It was old and faded, the colors worn from age. She and her sister were merely young teens in it, sitting high atop the ranches fence, posing in a silly fashion as their father took their photo. They looked so happy and carefree, giggling about something she couldn’t remember, hugging each other tight. Marnie missed it so much.

“I don’t know what to do with your boy, Mona,” she huffed, biting a lip in frustration, “He gets it from you, you know. That damn stubbornness. Like mother, like son, neither of you knew when to get help.”

Placing down the comb, she took the photo into her hands, rubbing a thumb over the wood frame, “I’m afraid he’ll end up like you , that I’m going to get that call and… I don’t think my heart could take burying him too. And then I’d have to take in Jas… I’m getting too old to raise another child…”

“You would’ve known what to do, you were always the smart one…” tears bit at her eyes, lips pursing tightly as she fought back crying, “I feel like such a failure… ” her voice grew angry, but at who she didn’t know, “Why’d you have to die on us? Why couldn’t you just accept my help? I told you I’d come home to help you!”

Her mind fled back to her days as a young woman, far before tragedy had fallen upon her family. Marnie wanted so badly to be an artist back in her youth, to travel around the Ferngill Republic and join exhibitions and artists guilds. Mona was her biggest fan, encouraging her sister each and every day to chase that dream. 

Their father had made it clear that at least one of them had to take over the ranch one day, harping on the importance of it to their family history and tradition. It left the girls in a tough spot. Both of them had big dreams, but only one could achieve them. Mona wanted to be a doctor someday, to be someone who could help others. She’d been hoping to study under the doctor who was living in town at the time, actually. But seeing how excited and passionate Marnie was about her talents made her repress those dreams, and accept the responsibility laid out for her. Her sister’s happiness was a priority to her, even if it meant sacrificing her own.

Marnie would go on to be accepted at a great institute with an amazing arts program. She made important connections, met Pam for the first time, and she was truly thriving. She never felt more alive than she did in the city, feeling like for the first time she was reaching for the stars, and could actually touch them. She had no clue how much the opposite it was for Mona until it was getting to be too late. 

The poor woman was struggling. Raising a baby on her own, running the ranch as the sole owner, having little social life and few relationships because of how much time everything in life soaked up. It was taking a toll on her mind and body, a very noticeable toll. She was barely 28 when her hair began to gray, growing sicker and frailer by the day. Marnie had gotten into a huge blowout fight with her over it, concerned more than anything for her sister's health. 

The fight wasn’t too unlike the one she had with Shane, actually. It was eerily similar actually, happening in the same spot in the house and all. She vividly remembered Mona yelling at her to ‘drop it already!’, assuring she was fine when the opposite was clearly true. She all but forced Marnie to go back to college, to finish her degree and fulfill her dreams, leaving the ranch to her. Mona had sacrificed so much for her, and she wasn’t going to let her give up in the homestretch like that. She would die mere months after that fight, the stress quite literally killing her. Marnie had to come home after all, giving up her dream to take over the family business, to raise Shane along with it. 

She’d been a mess back then, a broken, miserable mess. Pam had chastised her for being ‘too soft’ on Shane through this, but she remembered how desperately she needed someone to have been there for her, and she never wanted him to feel that pain too. But now, he was inflicting it on himself, and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing to do but pray. 

She closed her eyes, silently begging Yoba to keep him and Jas safe, to allow him to come back home where he belonged. Her faith had been slipping from her the past year, growing weaker by the day, but she still held on tight to that hope that Yoba would hear her, that they would watch over and protect them. 

“ Wherever they are…” she thought, “ Let them be safe and well.”

- - - - - - 

“I told you, I don’t have it.”

“I don’t care, Yoder. I have given you three extensions, three! I’m not running a charity here!”

Shane rubbed his eyes, leaning against the doorway to his apartment, “Look, I get paid tomorrow morning. Can I give you the rent then? It’s the best I can do, Rich.”

The older man huffed, closing his eyes and shaking his head, “I… fine. Fine. But only because of her.” He pointed through the doorway to Jas, who sat at the kitchen table, “I don’t want to have to throw a kid out on the streets, and I’m sure you don’t want that either. Have it to me by tomorrow and we’ll be fine.”

“Thank you…” Shane breathed, feeling the relief flood him, “Seriously, thank you.”

“If it’s not in my hands by 5 tomorrow, you’re done, ” Rich warned, “No more extensions, no more forgiveness. I’m serious, Shane.”

“I know… Thank you.”

“And clean out your mailbox, would you? It’s overflowing.”

Shane reluctantly looked at the overstuffed box, nervous to even glance at the bright red lettering on the envelopes screaming “OVERDUE” at him. He’d maxed out just about every credit card he could get, paying insane amounts of money each month, going into the red over it at times. Rent had gotten higher after the new year, leaving him with less and less money to afford the important things. Life was expensive, raising a kid was expensive, everything just piled up. His landlord had tried to be understanding, giving him many extensions and breaks over the past year. But his generosity was running thin, and Shane could tell. He couldn’t blame him either

He ripped the letters from the mailbox, shuffling through them as he made his way to the table. Jas sat with her head resting on one hand, making a face as she poked her tv dinner with a fork. 

“Jas, honey, stop playing with your food,” Shane scolded lightly. Jas whined and gave him a pout, “It smells funny…”

“You need to eat something , come on.”

“Why can’t I have something else?”

“We don’t have anything else.”

“Whyyyy?” Jas grumbled, scrunching her nose as she speared a soggy vegetable with her fork.

“We can’t afford it, Jas,” that much was true. Actually, Shane couldn’t even afford this anymore. He was blessed in a way to have that stocking job. As wages stagnated and costs raised, Shane found himself with less and less money for necessities, including groceries. He’d often slip items in his bag after hours, becoming a bit of a ‘borrowing’ pro over the past few months. It was risky, and he could never take too much during a shift, but it was working for now. 

Jas furrowed her brow, giving him a look, “Why aren’t you eatin?”

Shane shrugged, giving her a smile, “Heh. Don’t need to. Uncle Shane doesn’t get hungry.”

“You’re being silly!” Jas laughed, “Yes you do!”

“Nah, it’s a superpower I got! You just worry about your own dinner, okay?” “Okay…” Jas finally gave in, shoveling the freezer burnt food in her mouth. It didn’t taste as bad as she thought it would, more bland than anything, a twinge of  that stale freezer-taste to it. It was to be expected of such a cheap meal. She swallowed a bite and looked back up to her godfather, “I wish I didn’t get hungry...”

Shane’s smile crumbled, replaced with a look of deep guilt. He opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t find the appropriate words to say. He wanted to apologize for being such a terrible guardian, for letting her down again and again. Making sure she didn’t know just how bad things were was his top priority. The last thing he wanted was for her to have to worry about that, about things a 4 year old should never have to think about. He was supposed to be responsible, he was supposed to shield her from that reality. And he was trying his best, he truly was… but it was getting more and more difficult. 

Jas had noticed, and she had for a while. She noticed when the pantry and fridge got emptier and emptier as time went on, when envelopes with big red letters would come in and make him look stressed, when he’d cry when he thought she wasn’t looking, when he started eating very little at meal times, and eventually not eat at all. He’d been getting so thin . He looked so sick and exhausted every day, his hair beginning to gray before he even reached his 30’s. But even with all of it, he gave her a smile, and told her everything was okay.

Jas pushed away the dinner, “Can I go play now?” Shane nodded, “Go have fun,”

The little girl hopped away from the table, running to grab her dolls and sit under the blanket fort she’d made by the tv early this afternoon. Putting on a show in the background, she began to act out a story with the toys, off in her own little world. 

As soon as Shane was sure she wasn’t paying attention to him, he pulled the leftover dinner close to him, eating every last bit of what Jas left behind, even the parts he hated . It wasn’t even close to a full meal, but it quieted the growling in his stomach just enough to let him focus on something else. He felt a deep pang in his soul as he ate, a feeling that encompassed many an emotion; embarrassment, rage, grief. He couldn’t even begin to describe the feeling of self-loathing he felt right now. 

Throwing the trash into the adjacent can, he sneakily opened the fridge and lifted a can from the shelf. Beer was one of his riskier items to steal, and the most embarrassing. Yoba, Marnie was right about this being an addiction. He hated that it took this long to admit. He just wanted to dump it down the drain, to say ‘no more’ and make a change for the better. But every time he tried, it never worked for more than a few days. Withdrawal would kick in, an itching pain growing beneath his skin, a deep, animalistic urge to grab another can clawing at his mind. He hated it, he hated himself for it, but he just couldn’t stop.

The one good thing about eating so little was that the alcohol got to him quicker. Drinking on a near empty stomach made him get drunk faster, meaning he went through less cans. It wasn’t healthy still, not by any means, but it certainly was better than normal. It was how he justified it to himself, something he lied to himself with to make himself feel the slightest bit better about all of this. 

He jolted as a buzz rang through his phone, the vibration moving it a few inches across the table. There was just a single notification, a ‘goodnight’ text from Marnie. He reached out for his phone, stopping just before his fingers touched the case. Something wouldn’t let him grab it, wouldn’t let him respond. He desperately wanted to call her, to cry and beg for her forgiveness, to ask for help. But his pride held him in a chokehold, refusing to release him for even a moment. 

He didn’t mean for it to get this bad. He didn’t mean to sever those ties with Marnie. Initially he just needed time to recoup from the embarrassment of what he’d done that night, what he said. But eventually, he became more and more ashamed to face her, to tell her the truth of what was happening. He was flat broke, an exuberant amount of g in debt, unable to afford basic necessities, barely making rent even with extensions, and deep in the throes of addiction. 

He was drowning, and he didn’t want her to know. He felt like an absolute failure of a father, a nephew, and a person. He couldn’t bear to face her. Even when he felt ready to, this gnawing guilt in his mind told him to stay away. He’d ignored her for so long already, she must despise him at this point. That’s what he believed, anyway. He felt it was too little, too late to save that bond, and decided the only course of action from here was to just leave it severed.

Looking out at Jas, he knew something needed to change, for her sake. Oh if her parents could see him, he knew they’d despise him now, just like he believed Marnie did. It was a mistake for them to entrust him with Jas, to give such a screw-up like him such a big responsibility. He couldn’t forgive himself for how bad things were, for how bad he let it get. When would he just swallow his pride and run back home already to get help? It would take a miracle, or a disaster, to get him to do so, that much was certain.

He still didn’t believe in Yoba, but just this once, he made an exception. Bowing his head and folding his hands, he thought a silent prayer. 

“If you’re real… Please let Marnie forgive me.”

[thaliaisalesbian]

i get myself twisted in threads

Chapter 11: i tell you my problems

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 13, 14, 15

“What do you and Nancy want with me?” Steve wouldn’t be asking if his head was in a better place, probably.

But his stupid ankle had to get infected, there just had to be something in there, and now he’s not allowed to walk.

(Okay, he wasn’t supposed to be walking a lot in the first place, but he managed for weeks in the Upside Down. He was fine.)

The fever’s not helping, either. He’s always like this when he gets a fever, running high both emotionally and physically. He wishes literally anyone other than Jonathan or Nancy was here to deal with this. Then no one would be any wiser as to what’s going on in his head.

At least last time, he was so out of it that saying something he really doesn’t want them to know was hardly even possible.

“We want you to get better, Steve.”

“No. That’s not what I mean.” Jonathan playing dumb only riles him up more. He’s been told not to get excited, but he doesn’t care right now. “You have no idea how much this has been eating me up inside. Why are you doing this? Why are you two being so nice? If it’s for the kids’ sake, you don’t have to. I’ll stick around even if you’re not being nice to me. If it’s because you’re feeling guilty, quit it. I made my choice.”

“Steve—”

“I heard you, okay! I know what you think of me, you and Nancy, so it’s better if you stop acting like we’re friends when you hate me!” Steve blames the fever when he starts crying. “I heard! I know you know that! Stop pretending!”

finish on ao3 or continue under the cut

Jonathan would love to say that he responds really well when Steve starts crying about what he’d overheard.

Instead, he just drops the bowl he’d been carrying, and the sound of it shattering on the floor only makes things worse.

Steve curls away from the sound, and when Jonathan reaches for him, he pulls away. Jonathan has really only comforted Mom, Will, and Nancy before, and they’re all okay with touch. Steve… seems like he isn’t, and Jonathan doesn’t know what else to try.

“Steve,” He whispers, before repeating it a little louder. Steve doesn’t move, though, his face pressed against his knees. “Steve, come on. I don’t—I don’t know how to help you. Please just answer me.” Jonathan almost starts to clean up the glass, but it’s harder than he’d thought it would be, keeping up a rambling conversation with himself as the only participant. He abandons the bowl to stand next to the bed instead, trying to figure out if it’s working or not. 

Steve stops crying after a few minutes, so that has to mean something, doesn’t it?

He still can’t get close to Steve, or get him to respond at all.

Mom’s supposed to be home soon, he’s pretty sure. She’ll know what to do. She always knows what to do when he or Will is running a fever.

“Steve,” He keeps his voice low. He’ll probably have to explain himself twice, doing it this way, but at least he’ll have the words out. It’s all wrong—Nancy’s not here, Steve is probably too upset to pay attention, and he doesn’t even have anything for them to eat—but maybe it will do something.

Jonathan needs it to do something.

“Steve, what you overheard, that’s not the full conversation. We never got a chance to say anything, because of the gate the kids found, and then everything else, but…” Nancy’s got a whole speech planned, he’s pretty sure. He’s not good at this. Not the way she is, not the way Steve can be. He’s not used to talking out his emotions. Mom and Will are good at understanding what his actions mean, and Nancy’s getting there.

He’d thought, before this, that Steve was learning too. As a friend, if nothing else. 

Now, Jonathan doesn’t know if that was just wishful thinking or not.

He knows that he's been learning to read Steve, though; the other day is proof of that.

"Steve," Jonathan starts again, sitting a little closer but not touching him. "Steve, we didn't mean that we didn't want you around. We really didn't mean that we hate you. We… we were talking about how difficult it is to be your friend, when what we want is something more."

Once he’s started, it’s hard to stop. There’s a lot he’s been thinking about, a lot of things he and Nancy have been whispering about since before Steve got stuck in the Upside Down.

“Nancy likes seeing you in my clothes, that’s why she stopped bringing you yours once she’d gotten the sweatshirt she wanted. The few times we’ve shared a room, or a bed, and I’ve woken up before you, I just watch you sleep for a minute or two before I get up.” He keeps going, telling Steve about how worried they’d been, how Hopper and Mom have noticed that something’s up. 

Jonathan keeps watching Steve as he rambles, hoping he doesn’t run out of things to say, hoping that Steve is actually hearing him.

By the time Steve’s looking him dead in the eyes, Jonathan’s beginning to think that he has more to talk about than he ever knew. That he knows Steve, and Nancy, and himself, better than he thought he did.

“Jonathan? Steve?” Mom’s voice cuts through his, and Steve drops his gaze.

“In the bedroom, Mom.” It’s Hopper’s bedroom, which Jonathan is pretty sure Steve has tried to fight him on it, but right now, Steve’s about as capable of fighting Will as he is Hopper. 

“Oh, what happened?”

“Dropped a bowl, didn’t get the chance to pick it up, sorry.” 

“No, stay there, you don’t have shoes on.” His mom leaves the door open as she cleans up the pieces, telling them about her day. 

Steve doesn’t even look at him again. Jonathan doesn’t know if he can put it down to the interruption, or the fever, or maybe he’s just got to think everything over.

None of the logical reasons make it feel any less devastating.

Mom doesn’t pry, on the way home. She keeps glancing at him like she wants to, but she doesn’t ask and Jonathan’s grateful for that. He wouldn’t know what to tell her. He doesn’t know what to tell himself.

He’s going to have to talk to Nancy about this. She has to know that Steve… well, at least he knows now, right? Even if it might have made everything so much worse.

He’ll have to call her tonight. And tell her… something. 

Waiting to see Steve itches at all the kids, Nancy can tell. Even Mike has been grumpy about it lately, and he’s still pretending that Steve’s his least favorite person.

But Owens, Hopper, and Joyce have been firm on limiting visitors until he's able to move on his own more, especially after the infection set in. Steve is really not happy about not being able to walk, she knows, but it was the scariest for her—for all of them—when the fever first set back in.

They’d just gotten him awake and coherent, even though he was far from healed, and suddenly they’d needed to prepare to lose him all over again. At least, that was what it felt like. 

Irene has her hands full on her daily visits, now. Steve’s awake more often than not and she knows he’s trying, but it doesn’t make it any easier on him. Especially not when he’s still running a low-grade fever; nowhere near the danger zone anymore, just enough for him to feel like shit.

Nancy closes her eyes tightly for a minute. It doesn’t feel like it’s only been two weeks since they got Steve back. How has it already been a week since that day she and Jonathan took him on a drive?

(That was the last time he was allowed to go anywhere; they’d caught the infection the next afternoon.)

“He's restless.” Jonathan murmurs to her at lunch. It’s the second update she’s gotten on Steve today. Her mom hadn’t let her stay on the phone long enough last night for Jonathan to tell her everything, and the lockers might as well have ears when it comes to them right now. 

Everyone wants to know something, anything, about Steve, and that means any mention of his name gets everyone’s attention.

“He wants to see the kids; he hasn't been sleeping well. El helps, but there’s only so much one little girl can do.” Jonathan glances around again, as though someone has suddenly teleported to their table. 

Nancy doesn’t think El can do that, so they’re probably safe. For now. God help them if El ever figures out how to teleport, though.

She and Jonathan have been taking nights in shifts with Joyce and Hopper, but it's a little harder for her to get out to Hopper's cabin. Her parents still try to enforce their rules, even if she hasn’t taken very well to them in the past. The very recent past, at least. Her days of being her parents’ good girl, the perfect example to hold up for Mike and Holly, are gone.

“Maybe we can convince Hopper and your mom to move him back to yours.” She knows the answer will be no, though. Too many people, probably. It would give the kids near-constant access to Steve when they aren’t in school.

“He’s been trying to make Hopper and El breakfast.” What Nancy wants to know about is something they’re not talking about here, apparently.

Spotting movement at Steve’s old table, Nancy puts a finger to her mouth before he can continue. 

Tommy H is heading their way. 

He’s been watching them for a few days, but he hasn’t asked about Steve again.

Not yet, at least.

“Hey, Wheeler, Byers.“ He nods to them, but he won’t sit down. “I just wanted to know if you knew anything else. I know Steve is out because he’s hurt or whatever, but I went by his house and he wasn’t there.”

Shit. Of course he’d go by Steve’s house. Why wouldn’t he? Nancy just hopes he doesn’t know where Steve’s spare key is kept; if he lets himself in and sees that it’s been mostly abandoned the entire time, they’ll have more questions to answer.

“He’s not recovering at home.” Nancy tells him, against her better judgment. She probably shouldn’t be giving any information to him. Former best friend or not. “He can’t stay by himself right now.”

“Well, where is he?”

Yeah, she’s not giving him that. Hopper would kill her, and she doesn’t even think Steve would want to see Tommy.

“We don’t know ourselves.” Jonathan says. “The chief is handling it.”

“How do you even know if he’s been found?”

“We’re the ones who found him.” She wants to make him step back with the force of her glare. It doesn’t work. “We’ve talked to him on the phone. We don’t know anything else. It’s for his safety, Hagan.”

“He’s really in that much danger?” He finally sits down a few seats away from them. “I mean, there were kidnappings a few times when we were kids, but I didn’t think there had been one in a while.”

Kidnappings?

“Yeah, because they wanted money from his parents. They kept it all pretty quiet whenever it happened, I’m not surprised you didn’t know.” He stays for a few more minutes, maybe hoping one of them will slip and tell him something, but they don’t talk until he’s gone.

“That would be a good excuse.”

“We’ll talk to Hopper about it.”

“I don’t have work tonight.” Jonathan says, as they head back to class. “Would it be alright with you if I tagged along?”

She almost wants to say no. He’s been able to see Steve a lot more than she has this week.

He saw Steve last night. And something happened, apparently. 

So she can’t really say no. And even if nothing had happened, Nancy knows she needs to talk with both of them at the same time, too. She and Jonathan have done a little talking; not enough.

And now Jonathan’s talked to Steve. Or maybe at him is a more apt descriptor. Either way, she just hopes that some of it made sense to Steve in spite of the fever. That he understood what Jonathan was telling him.

“Yeah, l think that's a really good idea, actually.”

“We can't just dump this on him.” Jonathan warns, like she doesn't know that. Like he hasn’t already done that. “We don't even know if he likes us or not.”

Last night’s reaction must not have given Jonathan a lot of hope for this going well for them.

Telling Steve, telling anyone, is a risk. A gamble; he might ruin Jonathan's life with this; hers, too, but the impact would fall much harder on Jonathan.

Nancy doesn't think he will. Maybe last year; maybe the boy he had been would have. Now?

She wouldn’t risk it if she thought there was a chance it would happen. Jonathan wouldn’t, either, for all he doesn’t care about social status, he’s still aware of how much worse it would be if people knew.

She’s barely focused in the rest of her classes, enough that one of her teachers pulls her aside to ask what’s going on. She mutters an excuse about being worried about Steve and nearly runs to Jonathan’s car.

“The kids are all going to yours today, right?”

“Yeah, we don’t have to worry about them.”

Jonathan fills her in, finally, on what happened last night. 

“You think he actually, like, remembers any of it?”

“I hope he does. But I don’t know. He wouldn’t even look at me for the rest of the night, and he didn’t say goodbye to me or Mom.”

Hopefully it just means that he needed time to process. Not anything worse. She and Jonathan, they’d deal with it if Steve doesn’t like them, or if he wants space, but it will hurt so much more than the whole ‘when should we tell him?’ thing they’ve had going.

El opens the door before they knock.

“Hey, El. How’s today been?” Nancy asks. She wants to see Steve, but she’s not going to ignore El. The poor girl has enough going on, she doesn’t need to be pushed aside as well. 

“Quiet.” She tells them, “Thinking, but not.”

What does that mean? Has El been reading his mind or something? How can someone be thinking and not thinking at the same time?

“You will help.” El seems so sure that whatever’s going on, they can fix it.

She still has that little-kid confidence in her that adults can make everything better.

(Well, some adults. It only applies to the ones she knows, Nancy’s pretty sure. Maybe that’s for the best.)

Nancy wishes it were that easy. If she knew an easy solution to this, she’d take it in a heartbeat.

“We’re going to try.” Jonathan promises her. She stares at them for a long moment before going back to the couch.

Nancy doesn’t think for a minute that she’s not going to be listening in.

Steve’s laying in bed, just staring at the ceiling.

“Steve?” He doesn’t even acknowledge them. She sits on the bed, makes sure her movements are slow before she starts finger-combing his hair.

Nothing.

Jonathan is quick to sit on his other side.

The pitcher of water on the nightstand is full; the cup next to it is completely dry.

“Steve?” She whispers, leaning closer. Anything to get him to respond.

“Go away.”

“Why would we leave you like this, Steve?” Jonathan asks, and she thinks he’s a little afraid of the answer.

She is too.

“Just go away.”

“We’re not leaving.”

He finally looks at her, actually looks at her, but something in his eyes is strange. It’s not the same as the unfocused look he gets when he’s in pain or trying to hide something, but it’s close. It’s not from the fever; he’s still warm, but the type of warm you get from lying under blankets all day, which he’s been doing.

She just can’t name it.

The fact that she can’t figure out what it means stings a little. Nancy should be able to do that, right? They dated for almost a year, she’s been in love with him for months now, and she can’t figure this out.

“Leave me alone.”

“No.” Jonathan pulls Steve up so he’s sitting, and gestures toward the water. “El said you were quiet. Is something hurting again? Did you pop a stitch?”

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Just—” Steve looks at her, like he’s hoping she’ll help him, but she’s not going to. Nancy’s not going to let him evade his way out of this. “Leave me alone!”

“No.” She hands him the full glass. He’s not in a bad enough mood to reject it.

Or maybe he just doesn’t want it to spill, because he knows he wouldn’t be able to clean up the mess. They wouldn’t let him. He’s been healing, but the risk of popped stitches is still too high, especially with his recent infection.

Steve only takes a few sips, but it’s better than nothing. 

“Leave me alone.” It lacks the conviction of the last time he said it. “You need to leave.”

“No.” She and Jonathan can probably do this all night. They’re stubborn enough.

Unfortunately, so is Steve.

“Why not?”

“Why would we?” Jonathan counters.

“I don’t—” He cuts himself off.

“No. Finish that sentence.” She flinches a little when she hears her voice.

Cold, unyielding.

Nancy doesn’t want to talk to him that way, especially not right now. She doesn’t want to make things worse.

“Leave me alone.” He repeats, but it’s quiet. Weak, even as he moves to push them away. “Leave me alone! I don’t deserve this! I don’t deserve to be comforted.”

Nancy doesn’t know where this is coming from. Steve loves being touched, he put his arm around her whenever he could when they were dating. Sometimes it’d been a little much for her, and he’d backed off, but she knows it’s something he likes.

Or maybe he remembers what Jonathan said last night, and this is his way of handling it.

“You do.” Jonathan’s quieter, now, too. Maybe so El won’t hear, though that’s probably a lost cause. The TV’s gone off in the living room, and Nancy can’t remember the last time she heard it on. El probably turned it off the minute they left the living room.

“I don’t.” Steve is shaking, she realizes. She takes the glass from him, sets it down, and climbs fully onto the bed, curling close enough to him that she’s nearly on his lap.

Steve stares at her, the look from earlier not quite gone yet.

“You do, Steve.”

He only shakes his head this time. Jonathan half-lifts Steve and moves so Steve’s actually on his lap, sandwiched between them.

“Why do you think you don’t deserve this?”

“I don’t.”

“Why? Give me a reason, and I’ll tell you why you’re wrong.” Jonathan glances at her. “We’ll both tell you.”

God, Nancy hopes this helps. If Steve even lets them do it in the first place.

<- 10 12 ->

[feverishly-kpop]

Ateez Performance Line - Part 7

Hongjoong sat on the couch with a large, strong coffee in one hand and his head in the other. He had been up late getting Wooyoung back to sleep after getting his headache and subsequent nausea under control, only for Seonghwa to approach him nervously, advising that Yunho’s fever had spiked to quite a concerning degree. After getting him into a cool shower, having him take some fever reducers, smothering him in compresses, and checking his temperature several times to confirm that he didn’t need to be rushed to the hospital, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Jongho had finally gotten Yunho comfortable enough to get a bit of rest.

With Wooyoung and Yunho settled in for the night, Hongjoong once again knocked on Mingi’s door softly.

“Mingi please let me in” Hongjoong called softly. “Or at least tell me what’s going on.” He waited for a response but was told the same thing he had been told hours ago the first time he tried to check in on his dongsaeng.

“I’m fine, hyung. A bit under the weather but I’m just going to sleep it off” Mingi said, his voice sounding strained. Hongjoong was about to respond when Mingi added definitively, “goodnight, Hongjoong-hyung.”

With that, Hongjoong had retired to the couch, genuinely unsure where else to sleep. Seonghwa was back in San’s bed hoping that Yunho had worn himself out enough to sleep through the rest of the night, Yeosang was in Seonghwa’s bed where he’d been for nearly a week watching over Wooyoung, and Hongjoong wanted to be available to everyone, especially to Mingi in the event he decided to come out of his room.

He managed to get a couple hours of sleep there before being woken by Seonghwa exiting Yunho’s room around 5:30 AM and plopping down on the other side of the couch.

“Please call the doctor today. He woke up again, twice, after we put him to bed. The nightmares never end and he’s not getting any better since he’s not able to get any meaningful rest” Seonghwa said, the exhaustion heavy in his voice. “I can barely think straight from the lack of sleep and I’m not even the one that’s sick. He needs something to get him to sleep.”

Hongjoong nodded sadly, feeling sympathy for both Yunho and Seonghwa as he texted management asking for the doctor to come back for a visit, adding that Yunho needed a sleep aid and that Mingi was now amongst the ranks of the sick.

“Why don’t you go get some rest in Yeosang’s bed?” Hongjoong offered to Seonghwa. “Jongho and San are still sleeping in there.”

Seonghwa was poised to argue, but Hongjoong reminded him that he had managed to close his eyes for a few hours whereas Seonghwa had been woken up multiple times.

“I’ll be right here if anybody needs me” Hongjoong added as Seonghwa dragged his feet tiredly off to get some sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~

Mingi had hardly managed to get any sleep that night either, instead finding himself tossing and turning, trying to settle his stomach. He hated showing vulnerability in front of the members, especially after his hiatus. Showing weakness felt like the fastest way to become a liability to the team. It was easier for him to suffer behind closed doors than to admit that he needed help.

He was about to sneak into the bathroom when he overheard the conversation between Hongjoong and Seonghwa. With Yunho as sick as he was, Mingi couldn’t bear the thought of causing the team additional stress, opting instead to return to bed.

Mingi soon found himself being woken up by a knock at his door. He wasn’t sure what time it was, how long he had been asleep, but it was obvious to him that he wasn’t feeling any better than when he woke up last earlier that morning.

He slowly sat up in bed, trying to fight through the dizziness so he could unlock and open the door. He had been expecting one of his hyungs, but instead found the team’s doctor waiting for him, causing him to sigh. Lying to Hongjoong and Seonghwa about his condition was one thing. But he couldn’t be dishonest with their physician. He reminded Mingi way too much of his own father.

“Your hyungs said that you aren’t feeling so well but that you won’t tell them what’s wrong.” They had been working with the same doctor since before they debuted and, over the years, he’d come to know all the members pretty well, so it came as absolutely no surprise to him that Mingi was refusing help. “Mind if I come in?” He asked kindly, waiting for Mingi to nod before leading him back to bed.

“It’s really nothing. I’m just tired. Busy with work, but I’m resting now” Mingi replied as the doctor sat him down.

“Ahh yes, Hongjoong said that you’d say that” he replied, placing his palm to Mingi’s forehead. “But this fever would indicate otherwise. He also told me that you promised that you were taking care of yourself. Is there something I should know? Anything we discuss is confidential, of course. Your hyungs don’t need to know.”

Mingi cast his gaze down, too ashamed to meet his doctor’s eyes. “We had an important deadline…” Mingi said awkwardly, knowing that there was no adequate excuse for working himself to the bone despite being explicitly instructed to look after himself.

“I’m not here to lecture you today, Mingi. There’s nothing I can say that you haven’t been told a dozen times or more.” His words stung, mostly because Mingi knew that he was absolutely correct. “Let’s focus on getting you back on your feet and we can circle back to the details once you’re feeling better.”

Mingi nodded as the doctor placed the thermometer under his tongue, taking his pulse as they waited for his temperature to register. As it beeped the doctor swiftly grabbed it, updating the reading on his iPad. Once he had finished taking the rest of Mingi’s vitals, he pulled back the covers, helping Mingi lie back down comfortably.

“I’m fairly confident that you have the same virus as Wooyoung and Yunho” the doctor advised, jotting down some additional notes on his iPad. “Are you feeling nauseous at all?”

“I was, but not as much anymore” Mingi replied, much to the doctor’s satisfaction.

“I’m going to write you a few prescriptions, something to bring the fever down, and something for nausea in case it comes back. I’ll have your manager pick them up from the pharmacy later this afternoon. You’re to rest until your fever breaks.” Mingi nodded, thanking the doctor as he exited his room. “One more thing before I go,” he added, turning to face Mingi. “There’s no shame in letting somebody care for you. You’re sick, and your only job now is to rest and get well. Let your team help you do that. And let’s start by keeping this unlocked, okay?” He gestured to the door as he opened it, leaving Mingi to rest.

*~*~*~*~*~

Hongjoong and Seonghwa had been waiting patiently on the couch as the doctor made his rounds, checking on the three sick dancers. As he closed Mingi’s door softly behind him, they sat up expectantly.

“Wooyoung’s doing much better. If his headache persists just keep pushing the pain meds. His fever should break within the next day, but I’d like for him to rest until he’s temperature has been back to normal for 24 hours. I know it’s been up and down so it’s best to be cautious” he advised Hongjoong and Seonghwa, who nodded along attentively. “And, if you were wondering, I told Wooyoung the same thing, so don’t let him try and talk his way out of it!” They couldn’t help but laugh at that, all three of them knowing exactly how Wooyoung would be once his brain wasn’t addled by his fever.

“Yunho, what to do with that boy…” the doctor continued. “He needs sleep. And a lot of it. I’m going to send a prescription through for a sleep aid. Let him rest for as long as his body needs, no need to wake him to eat or drink once he’s taken the medication. If his temperature doesn’t start coming back down we are going to have to consider the hospital, but I don’t think it will come to that. Sleep will do wonders for him at this point.” The doctor handed Seonghwa the name of the sleep aid that was being prescribed along with the instructions. Seonghwa looked it over, quickly confirming that he understood everything clearly.

“Mingi, well you know how Mingi is. We’ve discussed his condition and his plan of care, so I’ll leave it at that for now. You two can discuss that with him once I’ve left. But I sent through some prescriptions for him as well. And I’ve confirmed with your manager that he’ll be able to pick everything up for the boys this afternoon.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa walked the doctor to the door, thanking him again for calling on them and closing the door behind them.

Hongjoong poked his head in on Wooyoung, who was fast asleep with Yeosang and San also dozing off in the other bed. The sight brought a smile to Hongjoong’s face, happy that his dongsaeng was finally on the mend.

Seonghwa, meanwhile, quietly opened Yunho’s door, finding Yunho sitting against his headboard looking uncomfortable and fidgety as Jongho sat at the foot of the bed, doing his best to get his hyung to relax a bit with a random story. “Sorry to interrupt, but manager-hyung will be by in a bit with some medication that’s going to get you to sleep. The doctor said you’ll start feeling a lot better once you’ve been able to rest properly.” Yunho muttered an exhausted “thank you” as Jongho launched back into his story.

Feeling confident that Wooyoung and Yunho were taken care of for the time being, Hongjoong and Seonghwa made silent eye contact before both glancing toward Mingi’s door at the end of the hallway. Taking a deep breath, Seonghwa proceeded to knock on the door before opening it, finding Mingi in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Hey,” Seonghwa said gently. “I think we need to talk, are you up to it?”

[anonymousfoz]

The Earth, Stars and Moon (Part 3)

Part 2.5 | Part 4

Taglist: @vite-poh, @theoracleofgiana, @quinnharperwrites, @holdmyteaplease, @yesireadbooks

Brother Bear walked away from the border with a small kitten in hand. He wasn’t a happy camper as the sheriff had pissed him off from the previous town, which was nothing but ash. The kitten had purred and received a few head pats from the large man, but the walk back in the cool of night was enough to wake them up. The kitten meowed and wiggled before Brother Bear placed it down. It began to shift until a small teenager was all that was left. The teenager hadn’t said much, and that somewhat pleased Brother Bear, as he didn’t want to be in his current state with a younger person around him. As much as he had to deal with it, social skills weren’t his best skill. He could do it with the townsfolk, but only with the knowledge that most wouldn’t survive to tell the tale. He didn’t know how to communicate to younger people his emotions, and it stunted him a while with a younger Sister Wolf, but she also had those issues, so it wasn’t that bad. But this teenager was unknown to Brother Bear, and it worried him that they wouldn’t understand him.

“Thank you for freeing me.” He looked over at the teenager before responding. So many thoughts going through his head, but all he could say was

“Welcome.” He panicked and had spoken before he fully finished thinking. The teenager gave a confused glare before sighing and stopping to look at a tree. “I apologize. Not good with people.”

“I can tell, considering what you did to that sheriff.” The teenager looked up at the large man with a smile before looking back at the tree. “He talked about defeating you only to lose in a few minutes.”

“I hate boastful assholes.” The large man sat down in front of the tree and invited the teenager down with him. They were hesitant, but eventually sat down with him, taking a look up at the stars. It was one of those perfect nights Brother Bear used to be scared of, until he met Sapphire. The two would sit under the stars waiting for something only for nothing to happen; Mother Moon was cruel, but she never traumatized them twice. The teenager reminded Brother Bear of a younger Sapphire, very strong and bold, yet a reserved figure. How all that changed for Sapphire, who knew?

“How many stars do you think are out there?”

“At least more than 5.” He had gotten a chuckle out of the teenager before they turned back into a kitten and crawled in his lap. The two could wait. After all, they weren’t that far. The large man laid down and looked at the stars before heading to sleep. They could make the rest of the walk in the morning, but to sleep under the stars like this was something that didn’t come around every day. Wolfie’s Ma had taught him to take every opportunity he could; he wasn’t sure if this counted, but he was pretty sure and she was right. This was a moment to be seized and held onto, a memory to be kept until the end of time. And a good 8 hours of sleep that the large man hadn’t had in weeks.

The man was awoken with a golden buck in front of him. The buck looked disappointed until Brother Bear lifted up the kitten.

“You’re going to be late.”

“She wanted to stop. I’m not going to force her to go on long walks she’s not used to.” The buck went silent, thinking before they responded.

“'I’ll cover for you this time, James.” Brother Bear got up and looked down at the buck; Father Sun had liked to treat them like equals, a comparison to Mother Moon. He had even given Brother Bear the name of James to make him feel comfortable when he was grieving about his former life being ripped away from him so suddenly. “And only this time.”

“You said that last time, Father Sun.” The buck pushed brother bear a bit with his hoof in a playful banner before prancing off into the sunrise. It got the grisly man to smile before hearing a small yawn from his palm. Brother Bear began to walk with the kitten in hand to what was called the Wolf Den. It would be another long walk, but Brother Bear was already used to these walks.

[coccyodynia]

things:

i went home the other weekend and didn’t steal any pills, as much as i thought about it, so thats kind of cool i guess

i got a very fun and cool tattoo yesterday, its a woman swinging an axe with that line i wrote a few years ago - “i swing and i dont miss”

i am seeing a The Plot In You tonight with justin

we’re planning on hanging out before the show too but the weather is gonna be shitty so who knows, he’ll probably flake out at this point

we’re also planning on going to chicago in a month but im concerned i wont be able to afford it idk. i just stashed away $250 for it but i wouldn’t be surprised if i had to dip into that before then

we’re on okay terms right now. its been a huge rollercoaster as usual but he still wants to keep me around in some type of way i guess bc he’ll respond or say shit like ‘i’m always here for you’

ive been dissociating a lot still but im practicing the skills to get a handle on it

ive officially stopped caring about anything at my job, i just dont give a fuck at all anymore

if i start caring again it will probably kill me, at least considering the rate we were going before 

i had a friend OD twice in the last week or so and im literally just bracing myself to lose another person to fent

its been almost a year without michael now and im still really heartbroken about

i can tell ive started letting my apartment/kitchen get bad again and it’s upsetting me but i feel paralyzed about it

one of my best friends is having a really tough time too and we keep messaging each other little check-ins even though neither of us have the capacity to really support or help the other person in any meaningful way

ive just been way too tapped out lately, and it has been affecting my health for quite awhile

my weight seems to be stable now or at least kinda, i lost 50 lbs and last week for the first time in awhile it didn’t go down when i got on the scale

my parents and grandma all made comments about how they can tell ive lost a lot of weight since i saw them last (6 weeks or so ago?)

my mom has been telling me “youre not eating enough calories” which i think gave me whiplash considering up until now my entire life shes been insistent that i eat too much

my financial situation is really about to get fucked up since im not teaching this summer, so i will lose that income for a few months ($800/month)

im pretty nervous they wont ask me back to teach in the fall bc the head of the department doesnt really like me

i got great evaluations from my students tho! at the end of the semester, two of my students asked if i would be comfortable with giving them a hug and i got emotional

i helped one of my students get into their first gallery show in NY and im just so fucking proud and excited for them

another student had made me a little embroidered camera patch for my bag 

im still very much thinking about applying to graduate/phd programs in the fall

there’s about 5 programs im interested in, but none of them are local so i’d have to move pretty far if i were accepted

im going to re-apply to university of denver for the MA emergent digital practices program

i applied to there in 2021 and was accepted but i wasn’t offered enough financial aid since i applied after the priority deadline so i’ll try it this fall and see what happens

im still dreaming about going to Brown for their digital writing/cross-disciplinary writing and art MFA but it's such a pipe dream

i also found a fascinating phd program at duke but they're not accepting applications this year?

i want to write and photograph more but by the end of the day i am so incredibly burnt out that it seems more like a chore than an outlet

i really wish there was a way for me to just quit my job and take some time off before going into another job

anyway therapy is back to once a week and sometimes 2x a week just depending on how well i handle things

my mom is still being the worst person ive ever met and im really trying to disconnect from her/the family as much as i can

she just spent $500 on a plane ticket so she can go spend a week with the guy she was engaged to in college

she sucks so much and i hate her 

anyway that’s all

[ivankahasbeentreatedsounfairly]

Heading into the final three weeks of the 2024 election, Senator JD Vance of Ohio will still not say whether his running mate won or lost the last race for the White House.

In an interview with The New York Times that will be published on Saturday, Mr. Vance repeatedly refused to acknowledge former President Donald J. Trump’s defeat and went to even greater lengths to avoid doing so than he did during the vice-presidential debate earlier this month.

When asked about the previous election during an hourlong interview with Lulu Garcia-Navarro, a host of “The Interview,” a Times podcast published each Saturday, the Republican vice-presidential nominee responded that he was “focused on the future.” It was the same phrase he used to evade the same question during his debate with his Democratic rival, Gov. Tim Walz of Minnesota.

“There’s an obsession here with focusing on 2020,” Mr. Vance said in the interview. “I’m much more worried about what happened after 2020, which is a wide-open border, groceries that are unaffordable.”

When pressed a second time, Mr. Vance pivoted to a complicated counterargument: He suggested Mr. Trump would have won more votes in 2020 had social media companies not limited posts about a New York Post story about the contents of a laptop that belonged to Hunter Biden, President Biden’s son. Trump allies had maintained that documents on the laptop linked President Biden to corrupt business dealings, but those claims were unfounded.

“Senator Vance, I’m going to ask you again,” Ms. Garcia-Navarro said. “Did Donald Trump lose the 2020 election?”

“Did big technology companies censor a story that independent studies have suggested would have cost Trump millions of votes?” Mr. Vance replied.

“Senator Vance,” Ms. Garcia-Navarro continued. “I’m going to ask you again, did Donald Trump lose the 2020 election?”

“And I’ve answered your question with another question,” Mr. Vance said. “You answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”

On her fifth request for a yes-or-no answer, Ms. Garcia-Navarro pointed out that there was “no proof, legal or otherwise,” of election fraud.

Mr. Vance dismissed that as “a slogan.”

“I’m not worried about this slogan that people throw, ‘Well, every court case went this way,’” Mr. Vance said. “I’m talking about something very discrete — a problem of censorship in this country that I do think affected things in 2020.”

During his 90-minute debate with Mr. Walz, Mr. Vance twice refused to answer a direct question about whether Mr. Trump had lost the 2020 election. It was widely considered his weakest debate moment and may have turned off voters. In CNN’s focus group of seven undecided Michigan voters who watched the debate, the only person who settled on a pick after the event said he would support Vice President Kamala Harris specifically because of Mr. Vance’s refusal to acknowledge the 2020 election results.

Mr. Vance’s interview with The Times covered a range of subjects, including his conversion to Catholicism and the backlash over his attacks on “childless cat ladies.” But the exchange on the 2020 results showed he still had not found an answer to put the last election behind him. Acknowledging the truth that Mr. Biden won, of course, would discredit Mr. Trump’s claims and risk angering the former president.

Mr. Trump has anchored his party to this issue — and raised concerns about the reaction that could follow the results on Nov. 5 — by continuing to dispute the 2020 contest.

Mr. Trump seemed to acknowledge in a podcast interview last month that he had indeed “lost by a whisker,” but then insisted during his debate with Ms. Harris on Sept. 10 that “that was said sarcastically.”

“Look, there’s so much proof,” Mr. Trump said during the debate, after refusing to acknowledge his defeat. “All you have to do is look at it. And they should have sent it back to the legislatures for approval. I got almost 75 million votes.”

Mr. Trump received 74.2 million votes, but the presidency is decided by the Electoral College, not a nationwide popular vote. Still, Mr. Biden received 81.3 million votes.

Three weeks later, at the vice-presidential debate, Mr. Vance was asked directly by Mr. Walz whether Mr. Trump lost.

“Tim, I’m focused on the future,” Mr. Vance told him. “Did Kamala Harris censor Americans from speaking their mind in the wake of the 2020 Covid situation?”

“That is a damning non-answer,” Mr. Walz shot back.

In his Times interview, Mr. Vance said he would not have voted to certify the 2020 results, and added that “we commit to a peaceful transfer of power” in 2024.

“If there are problems, of course, in the same way that Democrats protested in 2004 and Donald Trump raised issues in 2020,” Mr. Vance said, “we’re going to make sure that this election counts.”

The New York Times

By Michael C. Bender

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/10/11/us/politics/vance-trump-2020-election-results.html

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Fluffuary 2023 Day 20: Date Night- Merry Brandybuck x OC

Merry Brandybuck x Brooke Bilberry

Description: Merry and Brooke have never had a one on one date, but Brooke doesn't want to say anything to him about it. Luckily she doesn't have to.

Word Count: 1.1k

Challenge made by the lovely @darthglitterfanfictionnfiction

Date nights were not uncommon between Merry and Brooke. They went out all the time with each other. The thing was, usually it ended up being a double date with Pippin and Camelia (or sometimes triple with Frodo and Lalia, or even quadruple Sam and Adelaide). And, as much as Brooke loved hanging out with their friends, she just wished it would be the two of them for once. 

“I mean, you and Sam spend time alone together, right?” She asked Adelaide one day while she wiped down the counter at the girl’s tea shop. 

“Of course. We go out like, twice every week,” Adelaide answered dutifully as she cleaned some cups. “Then we go out with everyone else when we’re invited.” 

“See, that’s what I want,” she said exasperatedly. “Like, don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with all of you. I’d just like one night with just the two of us, you know?” 

“Well, have you told Merry this?” 

“I don’t know how to bring it up without me sounding whiny.” 

“Brooke, I don’t think you could ever sound whiny to Merry,” the girl laughed. “I don’t think I’ve heard him make a single complaint about you ever.” Brooke had a hard time believing that, but Adelaide continued on. 

“Seriously, I think you should just talk to him about it. Don’t make him try to guess what you’re feeling,” she concluded before facing the door when the bell above it chimed. “And speaking of which…” Brooke followed her gaze and was pleasantly surprised to see none other than the rest of their friend group walking in. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Gamgee,” Sam greeted Adelaide, earning a giggle from the girl in question. 

“Good morning, Mr. Gamgee,” she returned happily, leaning against the counter to lean in to kiss him. The sight made Brooke smile, they really did deserve one another. 

“And good morning to you, my darling,” Merry said from in front of her, only serving to make her smile widen as she looked at him. 

“Morning, dear,” she responded, allowing him to lean over to press a sweet kiss to her cheek. “The  usual?” 

“You know it,” he winked as he sat down at the counter while she nodded and got to work. “So Brooke…”

“So Merry,” she joked, making him grin. 

“How would you like to go on a picnic later this evening?” The thought of spending time with him made her happy, but it began to fade when she realized that it was probably going to be another group date. Nevertheless she plastered a smile on her face as she set a scone in front of him. 

“I’d love to.” 

“Great! Be ready around 5:00 and I’ll come get you, okay?” Brooke nodded as she finished making his tea, and she had to hide the fact that she was both eagerly awaiting and dreading 5:00. 

Later that evening at precisely 5:00 Brooke heard a knock on her door. She’d taken the time after getting off of work to change into a slightly nicer dress since they’d be out and about (though she didn’t exactly know where they were going). After making sure she looked presentable one last time in her mirror she all but skipped to the door and opened it. There stood Merry in a slightly nicer vest and a wicker basket hanging from his left arm. 

“Well, don’t you look beautiful,” was the first thing he said to her. While compliments from him weren’t uncommon, for some reason it made her blush every time. 

“Why, thank you Merry,” she responded happily. “And you’re looking rather handsome this evening.” She beamed when she noticed the tips of his ears turned red, and he chuckled when he noticed it. 

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, holding out his free arm to go. Brooke didn’t verbally answer, but instead nodded as she linked her arm in his. She allowed him to lead her through the town, both of them saying hello when they saw anyone. It was a rather pleasant walk, the weather was nice and everyone they spoke to seemed to be in good moods, which only heightened their already good moods. 

After a small while of walking they ended up in a field not far from Frodo’s house. The girl was confused when she realized it was just the two of them in the vicinity. None of their friends were anywhere to be seen. Eventually she figured that they would just show up later, so she sat down on the blanket Merry laid out on the ground and helped him set out the different foods from the basket. 

Half an hour passed of the couple eating and enjoying each other’s company. Once they got full they laid down and watched the sky turn orange as the sun began to set. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and one that absentmindedly brought a smile to her face. She turned her head to look at Merry, her smile widening at the very sight. She loved him so much it was almost painful. They’d been through hell and back to get to where they were, and now they could live in the luxury that is being with each other for the rest of their lives surrounded by friends an-

Their friends. She hadn’t even thought about the fact that they still hadn’t shown up even though they’d been out there for long enough that even those running late would still be in attendance with them. Brooke was confused. Why hadn’t anyone showed up yet?

It was at that moment she was struck with the realization that this date would be just the two of them. For a moment Brook wondered if he had heard her and Adelaide’s conversation at the shop earlier. Then, she realized it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had realized that she wanted alone time with him, and he made it happen. Merry felt her eyes on him after a moment, and he turned his head to face her. His brows furrowed in concern when he realized she’d been staring at him intently. 

“Is everything okay, Brooke?” The girl didn’t answer at first. Instead she scooted closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. His arm wiggled under her to wrap around her waist out of instinct, though he continued to stare at her curiously. 

“Better than okay,” was her only response. And that seemed to be enough for him because he grinned, pressed a kiss to her forehead, then the two of them looked up at the sky once again.

[i-cant-sing]

Hey I have a yandere erasermic obsession. I don’t know if you do angst but what if they were punishing reader and she gets really exhausted and passes out. They think they killed her, I know this is dumb and you don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable-🍓 anon

Yandere Erasermic punishing reader

I've missed these two a lot😭

Anyways, enjoy! Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Yandere Erasermic:

"Hey! I'm home! How are my darlings- Shou? You okay?" Hizashi asked as he entered his home. He was looking forward to spending time with you and the hero, but judging by the pissed off look on Aizawa's face, it didn't seem like happening.

Aizawa was taking deep breaths, his eyebrows furrowed and face contorted into a scowl. God, what did you do now? Hizashi couldn't help but wonder that, as he slid onto the couch next to his husband.

"What did she do now?"Hizashi asked, resting his head on Aizawa's chest as his arms wrapped around him.

Aizawa closed his eyes in annoyance, his own arms engulfing Hizashi as he let out a huff. "She's so ungrateful."

Hizashi lightly chuckled at that, waiting for him to continue. "You know what she did today? She tried to escape. Again. I don't know how she got the code to unlock the main door, but she opened it. She barely made it 2 steps out the door before I pulled her back in. I was taking a shower and she thought she could make a run for it. " Aizawa runs a hand through his hair, but Hizashi suddenly caught it. He looked at his husband's hand, it was turning a nasty shade of purple, and was red around the knuckles, slightly swelled. "Shou, babe... what happened to your hand?"

Aizawa exhales deeply, closing his eyes, trying to control his anger. "Our sweet little darling happened. After I got her back in, I told her to apologise. You know what she did? She spit at me, screamed all kinds of profanities. When I took her down to the basement to chain her up, she tried attacking me." Aizawa clenched his jaw. "I was only going to leave her there for the night. But what she said to me next... Hizashi, I lost it. I punched her." Hizashi's eyes widened. He knew Aizawa wasn't one to lose his temper easily, he knew he wasn't one to resort to violence immediately. So the blonde could only wonder what in the hell did you say to him. "Shouta... what did she say?" He asked softly, almost afraid of the answer himself.

Shouta looked at his husband, trying to calm himself when he told him what you barked out. "She said...she said that she wondered how UA let... let creeps like us around kids." Hizashi's eyes widened. If there's one thing he knew about Aizawa, it was how deeply he cared about his students, treating them like his own children. He prided himself in being their teacher, and so the nerve of you to even say something so disgusting like that, Aizawa was bound to snap.

"I cant believe she'd say something...so horrible. I'm so sorry, Shou." Hizashi whispered, nuzzling Aizawa's neck. The pro hero only grunted. "Whatever. I think it'd be good if she stays down there... for 2 weeks. Yeah that'd be good. And no dinner tonight either. I don't want to put up with anymore of her bullshit." Hizashi only nodded, but then caught another look at his hand and he stood up, pulling Aizawa along with him to the kitchen. Hizashi pulled out a bag of frozen peas and started applying it on his bruise hand to reduce the swelling.

As the two ate dinner, Hizashi couldn't help but worry that if Shouta's hand looked like this from the punch, then what did the receiving end look like. He chose to remain quiet on that matter, not wanting you to ruin the night anymore.

The next morning when Aizawa woke up, he went downstairs to the kitchen to find his husband. Hizashi who was almost done plating up, greeted Aizawa with a kiss. "So, should I take this plate down to our baby bird?" Hizashi asked, already knowing Aizawa didn't want to see you yet. You had really hurt him. Shouta nodded as he took a sip of his coffee. "Be right back." Hizashi pressed a kiss to his lips before going to the basement.

Hizashi opened the door to the basement, walking down the stairs, hoping to see you greet him like the angel they know you are deep down. But when he got down there, he saw you were still asleep on the floor, your limbs still bound to the chains. Your face was turned away from him and Hizashi wasnt sure if he wanted to see the damage that was done to your face.

Hizashi just called for you. “Love, I’ve brought breakfast! Eggs and hashbrowns! Your favourite!” When you didnt respond, he just sighed before placing the plate on the floor. Your chains were long enough to for you to reach it, and while Hizashi wished nothing more than to feed you himself, he knew you needed to be punished.

As he went up the stairs and out of the basement, he couldnt help but feel a sense of dread creeping up on him.

“Do you think she’ll be sorry after her punishment?”Hizashi asked his partner.  Aizawa rolled his eyes. “Unlikely. But she’ll learn to think twice before she says stupid shit like that.” Hizashi chuckled, but secretly hoped that would be the case. He got up from the couch where he and Aizawa sat. “I’ll go get her plate.” They were done eating 2 hours ago, but still waited for you to finish up because they know how stubborn you are.

When Hizashi walked down the stairs, he wasn’t surprised to find your plate untouched. You would always do that the first few days, before finally succumbing to your hunger. Pointless, really. But what disturbed him was how you were still in the same position he had seen you in 2 hours ago. And it was coming to him how still you looked, he couldn't see your body moving a single muscle, he couldn't see if you were breathing. 

Hizashi walked towards you cautiously, waiting for you to jump up and scare the crap out of him. But his breath hitched when he finally saw what had happened to you. 

A big bruise had formed on your cheek, swelling and taking all the shades of the purple, blue and green. But the worst part was seeing the blood and a clear liquid dripping out of your nose slowly, forming a pool around your head.

He turned you on to your back and started shaking your shoulder. “Darling? Wake up, baby. Its me. Baby, wake up.” But your body remained unconscious. He started tapping your cheek, only then noticing you weren’t breathing. All the alarms went off in his head. “SHOUTA! COME DOWN OVER HERE!” 

Shouta rushed to the basement, wondering what stunt you pulled now. But seeing your limp body in Hizashi’s arms, blood coating your cheeks, he knew something terrible had occured. Aizawa ran towards his partners, looking at your bruising cheek. “She’s n-not breathing. She’s not fucking breathing, Shou!” Hizashi sobbed as Aizawa took your wrist in his hand. His blood ran cold when he found no pulse. “What are we gonna do?! She’s dead! Our baby is dead!” Shouta blocked out Hizashi’s voice. They both cant be panicking right now. Aizawa turned to his partner. “Hizashi. Bring her up. I’ll get the car out.” He commanded. “H-hospital? Shou, its too late-” Hizashi cried out but Aizawa gave him a stern look. “Bring her up. Now.” 

They got to the hospital in fairly record time, passing you over to the doctors while Aizawa made up a story of how they found you in an alley. Only after the doctors left them alone did it dawn on Aizawa how serious the situation was. He killed you, didnt he? You would still be alive if he hadnt hit you. How could he ever claim to love you when he hurts you-

Aizawa shook his head, he could wallow up in his guilt later. For now, he needed to comfort his husband and pray that you make it through somehow.

A few hours later, the doctors had given them an update on your condition. You made it, barely. Something had hit your face and damaged some part of your brain, causing there to be a very slow heart beat. But you're all okay now, since they brought you in time.

When they were allowed to finally go in, thats when Aizawa finally broke down. Seeing you unconscious, knowing he almost killed you, it got to him. Hizashi wanted to console Aizawa, but he couldn't bring himself to leave your side. Hizashi pressed soft kisses to your temples, wiping his tears that fell on your cheek, while Aizawa stood to your side. He wanted to hold your hand but he was afraid to hurt you again. As the duo sat by your side, they made a silent promise to never hurt you again, at least not physically.

After that incident, you'll never be left alone. The two are always breathing down your neck, drowning you in love, looking at you with even more fondness; obsession and protectiveness swirling in their eyes, right there with guilt.

Aizawa would never apologise, but that doesn't mean he's not sorry. You would often wake up to him looking at your bruised cheek with worry, caressing it so gently, as if he'd break you. He'll be a lot more demanding with physical affection, always wrapping his arms around you, forcing you onto his lap and tucking your face under his chin as he cards his fingers through your hair.

You didn't think Hizashi could be anymore overbearing, but you were proved wrong. He'd panic if you were out of his sight for more than 5 minutes. Always worrying, paranoia creeping up on him when you're not in the same room as him. And when he would finally find you (mostly in the bathroom), he'd check you all over for injuries, not trusting your assurances.

Punishments aren't violent anymore. They're humiliating. Pulling you in their laps and feeding you by hand, talking about you as if you're not there, making you take baths with them(not showers because they end too quickly), making you sleep with them, naked.

And the couple won't lie, but this form of punishment seems to be far more effective. With how quickly you turn docile, folding in on yourself as if you could hide from them... its cute.

But hey, its better than getting beat, right?

[let-them-read-fics]

Bite

Pairing: Vamp!Lisa x Human!Fem!Reader

AU: Vampire

Word Count: ~ 5,564

Warnings / Misc. -- Mentions of Blood

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm alive! School has kept me crazy busy and I've had my hands full with other things as well, but I finished writing this one and I wanted to share with you lovely peeps. To everyone who stopped by to check in, and to those of you who’ve been patiently waiting, thank you endlessly. I love having you as my readers 💜

PS ~ I hope this isn't too bad for my first one shot in forever! Also, happy Lisa era. I’m so proud of our girl!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Saturday, October 31st

You look like an idiot. 

The nurse uniform you have on is obnoxiously cliché; short and tattered in various places to really sell the "sexy" aspect of it, little is left to the imagination. Fake blood stains dot the flimsy material in random patterns and mat some strands of the tacky blonde wig atop your head, making you look like something out of a B-movie at best. 

A bonafide, absolute idiot. 

When you express that sentiment to your best friend, she just rolls her eyes and holds out one last costume for you to try on. She had a few lined up in case you didn't like her other options, and clearly that's come in handy; you've already worked through the previous picks, so she crosses her fingers as your eyes skim over this one.

"Humor me, will you?" She asks, hoping that you'll give in and at least check this last one out. 

"Fine, but this is your last chance. It had better be good." You raise a pointed finger at her in warning. 

"I have a good feeling about this one," she says, smiling as you take the bag from her and slip into the dressing room one final time. 

Her phone chimes soon after, and she's quick to retrieve it from her pocket.

Willow: Are you guys almost here?? Jackson's been asking about you.

Your best friend bites her lip at that, nervously nibbling on it as she rereads the message to make sure she didn't imagine the last part. She's liked Jackson since middle school, and he'll be swinging by the party that you've all been invited to; that's one of the main reasons she begged you to come with her tonight. 

Y/BFFs/N: Still getting ready. We'll be there ASAP tho!

Willow: Alright, we'll see you soon. Don't take all night, or else👩🤛

Y/BFFs/N: Yah, cut the violence!

The sound of your best friend's soft giggling fills the air just as you manage to fasten the costume's last zipper and pull its hood over your head.

Surprise etches its way into your features as you do a spin, taking in the sight of yourself through the full length mirror of the dressing room. The outfit's red and black color schemes complement each other beautifully, giving you a powerful and sensual appeal that the other costumes didn't even stand a chance of doing. You look alluring in every sense of the word. 

"Holy shit," your best friend says when you emerge, striking a pose. "You look hot!" She squeals, clapping a few times in quick succession. 

There's no way you think this one looks bad. 

"I think Wanda would be proud," you grin, tilting your head up and wrapping the cape around your neck. 

"One hundred percent," Y/BFFs/N nods adamantly, in total agreement. The Scarlet Witch getup really compliments your features. 

"Now," she starts, changing topics as she looks in the reflection of her phone's dark screen to adjust some of her hair that's gone astray. "Let's pay and then go. Willow's looking for us, and my future man's wondering where I am, too." 

"Hell yeah!" You chuckle, patting her on the back. "I'll help you finally land him so you can stop pining."

You watch as she takes a moment to decide between coming up with a decent rebuttal to defend herself or agreeing with you, and you smile when she goes for the latter. 

"I'd accept nothing less," she says, holding her head high like a princess. "You are my wingwoman, after all." 

"And the best one in town," you add, tugging her towards the register. She reaches into her purse and pulls out the money to pay before politely handing it to the cashier. 

The teenage boy takes it with a small smile, though the action looks a little comical as his upper lip gets caught on the cheap, plastic fangs he's sporting. His knock-off version of Dracula is definitely…. something… and you can tell that his managers forced him to wear it for the holiday. 

"Come back and s-shhee us," he says, handing your change back. Your best friend takes it, failing to contain her laughter at his messy speech. He blushes crimson, likely cursing the plastic teeth for making him look a fool. 

"We surely will," you respond, giving him a comforting smile to keep his embarrassment at bay. He nods gratefully, and you're quickly pulled out of the store by your best friend. 

"Happy Halloween!" You shout over your shoulder, accompanied by the chime of the bell over the door. 

"You too," he calls back, letting out a soft sigh. 

---

20 Minutes Later -- The Party

Upon rounding the front of your car and stepping up onto the sidewalk outside of Willow's house, your attention is immediately caught by the numerous decorations that she put up last week. 

"Huh," you mumble, gazing up at the skeleton that towers above you, standing 12 feet tall. "I think it's safe to say that this is her favorite holiday…" 

"What makes you think that?" Your best friend plays, feigning ignorance as she pops up from behind a life-sized, animatronic Jason Voorhees. 

"I don't know," you tut, admiring Willow's hard work a little longer. "Just a feeling." 

Y/BFFs/N giggles in her unique way, making you smile at the sound as the two of you make your way up the path towards the house. You gaze down at your feet, careful to step on the stones of the walkway and avoid the motion-activated hands that scramble out of the weeds to grab unsuspecting guests. 

Having known Willow your entire childhood, you've grown used to her ways. 

*knock knock*

A strong, iconic synth bassline sounds off from inside, filling the otherwise quiet night around you with its catchy beat as you wait to be let in. Its sound is well known, and you almost instantly recognize it as "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics.

A few seconds later, you hear clambering from inside, followed by concerning groans and shouted apologies. 

Y/BFFs/N arches a skeptical brow at you, perfectly mirroring your thoughts.

Directly after, the door swings open in a flash, and you're nearly tackled by a whizz of curly hair. 

"There you guys are!" Willow shrieks, pulling the two of you close as she nuzzles her face against your cheeks. 

"Yep, here we are," you struggle out, nearly being strangled in her tight grip. She responds by squeezing you even tighter, blinded by her joy at seeing you again. 

After all, it's been a while since all three of you have had the opportunity to spend the night partying together like this. 

"Can't… breathe," Y/BFFs/N squeaks, successfully getting Willow to release you. 

"Sorry," she apologizes, stepping back. "I'm just so happy you're here." 

The freckles that spread across the bridge of her nose look especially adorable with the blush she's sporting, and her shy grin makes you forget about the near-fatality you just encountered moments before. 

"We're happy to be here," you reassure her, returning her smile. 

Your best friend agrees from beside you, nodding her head with a happy look of her own. "Believe it or not, we've missed your weirdness." She adds, cocking her head to the side. 

Willow giggles again, and her eyes crinkle up into those half crescents that could surely melt even the iciest of hearts. She's practically sunshine in human form, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes. 

"Yo, Willow! Who's at the door?" 

Jackson.

You feel your best friend tense beside you, and you subtly pat her leg to calm her down. 

Willow falls silent, though her lips go through the beginning stages of answering him; they open and purse, but she quickly halts her reply and shuts her mouth. She knows of Y/BFFs/N's crush on him, and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing. 

Plus, if the lovesick girl wants to run and hide in the bushes, Willow's silence could buy her some time to slip away. 

But alas, she doesn't. 

Jackson appears in the doorway a mere 5 seconds after asking his question with a beer clutched in his hand. He moves to lean against the wooden frame as his pearly smile beams at you, and Y/BFFs/N audibly swallows at the sight. 

For someone who's usually so confident, she can really be shy sometimes. 

"Lovely to see you, ladies," he greets, putting his free hand in front of him as he bows. His accent is modeled after that of Jack Sparrow, as is his surprisingly well designed costume.

You nod back at him. "Hey, Jackson. Long time no see." 

You elbow your best friend when she remains silent for a beat too long, and the action snaps her back to reality. 

"Yeah, hey Jackson." Her voice is quiet -- she doesn't trust it to refrain from cracking.

He smiles, not failing to notice the nervous aura that's quickly taken over the girl beside you. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when he gives her a curious once-over, and you take that as your cue to save her from the impending embarrassment that's lurking just around the corner. 

"Alright, guys!" You clap, stepping forward. "Let's get to partying." 

Her shoulders relax, and you feel her slip her hand into yours as you enter the house, squeezing twice as a silent thank you. 

15 Minutes Later

Willow stands beside you in the kitchen, mixing a few things together in one of the millions of red solo cups that she bought for tonight. You sneak a peek over her shoulder at the concoction, seeing its light blue color turn purple-ish as she adds a new liquor into the equation. 

In comparison to typical house parties, this one is relatively small; most of the rooms are filled with people, but it's a comfortable amount. Maneuvering around the place is fairly easy, which is always a plus when you're coexisting with sweaty, drunk people. 

"Willow, love, why did you buy so many cups?" You ask, toying with the ripped plastic packaging of one of the stacks. 

"You know I like to be prepared," she laughs, brushing off her major miscalculation. "Plus I can just use the rest of them at my next party." 

You nod, knowing she's right. "Are you having another soon?" 

"I think so. Jiu and her crew are coming back in a couple weeks, so I thought I'd surprise them with one." 

You scoff, humor laced in the sound. "What, they didn't get enough partying done at their university already?" 

Willow turns around, grinning at you as she hands you your drink. "Evidently campus police keep a close eye on them. Siyeon whined about that a lot when she called me." 

"Sounds like her," you chuckle into your cup as you take a sip. 

PFFT

"Eww, Willow! What did you put in this?!" 

Your spit take didn't land on anyone, thankfully, but it did capture the attention of some people nearby. You wave a hand at them as a silent apology, and they go back to their previous tasks. 

The curly headed prankster covers her mouth, though the action does a terrible job of quieting her maniacal laughter. 

"You're lucky Y/BFFs/N isn't over here," you say, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "She'd avenge me." 

Willow uses a napkin to dab the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Why else do you think I waited until she was busy with Jackson?" She asks, motioning to her lounge room across the foyer. 

You look inside, spotting Y/BFFs/N holding a pool cue in her hand as Jackson sinks another shot into one of the corner pockets. 

The sight reminds you of the pep talk and 2 shots of liquid courage you gave her earlier, and how she disappeared with the promise to make a move and actually talk to him. Now, she looks completely absorbed in whatever banter they're sharing, and although your violated taste buds still ache from the sickly-sweet mixture that Willow made, you wouldn't want her to be anywhere else. 

You can get your own revenge. 

Sneaking a glance around the kitchen, you search for something to help with your retaliation. A small package of streamers lays abandoned on the island, forgotten to be put up earlier, and you slyly grin. Their ribbons sparkle with glitter, shimmering as the multicolored party lights stream in from the living room and land on them. 

It's as if the universe is putting a spotlight on them, just for you. 

After side eyeing Willow one final time to ensure that she isn't catching onto your plan, you act quickly. She stands beside the counter, right where you left her, and you dart to the island to grab the streamers. Your fingertips soon gain purchase on the packaging, and you tear it open in one swift motion. 

Her gaze locks onto yours just as you near her, but it's far too late for her to get away. 

"Take this!" You declare, upending the baggie atop her head. She shrieks as they cascade down her body, getting caught in the creases and wrinkles of her costume as they go. A small wave of glitter tumbles out of the bag as well, coating her hair and clothes. 

Boy, that'll be fun to try and get out later. 

Her head slowly raises once you finish your assault and place the baggie on the countertop beside you, but the look in her eye is unlike anything you've ever seen. 

"You're dead," she warns. Just as the smile drops from your face, an even larger, more sinister one begins forming on hers. 

The floor creaks beneath your feet slightly as you take a step back, and you know you have to high tail it out of there if you want to evade her. 

"Catch me if you can!" You shout, springing into action. You turn around and dart out of the room, gliding past numerous partygoers in the hall. 

Willow's choice of footwear works in your favor, you soon realize; the sharp rapping sound of her heels pierces the air behind you, serving as a tell of how much distance is between you.

Her unstable platforms buy you a little time, and you thank the universe as you rush through the living room and back towards the foyer. You plan to cut across it and hide out in one of the bathrooms until she drops her plan for revenge. 

A grin pulls at your cheeks as you skid into one of the walls, looking like a character from Scooby-Doo as you will your feet to work correctly again and get you to safety. Willow laughs behind you, joining in on the fun. 

"Perfect," you mutter under your breath, spotting a clear path through the foyer. It leads under the stairs, and you can see the open door of the bathroom from where you are. 

Your feet take you past a handful of drunk people, bobbing and weaving through them with ease, before you're racing towards the restroom to take cover. 

Before you can make it there, though, you collide with someone rather abruptly as they step straight into your path. 

Your eyes shut tightly as you brace yourself for impact with the ground, but it never comes. The person reaches out and catches you before you can hit the floor, and a soft apology slips past their lips as they scoop you up. 

Upon hearing that uniquely feminine voice speak its regret again, you peek your eyes open. What you see nearly makes the woman's effort to keep you upright moot; she's so gorgeous that your legs almost give out from underneath you. 

Dirty blonde locks cascade over her shoulders in soft waves, half-mussed, half-pristine from your run-in. Her doe eyes are a velvety chocolate color, and you find yourself getting lost in them. Flickers of red show in them, illuminating almost rhythmically the longer she admires you. 

Are those contacts? You ask yourself. They have to be. 

She seems to be just as affected by your presence as you are of hers. 

"Y/N, I'm coming to get you!" 

Willow does her best to sound like a villain from a 90s horror film as she clambers her way closer to you, bumping into a few people on the way. You're brought out of your stupor by her rapidly approaching footsteps, and you take a step away from the woman. Her hands fall from your waist, where they had previously been resting. 

Stealing a quick look at the bathroom, you feel your stomach turn.

Damnit. Someone's in there now. 

Screw this sexy stranger for distracting you. Now you'll have to deal with Willow's wrath. 

"What's wrong?" 

There's that voice again. 

Part of you wants to brush it off and slip away quietly, but an even bigger part of you is determined to stay where you are and tell her. Something about her pulls you in, and you're having a hard time denying it. 

"I need to hide. I glitter-fied my friend and now she's coming after me." 

The woman's plump lips pull back in a humored smile, and she nods as a chuckle leaves her. "Right," she says, like that's a common occurrence. "I can help, if you'd like." 

"How?" You ask, your brows momentarily knitting together in confusion. When she unties and opens the black cloak that's wrapped around her body, your breath catches. 

"You in?" She asks, side eyeing the foyer as Willow nearly careens into the Egyptian vase that her mother bought her last year for Christmas. 

You take a deep breath and hold your hand out to her just as Willow rounds the corner, and she swiftly pulls you in close before you can be spotted. She winds the cloak around both of your bodies, concealing your faces as the fur-lined hood falls atop your heads. 

Unconsciously, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her flush up against you to further ensure your safety. She quietly grunts when she stumbles over her own feet, falling into you a little. 

"Sorry," she whispers, though her third apology of the night is unnecessary. You almost want to thank her for what happened.

Especially when her warm breath fans across your right cheek, where her head is angled. 

Every breath you take pushes you closer to each other, and the satin shirt she's wearing slides against your heated skin. She swallows thickly as one of your hands falls to the small of her back, testing the waters. 

When she shifts a little to encourage you, you're acutely aware of the thigh that's worked its way between your legs. 

When did that happen? 

You bite back a sigh as she just smirks, quietly shushing you. 

Willow thunders by, shouting your name and threatening to throw you into the pool when she tracks you down. You want to laugh at that, but you'd honestly welcome it right now. Some cold water would surely bring you to your senses after being led astray by this goddess in front of you. 

Her footsteps grow distant as she makes her way outside, still searching.

The two of you remain as you are for a couple more minutes until you're certain that the coast is clear, and then you part. When she lowers the cloak, you look away; a deep blush has worked its way up your neck and across your cheeks, and letting her see it would surely make you die of embarrassment. 

She keeps her eyes on you as she reties the cover around herself, attempting to get a read on you. The bashful aura that's befallen you is cute, no doubt, but she can sense your arousal. She can smell it on you, and the scent is beginning to drive her crazy. 

You fiddle with the sleeves of your costume, readjusting them nervously.

"So, um… thanks," you say, sneaking a glance up at her. 

The red hues in her eyes are even more pronounced now, and the sight makes you press further into the wall behind you -- the one that you were previously pushed up against. 

"No problem," she smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth. Two of them catch your attention; a set of fangs now shine, looking alluring and threatening all at the same time. 

There's only one issue: you're certain that they weren't there when you first bumped into her. When did she put them in? And why do they look so real?

The feeling of her hand landing on your forearm pulls you away from the millions of questions that're firing off in your head right now. 

"May I ask your name?" She politely requests, dipping her head down sweetly. 

"Y/N," you breathe out, quickly realizing that you'd do just about anything she asked you to. 

"Y/N." She repeats, allowing the letters to blend in her mouth as they roll off her tongue. She looks satisfied for some reason as she says it again, trying it out. 

"I'm Lisa." 

"It's nice to officially meet you," you smile, reaching a hand out. Her touch is gentle but firm as she takes it, shaking it with ease. 

"Likewise, beautiful." 

The grin on your face only widens at the name, and you pull your hand away out of fear of what she might do next. She's already putting you under her spell, and you're sure that another touch would have you fully entranced. 

She studies you with pursed lips for a moment, clearly debating on something. Her eyes flicker over the dips and curves of your body as a smirk grows on her lips. 

"What are you thinking?" You question, curious but teasing. 

"That I'd love to have your body on mine again." 

She's bold, and she says it like the fact it is. No shame, no bashfulness. Just true, honest desire. 

You bite the inside of your cheek at her bravery, silently thanking the universe for it. The likelihood of you gaining the courage to make a move is slim to none even in the best cases, and this was no exception. She already has your heart skipping beats and you've only known her a few minutes. 

"How about a dance?" She suggests, quirking a brow. The look on her face disarms your defenses, and you take a deep breath before agreeing to your demise. 

"That sounds wonderful." 

She dips her head again, hiding her face away momentarily, and you think it's the cutest thing ever. 

She's shy all of a sudden as her cool demeanor slips up a bit, and that never happens. You might just be her downfall, too.

She holds an elbow out and steps forward, allowing you to link your arm with hers and cuddle in close. 

Her eyes scan across the living room as she studies it, but she's unimpressed. 

Sweaty, winding bodies thrash around to some upbeat pop song that's been overplayed on every radio station in town for weeks now, and the idea of taking you there puts her off. 

When a drunk boy comes into view with a dildo strapped to his forehead, her mind is officially made up. 

"Let's go outside," she says, leading you through the patio doors. 

A quaint gazebo sits on one side of the yard, and the dance floor that Willow's family installed a couple years ago occupies the other. Both are decorated with string lights in combinations of gold, purple, black, and orange. Other ornaments adorn the surfaces as well, and you smile when you spot a comically large spider sat atop the gazebo's roof. 

"Where would you like to go?" Lisa asks, keeping her voice low. It's calm and deep, running a chill through you. 

Softer music plays out here, offering a totally different vibe than inside. Some couples -- many of them introverted, assumably -- sway on the dancefloor as the DJ that Willow hired takes a sip of her drink on the raised stage. She adjusts a few switches slowly, not rushing for a second.

"Let's try the gazebo," you decide, glancing over your shoulder at Lisa. She's looking away, but you don't think anything of it as the two of you fall in step with one another on your way over. 

Shit, Lisa thinks to herself. 

Her plans to come to this party, feed, and make a quick getaway are totally derailed. She'd hoped to find a victim that she was attracted to but didn't like, if that even makes sense, and feed like the animal she is. Then she would leave them like all the rest, drained but still alive, and slip away. 

But now she's met you, and any desire for those plans have been thrown out the window. 

You interest her, and that doesn't happen often. She hasn't met someone who's been capable of doing that in years, and she's intrigued. Something about you just pulls her in, inexplicably, and she knows her feelings would be glaringly obvious if you saw her face right now. 

"Woah, look at this," you sigh, stepping out of her hold to check the place out. A bench runs the perimeter of the gazebo, only stopping at the doorway, and the lights look even prettier from inside. They shimmer, looking like star showers as their strings hang down in the windowless openings of the building. 

Lisa quickly learns that she loves seeing you like this. Your eyes are alight, and your sweet smile of wonder warms her heart. Her hands slip into her pockets as she eventually manages to take her eyes off you, following your lead as she admires the decorations. 

She does a twirl, looking around. 

"It's gorgeous." 

"I know, right? This is totally up Willow's alley," you say, grinning at the mental image that you can conjure up of her giddily spiffing the scene up. 

"I'll have to thank her for making it look so special, then," Lisa says, smiling. The place really makes you feel like you're in your own little world; everything about it is just right. The ambience, the decor, the company… it’s perfect, and Lisa's content with how the evening is playing out. 

Her fingers skate down your arm as she nears you, trekking their way down to your palm. She takes your hand and spins you, watching with admiration as your hair flows in the breeze. Now facing her, you thread your fingers together around the back of her neck as she encircles your waist with her arms. 

"Why have I never seen you around?" You ask sincerely, looking up at her. 

She hesitates briefly. "My university is a few towns over. I just come here to visit my family every few months." 

Not a total lie, she thinks to herself. 

"And stop by terrible parties like this, of course." You add, smirking. 

She shakes her head at that. "No, I can't say I do. I just decided to check this one out on my way to my friend's house." She explains. 

Underneath your cloak, her hands find their way to the small of your back. One stays put while the other dips a little lower, testing the waters. 

"And besides," she starts again, feeling you pull her closer. "Meeting you here automatically makes this an awesome party. Not terrible."

"Cheeeesy!" You scrunch your face up and groan, making her laugh. 

"Maybe, but it's the truth." 

"Sure, Lisa." 

She shakes her head and you laugh lightly together, still swaying about. You hold her close enough to rest your head on her shoulder, and the pads of your thumbs rub small circles on the sensitive skin of her neck. She hums at the feeling, and you take note of the way she relaxes in your arms. 

The night breeze appears again, performing a flowing dance of its own as it lulls past you in waves. A slight chill resides in it, mixed with a generous amount of the day's sweet, fading heat, and you're at peace. 

The slow song that had been playing across the yard ends delicately, parting with some melodic feature that resembles a warm embrace, and it blends seamlessly into the next song. 

Turning Page, you recognize it as.  

Huh, how ironic. One of your favorites. 

Lisa's lips brush against your cheek as she turns her head slightly, whispering, "I like this one, too." 

How did she know? You ask yourself. You hadn't said it out loud… 

Maybe she's just a good guesser. Yeah, that's gotta be it. 

You feel yourself melt as she begins singing the words to you. It's hushed and sentimental -- meant only for your ears to hear, and that makes it even more special to you. 

"If I had only felt the warmth within your touch"

She croons, pressing her cheek against your warm skin. You blush, catching yourself when you remember what the next line of the song is. 

"If I had only seen how you smile when you blush" 

She brings a hand up to cup your cheek in her palm, and her other arm remains around you, holding you tenderly. 

"Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough"

Now, her thumb runs across your bottom lip. You look into her eyes and find them an even deeper shade of red than they had been before, but it doesn't frighten you for some reason. She glances down at your mouth again, fighting her impatience as she waits for permission from you. 

"I would have known what I was living for all along"

You nod and lace your fingers in her locks, and she doesn't waste another second. 

She leans in, humming against your lips when they meet hers for the first time. Her lipgloss spreads across them upon contact, smudging its precise application, but she doesn't seem to care in the slightest. She draws you in closer, and you bring both of your hands around to cup her face as you deepen the kiss. 

Her mouth is welcoming against yours, and it moves languidly as you get adjusted to one another. Every move makes you feel dizzier than the one before it, and swarms of butterflies take flight in your stomach with no signs of stopping. 

She nips at your bottom lip as her hands dip far lower than before, now kneading your ass as your kisses continue to work her up. 

"Fuck," you curse, breaking away from her lips to catch your breath. She's stolen it all from you, and yet she's still not ready to give you a rest; her mouth drops to your jaw, embracing your skin there before moving down to your neck. 

She doesn't realize how dangerous the game she's playing truly is until it's almost too late. 

Her lips press to the area just above your pulsepoint, where she's learned over the years that blood pumps the hardest and tastes the sweetest. She draws it into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the area as her ears perk up at the breathless sound of your moans. They spur her on, and she nips at the skin, surely leaving a hickey. 

Her senses become even more clouded when you say her name, the title caught somewhere between a whine and command, and she feels the strong impulse to claim you. The sensation is overwhelming, and she knows you can feel it too. 

Your hands tug on the collar of her shirt as she lets her fangs fully extend, no longer suppressing them. They rake across your pulsepoint, making you shiver against her. 

"Please…" 

That's all you manage to get out before they pierce your skin, eliciting a whimper from you. Blood fills her mouth instantly, sliding across her taste buds in velvety waves and calming her constant craving. Your hands tighten in her hair, and the delicious twinge of pain that it provides only encourages her more. 

Your blood is different than anything she's ever tasted; it's richer -- sweeter. A throaty groan leaves her as she savors it, and you shut your eyes in pleasure. It's addicting, but she knows she has to stop herself before she hurts you. If she continues like this much longer, she won't have the willpower to let go. 

She retracts her fangs as she licks your taste from them, and then you feel her warm tongue clean the wound she made. It stings a bit, but in all the right ways.

When she pulls back to look at you, she finds your eyes half-lidded and a pleased smile on your face. It nearly kills her, then and there. 

Her gaze flickers back to your neck to admire the hickie she made earlier, but what she sees surprises her. Below it is a darker, more prominent marking that she's only seen other vampires leave behind before. 

Definitely not a hickie.

Your brows furrow as you look at her neck as well, noticing a faint outline of something growing darker by the second. Blinking a few times to ensure that you aren't hallucinating, you find that it's really there. 

"Lisa, what's on your neck?" You ask. 

"A soulmate mark." She responds, feeling a sense of belonging settle over her as she looks at you again. You just confirmed her suspicions by asking that.

"Same as yours," she smiles.