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murderdaddymayhem · 4 years

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Trapped - Mark Hoffman x Reader [NSFW]

Hoffman has feelings for Strahm's fiance. Now that Strahm is dead, you struggle with returning those feelings just for the night.

Set in between Saw V and VI. Please visit the ao3 link for full tags.

“Hey. You left something by the coffee machine.”

You look up, and see Detective Hoffman holding your engagement ring. “Oh,” you smile. “How do you know it’s mine?”

“I guess I look at your fingers a lot,” he jokes, tossing it to you. You slide it back on.

“Do you? How’s this one look?” You playfully flip him off, and he manages as much of a chuckle as the stoic man ever could.

“I’ve sure seen that one more than the others.”

You return the ring to your finger, sliding it on and sitting back down at your desk.

“We’re going out for drinks tonight,” Hoffman mentions, “Wanna come?” You normally wouldn’t join the rest of the officers after hours, but you had been making more of a solid effort to go out and enjoy yourself now that the initial sting of Peter’s death had subsided for you. You tilt your head.

“Is Lindsey gonna be there? Matthews?”

“Yeah. Sing, Tapp. Everyone’s going.”

“Sure. I’ll be there,” you nod.

“Great.” He looks like he wants to say something else, and eventually closes with, “Don’t work yourself too hard.”

You look down to the paperwork on your desk, and back up to return with a quip, but Hoffman’s gone. You spend longer than you should looking out your door, mindlessly counting the number of steps it takes him to get back to his own office as if you hadn’t already memorized it.

Mark sits down at his desk. He’d always had a thing for you. He’d been jealous of Strahm, not only in his stellar reputation with the guys, but of his pretty wife and his perfect life. Mark may have seemed like the handsome hero everyone dreamed of, but in reality, he was a pitiable alcoholic whose sole personality trait was mourning.

If you ever did return his feelings, it would probably be because you pitied him for the loss of his sister, which hurt more than the bindings John had put him in that first day of initiation. He only wanted one thing, really. Maybe two, the first being justice. True justice. As for the second, it's not viable to have you in the position he's in, but his tendency to run from his emotions is being put to the test by your acceptance of his invitation.

When you get to the bar you and everyone at the station frequent after work, Hoffman’s sitting there. Within a half an hour, it’s become apparent the others aren’t coming... and were never coming.

“You invited me out under false pretences,” you say, accepting your drink of choice from the bartender with a nod. “Why?”

“I told you, the others didn’t show.”

“I work for the FBI, and you’re a detective. You’re honestly trying to lie to me?”

Hoffman considers this, purses his lips. “Not very well thought out on my part, I guess.”

“What, did you want to talk to me about a case?” you ask. “Something about today’s paperwork?”

“You know I don’t want to talk about that crap. I wanted to ask you how you were,” he corrects you, taking another generous sip of his second double vodka of the night. “All these months later. Treat you to a night off.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Right.” You’re quiet for a moment. “I’m okay. I haven’t really said it out loud yet, but I think I am.” You debate opening up, but you know he’s also lost someone, so you take a chance. “I feel bad when I forget him.”

“Yeah. I know how it feels to forget. My sister was a huge part of my life, and I never thought I could. And I can’t. Difference is, I try to forget.” You stay quiet, ruminating on the reminder of Mark’s dead sister. He didn’t talk about her often for that reason you suppose, but everyone who knew Hoffman knew he was the way he was because of her death. “You’re not wearing your wedding band,” he mutters, starting in on his third drink.

“I lost it,” you whisper.

“Like you lost it by the coffee machine today?”

You avert your eyes down to your lap. “Maybe you’re not the only one who tries to forget.” Silence passes between you as you explain. “Looking at it opens up old wounds. Keeping the past in the past is my way of dealing with it. He’s gone. If I think about how awfully he died, how scary his last seconds were, it’ll be like it happened yesterday... and I’ll have to start the process again.” You shove your hand down into your pocket, unwilling to study your bare ring finger any longer. “The past is as tangible as the future, detective. If I can’t feel it, it’s not there.”

“You think denying it’s gonna help you in the long run?”

You frown, looking up at him. “Nobody’s denying anything.” Blinking as if in slow motion, Mark gets up and tosses money down for the two of you. He takes your arm and leads you out of the bar, into the cool night air. Confused and more than a little angry, you jerk your arm away. “Why did you invite me for drinks?”

“I wanted to offer my condolences. Again.”

“Bullshit. It’s been 4 months and you haven’t once said you’re sorry he died in one of John Kramer’s sick traps. I know you two weren’t close, but why wait this long? What do you really want?”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Look me in the face and tell me one thing tonight that isn’t a lie,” you demand. Mark turns to you fully.

“Okay. I want to fuckin’ kiss you.”

You hesitate. That was the opposite of what you were expecting. You try and find words as Mark stares at you with that dark gaze, those eyes that seemed to linger in your mind now that you were lonely and no longer trapped under the weight of a lacklustre partnership.

“So? What’s stopping you?” You can never tell what’s going on behind those eyes; he guards his feelings and he guards his secrets. You know he has more secrets than the average man, but he’s a detective. How bad can they be?

“You want me to kiss you?” he murmurs. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do.” He advances, walking you back against the brick wall of the alley no doubt filled with the scum John had him abduct for his games. “Huh? You want me to kiss you how you’re used to? Kiss you like it’s an obligation? Like it’s what people expect me to do?” Your eyes start to prick with tears as Hoffman brushes your hair out of your face. “You want me to tell you I love you like a man who’s only true obsession is a serial killer he couldn’t begin to understand?”

“Hoffman, Peter—”

“Don’t say his name,” he mutters, “You’ll cut the wound wide open again, sweetheart.” He presses his lips against yours, and you feel your body release all of its tension. He kisses like Strahm’s antithesis—like he knows what he’s doing. He’s rough and he’s present, nothing like how you’d imagined the cold detective would. Peter had tried, but as much as he wanted to be, he hadn’t loved you as much as that damn case. Hoffman adversely seemed to care about anything but, even though he was in charge of it. You used to think everything was a façade for Hoffman, that appearances were everything. Façades have to crumble sometime.

By the time you had arrived at his apartment with him in the passenger’s seat, the full effects of the detective’s four double vodkas had set in. He tries to maintain his sense of self until the elevator, then down the hall and into his place.

“Shit,” Mark grunts, sliding your jacket off, “I want you.”

“No you don’t.”

He licks his lips. “Wanna bet?”

“You’re drunk, and we’re colleagues,” you mutter. “You’re gonna walk into work tomorrow morning and you’re not going to be able to look me in the eye.”

“What, after taking you on every surface of my apartment?” he mutters, lips dipping dangerously close to your neck. “Your pussy isn’t gonna shock me. Yours isn’t the first I’ve seen, but it’s sure as hell on my list.” You try once more to push him off, and he tries to stand wearily. His brown eyes blink a few times, and he shakes his head. “Fuck. Sorry.” He lets go of you, backs off. You realize your mistake, and take him by his lapels.

“Are you?”

He looks back up at you, and through your shared gaze, he sees his own arousal reflected in your eyes. His lips are back on you, finally touching your skin, and his hands roam under your top, up to cup your breasts and paw for the hooks of your bra.

“Around the back,” you whisper against his lips. In his drunken state, Hoffman misinterprets this to mean you want to be turned around, and you find yourself pressed against the wall as his hands massage your ass. A moan slips from you as you try to reach back. “I meant the bra.”

“Fuck,” he repeats again, slightly slurred, and reaches up to take it off of you. It drops down one arm, and Mark turns you around again to take your top off and release the garment from your sleeve. “This is what I’ve been fuckin’ missing?” he mutters, half to himself. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Tell me more?” you ask coyly, wrapping arms around his neck. He growls, picking you up by the ass so your legs can wrap around his hips.

“You don’t even wanna know the shit I fantasize about with you,” he mumbles, grinding himself between your legs.

“Wanna bet?” you volley back his line with a grin, and he scoffs, working down your panties as you reach a hand forward to tease him through his business casual pants. The feeling of his bulge grounds you in the reality that yes, Mark Hoffman does want you back. He wants to fuck you in his apartment, and he wants to do it now.

“I’m drunk, but I’m not drunk enough to tell you that, honey.” He presses a soft kiss to the curve of your jaw and slides your panties off, dropping them and rubbing his fingers back up your thighs and beneath the plush seat of your ass. His fingertips are oddly rough, for a detective who hasn’t seen field work in three months.

“What’s your secret, Hoffman?” you ask, and he uses one hand to stroke up the column of your neck.

“Gonna have to fuck me to find out.”

The two of you move over to his couch, Hoffman attempting to lift you over. His state tells you this is a bad idea, so you just pull him by his tie over, and push him down on the couch. He seems to like your show of control, eyes roaming up and down your body as you stand over him. “This feels a little unfair,” you whisper, lifting a hand up to squeeze your breast. Hoffman tears his eyes away from the action.

“What does?”

“Look at you,” you gesture to his fully clothed form, “And look at me.”

“Oh, I’m looking,” he nods, reaching down to squeeze himself. You get between his legs on the couch with a huff, and take over, unzipping his pants and giving him a better squeeze through his boxers. You can feel how hard he is, how large his bulge has grown. He grinds up into your hand, makes no move to undress himself any further.

“You’re selfish,” you mutter.

“I never said I was a nice guy,” he replies.

“You’re a detective.”

“Gray area.”

“For what?”

“My hobbies.”

“Which are?” You sit back on your heels for a moment. Hoffman seems to realize he was about to let something big slip, and your curiosity only grows as he cuts himself off.

“Shut up, will you? And kiss me.”

“That’s my line,” you groan, unbuckling his belt and sliding it out.

“I stole it.”

“You steal a lot?” you probe, hoping to uncover that elusive secret.

“Like I said,” he mutters, face still stone cold. “I’m not a nice guy.” You moan as he pulls you down against him, and moves his hand down to uncover his cock in a smooth movement of his hand. He groans as it grazes against your thigh and up to your pussy, and you lean down to kiss him again. His large hands reach up to your smooth naked back, clutching your body to his as he deepens the kiss. Your breath mingles as you pull away, vodka in his and the mint of chewing gum in yours.

“Condoms?” Mark reaches beside him to the coffee table, and pulls open a packet. Reaching between you two and keeping you held up with the ease of a strong bicep, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he rolls one onto his shaft—the feeling alone of his own hand on himself is enough to make him moan, but he keeps it together. You lift up to position yourself. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“I’m ridiculously hard for you,” he replies, eyes half lidded and lips parted. “I think if you left me now, it would be the first time in my life I’ve cried.” You roll your eyes, and he sits you down on his cock. Your eyes roll back. He looked big when he first took himself out, but it was nothing compared to the feeling. He’s stretching you all the way to the base, hands tightening on your arms. He rocks up once, and you whine his name softly. “Can you move?” he whispers, slurring his words.

“Yeah.” You start to rock down, and his breath hitches. After a moment, he reaches his hands further back, feeling your ass and groping it before sliding them up to your lower back to guide your movements.

“So good,” he mumbles, “Never knew I wanted you... this fucking bad.”

“When did you figure it out?” you smirk, gasping as he hits deep.

“Today, at the office.” His eyes slip shut. “I looked at you sitting there, and wished your picture was on my shelf instead of all the bullshit awards I don’t fucking deserve. One thing that means something to me, that I don’t have to tempt fate to get. That’s all I want. That’s all I need. Just someone else. Just someone else.”

You can’t think of a response. To save him embarrassment in the morning if he, by some miracle, remembers this conversation, you don’t reply. You’re afraid you’ll scare him off if you reciprocate the sentiment, and you’re terrified you’ll offend him if you coddle him. Then again, he could mistake your silence for apathy. Even in his impaired state of mind, Mark seems to realize what’s running through your head. He pulls you down against his broad chest again to put all these thoughts you had no business thinking while getting fucked to bed.

Still, he offers no tender explanation of his confession, no further apologies or bashful take-backs. He only increases his pace, grunting as you start to feel your climax build.

“I wanna feel you cum all over me,” he growls, “Fuck. Fuck, let me feel it.”

“Hoffman.”

“Use my name. Use my fucking name—”

“Mark.”

“Ah,” he hisses, trying to make himself last. “Good girl. Good girl...” You squeeze around him, riding him back and forth, your clit grinding against his pelvis and your ass slamming down into his thighs. He lets out sharp puffs of air, wrapping one arm around you and tightening it. You feel as though you’re as close to the distant man as you’ve ever been as he breathes your name into your hair, burying himself in it as he buries his cock the deepest it will go inside of you and stills.

You’re both almost there, and the formality between you dies.

“Mark—I’m gonna cum,” you breathe desperately, “Don’t stop!”

True to character, Hoffman doesn’t offer any verbal encouragement, but his body language is worth a thousand words. He bites your earlobe, reaching down to rub your clit in circles. The action makes you gasp, and you brace yourself on his chest as your orgasm finally hits in waves. His hips convulse inside of you as he finally lets himself finish with you, and your grunts and groans meld together into a harsh symphony of panted out breaths.

“You moan so pretty, babygirl,” he sighs. A warm flush rushes through your body at that, and you’re not sure why. This needs to stay a one night’s stand, not some workplace romance the two of you can giggle about behind closed doors. It would only be a liability to both of your careers in the force, and you know Mark will agree once he sobers up in the morning.

“Stop thinking,” he groans. His voice is gravelly, sated. “Hey. Stop. More importantly, stop guessing what I’m thinking.”

You stare down at him, eyes dancing between his. Your voice comes out barely louder than a whisper. “What are you thinking?”

“Absolutely nothing. Which is what you should be thinking of too, after we both fell into bed together.”

He seems to grow uncomfortable with the close eye contact, feels as though you’re reading him like a book. He moves your head down, where you lay there on his softly rising and falling chest. His steady breathing makes you think he’s fallen asleep, but his eyes are wide open. He stares up at the ceiling as if he was staring up at Peter Strahm again, watching the walls close in on the agent and crush his bones as he himself sunk into the ground safely entombed in glass. He swallows, imagining how your bones must have crunched in on themselves as you crumpled to the floor receiving news of your husband’s death.

His fault.

John’s fault. Jigsaw's fault.

No.

His fault.

He thought acting on his feelings and sleeping with you would make him forget Strahm ever existed. Instead, it felt like Strahm was the one in that box, watching the walls close in on Hoffman as every shitty thing he’d done in his life came closing in on him. Hoffman feels his heartbeat pick up desperately, but talks himself down as he did every night. He listens to the rhythm of your breath, tries to meditate to it.

You don’t have the problem of hyperactive thought at the moment—you had taken Mark’s advice, and calmed down. It’s okay that you had moved on. It’s okay you had found comfort in someone else’s arms, and it’s okay that it’s Hoffman. Despite this, one singular question seems to bounce back and forth in your head as curiosity digs its nails back in.

Your finger traces a pattern in the rug below the couch... the pattern of a puzzle piece.

#mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #hoffman x reader #detective hoffman #detective hoffman x reader #saw #saw v #saw vi #saw 5 #saw 6 #costas mandylor #saw franchise #saw movies #slasher fandom #slasher fanfic #slasher x reader #saw fanfiction

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judyhopps934-mt-zd · 3 years

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Thoughts on Gang of Secrets

Warning: Spoilers and intense emotions. Have fun!

Chat Noit sensed that something is wrong with Ladybug. Love how he can sense that based on what she doesn't say.

She almost didn't pound it and was distracted to do so. Oh boy.

BOIIII WHY DID YOU TAKE HER TO THE MOVIES???? THIS IS NOT THE TIME!!! AND LADYBUG KNOWS THIS AS SHOWN BY HER FACIAL EXPRESSION!!! I am SCREAMING because he took her to a movie ABOUT ROMANCE!!!

The civilians do not mind that superheroes are going to the movies. That is until...

Ladybug goes into this rant about romcoms and I agree with every word she says. There is no such thing as a happy ever after and things do not go perfectly. Go off Ladybug!!! There's a reason why I hate rom coms.

The civilians being shocked/annoyed from her rant just adds to it. I am guessing because this is literally freaking Paris and considering the couples there. Has the same vibes as Grunkle Stan from Gravity Falls when he approached a couple to say marriage is terrible in the second episode.

Hurts that the rant was the reflection of Marinette's dilemma.

Chat finds out that it was about heartbreak. He finally picks up about social cues! Good work Chat! Too bad that you learned that after your breakup with Kagami.

Ah, the swimming pool. A great place to go to forget your heartbreak go for a swim.

Realized that akumas cannot attack people if they are submerged under water, which is why she goes to the pool and a theory roaming online that she goes to the pool to cry makes a lot of sense.

I know this is a kids show and that logic gets thrown out the window, but does no one in Paris find it fishy that Ladybug in her swim suit enters the Dupain-Cheng household???? I feel like no one cares.

Ladybug might say that the board of pictures with Adrien and Luka and some of her friends might not bother her, but it seems to bother her somewhat as it is a reminder of the relationships that she can't have as long as she's Ladybug. It hurts badly though.

Unpopular opinion: The Kwamis can be good at providing comfort and probably make them laugh, but they are not the best therapists. Do not blame them though.

Marinette only detransforms for Tikki's wellbeing. She is at that point where the only reason she does something is because someone else is suffering, not for herself. It hurts seeing her suffer like this.

Tikki is fine despite being in the earrings for a long time. She is more concerned about Marinette though.

Meanwhile, the girls have their suspicions about Marinette as they did not know about her breakup with Luka until he told Juleka, which started a chain that I cannot remember, but do remember that it ended with Alya.

They call Marinette, but she does not answer because what will she tell them? The not answering part is a mood, but the reason hurts.

Alix being like "why not get orange juice with her and talk about her feelings" and everyone else staring at her as if she was the one with a crazy idea. I can't! Especially when she was like "*sigh* fine"

Also, Luka is not taking the breakup well either if Juleka's photo is anything to go by.

The bracelet idea is cute. I did something similar to that Junior year.

The scene from the ad that made us mad: Marinette transforming angrily after saying how her life as Marinette is complicated and prefers to be Ladybug all the time. It hurts to see this scene actually be in the 3rd episode as the guardianship and the breakup had consumed her so quickly.

Baby girl, we love you and we know as the audience how hard your life is now. This is why we are very concerned about you challenging ShadowMoth. Concerning.

But she breathes and goes back inside. Glad that you blew off some steam, but is everyone in Paris not aware that this just happened?!?!? Hello!?!?!?! Like Plagg said: People are blind. And a good thing too.

Just as this was happening, the girls come barging in. Good that they are great friends for being concerned, but have they ever heard of knocking?

Rose finds the dollhouse. Its a nice dollhouse, but isn't that too obvious that it will attract other people's attention? Not judging though, its a nice dollhouse and shows the expansion of Marinette's craft.

Originally, I thought they were coming after Marinette because of what happened in the episode "Ladybug", but glad to know her other friends cared about her too!

Alya comes up to find Marinette in the balcony just as she detransformed. That was WAYY too close.

Obviously, this made Marinette angry. Like who wouldn't be? They did barge into her room without asking and she was already stressed out as it is. And they were also snooping through her stuff.

In the heat of anger, Marinette said that she didn't want their friendship, which shocked everyone. So they left. But they weren't mad, they were just upset.

At least no friends means reduced amount to lying??? Yeah, but we need friends in life, so it is a lose-lose case.

Sabine asks of they are okay and no one says anything. I wonder if she will ask Marinette later on.

They go to the park and as they recall their pain, ShadowMoth akumatizes them in a link because of their emotional connection to the bracelet. They didn't even have to hold hands in a circle!

Finally, a safeguard for the Miracle Box that isn't obvious and is protected by a passcode. The record sonogram (or whatever is called) that Master Fu had!

Bruh, they couldn't come up with something different for the Gang of Secrets other than their former akumatized selves???

And then the girls (now the Gang of Secrets) barge into Marinette's room (again) to get her to spill her secrets.

Trixx using their power of illusion to lead the Gang of Secrets somewhere else. And Marinette was hidden.

Lady WiFi wondering how Marinette jumped 3 stories without superpowers was just that wholesome moment like girl you don't even know.

Every kwami using their powers without a holder has their own adverse affect. For Trixx, it was making the Eifel Tower dance (or at least I think it's dancing)

Plagg is like "this isn't a me thing, this is an everyone thing, but more importantly a Trixx thing." Adrien is like "M'Lady needs me!"

Ladybug and Marinette merge into one (figuratively speaking) when she tells Chat why the Gang of Secrets was there in the first place. Poor girl, we need to give her a hug.

Ladybug confronts Lady WiFi and tries to tell her that she is trusted and about Rena Rouge. Then...

SHE BREAKS OUT OF HER SIDE OF THE AKUMATIZATION!!!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! ALYA HAS BECOME THE FIRST PERSON TO BE AKUMATIZED AND BREAK OUT OF IT! AND SHE HURT SHADOWMOTH WHILE DOING SO! I'M HAPPY FOR MY GIRL.

Ladybug trusts Alya and gives her the Fox Miraculous again. Not complaining, but what about ShadowMoth knowing her secret identity??? Miracle Queen anyone??? You know, a chunk of the reason WHY MARINETTE IS SUFFERING IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?!?!?

Also, teleportation of the Miraculous from the Miracle Box to Ladybug's yoyo! (Well more like a direct connection!) Cool and smart!

Rena Rouge, THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING US MARICHAT STANS AND OUT #justice for Marichat CAMPAIGN STARTED BY SOME OF MY FOLLOWERS ASKING FOR MORE MARICHAT EVEN IF IT WAS FOR 3 SECONDS!!!! (Yes I notice your comments peoples, I am generally a tired and busy person to respond, but I eventually acknowledge everything)

Can we take a moment and point out how amazing it was that Chat was fighting three (four???) akumas ON HIS OWN WHILE ON THE CAT PHONE!!! ICONIC!

IT WAS ALL SO CLOSE! SHADOWMOTH ALMOST HAD THE MIRACULOUS IF IT WEREN'T FOR PERFECT TIMING!

The moment with Alya in the alley! Friendship goals.

Marinette comes to terms that the breakup upsetted her so much and finds that love is complicated and chose friendship at the very least. Their reunion was what they all needed after what happened.

Alya stays behind to say that she knows that there is more, but will not press further. Can we get an applause for character growth?

Marinette asks her to stay longer as she wanted to tell her something.

It really was hard for her to keep lying to everyone and how she had to break up with Luka for this reason while also fearing that it would be the same with Adrien (she does not know, so she has a right to fear, also Chat Blanc!) She really needs a hug and such.

The whole concern about things changing between them is relatable to be but on a different context. It hit hard for me.

My fellow peoples: the moment that we were (sort of) waiting for ages is here:

JE SUIS LADYBUG! MARI TOLD ALYA THAT SHE'S LADYBUG!!!!

And Alya GIVES HER A HUG AS IN SHE UNDERSTOOD WHAT THIS MEANT AND THE REALIZATION OF WHAT MARINETTE WENT THROUGH!

As sad as I am that it was not Chat that she said this to first, I am glad that it was Alya. As her best friend literally hours prior to becoming Ladybug, having stuck by her side unconditionally, and having the willpower to break out of her akumatization, Alya is a perfect choice. Now I look forward to see how Alya helps Marinette deal with this burden.

Overall, this is a top tier episode, aka the best episode in the entire series in my opinion! I love how we explore Marinette's feelings regarding everything that is going on in her life and the ramifications of her being a guardian. It hurts and at the same time, it is beautifully executed! It shows the evolution of the writing and of the characters!

My arm hurt from the vaccine yesterday and these posts are usually long, so that's why it's released today rather than yesterday. Anyways, I recommend watching this episode!

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

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autumn leaves | l.i.b. finale

→ summary: and in the end, we fall because we have no other choice. some get up easier than others, and we bury the ones who never do.

→ pairing: ??? x reader → genre: angst, humor, fluff, lib!au → warnings: tae gets hurt a little but its an accident (he’s fine dw), small blood mention (from aforementioned accident), rage moments (rip lol), heartbreak (yum!), a happy ending (?) → words: 7.7K → a/n: oh my god we’re at the end?? after two months of SUFFERING?? how can this be happening?? lol but seriously thank you to everyone for going on this journey with me. writing lib was honestly so much fun, and it’s been a while since i’ve been able to kinda go “all-out” or whatever. i’m kind of nervous with this ending, but hopefully it’s something everyone will be able to enjoy. peace!!

prev // part 38 of 38 masterlist here. [series completed]

October 1, 2020 — 6:18 PM

Min Yoongi’s phone feels like it's burning a hole into his back pocket. It’s a heavy presence, weighing like concrete enough to bend his spine. His hands itch to reach for it, to check for messages he knows he won’t receive. But in the back of his mind, he thinks—desperately and senselessly, that if he wishes hard enough, then maybe it’ll come true.

I should be glad that she isn’t calling me, he tries to convince himself. The itch continues to grow, licking at the back of his mind like a fire begging to be extinguished. I should trust her decision. I should be proud of her. But there’s always been a difference, after all, to what Yoongi should do and what he wants. It’s a difference that he has fought to ignore for years now.

“Hyung,” a soft voice calls out to him, a hand placed gently on his shoulder. Yoongi blinks slowly out of his trance, his eyes dry from staring out his car window for too long. He doesn’t turn in his seat, refusing to face his companion in the backseat. “Hyung,” the voice calls out again, this time shaking him vigorously enough that Yoongi has no other choice but to turn lest his shoulders get dislocated.

“What do you want, Jimin?” Yoongi growls, sneering at the boy. Jimin smiles sheepishly, but he doesn’t back down under his glare.

“Sorry. You were gripping the wheel so tightly that I was scared you were going to break it.” Jimin shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s an edge to his tone, betraying his worry. Yoongi releases the wheel at once, switching to picking at the rips in his jeans instead.

“Didn’t notice. Sorry for snapping at you, I was just…” Yoongi trails off, expression glazing over once more. What was he trying? What was he doing here?

Jimin’s pupils flit all over Yoongi’s face, searching for something. “We’re not going to bring her home anymore?” he asks, but there’s a note of finality there. He knows that they aren’t going home with them tonight, at least not right now. They’ve been parked a block away from Namjoon’s childhood home for a few hours now, sitting in Yoongi’s car and waiting to see if you needed them to help you escape. Jimin has been watching Yoongi all the while, keeping track of the small changes in his friend’s expression.

They are hard to pinpoint sometimes, but Jimin sees them all. He sees the way Yoongi’s brow furrows slightly, sees the way his teeth nibble on his lips in worry, sees the way his head jerks every time he hears a sound, thinking that it might be his phone about to ring. Yoongi is like a pot about to boil over, hardly keeping everything together.

To many people, Yoongi often appears to be as unmoving as a rock. He hardly allows his emotions to control him, and he has always been proud to call himself a level-headed person. And for the most part, Jimin agrees with that. Yoongi is and always will be someone who thrives in times of turmoil, someone who relies on his wit to get him through adversity. He seldom gets angry, rarely raises his voice, never acts cruelly. He’s the person that everyone in their friend group often comes to for advice and support, as he’s always the one who seems to have the right thing to say.

But all those things begin to crumble, however, when it comes to you.

Yoongi is still human, too. He bends, he breaks, he yields—and he does so, especially for you.

“No, we’re not bringing her home,” Yoongi replies. The admission is there, hidden in plain sight. His words are laced with defeat, but it is a defeat that has been accepted long ago. Long before his text conversation with you.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jimin asks, not unkindly. Even still, Yoongi winces. Jimin’s real question is there, hidden in plain sight as well. What are you waiting for?

Yoongi sighs, resting his forehead against the wheel. He hears Jimin shift in his seat, feels his presence get closer as he leans forward to place a comforting hand on his back. “Nothing,” he says. He breathes deeply through his nose and counts to three. Releases it. “We are waiting for nothing.”

Jimin hums and says nothing more. They sit there in silence for a bit longer, watching the sun’s final moments in the sky before the moon takes its place. The street lamps turn on, bathing the streets in its dusty yellow luminescence. Under the lights, Yoongi’s skin looks tired and worn, like a paper that has been crumpled and smoothed over multiple times.

“I wonder if they’ve finished speaking by now,” Yoongi says suddenly. He still hasn’t moved from his position, his face hidden from view. It almost looks like he hadn’t spoken at all, but Jimin had heard him. He looks at Yoongi in surprise but keeps his silence. Jimin can feel the beginnings of something about to break, and he is afraid that if he makes a sound, it might stop. Even stones break in the end.

“I doubt it. They have a lot of shit to talk about. Too much, in fact.” Yoongi sounds exhausted, his words slurring together like he’s falling asleep. But he’s never been more wide awake. “I’d have a lot to say if I were them. But I’m not them, nor will I ever be.”

Yoongi tilts his head high enough that he can rest his chin on the wheel instead. He stares blankly at the quiet street, listens intently to the sound of the wind beating gently against his car. Parked out there, in the middle of a small neighborhood in Ilsan, far away from the bustling streets of the city, he can almost trick himself into thinking that he’s the only person in the world—

“You love her.”

—but he isn’t alone.

Jimin says it without a shade of doubt. He says it like it's a simple truth of life, like there is no other possible way Yoongi could feel otherwise. The sky is blue. The earth is round. Min Yoongi is in love with you.

“Yes,” Yoongi breathes it out, the confession tumbling through his lips with quiet ease. It does not struggle; it does not resist. It just is. “I’ve loved her before I even knew it myself, I think.”

“I never thought you’d be the type to fall in love at first sight,” Jimin says it lightly, teasingly. There’s a shrivel of truth to it though, but Yoongi will deny it to his dying day; it’ll hurt less if he does.

“I think it started a year ago. When I was preparing for my junior year exhibition.” Yoongi remembers the long nights working until his hands bled, the recurring nightmares eating at his mind, the fear climbing his spine like a tightrope pulled taut. It’s one of the only times when he had bitten more than he could chew, piling impossible expectations onto himself. In those long three weeks of constant anxiety nipping at his heels, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be human. That is, until…

“She saved me. She taught me to slow down, to be compassionate to myself. She didn’t judge me or scold me or hurt me. She just… cared.” Yoongi exhales, clenching his eyes shut. He can see it in his head: your soft hands carding through his hair, whispering assurances and praise into his ears, guiding him to his bed and staying with him until he’d fallen asleep soundly for the first time in days. “Slowly but surely, I started to fall for her. There was just no other way. My heart refused to have it any other way,” he says.

Jimin hums. “I’d always guessed, but I never thought it was that early. You do have an awful habit of staring, hyung. Sometimes I feel like you have to remind yourself to blink.”

Yoongi laughs, hollow sounding. “I suppose I do.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything about it then?”

Jimin’s question is expected. It should be an easy one to answer, but Yoongi doesn’t quite know what to say. It’s easy to say that he knew Jungkook and you already loved each other long before he realized his feelings, and Yoongi was the last person on earth who would do anything to hurt either of you to fulfill his desires. It’s true, but it’s not the whole truth.

So instead, Yoongi responds, “It’s because I’m a hypocrite.” When he doesn’t elaborate, he sees Jimin give him a confused look from the rearview mirror.

Yoongi chuckles sardonically, shaking his head. His mouth feels like acid, as if bile had risen up his throat. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, but it would hurt more later if he didn’t suck the poison out right here and now. “Nevermind about that. The point is, I lost my chance and I don’t regret it. Yeah, it fucking hurts like a bitch, but what am I going to do? Cry about it? We’ve all known since the beginning that if anyone is going to get a happy ending, it’s certainly not going to be me.”

“Don’t say that,” Jimin says, frowning slightly. He had spoken so sternly that it impelled Yoongi to straighten up in his seat and turn to stare at him. It’s quite unlike Jimin to be anything but friendly and kind, so seeing him so severe is disconcerting. Though, it did manage to shut Yoongi up immediately.

“This is not the end of the world. You are not going to end up unloved or forgotten. There are people who love you, people who will love you. Don’t you remember? Those were the same words you told me when I got my heart broken the first time,” Jimin says, his voice trembling ever so slightly. Yoongi’s gaze flies to Jimin’s fists, clenched tightly by his sides.

Of course, Yoongi remembers. It’s hard to forget the sight of Park Jimin sobbing relentlessly into his shoulder, fat tears falling like raindrops and down his flushed cheeks. He remembers saying the same words to you, too. He wonders, not for the first time, if his words are as ineffective to you as they are to him right now.

“I know,” Yoongi says. He switches the engine on and watches his dashboard light up. The radio turns on, the last notes of a ballad playing through the speakers. Yoongi puts his hand on the wheel, carefully not to grip too tightly this time. It’s a start, he thinks.

They go home, leaving without looking back.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 9:20 PM

Kim Taehyung locks his bedroom door the moment he gets home, after casting a furtive glance at the closed door across from his. He does not know what he expects; the door across from him has been closed for almost a week now. The entire apartment is still, but he is not alone. The ghost who lives in the other bedroom still haunts him, in more ways than one.

He drops his bag to the floor, still cradling a small bouquet of camellias that was slightly crushed when he had bumped into someone in the elevator. He unpeels the plastic wrapping, gently placing them into the vase near his windowsill. He fingers the vibrant pink petals, but they don’t brighten his room the way they once did. It still feels dark, but he has a sinking suspicion that he had nothing to do with his lights.

It’s me. I’ve changed.

He shakes his head, banishing the thought. No, it’s okay. Everything is fine. You’ve done nothing wrong. And yet, the door across the hall begs to differ.

Typically, this shouldn’t be a problem for him. When everything is said and done, Taehyung is used to this happening. The closed doors, the unopened texts, the cold shoulders. It’s all a process that Taehyung has lived through for years.

Guilt: an emotion that Taehyung has become accustomed to. Abandonment: an action that Taehyung has learned to anticipate. Isolation: a lifestyle that Taehyung has mastered. Every relationship with Kim Taehyung will always lead to these three things, so it shouldn’t be affecting him the way that it is.

But over the last three years, he’d grown comfortable. The people around him had convinced him unknowingly, planting seeds of hope and optimism in a garden he had thought to be infertile. For once in his life, Taehyung had found a home in these people, and he’d do anything in his power to keep it safe.

Or at least, he thought he did.

His original intentions had been guileless; he wanted to help Jungkook because he was his friend. Jungkook had been his first friend in university—if he wanted to be honest, then Taehyung would even say that Jungkook was his first friend in his entire life. The boy was kind-hearted and supportive, wrapped perfectly with a goofy personality. Of course, Taehyung wasn’t blind to Jungkook’s faults, but he was sure that Jungkook didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He had decided back then that he could trust this one, and once he had allowed Jungkook into his life, the rest followed suit.

It was easy to empathize with Jungkook because he was just so… awkward. It was like watching a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time, except Jungkook had long since outgrown his baby status and should have been independent long ago. Taehyung and everyone knew this about him, but they still gave him the benefit of the doubt. They mentored him, guided him, manipulated him in the wrong ways in hopes of hastening him to change. That was until…

Everything fell apart. Taehyung understood long before the fall that he had played a considerable part in Jungkook’s ruin. His negligence, his willful involvement in worsening the situation had exacerbated everything. He had ignored the signs, had barrelled through with his plans without another thought, all because he allowed himself to be blind to what he truly wanted out of this mess.

If he genuinely wanted to be a friend to Jungkook, he would’ve stopped interfering way before you had gone to Ilsan that one fateful weekend in August. He’d been aware he was doing more harm than good to everyone around him, including himself.

No, he stopped wanting to help Jungkook a long time ago. It had turned into his own personal agenda.

“Fuck!” Taehyung screams into the night sky, slamming his hands against the wall. He grabs the nearby vase, smashing it against the floor and scattering water, petals, and glass across the floor. The impact causes a few shards to imbed themselves into his shin, but he does not mind them, for he does not feel them.

He breathes heavily, gritting his teeth in unspeakable rage. He’s angry, so furious. This red hot searing rage builds up in his body until he starts to feel dizzy, his vision blurred with tinges of black. Why is he mad? Who is he mad at?

Is he mad at Jungkook? Yes, but that isn’t new. He’s been angry at Jungkook for a while now. It frustrates him to no end how lucky Jungkook is without even knowing. How easily love comes to him, how pain and misfortune had never been in his vocabulary until just recently. Jungkook had you, Yoongi, and Jimin for longer than he has. Jungkook has been swaddled in affection since the start but has always been too stupid to see. If he had just stopped being so cowardly, he could have easily gotten the person he loves without anyone’s help.

If he just learned to ask, if he just learned to stop fucking locking his goddamn door—

Just like Taehyung.

They are two sides of the same coin, and it scares him.

This raw, unadulterated rage is not about Jungkook, but himself. It was always about him.

He lets out one last defiant shout at the frigid sky before dropping to his bed in defeat. The fury subsides as quickly as it comes, but it only leaves a desolate landscape inside of him.

He does not know for how long he lies there. When he stands, he leaves bloody footprints in his wake. “Appropriate,” he mutters to himself. He limps over to his door, hobbling to the adjacent bathroom to retrieve a first-aid kit. When he opens the door, Taehyung does not notice the small white box placed in front of his doorway. He nearly trips over it, saving himself by latching onto the wooden frame. He glances down, picking up the box gingerly when he sees a small sticky note tacked on top of it.

If you need help, just knock.

Taehyung looks across the hall. The door is still closed, but the person behind it is not.

His grip on the first-aid kit tightens. The first step is always the hardest.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 1:03 PM

When you had run the moment you spotted Jungkook, Jung Hoseok had chosen to stay behind. He had pushed Jungkook to go after you, had yelled at him when Jungkook had hesitated for that one split second.

“Go!” he shouted, jolting Jungkook to his senses. He sprinted off, but not before giving Hoseok one last look back. Hoseok put on his bravest smile at him, throwing a thumbs up. “Don’t give up yet!”

Even now, ten minutes later, his throat still feels scratchy from how loud he had been.

He sits by the curb where he had parked his parents’ car. Namjoon sits beside him, a few inches apart. The autumn wind sends chills down his back, the afternoon sun doing its best to keep him warm. Though, he reckons that half the cold is because of the weather.

Hoseok clears his throat at the same moment Namjoon does. They share a glance, the beginnings of a smile playing on their lips. They look back to the ground, avoiding each other once more. Hoseok taps indiscernible beats with his feet while Namjoon draws shapes in the air with his fingers.

Hoseok tries again. “Umm. Namjoon,” he mumbles tentatively. He doesn’t know where to start.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, you know. I’ve known you since before you even learned how to walk.” Namjoon beats him to it, like always. “I can guess what you want to say.”

Hoseok hazards a glance at him. His friend is tanner than he remembers, the summer months having done well on his skin. He almost giggles when he notices the line where the edge of his shirt sleeve meets his bicep, the stark contrast of color evident whenever Namjoon moves his arm. It has been a while since he has seen Namjoon with a tan line, as Hoseok was usually there to remind him to put sunscreen on before leaving the house.

Usually.

Hoseok sobers up, the momentary amusement evaporating just like that. How is it that in only one month, so many things have changed between them?

“What do you think I want to say?” Hoseok responds. He tries to keep his voice level and cool, but he knows that Namjoon notices the small ways in which he falters. Namjoon knows how he rubs his neck when he’s nervous, how his ears get red when he’s embarrassed. He memorizes the exact time it takes for Hoseok’s mouth to downturn, forming into his signature pout.

He knows all these things and more. And yet, how could Namjoon possibly know the traitorous things that he has done?

“I think… you got sidetracked,” Namjoon says slowly, carefully. When Hoseok glances at him again, he finds that Namjoon is looking back. He has a contemplative expression on his face, his jaw clenched in the same way that it does when he’s solving a tough problem. “I think you wanted to help me get together with her, didn’t you? At least, in the beginning.”

“I still do,” Hoseok admits, breaking his gaze once more. He stares up ahead, where the park is bustling with children and their families. He watches a small boy swinging on a swing set, while another boy pushes him higher and higher. “Do you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“When you texted me while you were freaking out over how you were falling in love with her?”

Namjoon huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. Of course. How could I forget? I’m still freaking out about it now.”

“I was just… worried about you, you know? I’m always worried about you,” Hoseok says. The boy on the swing set is still going, but one extra strong push from his friend causes him to tumble, landing face-first into the ground. The nearby adults begin to panic, but the boy rises unsteadily, dirt caked onto his scratched up face. But when he faces his friend, he’s smiling and laughing like he has just won the lottery.

“Not an unfounded concern,” Namjoon chuckles, causing Hoseok to put on a small smile. His laughter dies as quickly as it comes. “Was that the time you decided to help me?”

“I’ve wanted to help you since the beginning, but that was the first time I actually did something about it.” Hoseok’s heart is beating a mile a minute, his palms sweaty despite the chilly weather. “I only wanted to find out if Jungkook really liked her or not. I wanted to know if you had a chance before you fell any deeper because I didn't want you to get hurt.”

When Namjoon doesn’t say anything, Hoseok continues. “Even when he admitted that he did love her, I could sense that there was a huge chance things weren’t going to work between them as long as if some things were just… pushed in the right direction.” His voice grows smaller the more and more he speaks, the guilt feeling heavy against his windpipe. But Hoseok is determined to tell him, no matter what happens. It’s the least that Namjoon deserves.

“I suppose, in this case, it would be the wrong direction,” Namjoon hums, but he doesn’t appear angry or upset. Not yet, at least. From the corner of Hoseok’s eye, he sees him nod for him to go on.

“Yeah. I could tell he was insecure, and that insecurity was prone to growing into jealousy,” Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots just to give his hands something to do other than to quiver. “I noticed that he shuts down whenever he’s cornered, so that’s what I did. I kept pushing him, forcing him to admit his wrongdoings but never berating him for them. So, in turn, he began relying on me for comfort instead of his friends.”

He keeps going, “I didn’t feel bad for it at first. I kept telling myself, ‘It’s all for Namjoon in the long run.’ But it didn’t take long for me to realize that I couldn’t keep helping you without hurting Jungkook in the process. I was manipulating this poor boy, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late.”

Hoseok waits for Namjoon to react. He can’t bear to look at him, far too ashamed even to consider turning. He’s sure he’ll find disgust in his kind friend’s eyes, and he isn’t sure if he’d be able to stop himself from running if he saw it. But Namjoon refuses to speak, probably not until Hoseok finishes his piece.

“Jungkook didn’t deserve what I did to him. All the things he did is nothing in comparison to the punishment I inflicted on him, especially when it was never my place to do so. I fed the monster inside of him when he was nothing but a boy who was just scared. Then, just when he still had a shot at redemption, when she was still willing to listen to him, it was also me who ruined everything. I told her about all the bad things he had done. I told her about—”

“The thing about Jungkook paying to spread that rumor,” Namjoon speaks so suddenly that Hoseok nearly chokes in surprise. He had been so quiet that he scarcely even seemed to breathe. “You told her about it, didn’t you?”

“I… Yes, I did. She told you about it?”

“Yeah. She never informed me who told her, but I suppose it makes sense. But there was something else you said, wasn’t there? Something even she wouldn’t tell me.”

Hoseok nods his head sadly. “Yes. I think she was probably more hurt to find out that Jungkook had been ignoring her in favor of hanging out with me. Indirectly, I fed into her jealousy, but instead of comforting her, I intensified her guilt.”

Beside him, Namjoon releases a shaky breath. “You brought me up.”

“Yes.” There’s no use denying it; after all, Hoseok has always been a terrible liar.

“Did you tell her..?” The question hangs heavily in the air, but Namjoon doesn’t have to finish it for Hoseok to understand.

“No, I didn’t tell her you love her. I just mentioned how she was hurting you by loving Jungkook. That’s all. I don’t think she even had the chance to understand what I meant.”

There’s a moment of silence. The two boys sit side by side, looking to all the world like friends just enjoying an autumn afternoon together. The sounds of children singing, of parents chatting, of lovers laughing try their best to fill the space, but the gap is already too big to mend. At least, not immediately.

“Okay.”

Hoseok startles once more, this time managing to gather enough courage to take a peek at Namjoon. He keeps his eyes low, staring at the mole on his chin. “Okay?” he repeats.

Namjoon shrugs half-heartedly. “It’s done. All we can do now is wait, I guess.”

“But… you’re not..?”

“Mad at you? No, I’m not. Am I hurt? Incredibly so.” Namjoon swallows thickly, his chin wobbling as he finds the strength to keep his tears at bay. “But I can tell you found your way back to the light, and I’m more relieved that you realized your mistake more than anything. I forgive you, but just know that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”

“That’s already more than I deserve, Joon,” he says shakily. He feels a hand snake around his own, and he looks down to find their fingers laced together. On Namjoon’s wrist, the bracelet he had made for him in the 7th grade is frayed and mangled, but still ever-present. “But… what now? If they truly end up fixing everything, will you be okay with it? If Jungkook is still fighting for her… why aren’t you?”

“Same goes for you, I suppose,” Namjoon says simply. He doesn’t explain what he means by that, but Hoseok is honestly too afraid to ask. He’s always felt like Namjoon knew a little bit too much about things that he shouldn’t. He smiles, but there is a tinge of melancholy there.

Just out of reach, the way Namjoon has always seemed to be.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 5:12 PM

At first, Jeon Jungkook is surprised to find the park more empty than when he was here a few hours ago. He supposes it is only to be expected, as dinner time is fast approaching and all the families have returned to their homes, preparing for the festivities. In another life, he might have been one of those families, sitting around a table with his brother and parents and eating to his heart’s content. Perhaps he might’ve asked you to join him, just like you had in the past.

He finds you seated on one of the benches near the entrance, kicking away fallen leaves absentmindedly. He takes this moment to observe you from afar, his breath getting caught in his throat when he realizes how long it has been since he last saw you.

His heart aches, the constant heaviness that has made a home in his chest growing tenfold. There are no words to explain the plethora of emotions flying through his head, but all he knows is that at the root of it all, he simply just misses you.

You hear him approach him before you see him. When he looks at you, Jungkook doesn’t know how you’re feeling. He used to be so good at anticipating your mood, always the first one to sense when you were upset or annoyed. Now, you just looked… blank, and for some reason, that hurts to see more than if you had been angry.

Jungkook stops right in front of you, his black boots crunching on dead leaves. You motion for him to take a seat beside you, patting the bench lightly.

“Hi. It’s been a while,” you say softly. You aren’t looking at him, and your hair obstructs him from viewing your face.

“Hello,” he replies, feeling dumb. He can’t think of anything better to say, all the things he had prepared in his mind suddenly blown away with the wind. The sight of you alone makes his mouth go dry, his hands to grow cold and clammy. He realizes, not for the first time, how terribly out of his depth he is.

“This has certainly been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

“It has been,” he agrees. “It’s almost laughable how long it’s taken us to get to this moment.”

You bark out a laugh, the hoarse sound ringing in the air. “Laughable is certainly one way to put it, I guess.”

“Then why did you ignore me for so long? Why did you suddenly shut me out when you told me you wanted to talk? What happened?” He speaks without meaning to, the words flying out of his mouth before he can think of stopping. If his sudden inquiry startles you, you don’t show it.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You shrug, pushing back some of your hair behind your ear. He can see the slope of your nose, the outline of your lips, the shape of your eyes. He memorizes all these things about you, sees you in his dreams and nightmares, but nothing can ever beat real life.

“I’m sorry.” It’s a start: two words heavy with meaning. What does he apologize for first? The rumors? The jealousy? The betrayal? It wouldn’t matter which one he chooses to tackle first because he already knows sorry isn’t going to cut it, but he has to try at least. This isn’t really about him anymore or about asking for forgiveness. You deserve to know everything he’s done—if you wanted to know, that is.

You blink rapidly, but your eyes are dry. “I know.”

“You don’t have to forgive me.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to trust me.”

“I don’t,” you say, and it hurts the both of you when you do. Jungkook feels his insides clench, feels his heart collapse in his chest. “I don’t trust you, Jungkook,” you repeat.

“I…” Jungkook has to take a few shuddering breaths, his vision going blurry as he tries to keep it together. He waits for the pain to ebb, but it flows like a river down his veins. “I hurt you a lot. It’s only right that you don’t trust me.”

“I have a lot of regrets,” you say, sniffling. You still aren’t crying, but your nose is red from the cold. He wonders how long you had sat here waiting for him to arrive. How long have you been waiting for him in general?

“I have a lot of those, too,” he says. “I regret being unfair to you. For keeping people away from getting close to you, like a property meant to be hidden away. I tried to steal you for myself, but that’s not a very good thought, is it? I shouldn’t have thought that you were a thing to be kept. You should have been someone I treasured.”

“Then why didn’t you treasure me?” The question echoes loudly in Jungkook’s ears, as it’s the very same question that has weighed in his mind the moment he started to wonder where he’d gone wrong. Why hadn’t he loved you the way that he should have?

“Because I abused your love for me, even when I wasn’t aware of it,” he says plainly. He has known the answer for a while now but refused to accept it until this moment. It feels like a cork inside of him has burst, releasing all the foul, wretched things inside of him and out into the open. And once they start tumbling out, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop.

“I think we both knew we loved each other for as long as we can remember. We skirted around each other because we were scared of change, of losing the friendship we had built over the years. We purposefully ignored each other’s feelings and brushed off our friends’ attempts to help us realize something we already knew.”

“We did,” you say. “That was both our faults.”

“But I was never good at bottling up my feelings. It was only a matter of time before the love I had for you began to grow claws and fangs, and somehow along the way,” he pauses, a breath of sorrowful laughter escaping him, “I had gotten lost.”

Your expression morphs then, shifting from pain, to grief, to acceptance. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Your eyes look glazed over, like your mind is somewhere else. When you come back down, you already have another question for him. “Why didn’t you ever ask me out?”

He should just say something else, but he can’t help but wonder—”Why didn’t you?”

“I tried—a couple of times. You never noticed they were dates,” you shrug. A leaf from one of the nearby trees gets caught in your hair, and Jungkook reflexively plucks it out. You both freeze when his fingers graze your nape, gazes locking with one another. He jerks his hand back, but doesn’t look away—doesn’t dare to.

(It might be his last chance.)

“I’m sorry for being dense. For resorting to buying rumors so that I could pretend to date you when I could have asked for the real thing. I’m sorry for setting you up with… Namjoon,” he hesitates on his name, and you notice. “It must have confused you greatly, only worsening the doubt you must’ve had for me.”

“It did.” The corners of your eyes look wetter than before, tears dangerously close to the surface. “When I asked you if I should go to Ilsan the first time... You told me to go, even though everyone told me you were jealous of Namjoon. I was starting to believe them, hoping that maybe it was a sign that everything before then had just been a misunderstanding. But that was all you, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me to stay?”

“It was a mistake,” he mutters. He shakes his head at the memory: a frequent recurring nightmare of his as he is forced to remember the moment everything had started to go downhill. “I had realized I was being a jealous asshole far too late, and I was trying to clear my own conscience. I thought that… if I let you go, then you’d think better of me. That I might be absolved of my sins if I took your trip as my penance. I didn’t think you were trying to see if I would stop you,” he explains, but it sounds like an excuse even to his ears.

You sit together, watching the sun begin to set, bathing the world in its orange hues. Jungkook feels empty, wrung out like a towel left to dry. The wounds inside him ache and throb, but he knows they won’t last. As surely as the sun will rise, he will also relearn to feel whole again—even if it means you won’t be there to see it.

“I waited for so long, Koo.” You shake your head, allowing a few traitorous tears to fall. You let out a watery laugh. “ I waited for this moment for so long, but I never imagined it would be like this.”

Jungkook studies his hands. He desperately wants to hold you one more time, but the ship has already sailed. “We’ve already sailed past each other a long time ago.”

You nod your head sadly. “We have.”

“Is it bad that I wish that we hadn’t?” he whispers, but he doesn’t really expect a response from you. He rubs his face, covertly trying to wipe his tears away. “I guess there’s a reason why you called me number two, huh?”

You can’t even force out a laugh. You sob unabashedly, cupping your face in your hands. This is the end.

This is the end of a great long adventure between you and him—the time for your roads to diverge closes in, like a shadow looming over their heads.

Jungkook wraps you in an embrace for the last time. You shake like a leaf in his arms, clutching at his chest like you don’t want to let go. He drinks you in, tries to commit everything about you to his memory. “Thank you for loving me, even if it didn’t work out. Thank you for being my first love.”

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 7:07 PM

Kim Namjoon opens the door to his childhood home the moment he hears footsteps climbing up the stairs. He’d done so numerous times already, spooking one or two of his neighbors at his sudden appearance. This time, however, he finds the person he had been waiting for.

“Oh, Y/N. Thank god,” he sighs in relief when he sees you, rushing out the door just as you finish taking the last stairstep. You wobble in surprise when you notice him, nearly falling over with a scream before he catches you by the waist to keep you steady. He pulls you close, pressing your face gently into his chest.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I’m so sorry for bringing you to Ilsan even though Yoongi told us not to go. I’m sorry for not telling you that I knew Jungkook and Hoseok were coming here, too. I’m so sorry for—”

“Namjoon,” you try to interrupt him, but he keeps going.

“—wanting you and Jungkook to reconcile even if you didn’t want you to leave me. You just looked so sad all the time, and I knew you needed to speak to him at least one more time so that you could find closure, but I should have asked you first like a decent person—”

“Namjoon,” you repeat. Namjoon pauses long enough to see that our eyes are red-rimmed from crying, further increasing the panic rising in his body.

“Oh god, I didn’t want you to be sadder! I just… God! I just wanted to help you for once, because you always helped me with everything. I know you deserve to make your own decisions, to be your own person, but I ignored that in favor of following my stupid gut—”

“Joonie, the neighbors can hear you,” you hiss, furtively glancing at the doors opening around them. You can feel many eyes on you, watching curiously at the red-faced idiot babbling like a man possessed. You motion for him to stop, but he’s too caught up in the moment.

“For a while, I thought I could stop myself from falling in love with you, but it was so hard! You have to understand how impossible it is not to love you. Believe me, I tried!” Namjoon all but shouts the last part out, shaking you by the shoulders. “I don’t deserve you! I’m just not a good boyfriend! I’m insecure to a fault, I’m boring, I have mild sleep apnea, I forget to throw out the empty milk cartons—”

You yelp as he continues to shake you, gently having to pry his hands off of you to save yourself from being shaken like a bobblehead. “Joonie,” you say, firmer this time.

He rambles and rambles and rambles. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, hands gesticulating wildly like a human helicopter. He’s so wrapped up in his monologue that he doesn’t realize immediately when you take his hands in yours, forcing him to keep still.

“Joonie.”

“—and I’ve never been able to hold a relationship for longer than two months! My past girlfriend even left me after cheating on me the entire time—”

“Joonie.”

“I’ve never been good at being vulnerable and being myself, but you somehow managed to make me feel like I was worth something. You made me feel so so so incredibly loved. You made me feel important!”

“Kim Namjoon!” You shout, finally losing your temper and flicking him on the forehead. That finally manages to stop him, his eyes going cross-eyed like a cartoon character. You could almost see the flying stars orbiting his head. Properly silenced now, you push him back into his apartment, kicking the door with your foot before locking it for good measure.

When you turn back to face him, he’s still frozen where you left him. He stands in the middle of his living room like a robot, his mouth slightly agape as if his wires had been fried. Rolling your eyes goodnaturedly, you pull him to the couch, gently guiding him so that he doesn’t accidentally fall on his ass as he continues to short circuit in front of you. It takes him another whole minute to get his bearings together, but you’re a patient person. You sit in the adjacent armchair and wait for him to speak.

“Oh my god.” He swallows awkwardly, the color draining from his face. “What the hell did I do?”

“Welcome back to earth,” you smile, waving a hand in front of him. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you.” It seems as though Namjoon’s weird candor spell is still in effect. He has the presence of mind to be embarrassed this time, however, and you watch amusedly as his cheeks begin to redden. “I, umm…”

“Gave quite a show out there. I didn’t know you could rap,” you tease, your mouth curling up into a smile. The muscles in your cheeks feel sore, almost as if it has been ages since you last used them. This morning feels like it had happened eons ago.

“Sorry. I just… had a lot to say,” he replies lamely. He hangs his head, embarrassed to look you in the eye. “So… I’m guessing you spoke to Jungkook?”

He hears you hum in agreement, but you don’t say anything on the matter. Namjoon has never been one to pry, but his overactive brain can’t help but make connections out of nothing, trying to make sense of the world in desperation.

“I’m guessing you’re here to reject me, right? I’m sorry for confessing to you all of a sudden when you’re already spoken for. It was unfair of me, and you don’t need to try and spare my feelings at all. I’ve been prepared for this since August,” he speaks rapidly, nearly losing his breath in his haste. “It was my fault for thinking we could have happened. I mistook your kindness for reciprocation when I should have known better—”

“Joonie, my love. You’re rambling again.” Your voice snaps him back to reality. He turns redder somehow, sinking deep into his seat.

“S-sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you huff, pouting in annoyance, but Namjoon catches the fondness in your eyes. “You aren’t unfair at all.”

“E-even so,” he stutters, heart hammering in his chest. “I shouldn’t have expected anything to happen between us. We were only going to fake date until the end of Chuseok, so it was foolish of me to try and… replace Jungkook, somehow. But I suppose, in the grand scheme of things… he’s a tough act to follow up to, huh? Seven years of loving someone is a long time. I don’t hold a candle to that,” he says dejectedly.

“But you do.” The words slip out before you can stop them. Your eyes widen, shocked by your own admission. Even so, you know what you said is true, and you wouldn’t take it back even if you could.

For a moment, you think he doesn’t hear it when he doesn’t react. It takes a second for his brain to buffer, but Namjoon had heard you, loud and clear.

“What do you mean?” His tone is soft, hesitant. Afraid, but hopeful.

You shrug your shoulders. You want to tell him everything, but you are impossibly tired, your eyelids like sandbags just waiting to fall. Namjoon must have noticed because he stumbles out of his seat with his arms outstretched, ready to keep you from slumping over.

“Woah, there. I’m sorry for interrogating when you must be exhausted. Do you want to take my bed instead of the couch tonight?” he asks, kneeling in front of you.

You blink sleepily at him, nodding with a large yawn. “I wanna talk to you but I’m tired,” you say, before promptly toppling onto him. He doesn’t flinch at your weight, catching you in an instant. He lets you nestle your face into his neck, and he grabs your arms until they’re laced around his shoulders. Slowly, he gets up with you in his arms, a feeling of weightlessness filling your senses. Safe.

When he tucks you into his bed, the sheets smell familiar and homey. Namjoon sits by the edge, brushing a few strands of hair away from your forehead. “Namjoon?” Your voice sounds muted to your own ears, as if you were underwater. But you don’t feel like you’re drowning, not at all.

“Yes?” He watches you with kind eyes, the same ones he has always had. To you, he looks like a prayer come to life, a promise ready to be fulfilled.

“You’ll be here? When I wake up?”

Namjoon exhales out a laugh, smiling sweetly. I love your dimples, you want to say, but your body feels heavy. Tomorrow. You’ll tell him for sure.

“Yes, Y/N. I’ll always be here. For as long as you want.”

You close your eyes. Tomorrow.

It’s a promise.

448 notes · View notes

bltzgore · 3 years

Text

So I said I do some lab whump based on the prompt and it wound up being longer than I expected, but it was also actually less whump centered. So Imma give you guys the highlights!

Tw: lab whump, female whumpee (and a male whumpee), no comfort, death, gore, pain desc, mentions of euthanasia, needles

Intro:

82 breathes in and she breathes out, she is ready for this test. She's been working and fighting harder than anyone else. They're all weak compared to her, she made herself into what they want. A weapon. 82 breathes in and she breathes out. They'll trigger the start of it soon, any second. Her heart is trying to crack her rib cage, it's beating so hard. Is she afraid? No. Of course not. Fear has been trained out of her. She can not feel it anymore. No, what she feels now is exertion, what they have trained into her to replace the fear.

The door clicks then hisses open. Her mind sharpens. It's time to show them. Show them what she can do. Show them that she is worthy to be their next chosen. Because 82 wants it more than anyone. She is going to be the next subject chosen for the serum. She will be their next weapon!

82 breathes in and she breathes out, she runs into the room. There is another in there with her, she knows what they want her to do. She's done it before, many times in one way or another. She has to kill them.

82 doesn't recognize the other in the room with her. She wouldn't care if she did. It always ends like this, she used to it, she has to be. She looks towards her opponent, he's scared. She's amazed he's lived this long if he shows this much of it.

It doesn't take much, 82 is strong, she was bred for this. Born to fight and win. She lays him out in minutes.

He's on the ground in front of her. She broke his right leg, really high up, all he can do it try to drag himself away. But she can tell even the pain of doing that is too much for him. He stops and looks up at her, "Please! Please don't do this!" he begs. They always beg, it makes her sick. Take your death with strength, unless you want to be remembered as a sniveling coward. 82 just shakes her head and steps closer, "You tool! You're not even a person are you!?" he yells, his voice breaking with terror. "You're just their dog! You know that! Right? You'll just kill for them without asking why?" he sobs.

That's rude. She leans down, her eyes fixed on his. "Exactly." and then she lashes out. Her fists come crashing down over and over again, until his head has been reduced to a mess of gore scattered across the ground. 82 stands and looks down to where his eyes used to be, "I know why I'm killing." she sneers, before turning away.

A few minutes later a voice comes over the intercom, "Subject XPM84 - 82, your trial is complete. You have been selected by the committee for one of the five available stops in project hunter. Report to room 34 of wing D tomorrow to receive your first dose."

She did it! 82 calmly nods, before heading to the door that opened shortly after the scientist on the other side of the intercom stopped talking. She steps out into the hall, and she smiles. Yes! Yes yes yes yes! Finally!

________________________________________________________________

A discussion between 82 and her friend 63: "So you actually managed it?"

82 looked up at 63, he had the top bunk that night, "Yeah."

"Impressive." he muttered.

"You sound so happy for me." she snarked.

"I am." he insisted. "Just... you know with the trial runs and stuff, something always goes wrong." he answered

"Yeah, you're worried about me. Not jealous that I got picked first and you didn't get picked at all?" she asked, bluntly.

"No! I mean- ok, yes I wanted to be part of Hunter but this isn't about me! I didn't make the cut, you did. Project Hunter is a risk. What if something goes wrong and it kills you?"

She almost thought he was sincere, "Then I guess that's a spot opened right back up for you." she growled, turning over and away from him.

"82... I'm sorry. I'm happy you got it, you've wanted it so bad your whole life. You deserve it."

She didn't answer.

He sighed, "Goodnight 82."

________________________________________________________________

The first injection:

"Alright XPM84 - 82, please sit down here." the scientist gestured to the table. 82 swallowed and nodded, before doing as she was asked. The scientist turned and headed to the back of the room. She went to a very particular cabinet, scanned her hand on the access panel and retrieved a small vial of purple liquid. 82 could feel her heart speeding up, hear it beating heavy in her ears. She was... no! She wouldn't admit that. She was not scared of this, this was what she wanted ever since she knew it could be hers. A person could endure anything if they wanted it bad enough!

She tightened her hand into a fist, focusing on the muscle tensing then releasing. In her peripheral vision she watched the scientist filled a syringe from the vial a cleaned a spot on her arm. She felt the sharp bite as it pressed through her skin and stayed there. It was unpleasant, but nothing new. The scientist pulled the needle from her arm and held a cotton ball over it to stop the bleeding.

Once she was content with that she headed over to one of the numerous table cluttered with various advanced looking tech. She selected something in specific, and offered it to 82. "Put this on your right wrist and keep it on until you are told to do otherwise." she instructed.

82 nodded, clamping the metal cuff around her wrist. It was tight, she could feel prongs on the inside of it pressing almost into her skin. It was uncomfortable but not unbearable. She was about to stand and head for the door when she noticed something off, the veins in her wrist were turning purple.

"Is this... normal?" she asked looking from her wrist to the scientist. She walked over and took 82's wrist to get a closer look, she didn't answer and instead called one of her colleagues over. 82's skin suddenly felt like it was burning! It was as if she was standing on a bonfire! 82 fell, grabbing hard on her wrist, trying to find something to do with the agony. She began shaking, and blood started to run from her mouth pooling on the floor. She arched her back as sharp shooting scraps of agony bit at her forearms and spine.

She was screaming, trying not to, but it felt like her body was trying to kill her. Something was wrong with her arm, it didn't feel like her arm! It felt like.... it felt like- she couldn't focus! The burning felt like it was turning into ripping, something was trying to tear her skin off from the inside! The room was whirling and swimming as she lost her grip on the messy water color of reality. It all blacked out, no fade to gray or gentle fall into unconsciousness, it was all snatched away, like someone had snapped their fingers by her ear and it was gone.

________________________________________________________________

82 tries to get answers and 12 warns her about her harsh reality:

A doctor made the rounds an hour later. When he discovered 82 was awake he asked her a few questions about how she was feeling, if she thought she could handle some food and water. 82 answered all the questions earnestly, then tried to ask a few, "Why am I in a cell? Did I try to hurt someone? Did the serum work wrong? It's just an adverse effect of the first dose right?" The doctor answered none of her questions and walked off, writing a few things down on his data tab. "82, right?"

She looked up towards the voice.

"They took 03 cause she was responding to the serum the right way, doesn't that make you wonder why they left us?"

She shook her head, "No. I'm fine, I'm ready for my next dose."

"They don't let you decide that now do they? What if you're not? You and I both know what they do to subject that don't adapt to their assigned project."

"I said I'm FINE!" She roared, slamming her fist and forearm into the bars that separated them. The bars shook! She had never been able to rattle steel before! She was getting stronger! She was still staring at her arm in amazement when all at once a dozen nails drove themselves into her skull. 82 fell to her knees, pressing her hands hard on the sides of her head. The nails took turns stabbing the inside of her brain to mush as she strained and preyed for it to stop. It felt like hours but the incident lasted almost a minute. When it all stopped she fell back, her head buzzing.

"Still sure you're fine?" 12 asked.

_______________________________________________________________

The second injection:

82 did not tell the scientists about this incident, as far as she was concerned it was unrelated. She was ready for the second dose, it would fix everything! It had to.

She stayed in the cell for this injection, it was administered through the bars. 82 waited for something to happen, as did the observing doctors. It was almost ten minutes later when her heart started to speed up, breathing got harder, then the familiar burning of her skin kicked back in. This time she did not pass out. It went for three long hours of hell, until the chemicals seemed to have passed through her system.

This incident left 82 on the floor, weakly trying to move. She needed to show them she was fine, she could handle the last dose, easy.

"It's a shame, XPM84 - 82 was our most promising candidate. But her symptoms are just like ZZ13 - 03's, meaning she's likely to follow the same course."

The other nodded, "We should get her in the que for euthanasia with the other two."

________________________________________________________________

82 and 12 run into 63 while attempting escape:

"63! Come on! We're breaking out, come with us." 82 ushered.

"You're breaking out?” he seemed struck dumb, "I-I thought you were in the que, why are you running away?" he asked, blocking her path.

"I'm not going to take my death laying down. I gave them all that I had and they're just going to get rid me of like I'm a broken pen!" she snapped, "We're all disposable to them, but I guess I didn't care about that when I thought I could be different." she hated herself for how easy that was to admit, how true she knew it was.

"No, 82 wait." he drew closer to her. 12 watched with an anxious expression.

"They weren't going to just get rid of you because the serum didn't work. It's because the serum is flawed."

She shifted her gaze, "What do you mean?"

"They're scrubbing the hunter project because of what happens after. There's a steady decline in quality of life..."

It felt like three bars of led had just been placed in her stomach.

"82, don't run. It's not going to end well. You should just-... just let them put you to sleep. It'll be painless." he had his hands on her shoulders now. He sounded so sincere, it made her sick.

82 tore away from his grip, the fury returning to her eyes, "The hell I will! I'll decide when my life is low enough quality to end it! I'm leaving! Stay out of our way and don't tell a soul about any of this, or I will find you, and I'll kill you." she snarled.

________________________________________________________________

The side effects:

"82, did you know that all the people out here have actual names? Ya know, like the scientists do, not numbers." 12 explained.

"Really?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Really! We need names." he decided. "I'll be... Sky." his gaze wistfully made its way up to his namesake. "I never want to be away from it again."

82 smiled, it was genuine and for once she didn't feel like a moron for making such a goofy expression. They were out. Screw what 63 said, any pain was worth it if it meant she got to live out here. Free.

Sky went to continue talking when he started coughing.

"You alright?" she asked, casually glancing over. Sky was doubled over with his hands on his stomach! "SKY!" she rushed to his side, trying to figure out what to do. Was he choking? Poisoned? He began to start spitting up blood, turning the dust below to mud. She watched in horror because it was all she could do. She had no medical training, and there was no where to find medicine for miles around. What was she supposed to do!

Sky started convulsing, falling onto his side and grabbing at the sand. He couldn't speak and blood was still pouring from his mouth. 82 tried to stop his thrashing, maybe comfort him, but when he stopped it was over. There was no pulse, and no breath.

82 couldn't speak, she was shaking. This was her future. She was going to cough up blood and die screaming and thrashing in pain! She looked down and shut her eyes, how could she have been so stupid!? Why hadn't she just stayed and let them end it gently!?

She stayed curled in on herself until the sun began to dip. She had been going over and over in her head about what to do. She could sit here and wait, she could go back.... no. She had fought to be out here, to see this world! And she was gonna do it! She was going to fight for every day she had, and if she died in agony so be it!

She stood up, not shaky, not hesitantly, but with strength and purpose. She turned her head towards the sky and yelled, "I DIE ON MY OWN DAMN TERMS, DO YOU HEAR ME!!!???" but even as she yelled her rebellion in the darkening sky, she felt anxiety tugging at the bottom of her stomach. It would become her companion for many years to come. Always there quietly nagging her about how things would end. Writhing and screaming.

#lab whump #whump #hyrbid #hybrid whumpee #whumpee #no comfort #tw death #tw needles #tw pain desc #highlight reel

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xbaepsae · 4 years

Text

the ebb and flow | part two

“It’s probably foolish to engage in this trivial bickering with Jeongguk, but you can’t seem to help yourself. He always manages to get under your skin—knowing exactly what to say to tick you off.”

[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]

genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au, action

word count: 2.1k

rating: pg-13

warnings: capture the flag but demigod style (aka kind of dangerous), language, the reader and jk arguing A LOT lol

a/n: & here is part two. takes place two years prior to the first drabble! also, as an fyi, the series timeline will be continuing to jump around a little throughout each part (to help give context to the reader and jk’s relationship!). xoxo

→ series masterlist!

the third summer – in which you don’t capture the flag

As a year-rounder at Camp Half-Blood, you’re used to not having that many campers being around all the time. Of course, you enjoy the stillness of the morning—if you ignore the nymphs who have nothing better to do than sing their hearts away—and the smaller classes, but there’s just something special about the bustle of full cabins and warm campfires.

So, when the summer session finally begins, you can’t wait to see all of your friends again. Since you don’t get to venture out into the real world all that often, except to visit your dad a few times a year, you listen intently to everyone’s stories. Like your friends, you wish that you had super interesting stories about near-death experiences with monsters; however, maybe not having any is actually a good thing.

“I was just casually walking down the street when this Fury just attacked me out of nowhere,” Haru explains with wide, animated eyes.

Your eyes part equally as wide, taking in every word that drips from her lips. “How did you escape?”

Haru smirks, highlighting the glossy pink of her lips. “Charmspeak.”

Although charmspeaking is a trait that children of Aphrodite can possibly possess, there aren’t actually that many demigods you know who have the ability. “That’s so cool! I can’t believe you and Seokjin can both do that!”

Sometimes, you wish that you had special abilities like other demigod children. All your mother gave you was the innate ability to strategize and create, which isn’t that helpful all the time. You voice this thought out loud to Haru, to which she just scoffs like you’re an idiot for even thinking that.

“Y/n, that is a great skill—it’s super helpful when you face adversity and during capture the flag, which is tonight by the way.”

A beat of excitement courses through your veins at the reminder.

The first capture the flag game of the summer is always an adrenaline rush. Not only does it set the tone for the rest of the season, but it also brings forth some interesting alliances. After all, everyone wants a good track record.

From what you heard in your cabin earlier, Athena was trying to form an alliance with Ares; in a sense, it would be an automatic win. Battle strategy and brute force is always a good match in any given situation. However, rarely does Athena and Ares play on the same team—both cabins are too competitive for that.

“Are you going to participate today?” you ask, nearly laughing at the scrunch of Haru’s face.

“I mean, I guess so,” she shrugs, but you aren’t convinced. Aphrodite’s cabin usually doesn’t partake in rougher activities. “Now that I know I can Charmspeak, I want to try it out.”

Haru does have a good point. You really want to see it in action too. “Why don’t you join my cabin?”

“I thought head counselor was the only one who could make alliances?”

“I mean, I’ll mention it to Jinyoung if you’ll mention it to Sora?” You smile, and Haru agrees with a laugh.

Later that evening, before dinner, Jinyoung collects you all for a quick debriefing. He agreed earlier to your proposition about Aphrodite joining your ranks; however, you are almost positive he only agreed because he kind of has a thing for Sora. He just doesn’t realize it yet.

“Okay, gang…the plans with Ares fell through—as expected—but do not fear,” he combs a hand through his blonde hair. “Tonight we have alliances with Aphrodite, Apollo…”

You zone out as he lists a few of the smaller cabins of the minor gods, already thinking about the best way to approach the game tonight. From what you can remember about the games that Ares has led, their flag isn’t placed somewhere tricky—they’re not super good at that. However, what are good at is defense; they’re not children of the war god for no reason.

“…and last but not least, I snagged Poseidon’s cabin!” Jinyoung finishes with a triumphant smile, like he’s so proud of his accomplishment. Unfortunately, you catch what he says and your stomach sinks, an irritated sneer already stretching across your face.

“You’re joking.” The words pass your lips without a second thought.

Jinyoung settles his eyes on you. “Now, y/n, I know you aren’t too fond of Jeongguk, but—”

“He’s insufferable,” you argue, interrupting him. “After what he did to me last year, I can’t stand him.”

“It’s just one game of capture the flag,” Jinyoung tries to console you. “From what Poseidon’s head counselor already told me, Jeongguk expressed the same feelings when our alliance was announced earlier.”

“Good,” you scowl. “As he should, that little punk.”

Realizing that he isn’t going to change your mind, Jinyoung continues with his debriefing as you mull over the thought of having to be on the same team as Jeon Jeongguk. In the past, you’ve both been on the same team a few times; but that was before all the arguing started. Before all the pranks and determination to beat each other surpassed everything else.

At dinner, you scarf your food down as you burn holes in the back of his head. Namjoon catches your intense stare and knows that he probably should leave you alone. By the time your cabin’s flag waves to the sound of the conch horn being sounded, you’re no longer feeling as heated by the idea of Jeongguk’s irritating presence.

Until he settles beside you on the pavilion.

“Go away, Jeon.”

“Is that really how you should speak to someone you haven’t seen in months? Much less, someone on your team?” he smirks with sparkling eyes, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“I don’t give a shit about you,” you narrow your gaze on him, before picking up a sword and shield that suddenly appears on the table. “So, would I care about how I speak to you?”

You can tell that he wants to say something else, but Chiron’s voice stops him. “Okay, heroes, you all know the rules. Like always, the forest is fair game, and the creek is the boundary line. You can use your weapons. Don’t kill anyone—gods forbid—and only two may guard the flag. I’ll be around if you all should need me.”

As everyone picks up their own weapons, Jinyoung yells for your cabin and alliances to follow him to the north while the other team heads south. Behind you, you can hear Jeongguk following closely, but you don’t spare him a single look. Instead, you turn to Haru.

“I’m glad you decided to join.”

“Yeah, Sora was super excited when I told her,” she says, and you both laugh. “Of course, I might’ve added a little white lie about Jinyoung personally wanting her on the team. I’m sure it’ll be fine though.”

Haru looks ahead and your eyes do the same, catching the pretty brunette walking alongside your head counselor. “I agree.”

When Jinyoung stakes the flag along the creek, much to the delight of Poseidon’s cabin, he motions you towards him. When you’re beside him, he says, “I want you and Jeongguk to guard the flag.”

Your mouth drops. “Jinyoung, I always play offense. What the Hades?”

“Let’s call this, a test, shall we?” his eyes bright under the setting sun.

“Is this because I questioned your judgement on having Poseidon’s cabin join our team?” you frown.

Jinyoung sighs. “Like I said, this is just one game, y/n. There are still plenty of Friday’s left in summer. You can retrieve the flag another day.”

Even though you abhor the idea of having to defend the flag with Jeongguk, you know Jinyoung’s right—it is just one game. You should trust the plan he has today—even if it’s different from the one you originally had in mind. “Fine.”

As the game begins, you settle close to the flag, eyes sharp and body on guard. You also make sure to stay a considerable distance from Jeongguk, not wanting to get distracted by his big mouth or annoying attitude. However, this proves to be difficult because he can’t seem to take a hint.

“What’s your strategy today, miss goody-two-shoes?” he asks, taking a step closer to you.

Turning to face him, you offer a glare. “Be quiet and watch for red.” You’re referring to the other team.

“Don’t you say that Athena always has a plan?” Is he mocking you?

“Athena does,” you reaffirm, crossing your arms over your chest. “What about Poseidon? Bet you don’t have a plan at all.”

Jeongguk shrugs. “Dad always relies on instinct, you know; going with the flow.”

You hated that so much. “That’s stupid and reckless. One should always have a plan.”

“Who needs a plan when you have water on your side?” And as if he’s trying to prove something, he begins to bend the water in the creek. The only reaction you have is to roll your eyes. Yes, being able to yield water is a beneficial skill, but—

“Jeongguk, you’re not always going to have water around,” you say, causing him to drop his act. “What in Zeus’s name are you going to do if you’re stuck in a fucking desert?”

“There’s water in the desert.”

“If you’re lucky.”

“Then, I guess I just have to be lucky.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes again. “You’re impossible. You would die in the desert.”

“What would you do in the desert?” he throws your question back at you. “I bet you can’t think of a plan off the top of your head.”

Jeongguk takes another step closer to you and for the first time, you realize that he’s taller than you this summer. In fact, he towers a few inches above you. When did that happen? Shaking the thought away, you proceed to answer his question. Little does he know, you’ve actually thought about this scenario; unlike him, you have a plan.

It’s probably foolish to engage in this trivial bickering with Jeongguk, but you can’t seem to help yourself. He always manages to get under your skin—knowing exactly what to say to tick you off. And in the heat of this back-and-forth, you fail to catch the movement within the trees. By the time your reflexes kick in, it’s already too late to have the upper hand in the situation.

From the corner of your eyes, Park Jimin lets out a battle cry as he suddenly leaps for the flag. For a son of Ares, he’s small and doesn’t seem like much; however, in the years you’ve known him, you know that he shouldn’t be underestimated. After all, he’s his cabin’s pride and joy.

“The flag is mine!” he yells, fingertips within reach of the gray flag.

“Oh, no you don’t Park!” you yell equally as loud, moving to step in front of him. Just as you bring your sword up, ready to force Jimin back, something strange happens. Suddenly, your feet are no longer on the ground. You’re being swept away—by water. Your entire bottom half is soaked. “Jeongguk!”

As your head falls underwater, you realize that Jeongguk used the creek in attempt to stop Jimin. However, why are you the one getting caught in the current? When you get out of this mess, you are so ending him.

After a moment, the water recedes, and you finally catch a breath. Jimin—who is completely dry, by the way—already has the gray flag in his hand and a triumphant smile is plastered on his face. Around him, his cabin begins to cheer and praise him. You’re irritated that the son of Ares managed to snag the flag from right under you, but you’re even more furious at the person who caused you to stumble.

By the creek, Jeongguk stares at you with wide eyes and parted lips—like he didn’t mean to almost drown you. You realize that the son of Poseidon tends to fuck up a lot in your presence because this isn’t the first time you’ve been drenched in water due to him.

“Holy Hera, what happened to you?” Haru suddenly appears in front of you, a confused expression across her face. “Why are you wet?”

If you weren’t so mad, you’d be shivering due to the cool evening. However, all you can see is red. “I am going toss him into Tartarus!”

By the murderous expression on your face, Haru doesn’t even need to know who you’re talking about. All she does is look at the son of Poseidon with pity as you begin charging towards him, probably with the intent of causing serious damage.

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reyescarlos · 4 years

Text

there’s no way (that it’s not going there)

for my love @sulkybbarnes on your very special day. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARA! my goodness, i’m so glad the universe created you. how lucky we all are that you exist! 💕💜

word count 3.6k || read on ao3

We just dance backwards into each other Trying to keep our feelings secretly covered You touched me and it's almost like we knew That there would be history

As he sits with Michelle inside the Ryders’ backyard, the heat of the late summer evening still kissing his skin, Carlos smiles in contentment at the sight of all his colleagues turned friends and even perfectly good strangers all bound by their shared love for Grace and Judd. It’s because of them that they’ve all gathered today, to celebrate the Ryders’ vow renewal. It’s the perfect atmosphere in every sense, one of joy and festivity.

A few feet away, the happy couple mingles with the small gathering of their family and closest friends. Grace’s melodic laughter soars a note or two higher than the jazz music playing. Judd’s arm is slinked around her waist and Carlos can only stand back and admire the ease to which they orbit around each other. This is what years worth of love looks like. Carlos knows it can’t always have been an easy road, that all marriages— all relationships for that matter— are never without their hardships. But if it leads to something even vaguely resembling this, Carlos wants it at whatever cost.

He’s always been a hopeless romantic, swept up in the belief that finding the right partner could be a salvation. It’s not a sentiment the men he’s seen care to ascribe to. The world of dating hasn’t always been kind to him with Carlos almost always chasing after people who proved themselves adverse to being caught.

He’s vowed to himself repeatedly that he won’t fall down that rabbithole again. But what he hadn’t accounted for was meeting TK Strand, a man that makes Carlos willing to make an exception. TK has only been a part of the fabric here in Austin for a few weeks but he’s already managed to work his way into Carlos’ heart and mind. He hasn’t been able to shake his thoughts about the firefighter since their night at the honky tonk. The attraction he had for TK was instantaneous out on their call earlier that night but it’d only strengthened as they danced later. Ever since, there’s been this energy between them that neither has addressed. But it exists as a third party, living in each stolen glance, each quick retort traded between them like currency.

He and TK have been at this for weeks on end, this constant back and forth where they say so much without actually saying anything at all.

That’s all it ever takes, just one look to light the match. It’s a wonder they haven’t both been consumed by the flames though Carlos would argue he’s been coming dangerously close these last few weeks. At first it was fun, a casual flirty game between the two of them but now Carlos has been getting restless.

He takes in the sight of TK standing with his father under the back awning. Carlos can’t stop himself from giving him a once over, eyes roaming from top to bottom shamelessly. It’s truly a pleasant view with TK dressed up for the ceremony and looking far too attractive than any man has the right to.

“Carlos, if you stare any harder you just might strain those pretty brown eyes for good,” Michelle teases, her hand cupping her chin as she rests her elbows on the table, following where his eyes linger.

Carlos sighs and ruffles his hair slightly, forcing himself to look away from TK and back at her.

“Is it really that obvious?”

Michelle snorts out a laugh, covering her mouth and laughing even harder as Carlos groans.

“Aw, come on, no, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh but my god, Carlos. Do you really think either of you have been subtle this whole time? Anyone that’s spent so much as ten seconds around you both since he blew into town could call it.”

Carlos lifts a brow. “So you see it from him too? It’s not just me, right?”

“Absolutely not. To be honest, I’m actually shocked you guys haven’t hooked up already. It’s long overdue, my friend.”

Carlos picks up his glass for something to do as he thinks it all over.

“I think I just want it to mean something. Maybe that’s dumb, I don’t know but I really like him and we’ve been...in this weird limbo with each other. I don’t know what his endgame is here.”

Michelle tilts her head to the side, casting her glance off Carlos over to TK once more. He’s still caught up in conversation with Captain Strand. The younger Strand must have said something hilarious because Owen cracks a hearty laugh.

“You could do the totally crazy thing of actually talking to him and finding out what his deal is. He seems really into you. He’s been staring at you all night when you aren’t looking and who could forget that night we all went out? I think you got him hooked pretty fast. Reel him in already.”

Carlos chuckles at the analogy but even he can admit Michelle makes an extremely valid point here. This hasn’t been all in his head. Even if they’ve both managed to successfully avoid talking about it, it’s clear that there is something that they’ve been eluding from the moment their paths crossed.

“Screw it. You’re right. I’m going for it.”

Before he can lose his nerve, Carlos sets his glass down and rises from his seat. He can feel the reassuring press of Michelle’s hand on his forearm just before he leaves the table and begins the short but daunting walk over to where TK is standing.

Captain Strand notices him approaching before TK does and the man makes a move that Carlos isn’t expecting. He locks eyes with Carlos and in that brief bit of contact, there’s recognition of some kind and Owen seemingly excuses himself from his son.

Owen walks towards him and gives a polite nod of his head. “Evening, Carlos,” he says as he passes, not slowing down at all and leaving a clear path to TK.

Carlos doesn’t have the time to mull over the implications of this gesture but he makes a mental note of it, marking it as something to investigate later. His main pursuit now is a particular firefighter who has been weighing so heavily in his thoughts for weeks now.

This unspoken thing between them needs to be addressed once and for all. TK looks far too good tonight for Carlos to keep this little game of cat and mouse going any longer. Coming on too strong has more or less always been his problem but this is something he desperately wants and Carlos knows he can’t hold back beyond tonight.

TK soon notices him and stays in place, a slow smile inching across his face. By the time Carlos nestles in beside him, it’s a full on grin. It’s so reminiscent of the first time they ever hung out outside of work. Then, much like now, they were surrounded by this crowd of coworkers and people he’ll more than likely never see again. But it’s all just background noise, so inconsequential in comparison to his primary focus right now.

“Hey,” Carlos greets. It isn’t exactly the smoothest or most captivating thing to say but it had been enough that night out the bar and Carlos is hoping that it’ll prove itself useful enough again now.

TK looks briefly at the party at large, eyes pulling away from the throng of people dancing to Carlos and Carlos’ sense of déjà vu threatens to overwhelm him for the briefest of moments. But he focuses up once more as TK looks at him fully, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

As always, the man’s expression is playful as ever, as if he knows something Carlos doesn’t. Carlos has no doubt that TK is taking a trip down memory lane right now, too. How they were always finding themselves in a scenario like this was beyond Carlos’ comprehension then but it hardly matters. It serves as the perfect ice breaker for them now, a nod to the night that truly set things in motion for them. It makes this feel like a full circle moment, as if everything over the last few weeks has been leading to this.

“Wanna dance?” Carlos asks, tipping his chin towards the other guests bopping to the music.

TK’s eyes roam over his frame but Carlos doesn’t waver or back down. It’s merely part of the script they’ve been reading off of for weeks now. He’s confident that TK will accept, just as he had that night at the bar. The only difference now is that TK’s display of reluctance isn’t him genuinely debating the merits of taking a chance and saying yes, at least Carlos hopes that is the case. They have enough history between them at this point that Carlos feels safe in guessing that they’ve moved beyond that. Now it’s simply banter, a call back to that night.

“Yeah,” TK says after a moment, his perfectly white teeth trapping his bottom lip.

Carlos doesn’t even attempt to downplay how much he notices this, his own lips parting slightly before he pulls his focus back to the task at hand.

Carlos leads them to the makeshift dance floor just as he had that night of the honky tonk. TK falls into step with him, the two dancing along to the uptempo number playing throughout the yard. It’s all too easy to tune everything and everyone else out as he feels both their guards lowering even further. TK is all smiles and it’s the most infectious thing ever.

They dance for a while together, their smiles growing bigger with each new song that plays. Carlos is breathless and yet he can’t seem to stop himself from moving. But a new song comes on, the opening tone far more subdued. Carlos looks to TK, his face covered with a slight sheen of sweat. It makes Carlos’ breath hitch and he can’t help but to want to keep going, even though this is a different terrain than they’ve been dabbling in thus far.

“Do you still want to—,” Carlos begins to ask but TK answers in actions, not words as he slips his arms up over Carlos’ shoulders and begins to sway to the music.

This part is the variable, the break from their usual bit. Instead of dancing around each other with no real contact, they’re now wrapped up closely with TK hugged to his frame, their bodies pressed together, enough for Carlos to feel the firmness of TK’s chest against his.

This feels right in a way that Carlos can’t even begin to put into words. He wonders if maybe everything feels heightened because of where they are and what they’re celebrating tonight. But that still doesn’t change what he’s experiencing now, the rush of having TK’s warm body in his arms, more alive than anything. Even though they’re now moving slower than they have all night, Carlos feels the most electric now. It only instills what Carlos has known all along. This is so much more than a crush, it always has been, but now it feels like a tangible thing, a very real possibility and a step up from the hypothetical.

TK peers up at him as they continue to rock gently and Carlos can feel the man’s breaths as they fan across his face like the gentlest, most subtle breeze. The longer Carlos stares back at him, the more he realizes how uneven TK’s breathing actually is, the way it stalls and starts. The only explanation is that TK is nervous. Carlos is well-versed in reading people. After all, he literally gets paid to assess situations. He’s seen countless people he’s interviewed on a call panic and grow uneasy. He’d know the telltale signs of an anxious person anywhere.

“Relax,” he murmurs quietly, just low enough that the words get trapped between the two of them, safe in this private bubble. His hands hold even more firmly, more reassuringly to TK’s hips as if to remind him that Carlos is truly right here holding on to him, keeping him upright and present in this moment.

TK blinks twice and licks his lips. Carlos tries to take his own advice and settle his racing heart but even without meaning to, with doing something as mundane as wetting his lips, TK is getting under his skin. There’s something about this hazy summer night that’s making his mind feel like it’s drifting, floating like the fireflies that flicker on and off in the yard. It’s as if they’re under a spell of some kind. Carlos can’t remember the last time he’s felt a pull this strong towards someone, as if they’re a planet and he’s a helpless moon sucked into their gravity. And yet still, TK makes him feel grounded.

“Carlos, what is this?” TK asks, his voice barely above a whisper. But Carlos catches it all with how close they are to each other, with how much he always seems to hang off TK’s every word.

It would seem that Carlos isn’t the only one keen on getting answers tonight.

“The beginning of us, I hope,” he replies.

Carlos isn’t sure where that boldness comes from but with the words out there, there’s no way for him to snatch them back or undo them. And frankly, Carlos realizes that he doesn’t want to. Clear cut answers. A line drawn in the sand. Clarity. That’s what they need now. Tiptoeing around feelings or pretending as if they aren’t there at all is no longer something that he can accept.

TK eyes him for a moment before slipping his arms off of Carlos’ shoulders, letting them fall at his sides. Speaking outright about this thing that’s been brewing between them is in clear violation of the unspoken rule, he knows but if TK was bold enough to ask, Carlos figures he was right in matching that. Yet now TK is pulling away and Carlos fears he’s said too much, his bravado from only seconds ago now dwindling. But before he can dwell on it for too long, TK is grabbing hold of one of his hands and tugging him off the dance floor.

Carlos knows better than to ask questions then. Wherever TK wants to take him, Carlos will willingly go. TK leads him out of the yard, ignoring the piqued interest of their coworkers who no doubt have questions and assumptions about where these two are headed off to. But Carlos takes a page out of TK’s book and tunes them out as well. Instead he focuses on how easily their hands slot together as if they were designed to hold on to each other.

They come around the side of the house to the front of the Ryder household. A few guests are milling about outside, chatting among themselves. Carlos doesn’t recognize any of their faces, the entire lot of the 126 now left behind in the yard.

TK keeps moving forward, beginning to walk down the block, raking a hand through his hair.

“TK?” Carlos ventures, starting to grow a bit concerned.

With an abrupt stop in his tracks, TK turns to look at Carlos before taking a seat on the curb. They’re only two houses down from the festivities and can still hear the revelry of the reception but it’s distant enough that Carlos feels far removed from it all. TK looks up at the sky, his face bathed in a wash of moonlight, half his features thrown into shadow from the lamppost a few feet away. Carlos settles in beside him, wrapping his arms around his legs.

The silence between them is heavy and with how unmoving TK is now, Carlos knows he’ll have to be the one to breach it if they’re going to get anywhere with each other.

“I know I’m not losing it here, am I?” Carlos asks. “I haven’t been imagining this vibe between us, right?”

TK looks down at his hands and shakes his head. “No, something is definitely happening. I just...it’s starting to feel real now and that’s not something I was expecting to find out here in Austin.”

Carlos considers this for a moment. “But is that necessarily a bad thing?”

It’s then that TK focuses back on him. “That’s what I’m still trying to figure out. It’s one thing to BS and flirt but it doesn’t feel like a game or a tease anymore. If it gets serious, there’s no going back and I don’t know what that’ll mean.”

Carlos’ brows furrow. “And you don’t know if this is worth it?”

“It’s so much more than that,” TK sighs. “Long story short, I left behind a lot of baggage in New York.”

Carlos knows what that’s code for. “What's his name?”

“Alex,” TK mutters, a hint of disgust coating the two syllables. Carlos doesn’t press for details. He simply nods his head in understanding and stays quiet for a beat.

“I can’t speak to this guy and whatever went down between you two but from what I know of you, I think you’re amazing. I’m sorry he made you feel like you can’t take chances or fall for someone again. But, I’m here, TK. I’m here and I’d like to see where we could go from this point.”

TK frowns and fiddles with his fingers again. “If you knew everything, I’m not so sure you’d still feel that way.”

This is a different version of TK than Carlos is used to but he welcomes that. Gone is the facade, the carefully crafted demeanor the man maintains in public. Here with just the two of them on a quiet street under the night sky, Carlos feels like he’s getting to the heart of TK and he likes what he sees. Certainly the man is in a self-deprecating mood, a complete shift from the confident guy out on the dance floor. But he’s being forthright about himself and Carlos can respect anyone that’s being candid. It’s an admirable trait and makes TK even more real to him.

“Maybe you could give me the chance to decide that for myself? Or to show you that I’m serious about this.” Carlos cringes a bit then, worried he’s coming on too strong considering TK’s hesitancy. “I don’t...I hope you don’t feel pressured here. I’m sorry if I’m—”

“No. Honestly, you aren’t making me feel like that. If anything, it’s the exact opposite. You make me feel...free. To possibility, to everything. I don’t know. There’s something about this town and the people here. Nothing is going at all like I expected it to, which is a very, very good thing.”

Carlos smiles softly at this. “Glad I could play a small part in that.”

TK knocks his shoulder lightly against Carlos’ and that tiny bit of contact sends his heart racing.

“Not a small part, believe me.”

Carlos bites back on the corner of his bottom lip and holds his hand out in the small space between them, palm up towards TK who smiles at him before accepting it. They sit in companionable silence for a moment before TK rests his head against Carlos’ shoulder. The reception is still in full swing with voices and music carrying over but Carlos couldn’t be happier with where he is now.

It makes him think loosely of that Oscar Wilde quote. He is quite literally in the gutters with TK now and yet there’s such a beauty to it as they both watch the stars beside each other for a short while with TK still resting on him.

“I could be good for you. Whenever you’re ready. If you’re ever ready,” Carlos amends, stroking his thumb along the back of TK’s hand.

TK sits up and Carlos shifts to face him. TK’s normally bright eyes are darkened now, his expression calculating as if he’s trying to make his mind up about something. Before Carlos can ask what’s on his mind, TK is leaning in, his lips pressing gently against Carlos’. There’s no rush to it, no haste as if TK is trying to prove something by kissing him. It feels more like an exploration, a tentative dive into uncharted waters.

Carlos matches his pace, leaving this all entirely in TK’s hands but he’d be lying if he said his mind isn’t already spiraling, his thoughts running away from him to the point where all he can think about is the mouth keeping time with his own. TK’s ability to make himself Carlos’ sole focus reaches new heights with this now. Carlos wants all of him, to swallow him whole and keep every bit selfishly for himself.

TK deepens the kiss and Carlos follows his lead, his hands grasping gently onto TK’s hair. TK responds in kind, his nails dragging down Carlos’ back. TK kisses him hungrily and Carlos serves it right back. This is weeks’ worth of tension bubbling to the surface, completely unfiltered. It makes Carlos feel delirious, his breath catching and blood pumping in his ears.

TK lets out a small whimper and pulls away sharply, both of them breathless and panting.

“I’m sorry,” TK says, licking his lips and pressing his fingertips against his mouth.

Carlos shakes his head, waving him off politely. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

TK breathes out shakily, lowering his hand and searching Carlos’ face with urgency.

“I still want to take this slow. I just got a bit carried away there for a second.” Even in the dark, Carlos can see the slight pink tinge to TK’s face.

Carlos leans in and gives him a soft kiss on the cheek, taking his hand again and entwining their fingers.

“Progress is progress no matter the pace,” Carlos says simply. “Point is, we’re moving forward together. That’s all I could ever ask of you.”

#tk x carlos #tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #sulkybbarnes #ronenrubinstein #userjilly #sunshinestrand #starlightbuck #userpauline #userthai #useralie #usermaximus #usermaddiee #userbones #brilliantbanshee #kimmy writes

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kanamesharisenwrites · 4 years

Text

kh’s story snippet celebration sendoff, entry #6

God, what do I even say about this piece? It's so old - the timestamp from my FF.net import says 2012 - and I don't remember much about it. I almost left it out of this collection after cringing my way through a re-read of the first paragraph. Then, I made myself reframe the narrative.

This piece needs to be here; it shows how far I've come as a writer.

Don't let anyone tell you that fanfic is a waste of time. Just look at this piece compared to my recent projects! I'm living proof that fanfic is every bit as valid for honing your craft as traditional written media

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Sai/Sakura Haruno Word Count: 2931 Genre: canon-divergence!AU Rating: T Warnings: canon-typical violence

... [ hypocritical ]

Pain.

The dull throb of injury greeted Sai as his consciousness reluctantly returned to him. This particular circumstance perplexed him greatly. Had he not been merely put to sleep? Sakura's loyalty was steadfast and her medical skills knew no equal but that of their esteemed Hokage, of this much he was certain. Therefore, the probability that this harm was inflicted by her drug, hastily administered though it was, seemed highly unlikely. No, this feeling was not akin to that of being poisoned. Nor did it seem to come from any external wound; a quick scan of his person negated that possibility. Yet, it was still very clear to him that all was not right or as it should be. His throat felt unbelievably tight, the sensation bringing to mind scenes of Naruto shoving complete bowls of ramen down his throat in a singular motion. Sai's heart raced uncontrollably, palpitating to a foreign rhythm, and his insides quaked. There was something wrong with him internally.

Nearby, his companions began to stir. As they also scanned for injuries, all the while cursing Sakura for her heroic stupidity, it became clear to Sai that he alone suffered from any malady. He rose gingerly, taken aback by how easily he could still function in spite of all his present symptoms, and questioned Kiba for his teammate's last known trajectory. The best course of action, for now, would be to find Sakura before his symptoms got worse. With but a nod, he left his temporary workmates and headed out in search of the pink-haired kunoichi.

Sai dashed through the woodland at breakneck speed, something as of yet unnamed urging him on. Something about the whole situation unsettled him. He should have anticipated Sakura's actions and been ready with a countermeasure. Becoming her victim was irresponsible and now his comrade could be engaged in a treacherous encounter with that traitor, possibly without backup; whether or not Kakashi had caught up to her in time remained to be seen. Her tenacity, even with her insane strength, would be no match for the Uchiha prodigy. It was as clear as needing air to breathe. Surely Sakura herself could see that. She had proven time and time again over that her intelligence was more than adequate. Why then would she willingly engage in actions where death was not only possible but the most probable outcome? The shinobi's stomach lurched, forcing him to stall his forward progress in favor of retching in the forest undergrowth. He had no time to waste now, his symptoms now progressing.

Another half-hour of hurdling over branches did little to ease his discomfort. A cold sweat, unrelated to his current exertions, came over Sai making his hands unnaturally clammy. Barely perceptible, yet uncontrollable shaking started to take a hold of him. His body was starting to go into shock. He would need to find her soon.

Sai lost all track of the distance he had traveled, the trees and thickets becoming but a verdant blur in the peripheral. It was of no consequence anyway. His mind was too clouded to focus on those kinds of details anymore. Instead he focused what was left of his cerebral capacity on what he considered to be his mission objectives: to find and determine the condition of one Sakura Haruno, and to have her administer a thorough health examination on his person. As Sai mentally rallied around these precepts, her chakra signature finally came into range. The worn shinobi redoubled his efforts. His reward finally came into view, accompanied by silver and gold and black, and Sai dropped from the sky with a resounding thud.

"Took you long enough to catch up." A weary, whiskered grin greeted him. "Sakura sure knows how to pack a punch, huh? And not just with her fist."

Sai merely nodded. His exertions had taken a toll on him and for the moment he was finding it hard to catch his breath. Non-verbal means of communication would have to do for the moment. And so his black eyes became intent on catching the attention of a pair of viridian ones. It did not take long.

"Sai? Are you okay?" Sakura gave her blonde teammate her half of their current burden, a half-dead kunoichi, and rushed over to Sai with healing chakra at the ready. "You look awful. My sleeping potion shouldn't have had any adverse effects. Were you attacked?"

The moment she touched his damp forehead, the symptoms began to ease. His heartbeat slowed to a near-normal pace and the tension in his muscles started to give way. "No. I... I don't..."

"I can't find anything wrong with you," the kunoichi replied after letting her chakra probe his entire form, puzzlement showing clearly on her face. "Talk to me, Sai. What's going on?"

"I woke up in pain, but I couldn't locate any wounds. It has to be something internal. I think my body started to go into shock. But..." Though his expression remained stoic, his eyes reflected confusion.

"But what?"

"I do not understand. You haven't treated me, but the symptoms are subsiding."

"Sakura," their tired sensei spoke up. "Check his tongue."

"Okay?" Sakura turned back to her patient. "You heard the man. Open up. Now, what am I looking for?"

"A seal. Danzo placed one on every member of Root. It was supposed to keep them quiet, but I have a feeling it sealed more than just their words."

"Are you sure, Sensei?" The pink head turned towards Kakashi for confirmation. "There's nothing here."

"The seal must have broken when Danzo died." The older man scratched his head. "Normally seals don't work like that. They stay in place even after the one who placed it there gets killed."

"I don't get it." Naruto chimed in. "Then why would Sai's seal be gone?"

"Well, his methods were questionable at best, but he was loyal to the village." Kakashi sighed. "My initial guess is that Sai has some information that Danzo thought may be of use to us in the event of his death. I doubt there's anything wrong with Sai. He's probably just feeling the after-effects of the seal being removed."

"I see. Then it could be possible..." She turned back to Sai, a sudden realization dawning in her eyes. "What were your symptoms? I need all of them in the order in which they appeared."

"Constricted airway, heart palpitations, a dull ache in my abdomen, nausea, shaking and cold sweats."

"Okay. You probably felt your throat, heart, and stomach first, right?" The girl tapped her cheek as she sorted out her theories.

"Yes."

"The nausea came later?" His nod confirmed some suspicions, so she continued with her line of questioning. "What were you doing when it came? Were you thinking about something?"

"I left the others to resume my mission. I..." The words left his mouth slowly, reluctant to be heard. "I was thinking that only a stupid kunoichi would drug her teammates so she could run into a suicide mission alone."

"Sai." His name fell softly from her lips and his eyes became glassy. Her lithe arms lifted to embrace his neck. "I'm sorry I worried you."

The warmth of her body against his was strangely comforting, so Sai chose to mimic her posture. "Did he hurt you?"

"Yes." The word came out as a sob and Sakura squeezed him just a bit tighter. "But I'll be okay."

"Good." Sai closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then detached himself from Sakura. "An injured medic is of no use to her team."

"You stupid..." Sakura paused mid-punch. The faint track of a fallen tear graced his tactless cheek. Breaking his face no longer held any appeal, so she contented herself with a measured thump to his shoulder. "Whatever. Let's just get home."

Chapter 2: reclamation

Running without sparing the slightest moment to turn back, determination and desperation lent their power to her limp limbs. In a maze of ever-growing darkness, she wandered. Alone. The silence filled her soul with dread, its death toll ringing in her ears. How long had she been running, been searching? It felt like countless fathoms of time with the quiet, suffocating loneliness contorting her senses. But onwards she ran just the same, hoping beyond all hope that something, anything would change this state of purgatory in which she found herself. Just what had she been searching for? It had been so long, even she forgot. All that was left was to go on. And though she knew to do so bordered heavily on the side of insanity, on she went. And on. And on. Always running. Always moving forward. She was hurtling herself headlong into her destiny and the outcome, she remembered only as it became too late, was always the same. The electric blade, crackling with some emotion between love and hate, ravaged the recess that once held her heart and ended her struggle. She was caught in the red.

Sakura awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. Her hands came to her chest of their own accord, trying in vain to cover the ache of betrayal that now resided there. It was becoming a morning ritual. It took but a moment to collect her faculties, the shock value of such torturous nightmares dulling with each successive night that they had been endured. It had been ten days since her brush with death at the hands of her most beloved and Sakura was no shrieking violet.

The first night had been the worst. In her panic, she had roused the rest of the team and their prisoner with her struggling. When the spell of the nightmare finally broke, thanks to a sound slap from their venerable sensei, Sakura whispered her fake assurances and rearranged her bedroll. She could feel the knowing eyes of the scarlet prisoner on her for the rest of the night. Contempt for her own weakness, rather than that of his discarded pawn, ran through Sakura's veins under the scrutiny of that gaze. Sleep would continue to elude her.

The next few days were but a blur. Arriving at the village, handing in mission reports, and reporting for duty at the hospital were second nature enough that she could perform these tasks on autopilot. She had joined the ranks of the walking dead. It took a couple of days, but eventually, her friends staged an intervention. It took another bit of friendly violence, this time supplied by an indignant Ino, to set her straight, but it was effective. She went to plotting. After all, one should play to one's strengths and Sakura had always been known to have an intelligent head on her shoulders.

It took a couple more days for her to realize that there were holes, numerous and large ones, in the scheme she was cooking up. Like it or not, Sakura was going to have to call in some back-up. Invitations went out and she lost no time in starting preparations. Time would be of utmost importance; some of the major players could not be counted upon to stay in the village for any length of time.

One by one they arrived, exchanging smiles and civilities before being seated at the kunoichi's small dining table. Sakura did a fair job of hostess duties, pouring tea and filling plates with second and third portions, in between fielding off-color comments between the two younger males attending. When the eating and drinking and carousing seemed to slow, she smiled and began clearing the used dishes.

"It was a pleasant meal, Sakura." The silver-haired shinobi seated at the head of the gathering handed over his empty plate. "But what are we really here for?"

"Observant as always, sensei." The girl added his plate to the pile growing near the sink. "I think it's time we discussed what should be done about Sasuke."

"Sakura." Her name came across Naruto's lips as an impatient growl. "There is nothing to discuss. I already promised you that I would bring him home to you. I don't go back on my promises."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking how we intend on doing it." Sakura spoke carefully, making eye contact with all there as she did so.

"We?" The blonde stood up, knocking the chair out from under him as he did so. "Oh no! I don't think so. You're not going anywhere near him again! It's my responsibility. I'll bring him home."

"We've already discussed this." A sigh came from the direction of their sensei. "Sasuke is my responsibility. He was placed in my care."

"No, sensei. It's me he wants and I'm..."

The table between them splintered, a feminine fist having smashed through it in frustration. "Shut up both of you!" The furious kunoichi bit out. "Have you forgotten what happened the last time one of us tried to take him on by ourselves? Huh? Huh ?" Sakura paused to look at them. "Well, I do. I see it every single freakin' night in my nightmares. He was going to kill me. And he was going to enjoy it. Now when I say 'we' that's exactly what I mean. So we had better start coming up with a plan so we can deal with this once and for all the next time we see that traitorous bastard. Understand?"

"Fine. I get it." Naruto gave his sulky consent.

"You know he's not going to come quietly." The reminder came from Kakashi. "It will be easier to kill him than to capture him."

"But Kakashi-sensei!"

"I know, Naruto, but he might not give us a choice."

"It's fine," Sakura spoke up. "If we have to kill him, it's fine. There's nothing left of our Sasuke in there anyway."

"Sakura?"

"Come on, Naruto. We're deluding ourselves if we think that we'll bring him back and everything will be just fine. He wants to destroy the village and everyone it! If we don't do it, the powers that be will just execute him. If he has to die, I'd rather it be by our hands in the manner we think is best. I only see three choices. We kill him, they kill him or he kills all of us. And if I have to pick one, I pick the one where we get to have the most say." For the first time in days, Sakura gave in to the desire to break down.

"No." A soft, monotone voice cut through the discussion. Three sets of eyes turned his direction in wonder. "You are wrong, hag. There are four choices."

Sakura wiped her wet face with the back of her hands. "Sai, I don't understand. What other choice? Do you actually want to try to save him? Is that the choice you're talking about? Why would you? He's nothing to you."

"Please do not misunderstand me. This is not out of compassion. It is just the opposite actually."

"Yeah, I don't get it either." Naruto scratched his cheek in puzzlement.

"He has rejected the bonds he created with all of you. He has caused you pain. Even now, he makes the hag cry." Sai paused to rub his chest. "He does not deserve death. That is too light a punishment for his transgressions."

"What do you suggest?" Kakashi leaned forward, resting his elbows on what was left of Sakura's table.

"There are things worse than death and we will give those things to Sasuke." The smirk he gave them instead of his usual smile seemed genuine, laced with just a bit of malice. "I have a plan."

The rest of Team Kakashi eyed each other, looking for the unspoken cues as to what each was thinking. Each saw what they felt mirrored back at them, but no one wanted to speak up. No one wanted to be the one to confirm their resolve to do whatever it takes. They were about to change the rules. Sakura would regain her heart by first breaking it. Naruto would leave his childhood behind once and for all. Kakashi would learn to put the needs of the many above his own selfish wishes. They would do what their mentors could not. They would be the ones to break the cycle. They would rain retribution upon one of their own.

"Fine. But if we're going to talk nefarious plans, let's take it to the sofa. I'd rather not get splinters." The kunoichi glanced back at the other half of her team. "Oh, and you two owe me a new table."

"But Sakura..."

"Of course. It's no problem." Kakashi covered the blonde's mouth with a firm hand until the girl turned away. "Don't worry, Naruto. Yamato owes me."

"I can hear you guys, you know."

Darkness invaded her dreams once again. She was running, always running. Desperate and determined. Always moving on. Always moving forward. Again, not a person was in sight, but she did not feel alone. The inky air that enveloped her did not frighten her anymore. It felt... alive. She felt the familiar burn of her overexerted muscles. She knew where she was going. She was meeting her destiny. It was unavoidable. She could hear the lightning closing in, causing the hair on her neck to stand on end. But this time as her destiny hit critical mass, the collision with her heart imminent, the crackle of the electric blade was drowned out by a soft trickling of black liquid. The sound grew and grew until it became palpable, swallowing the chidori in its entirety. The red receded and refused to return.

#saisaku #ksscs #kh writes fanfiction #you can also read it on ao3 if you click the title

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great-jenna-bake-off · 4 years

Text

Season 3 Episode 7: Jam Doughnuts

Over the course of this challenge, it so rarely happens that I’m presented with a technical challenge bake that I’ve actually heard of, let alone one I’ve eaten on multiple occasions. So I felt pretty confident going into this week’s bake of Paul Hollywood’s jam doughnuts (although I suppose I’d sound pretty silly ordering a JAM doughnut in an American bakery instead of a JELLY one). Still, this bake presented a few challenges. First, doughnuts are made with a yeasted dough, and I still don’t have a ton of experience baking with yeast, although I’ve picked up quite a bit over the course of this blog. Second, these doughnuts would need to be fried, and I’ve never personally deep-fried anything. But armed with Wilson’s Dutch oven, I felt pretty confident that I would be able to figure it out and not burn myself too horrifically with boiling oil.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/jam_doughnuts_90953

I love a recipe that starts off by dumping all the ingredients into one bowl, so I felt we were off to a good start here.

A big ol’ doughnut batter soup.

I used my hands to mix all the ingredients together until they formed a dough, which turned out to be incredibly sticky.

Got my dad to help with photography on this one.

Next, I added some more water and kneaded the dough in the bowl, at the end of which the dough was still extremely sticky.

Unfortunately I left my Kitchenaid stand mixer complete with dough kneading hook at my apartment and had to do the hard work with my own brute strength.

But my kneading adventure wasn’t over yet: I then had to knead the dough for 10 full minutes on a floured surface until it finally stopped sticking to my hands and formed an autonomous ball.

Kneading a wet dough like this is actually extremely soothing. I highly recommend.

Now it was time for the big proof. I put my little dough ball in a bowl and went on my merry way, hopeful that it would double in size after an hour.

Before…

And oh boy, double in size it did. This was where the recipe may have started to go off the rails a bit. When I returned to my dough an hour later, it was HUGE.

I have created a monster.

I figured that lots of volume was better than no volume, but still, I’ve heard the words “over-proved” through around enough on the show to know that Paul Hollywood does not approve. However, I decided a light airy doughnut was better than a dense one with no rise to the dough at all, and soldiered on. I divided my dough into ten pieces, even breaking out my scale to try to get my dough balls as even as possible.

Ten relatively even little doughnuts-to-be.

I then stuck my doughnuts under a towel and once again went on my merry way for an hour. But then, I returned to this…

This picture doesn’t really do justice to how huge these doughnuts were, but they were intimidatingly large.

I felt slightly like the Ghostbusters Stay Puft Man had invaded my kitchen.

Adorable, but EVIL.

I’m not sure why my yeast was so active during this bake, but it may have been because it was an unusually hot weekend here in LA, and my kitchen was pretty warm, which is conducive to yeast activity. (Do I sound like I know what I’m talking about yet?) Regardless, I had now devoted over two hours of my life to these doughnuts, and I was determined to see this thing through the end. So I whipped out my candy thermometer, dumped a ton of oil in the Dutch oven, and started heating.

Looks pretty professional!

At first, the temperature on the thermometer rose steadily, but around 300 degrees, I couldn’t help but notice that the heating seemed to have stopped. Why couldn’t I get my oil hotter than 300 degrees, I wondered? Well, when I pulled the thermometer out of the oil to investigate, I discovered this…

A crack in the thermometer just below the 300 degree mark.

So my thermometer was busted, and there was no way to tell how much higher than 300 degrees my oil had gotten. But in the spirit of the competition, I decided to make do with what I had. It was time to fry. As I attempted to separate my giant dough blobs and drop them into the oil, I understood why overproofing dough is problematic: My dough collapsed on itself the moment I tried to move it. Still, maybe it would re-puff back in the oil? I had no choice but to try.

They did in fact regain some of their volume in the fryer, thankfully.

As you can see from this picture, my doughnuts were quite brown, and that happened well before the 5 minutes on each side time limit suggested by Paul’s recipe. This leads me to believe that my oil was in fact much hotter than 350 degrees. In the hopes of not burning my doughnuts, I pulled this batch out quickly, after about 3 minutes. I then rolled them in sugar, which I hoped might hide the most egregious sins of my haphazard frying process.

I’ve seen rounder doughnuts…

For my second batch, I pulled them out of the fryer the moment they turned a perfect golden brown. I was feeling pretty good about myself until a thought arose in my head – what if these doughnuts are perfect on the outside, but undercooked on the inside? I cut one open, and sure enough, it was COMPLETELY RAW. I’m talking dough oozing out all over the counter. I neglected to take a photo because I was immediately overwhelmed with panic – this batch of doughnuts was already covered in sugar and resting from the fryer. How was I going to fix this? I decided to throw them back into the (now slightly cooler) fryer for a second fry, in the hopes that at the very least they wouldn’t be completely raw. I then pulled the mangled doughnuts back out and re-rolled them in sugar, only able to hope and pray that they would be somewhat edible.

Doughnut DISASTER.

Trying to put that particular crisis behind me, I moved on to the filling. I put some strawberry jam in a piping bag, which at least looked somewhat professional.

Ready for a jam transfusion.

But my woes were far from over. What is the logical point from which to fill a doughnut – the top, the bottom, or the side? If you answered “The side, obviously, why would you even consider any other options?” you are a smarter person than I. In my semi-frantic state, I decided to cut small holes in the BOTTOM of my doughnuts through which to pipe in jam, completely forgetting that gravity exists and would cause a significant portion of the jam to fall right back out again.

This was SO. DUMB.

By some miracle, some of the jam managed to stay inside the doughnuts, and I finally had something somewhat worthy of presenting to my judges. But first, would any of the bakers fare as poorly as I did for this challenge?

John clearly feels about the same way I do about this challenge.

The face of pure excitement.

Ryan declares himself to be a doughnut expert – in that he eats a lot of doughnuts.

Good one, Ryan.

James, meanwhile, actually IS a doughnut expert. Apparently, he makes doughnuts all the time.

That makes one of us, James.

Most of the bakers are surprised by how sticky the dough is, as I was.

SLIME.

The bakers meticulously measure out their dough using a scale.

This looks far more methodical than my dough-portioning step…

Then the doughnuts go into the proving drawer for their final proof.

Hope they don’t stick together!

And finally, it’s time for the “oily plunge”, as Cathryn calls it.

“Oh my great giddy aunt,” she says as she drops her doughnuts into the fryer.

Notoriously technical challenge-adverse Sarah Jane’s doughnuts are actually looking pretty good.

Look at that golden brown!

Ryan, however, is having issues. His doughnuts seem to have deflated slightly and are no longer looking beautifully spherical.

These look kind of familiar…

Finally, it’s time to fill the doughnuts with jam, which all the bakers do from the side, because they are not idiots like me.

That jam syringe does look very handy though.

However, even with the trick of piping the jam in through the side, most of the bakers find their doughnuts hemorrhaging jam. Guess I wasn’t so dumb after all!

The producers really went wild with a plethora of jam oozing shots like this one.

When asked to describe her progress this technical challenge, Cathryn goes with “doughnut doom,” which makes me feel slightly better about my own performance.

Been there, girl.

When the time comes for judging, Paul is far from impressed by Ryan’s doughnuts. He utters the word I am most afraid of during this challenge: “overproved.”

My fears have come to pass.

And yet, Ryan and his overproved doughnuts fare better than Sarah-Jane’s, which looked deliciously golden-brown but are in fact completely raw inside.

This is about what my second batch of doughnuts looked like before I put them back in the fryer.

In the end, resident doughnut expert James takes home the gold, preserving his reputation for frying excellence.

These look like they could be sold at Dunkin’ Donuts.

But now, it was time to see how much of a doughnut disaster had occurred in my own kitchen. First, let’s take a look at Paul’s batch:

Sheer perfection, as Mary would say.

And now, the moment of truth…

Not quite picture perfect.

Okay, so my doughnut isn’t quite a perfect circle, and it’s definitely a few shades darker than a perfectly toasty golden brown. Still, it looks… better than expected? Edible? Not like a complete abomination? But the real test would be feeding them to my esteemed judges.

***

Matt’s Review: This is one sticky pastry. Personally, I’m into it. I’d always prefer ooey-gooey syrup to hardened frosting, and this delivered in spades. I will say, there wasn’t as much nuance to the flavor, and it tasted pretty much the same throughout. But having said that… I went to take a quick nibble before taking the donut upstairs to dig in and ended up just standing in the middle of my kitchen stuffing my face like a monster. My roommate saw the whole thing. I’m not proud. Overall, I’d say this one wasn’t my favorite of the bunch. It didn’t have a perfect texture and the flavor wasn’t next level. But if you put another one in front of me right now I’d down it in about thirty seconds. There WAS a soggy bottom. I think I'm contractually obligated to comment.

Wilson’s Review: Outside is brown, with a nice glaze. Nice and crisp, but color makes me think it’s a bit overdone? Could be the donuts were in the fryer for a smidge too long. Cutting it open, crumb appears a bit compressed. Not as airy as one would hope. Texture and taste are good, but there seems to be a slight problem with the fill - It’s not evenly distributed, which changes the whole experience. Overall, has potential, but you really need to watch that fryer.

***

So in the interest of full disclosure, I will say that the doughnuts I gave the judges came from my first batch, which was fried through the center the first time and were not subjected to a second dunk in the oil. I’m not really sure what the second frying did to the texture of my other batch, but they weren’t raw anymore, and I fed them to my parents and my friend Amanda who seemed to find them somewhat pleasant to eat. So I’ll consider that a good save on my part. This was not my most successful challenge to date – in fact, I’d say it was one of my worst bakes yet. However, given all the difficulties I encountered on this bake, from rapid-proofing dough to a broken thermometer to my own jam-filling stupidity, I’m pleased that I ended up with anything at all to serve, and that it vaguely resembled a jam doughnut. I guess I’ll have to just try again until I end up with a doughnut that is Paul Hollywood-worthy, but at least I’ll be somewhat confident that I can eat the rejects in the meantime.

#jam doughnut #gbbo #paul hollywood #great british bake off

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little-miss-sunny-daisy · 4 years

Note

Is it still too early to pick your brain about that TA klaus and student Caroline idea you mentioned earlier?? Lol sorry I’m at work and I totally can’t concentrate right now.

fuck it, we’re doing it live!

(written on my lunch break, sorry for any mistakes)

The athletic office liaison is young, probably not that much older than Caroline herself, which had seemed like a huge plus back when she had met her in May. But now? As she’s staring down the barrel of a power-mad TA who most definitely got bullied by some bitchy Bring It On types in high school?

Yeah. Caroline seriously wishes "just call me Jess” was more like Elena’s gruff, super bitchy spinster-type advisor, Mrs. Hutchinson.

“I’m so sorry, Caroline,” Jess says, sympathy evident on her face, “but without something like hard proof, the athletic office can’t step in on a situation like this. Professors--

“--TA,” Caroline corrects her under her breath, but Jess doesn’t seem to notice.

“--are free to run their classes the way they see fit. I know it’s not the answer you want to hear, but I’m afraid all I can tell you is to meet with your professor during office hours and try to work out some extra credit or possibly be assigned a tutor.” Jess visibly brightens. “If you’d like a tutor, I can absolutely help you with that!”

“No, no,” Caroline says quickly, standing up so fast that she gets a little dizzy. “I’m good. I’ll...I’m good.” She hurries out of the office.

Later she’ll blame the whole disaster on the stupid TA and how his whole...everything had her mind distracted.

She lands wrong on a back tuck, and the first indication that something is wrong is followed swiftly by the second: a pop, then pain flaming through her foot.

“Fuck!” Caroline cries out, dropping to the mat immediately and clutching at her ankle, careful to not actually touch her foot as hot tears spring to her eyes.

Five hours later, she is the less than proud owner of a pair of crutches, a boot, and a hefty Lortab prescription.

“Broken,” the ortho doctor confirms as he scribbles a note on her chart. “You have to stay off of it completely for at least six weeks, possibly eight depending on how you heal.”

“But we have Nationals in March,” Caroline protests weakly. She feels like she might be sick. “If I can’t practice, I won’t make mat.”

The doctor shrugs and hands her her chart. “Give that to the receptionist on the way out, and I want to see you again in two weeks for X rays.” And with that, he leaves.

It’s really fucking hard to get anywhere on crutches, much less get there fast.

Elena helps carry her backpack to Comp recitation. She bypasses their usual seats, and leads Caroline to the back row, where she can prop up the horrible boot on a nearby empty chair. “This okay?” she asks gently and Caroline blows her hair out of her face.

“I guess,” she grumbles, settling into her seat. Elena smiles a little at her grumpiness, sympathy lighting her face.

Nik walks in and Caroline really, seriously hates that he’s hot. The world is honestly so unfair and mentally, she ticks off the reasons why: he’s hot, he’s an asshole, and her foot is broken. She could almost cry. Again.

The recitation is much smaller than their normal class, and it doesn’t take very long for Nik to notice that she and Elena are not in their usual seats. Caroline pointedly looks down at her notebook so she won’t have to watch as his eyes slide over the awkward, bulky boot that is now sitting up in the seat next to her.

Recitation feels like it lasts much longer than its standard ninety minutes, and when it’s finally, finally over, she hobbles down the stairs behind Elena, silently wishing it was already that night so she could take a Lortab. Her foot is throbbing.

“Caroline,” Nik calls out just as they reach the door. Caroline’s heart sinks as she makes a wobbly turn to see him approaching them. “May I ask what happened?”

She hears the soft snick of the door shutting as Elena slips out, allowing the conversation to be private.

It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell him off, to tell him where he can stick his concern; but she resists the impulse. There’s no point in antagonizing him, especially when she feels so horrid.

“How much do you know about tumbling?

He quirks an eyebrow. “None, I’m afraid.”

As she expected. She nods once and gives him the same explanation she gave her cheerleading-adverse mother. “Flipped and landed wrong.”

He looks vaguely horrified. “Is it...broken?”

“Yep,” she confirms, shifting slightly on her crutches. Her armpits are starting to get sore, which is just peachy. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for the next six Friday recitations.” She wrinkles her nose. “At minimum.”

He meets her eyes. “I am sorry to hear that. For what it’s worth.”

She can’t resist poking, just as he seems to be realizing how his words came across. “You’re sorry that you have to have me in recitation?”

“Of course not,” he clarifies hurriedly, and she takes a private delight in how he stammers. “I meant--I did not mean--”

Just as quickly as she’d caught him, Caroline lets him off the hook. “Just kidding. I know what you meant.” She hesitates before extending the metaphorical olive branch. “And thanks. I appreciate it.”

Nik nods, and reaches to hold the door open for her. As she inches her way through it, crutches clacking loudly on the linoleum floor, he says to her, “I took another look at your Jane Eyre essay, and found I was too hasty in assigning your grade.”

If she’d had entire use of her body, she would have spun around; as it stands, she can only turn her head slightly to stare at him as he says, “You earned a B.”

Before she can react, the door shuts behind her.

#klaroline #ficlet #college au

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years

Text

Someone You Loved (Part 3)

Summary: The reader is the daughter of a well known mafia boss in her city and is used to an easy going life. When her father is arrested along with his crew, the reader is forced into a different life full of lies and adversity. Worst of all, her boyfriend of the past year, Dean, is an undercover cop who put her father away. She’s perfectly content with never seeing Dean again but he has a habit of making his way back into her life…

Pairing: Cop!Dean x Mafia!reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 5,600ish

Warnings: language, angst, harassment

_____

You’d just finished jotting down the last of your math notes when the doorbell rang the next day. You heard your dad answer as you hopped up from your desk and grabbed your purse, quickly out in the hall. Dean was wearing a loose open flannel, smiling at something your dad was saying to him.

“Ready?” asked Dean.

“Mhm,” you said, cocking your head at him in his plain clothes.

“Small department. We don’t have much of a dress code,” he said with a smile.

“Being the boss has its perks,” said your dad.

“It does indeed,” said Dean. “I figured we could grab a bite here in Deer Creek? So I can get you back in time for class.”

“Oh, she can take the classes whenever she wants. She’s already two weeks ahead of the curriculum,” said your dad.

“Dean does have work, dad,” you said. “Come on.”

Dean gave him a smile before you were both piling into Baby, Dean driving for a few minutes before finding the cafe on main street, the two of you seated quickly.

“Your dad looks different. Way less stressed out,” said Dean.

“Being a bum will do that to you,” you said. “I’m trying to figure out ways of getting him out of the house more to be honest.”

“He could get involved with town stuff. These small towns are full of those meetings and boards,” said Dean.

“Maybe. How’s the town council going?” you asked.

“It’s alright. I had a meeting this morning on it. There’s a lot of stupid stuff in my opinion on it but you know, these people don’t have much else to do,” he said.

“You’ve never been afraid of taking charge,” you said.

“I came here so I could get away from that sort of thing,” he said.

“You came to hide,” you said.

“I’m okay with a quiet little life,” he said.

“You really want to live in Hawthorne forever?”

“I wanted a slower pace job. I can do what I’m supposed to and that’s it. They had a spot open and I knew it was close to you,” he said, pursing his lips. “Someone needs to watch your back. You have a knack for finding trouble.”

“I find the trouble? Look who’s talking,” you laughed. He shrugged, thanking the waitress when she brought over your drinks.

“Deer Creek’s a nice place,” he said. “Near the woods and mountains. It’s pretty here.”

“Hawthorne is pretty too. It’s quieter is all,” you said. “It feels like the middle of nowhere.”

“I mean, there’s nothing on the other side of Hawthorne so it kind of is. I’ve heard there’s lots of good hiking and camping around. There’s a big outdoors store here I’ve been told,” he said.

“That sounds fun,” you said. “I should totally get my dad to go hiking.”

“That’s a great idea. He’s looking a little rounder than I remember,” he chuckled.

“He was like that after my mom died too,” you said.

“How’d you snap him out of it?”

“We started to hang out more. Dad was not the mafia boss anymore but just dad, you know? Now that I know what he was really up to, I know he’s a better person than I gave him credit for,” you said.

“He still was a money launderer,” said Dean with a smirk. “But there’s a reason they never tried to get him for anything. I think out of your family only your cousin Mark had like a public intoxication arrest on him and I mean, that was Mark so that’s not surprising.”

“Do you know what happened to all of them?” you asked.

“I think most of them stayed in their new towns where it was safe, started living normal lives. Your cousin Sarah is going to art school in Florida I think,” he said.

“Good for her,” you said.

“It’s probably a blessing in disguise you know. Your family all have normal jobs, no records. They got out before something bad happened,” he said.

“How’s Sam?” you asked. He shrugged. “He still undercover?”

“No. He...he’s actually transferring to the Deer Creek department. He got in a bit of trouble for telling you the truth. But he trusted you,” said Dean.

“I’d like to have a civil conversation with him for once,” you said. “Tell him Gary was a super dick.”

“He was, wasn’t he?” teased Dean. You bit your bottom lip, Dean giving you a smile. “What?”

“Why’d you blow up at the bar that night? I mean, you knew that was Sam playing Gary after all. Couldn’t you have blown your cover?” you asked.

“Yeah. I could only take so much though, even pretend,” he said. You nodded and were both quiet for a few minutes, your salad coming out and a tiny smile on your face as you caught Dean eating one of his own. “What?”

“I thought you didn’t eat rabbit food,” you said.

“I’m trying to,” he said, picking at the meat in his bowl first. “So. You go to school everyday?”

“It’s all online. Aside from a few timed tests on certain days, it’s more go at your own pace. I figure with summer classes, I’ll get a degree in three years instead of four,” you said.

“What about your college classes from high school? You would have gone in with credits,” he said.

“I...totally forgot about those actually,” you said.

“See if they’ll take ‘em. You’re just looking for a degree right? Maybe you can save yourself a semester,” he said.

“I told you about that like, once,” you said.

“I am very good at remembering,” he said, poking at the rest of his salad.

“Excuse me,” you said when your waitress went past. “Can we get a BLT wrap instead of the salad?”

“Sure thing,” she said, taking the bowl away.

“Thanks,” said Dean, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Baby steps,” you said.

“Baby steps,” he said.

His new food came out a few minutes later, Dean telling you about the local area as he ate. He’d been there about a week or so. He was staying in the previous police chief’s house on the edge of town. He was a bit miffed that there was no garage with it but he figured he could always add one later on.

He started to talk about Baby, a topic you knew he could on about for hours and hours if left to his own devices. You smiled as he spoke and ate his wrap, Dean loosening up and acting like his old self.

“What’s with the goofy look?” he asked with a chuckle. You shook your head.

“You sound like you again is all,” you said.

“You always did like listening to me talk about Baby,” he said.

“You don’t get between a boy and his first love,” you teased.

“No. You don’t,” he said, twitching his lip up. “You got a little…”

He wiped at the corner of his mouth, your tongue jutting out around yours.

“Still didn’t get it,” he said as he leaned over, wiping off a bit of dressing with a napkin. “Perfect.”

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said.

“You shaved this morning,” you said. He ran his hand over his jaw, a little hair there but much more like you were used to. “It looks good.”

“I was due for one,” he said. “I got to head back to work but maybe I’ll see you at Breacher’s tonight?”

“Yeah. I’ll be working,” you said.

“Good. I’ll make sure to swing by then.”

Two Weeks Later

“Are you two sure you ain’t dating?” asked Mel. You smirked behind the bar top as you poured his refill, Dean hiding his smile as he bit into his burger.

“They flirt enough,” said Victor, Dean chuckling and wiping off his mouth. “What do you say chief?”

“It’s complicated,” said Dean.

“Extremely,” you said.

“Eh, it ain’t that complicated,” said Mel.

“Trust us,” you said, wiping down the bar, surprised when Victor stood up. “Just the one drink tonight?”

“Yeah. I ought to go spend some time with my wife,” he said. “Night.”

“Night Vic,” said Dean, Mel raising an eyebrow when he left. “There a story there?”

“They been fighting a lot lately. I keep telling the idiot to spend some time with her,” he said.

“Maybe he’s finally listening,” you said. Mel nodded and knocked back his drink.

“I should take that advice myself. I’ll see you kiddos around,” he said.

“Drive safe, Mel,” you said.

“Do I smell or something?” teased Dean.

“Oh yes. It’s quite horrifying,” you said, giving him a laugh after a moment. “Those two should be at home anyways. It’s getting late.”

“It’s nine,” said Dean.

“Late for them,” you said. You cleaned up their plates and glasses, exiting out of the kitchen area a minute later to see another man sitting next to Dean, a head of longer hair on him.

He gave you a friendly if not weary smile.

“Moose,” you said, tossing down a coaster.

“Chipmunk,” he said. “You look good.”

“I was wondering when I’d see you around. Looking like the fifth beatle there,” you teased. Dean snickered in his seat, Sam whacking him in the back of the head. “What’ll it be, Sammy?”

“Just a pepsi. I’m on duty,” said Sam. “Lunch break actually.”

“Want the kitchen to whip something up for ya?” you asked.

“Is there anything not covered in grease?”

“Pie. They make good pie here,” said Dean. “Can I order my pie now too?”

“Pie for Dean and I’ll get a garden salad for you Sam,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said as you jotted it down. His salad was out fast with the kitchen slowing down, Dean wolfing down his pie the second you had it out. “I guess you really are doing better.”

“Told ya so,” said Dean.

“So...you guys dating again?” asked Sam.

“It’s...a work in progress,” you said.

“We both agreed we should wait a little while, give us time to try and get our heads on straight,” said Dean.

“Is that why you smile at your phone like an idiot when she texts you?” asked Sam.

“Shut up,” said Dean.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Sam, turning to you. “About the Gary thing...I’m sorry for all that stuff.”

“You were just doing your job,” you said, setting his second soda down in front of him. “It’s alright, Moose.”

“Oh I see. I do all the groveling groundwork and Sam gets to reap the rewards,” teased Dean.

“Just a tad different, De,” you said.

“Yeah. De,” said Sam with a big smirk.

“At least I have a girlfriend,” mumbled Dean.

“I thought it was a work in progress. Plus I’m married you idiot,” said Sam.

“Didn’t I tell you he was an annoying little shit?” said Dean.

“He’s a little brother. Kind of in the handbook, Dean,” you said.

“I didn’t hear a correction in there,” said Sam.

“You really are a little shit, Sam,” you said.

“Told ya,” said Dean.

“Still,” said Sam. “You two…”

“Leave it alone, Sammy,” said Dean. He dropped it at that, making some small talk as he waited for another slice of pie to come out. You tended to the rest of the bar, the two of them talking about their days. It reminded you of when they’d talk when you were over Dean’s place. It was always kind of cute to you how they checked in everyday.

“Y/N?” asked Sam. You hummed, giving him a smile. “I asked if you were going hiking with us this weekend.”

“I didn’t know I was invited,” you said. Dean glared at Sam, opening his mouth slowly. “Hey. You two should have your brother time.”

“I was gonna ask later,” said Dean quietly. “You got midterms soon and-“

“And Y/N’s coming with,” said Sam. “Right?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said.

“Don’t bug her, Sammy,” said Dean.

“When are you gonna stop being depressed and tell-“

“Really?” said Dean. He stood up and put down some money, Sam looking to you for help. Dean was gone like that though and Sam closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” mumbled Sam.

“Probably not,” you said. “It’s why it’s a work in progress, Sam.”

“It’s kind of stupid in my opinion. You’re both still into each other. It wasn’t like you broke up because you stopped liking each other,” he said.

“No. What happened was much worse,” you said. “There’s a lot of hurt feelings there.”

“Then why don’t you hate me as much?” said Sam.

“I didn’t love Gary, Sam. Gary was a dick. One that scared me,” you said. “But you weren’t that much worse than a bad night tending bar or the walk home at three in the morning.”

“He never told you, did he,” said Sam.

“Told me what?”

“There were two regulars at your bar. Hank and a younger guy, Teddy. You never noticed that Teddy always came in just after Hank would head out?” asked Sam. You tilted your head back, Sam taking a sip of his drink. “Dean was concerned. He convinced the department to give you a protection detail in the event that you might be able to help with the organization.”

“So you’re telling me that every night I was creeped out walking home by myself, there was a cop nearby watching my back?”

“Pretty much,” said Sam.

“He didn’t tell me that,” you said. “He’s such an idiot sometimes, I swear.”

“There are worse idiots to wind up with,” said Sam.

“Carl, you mind watching the bar for a minute?” you asked, one of the waiters nodding as you skirted around the top and over to the front door. You poked your head outside, Dean leaning over Baby with his head down. “Winchester!”

He popped his head up and spun around as you headed over, Dean looking behind you, his hand on his gun.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No. No. You gonna invite me to go hiking?” you asked.

“What’d Sammy say in there?” he asked, dropping his hand away.

“You’re sweet. Nothing I didn’t know already though,” you said. “So, hiking?”

“I’m not…” said Dean, gnawing on his bottom lip, shifting on his feet. You reached out and grabbed his hands, Dean staring down at them. “You know I shove stuff down. You have a way of dragging it up and making me deal with it and I don’t want to deal with...I want to be your boyfriend again. I do. I want it to be the way it used to be but I know it’s never going to be that way. You’ll never trust me like that again and I’ll never not feel guilty. I just need more time to deal with that, okay? Maybe we go hiking next weekend, just us. I need time to-“

“Don’t assume things about me Dean,” you said, dropping his hands.

“A month ago you hated my guts,” he said. “You’ve spent the past few months hating me.”

“Don’t push me away because you’re afraid of feeling something again, Dean,” you said. “Don’t put words in my mouth either.”

“You said-“

“I said a lot of things and most of it when I didn’t know the full picture,” you said, kicking at the ground. “There’s always more secrets, more I didn’t know, Dean.”

“I told you the truth,” he said.

“Then why am I still finding stuff out like I had a police tail on me every night?” you asked. He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning back against the car. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter,” he said.

“Actually, it does. Now I knew I was safe back then. So what else are you hiding?”

“Nothing!”

“Dean.”

He wasn’t quick enough to make his face blank but maybe he wanted it that way, wanted you to know there was something he still wasn’t saying. He quickly turned his gaze hard though.

“You always gotta push, don’t you?” he said. “You push and push and push and push. You’re so fucking annoying sometimes. You can’t just let things be. You gotta dig and ask stupid questions and be the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met in my life. Why do you never, never, shut the fuck up? Please. Just shut up.”

“You know what? Don’t come back to the bar. Ever,” you said as you spun around. “I’m done. We’re done. Fuck you, Dean. Just stay the fuck away from me from now on.”

“How was work?” asked your dad when you came home an hour early. “Feeling alright?”

“I hate that fucking asshole!” you shouted, rubbing your hand over your face. “I should have never...fuck him. Don’t ever answer the door for him again.”

“Y/N-“

“I am done with Dean Winchester. Forever.”

“What the hell are you doing?” you said the next day, storming into Dean’s office as he ate some yogurt.

“Lunch?” he asked.

You slammed the parking ticket down on his desk, Dean raising an eyebrow.

“You pay that over at the front desk?” he asked again, looking you up and down. “Are you on something?”

“I am sick and tired of the police harassing me!” you shouted. Dean leaned forward in his chair and took the ticket, glancing at it.

“Nina. Can you come here a minute?” called Dean. You glared as a cop came in, looking at you wearily. “You write a parking ticket this morning?”

“She was double parked.”

“Double parked my ass,” you said.

“Miss. This is a police station,” she said.

“Oh, don’t go there with me honey,” you said.

“There,” said Dean, ripping it in half. “No ticket. Nina, try not to ticket people for being a little over the line.”

“Alright,” she said, staring at you.

“Back off,” you said. She put a hand on her hip and Dean stood up, grabbing your arm. “Hey!”

“I do not need a fist fight in my office,” he said, leading you out a side door and outside. You shrugged away from him, Dean taking a deep breath. “I didn’t put anyone up to it. Don’t go starting fights with cops.”

“I want you to leave me the fuck alone,” you said.

“Yet you’re the one…” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Go back in the station. Now.”

“No! I-“

“Get the fuck inside,” he said, grabbing your arm hard, practically shoving you back through the door. He locked it behind himself, barely giving you more than a quick glance.

But it was enough.

“You’re still protecting me, aren’t you,” you said.

“Yeah well, deal with it. I had a feeling shit would hit the fan and it’s hitting it,” he said, shoving you back towards the cell area. “Lock the door. It’s the only way in or out. Don’t open for anyone but me or Sammy. Call your dad and tell him Alpha Green two. He knows what it means.”

He left the room and you almost locked the door after him, his hand suddenly on it. He was holding something big and bulky out to you.

His thigh holster with the gun in it.

“Put it on. Point and shoot. Make sure the safety’s off. You got sixteen rounds. Don’t use it if you don’t gotta,” he said.

“Dean, what’s-” you got out before he was out the door. You locked it up after him and strapped the thing on your leg, shaking your head as you pulled out your phone.

“Hey, sweetie,” said your dad when he answered.

“Something weird is...I’m with Dean at the police station and he said to tell you Alpha Green two and I have no idea what is going on,” you said, the other end quiet. “Dad?”

“I’m not gonna see you for a long time, kiddo. I gotta go away for awhile. I want you to stick with Dean. He’ll keep you safe. I know you two got your issues but you’ll work them out,” he said.

“What is happening?” you asked.

“Alpha Green two means get out. Dean saw something he didn’t like so I gotta go,” he said.

“He gave me a gun,” you said.

“You’re gonna have to get out too then. They know if they grab you, then they get me,” he said.

“Dad-”

“Remember where I said I met your mom?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“October first. You meet me there at noon if it’s safe. That’s how I’ll know it’s safe to come back,” he said.

“Dad-”

“Do what Dean tells you and for the love of God stay with him,” he said. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you said quietly. “Who’s here? That organization?”

“Worse. His brother. I gotta go. I’ll be with Sam. I’ll see you in October, kiddo. Love you,” he said.

“Love you t-” you heard before he hung up. “Too. What the fuck?”

“Y/N,” you heard on the other side of the door, Dean knocking lightly. “Open up. It’s me.”

You carefully undid the door, a backpack tossed in your face along with a police jacket.

“What-”

“No one saw you on the street thankfully. Your dad getting out of here?” he asked. You nodded, Dean glancing around. “I got Baby packed. Sam’ll try to help your dad get out of here as best he can. We gotta get you out of here and now.”

“Am I ever going to know anything real about you?” you asked. He stared at you blankly, cupping your cheek and pressing his lips to yours.

“I kept lying about my job. Not about me,” he said. “I will explain everything later. For now-”

“Let’s get going then.”

“This jacket is nice and warm,” you said, curling up in the thing in Baby’s front seat, Dean humming as he rolled into hour nine of your impromptu road trip. “We gonna stop soon? I got to go to the bathroom.”

“Yeah. We’re almost there,” he said.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” you said.

“We’re almost there too,” he said. You closed your eyes and rested your head against the window again, trying not to think of what had happened to your dad or where he was. Dean was mum on everything until you were settled he said but you knew wherever it was you were going, you were going to have to lay low.

He pulled up to an old farm house near a field and nestled near some woods, driving down the dirt path for a moment before he put it in park.

“Where are we exactly?”

“Safest place I ever knew,” he said. He opened his door and got out. You followed his lead and stretched out, hearing some clanging going on in a nearby garage. It stopped quickly and a man walked out, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Sorry I didn’t call. Sort of last minute.”

“You must be Y/N,” he said, looking you up and down, giving you a smirk. “He gave you a gun?”

“Who is he?” you asked Dean.

“Y/N, this is my dad, John,” he said. You turned your head a little wide eyed as he stepped over and gave you a big hug.

“Nice to finally meet Dean’s girlfriend in the flesh,” he said.

“Dad, we’re not…” said Dean.

“Oh,” said John. “Was that...okay, now I’m confused.”

“Welcome to the club,” you mumbled.

“We were. We broke it off when you know, her dad and family went into hiding,” said Dean.

“Okay?” said John.

“I didn’t know he was a cop for starters,” you said. His dad raised an eyebrow. “Then there’s all the lying and secrets and sounds like you do that with everybody, hm?”

“I thought you had to go to the bathroom,” said Dean.

“Go up through the back door, past the kitchen, door on the left,” said John.

“Thanks,” you said. You wrapped your jacket around yourself as you jogged up the back steps into the quiet house. The kitchen was sparse and half of it was ripped up. Half the house looked under construction in your opinion.

The bathroom looked like new sheetrock had been put up and needed to be painted but otherwise it looked brand new. You were quick to relieve yourself, voices coming into the house by the time you were exiting.

“He’s an idiot,” said John as he walked past you, going to the kitchen cupboard and pulling out a bottle of liquor.

“Where’s mom?” asked Dean.

“She and Jess went to the movies. Apparently I annoyed them today,” said John, taking a sip.

“Maybe if you finished working on the house they’d be less pissed,” said Dean.

“They got hands. They can pick up a hammer and get to work,” he said.

“Dad.”

“I know. It’s hard to renovate a whole house by yourself is all,” he said.

“Maybe Y/N can help with demo. She’s pretty pissed off lately,” said Dean.

“I can see why,” he said.

“You’re taking her side?”

“Sammy told Jess.”

“Sam and Jess are married. It’s different. He had permission. She was different,” said Dean.

“You still could have told-“

“I fucked up. I don’t need everyone to keep reminding me,” said Dean, dropping a bag by the stairs and going out the front, slamming the door shut after him.

“He probably didn’t need that,” said John.

“Can I have a sip of that?” you asked.

“Knock yourself out.”

“He didn’t,” said John, cracking up beside you a few hours later.

“He sure did,” you said, giggling as you passed the bottle back to him.

“Oh, that kid doesn’t know the first thing about being in a city,” he laughed, taking the last sip. “Shit. I think we’ve been cut off, kiddo.”

“Well you’re both drunk so it’s probably for the best,” said Dean as he stepped out the back door. “Mom and Jess are back. I told them you weren’t up for meeting any more new people today.”

“I think he’s pissed,” you laughed.

“You should have seen his face when he was three and-“

“Alright,” said Dean, leaning down and taking the gun from your holster. “Before you two get into real trouble, inside. Y/N, we got the air mattress in the guest room so get your tush up there.”

“I’m enjoying myself here just fine,” you said.

“Yeah. What are you? The fun police?” joked his dad.

“I’m tired. Please, just go inside for the night and sleep this off,” said Dean. “Both of you.”

“Alright,” said John. “No harm in helping her calm down.”

“I’d rather it have been done sober,” said Dean.

“Yeah, well. You can work on that tomorrow,” said John. “Come on. Better do as told.”

You grumbled as you stood up and went inside, the house quiet. Dean showed you upstairs, his dad staying down and heading down the hall where you assumed the master bedroom was. You trudged past an open room, a girl probably around your age laying on a bed, reading a book.

“Hey,” said Dean, pointing a finger at you. She lifted her head up. “This is Y/N. You know, don’t shoot her if you see her around. Drunk girl, this is Jess. Don’t shoot her if you see her around.”

“Always a joy, Dean,” said Jess. “Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a cop too,” you said.

“I’m a nursing student,” she said. “Or I was I should say.”

“Look. I brought you a friend so you can both hate me together,” said Dean.

“Shortie,” she mumbled, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Asshole,” he said, spinning you around. “Night Jess.”

“Night De,” she said.

“Sam says hey too,” said Dean.

“Just hey?” she asked.

“Yeah. Just hey,” said Dean, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out an envelope. He flicked it over to her, Jess smiling wide as she caught it. “Page three, whoo, Sammy. I thought the boy was innocent but boy was I wrong.”

“Goodnight Dean,” she said with a grin, tearing open the letter.

“Night Jess,” he said, pulling her door shut. “Okay. Let’s get you in bed.”

He showed you down the hall and into a room, nothing inside but two backpacks, a duffel and an air mattress with a blanket on top.

“Okay,” he said as you kicked off your shoes. You plopped down on the mattress, rolling to the left side. “Before you pass out completely on me, this backpack with the red tape on the strap? That’s your bag. If I ever tell you the furnace light is out, that means take the bag and get out of here. I don’t care how but you do it. If the furnace light is broken, that means ditch the bag and just go. You got that?”

“Talking about the furnace is bad. I got it,” you mumbled, tugging the blanket around yourself.

“You can change into something more comfortable,” he said.

“Like what,” you mumbled.

“Hold on,” he said. He went over to a closet and pulled out a box, digging through it a minute before pulling out a few things and tossing them to you. “It’s from when I was about your size. It should fit.”

You stared at him, Dean rolling his eyes.

“This is my grandparents house. It was in somebody else’s name and trust me, it’s safe,” he said.

“So this stuff is from when you were a teenager?”

“Yes. Bathroom is across the hall,” he said, leaving the room for a minute. You changed into the loose shorts and t shirt, smiling at the baseball camp shirt.

The door opened and he popped his head in, another bunch of blankets under his arm.

“Did you go to camp around here?” you asked.

“Yeah. For a summer. Sam and I stayed here. We’re both tired, we’ll talk in the morning,” he said. He took off his boots and jeans, shrugging out of his jacket and taking one of the blankets for himself, leaving the others on your side. He flicked off the light switch and lay down with a sigh, his back turning to you when you crawled under the blankets.

You stared at his stiff shoulders, Dean taking a few deep breaths.

“Thanks for the extra blankets,” you said quietly. He nodded, stilling after a moment.

You turned your own back to him, closing your eyes, already regretting the alcohol in your system.

“Is my dad dead?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Okay,” you whispered, a tiny shudder running through you.

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“I can sleep on the couch if you want,” he said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Do you want me to go?”

You didn’t say anything and for a moment, you thought he’d get up and leave. Then you felt him roll behind you, roll closer. You didn’t lift your head as you turned to face him, ducking your chin down and letting yourself bury your face in his chest.

“I know,” he said quietly, placing his arm over your back, holding you close. “I know.”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled, a shudder running through you.

“I got you. That’s all you need to worry about tonight, alright?” he said. “I got you.”

You nodded your head, fisting your hands in his shirt as you willed yourself to get some sleep.

_____

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years

Text

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 4: All Things Work Together For Good

Emma idly shopped for a few items in the store and picked up some essentials. Her attention was caught though when she heard his voice on a television playing nearby. She looked up to see Detective Killian Rogers giving a statement to the press about two missing girls. It seemed that her ex had made quite a name for himself while she was gone.

After paying for her items, she rode the bus back to her brother and sister-in-law's house and while the kids were playing a game, she managed to get his attention. She pointed to the backyard and he followed her, before she collapsed onto the swing.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Something happened today," she replied.

"Okay...what's going on Em?" he asked.

"This is going to sound crazy...but I kept hearing this voice. I was on a bus and it was my voice telling us to slow down. I tried to ignore it, but it just got louder then. And...when I screamed at the bus driver, he stopped, just in time for a little boy to run out in front of the bus," she explained. She saw her brother straighten his shoulders and she could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to process what she was telling him.

"You've always had good instincts when it comes to helping people. That's why you became a cop," he reasoned.

"This wasn't instinct, David," she protested.

"Even if it wasn't...keep it to yourself," he urged.

"I tell you and MM everything," she reminded him.

"You know I'm not talking about MM…" he said, as he leaned closer.

"But if the NSA hears that a passenger is hearing voices in their head...we'll all end up in some government lab somewhere," he warned. She wanted to refute that claim, but knew he was right. They were being closely watched; of that she knew wholeheartedly.

"You coming inside for dinner?" he asked.

"Uh...no I think I need some air. I'm going to take a walk," she replied. He sighed.

"Em…" he started to protest, but she forced a smile.

"I'm fine...save me some?" she asked. He rolled his eyes and then nodded.

~*~

After a nice, quiet family dinner together, they cleaned up the kitchen and then sat curled together on the couch, watching the kids play a board game at the table nearby.

"I never thought I'd have this again…" Margaret gushed, as she cuddled against him and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I can't imagine what you've been through. If I had lost you...for five years, I think I would have lost my mind," he admitted. Her eyes sparkled like emeralds, as she gazed into his eyes and then kissed him tenderly. He kissed her back and felt the familiar passion that was always so strong between them lick at his every nerve.

"Hey Mom...do you still have my dinosaur Lego set?" Henry asked curiously.

"Sure sweetie...I think we packed most of that stuff away in the closet," Margaret answered.

"You kept it all? And Dad's stuff too?" he asked. She looked down a little shyly.

"Well...some people said I should pack it away or give it to Goodwill, but Ollie said we shouldn't. She said that you and daddy were out there somewhere and even though I had my doubts...I wanted so badly to believe her," she said, as she stood up and hugged him.

"Some people said it was unhealthy, but I left your room exactly like it was. Most of the toys are just packed away," she said, as he took her hand and pulled her toward the stairs.

"Can we get them out?" he asked. She chuckled.

"Of course we can," she replied, as she was happy to let him practically drag her up the stairs. David looked on happily, as he saw his daughter putting the game away.

"So...Mom says you're still playing soccer," he mentioned. She nodded and shrugged.

"Yeah...I have a game tomorrow," she replied.

"I'd love to come if that's okay with you," he said. She smiled.

"I know I'm kind of attracting a lot of attention right now so I'll stay away if that makes it weird for you…" he stammered, but she came over to him.

"Screw 'em dad…" she said and he looked surprised, but then probably shouldn't have. She was a teenager now and he chuckled.

"Okay...then I'll be there," he said, as they shared a hug.

"Thanks for never giving up on us, peanut," he whispered to her. She sniffed and snuggled deeper into his embrace.

"They said I was crazy and they pushed mom into sending me to therapy," she confessed.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you," he said.

"It's okay...therapy helped a lot and I stopped telling people that I thought Henry was alive after a while. I moved on...sort of I guess," she replied.

"Good...I'd want you to be happy if we really were gone," he told her. She nodded.

"Mom didn't move on though...people even got pretty pushy about it. I heard them say it wasn't normal," she confessed. He sighed.

"Well...your Mom and I have never really been normal. People have always had a hard time understanding our bond. It was always us against the world and looks like it still is...all of us though. We'll figure all this out together," he promised, as he kissed her hair.

What he said was true and it had really always been that way.

When Ruth died, David was only twelve and stepped up when his father didn't. Margaret had seriously been his rock and the bond they already shared deepened even more in a way that just didn't happen too often. They didn't often discuss the mystical feel it had, because most kids already thought they were weird, but they had always drawn strength from that bond and it had developed into a deep, all encompassing love that was very true and beyond incredible.

Even when life threatened to get in their way, they had refused to allow it and always joined hands to walk through it together. They adopted Ruth's mantra and favorite Bible verse into their lives and had never let go of it.

All Things Work Together For Good

They had done this when facing all adversity. They had done so on the playground and both had gotten into enough dust ups protecting and defending each other against mean kids or bullies.

They had done so when Eva died and then Ruth died just two years later. At both funerals, others around their families had tried to pull them apart or even expressed to their remaining parents that their closeness was inappropriate for their age. Leopold was never around to be concerned enough about Margaret, until she was older and by then she had told her absentee father where he could go. And neither Ruth or Robert, to his credit, had never been shy about defending them either. They considered Margaret as their own and even through all his struggles, that had never changed for Robert.

They had faced and navigated High School much the same way. Again, they were the weird kids, though they had a decent sized group of friends and other misfits they congregated with. Even among the misfits they stood out as an oddity and teachers viewed their closeness as inappropriate and frowned upon it. But even with all of that working against them and society constantly trying to conform them to its parameters, they defied everything that should have and would have torn most apart.

By college, Robert was in rehab and getting sober, while they found a freedom in college. They were no longer looked at as being weird for their close, loving relationship. They excelled in their classes, as they went to get their teaching degrees together. All the bad and uninspiring teachers they had drove them into that profession. They wanted to help kids navigate the difficulties in life. They had each other, but knew a lot of kids weren't as lucky as they were.

It came as no surprise to anyone that they were ready to get married during their second year and Robert, likely in his guilt and overcompensation, had thrown them a giant wedding. He stated that he knew that this would be their only marriage and that it should be celebrated as the true, real life fairy tale that it was. They appreciated his enthusiasm and let him do this for them, in honor of Ruth, because they all knew she would have relished the day they got married and knew she was there in spirit.

Their paths in the education profession diverted in a bit. Margaret always knew that she wanted to focus on early education and knew she'd likely go on to teach at the elementary level. David, being extremely gifted in mathematics, stayed in school an extra year to get his Master's degree. Upon graduating, he started in teaching advanced math at the high school level, but eventually became an associate professor at the University level.

The twins had come along five years later, much to their incredible joy and even through all the years and Henry's cancer, their love had weathered every storm and they had come out the other side loving each other even more. And he knew it would overcome this too.

"Come on...let's go see how many toys your brother has managed to find already," he said. They shared a smile and went upstairs.

~*~

Emma wandered the streets, not really paying attention to where she was going and as she rounded another corner, she heard the voice again. But it was saying something different this time.

"Set them free…"

She stopped and saw two dogs locked behind a fence and heard the voice again. By now, she was really freaked out and so ignored the voice's command this time, before hurrying back home.

~*~

She was in heaven. Pure, sweet heaven, as he made love to her again. She couldn't get enough, not that she had ever been able to. But five years was far too long to

suffer through without his touch. She had thought this was lost to her. She thought she'd never feel him kiss her again. She thought she'd never feel his hands on her body again. She thought she'd never feel him inside her again.

After, they held each other and cuddled, exchanging soft kisses and soulful gazes.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, as he caressed her face.

"Mmm...that five years is too long. A day is too long for me…" she gushed, as she pressed a kiss to his bare chest.

"I'm never leaving your side again...I promise, for more than a few hours anyway," he promised.

"Then you're going to put your resume out there?" she asked curiously. He nodded.

"I need a job...I mean, we'll be okay for a while I think. We still have some of Mom's money left, right?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yes...the life insurance I got for you is mostly gone, but I paid off the house when I was finally able to pull myself together," she replied. He caressed her face.

"You're amazing...I don't know how you did it," he mentioned.

"I didn't for a while...I was a mess. Your father really came through. He lost his kids and didn't touch a drop. He pretty much took care of Olive, the house, me, the bills around here for like six months and never complained. I couldn't have done it without him," she admitted. He smiled.

"Yeah...dad I need to talk and I need to thank him for taking care of the most precious things to me," he said tearfully. She leaned in and kissed him again, but he pulled away suddenly when he heard a voice.

"David…?" she asked, as she saw him put a hand to his temple.

"Baby...what is it?" she questioned, as he heard it again.

"Set them free…" the voice, his own voice, insisted.

"It's crazy…" he said, not sure how to tell her.

"The plane you were on disappeared for five and half years and then came back. Obviously there is something bigger going on here and if embracing it is my price for getting you back...then I'm all in," she promised. He looked at her and nearly broke down in tears. God she was amazing and he was so lucky. Not many other people would react that way.

"Okay...earlier Emma said that she heard a voice on the bus. It told her to slow down and it was so insistent that she yelled at the bus driver. Before he could give her hell for making him slam on the brakes...a little kid ran out in front of the bus," he explained. She gasped.

"She saved the little boy?" she asked. He nodded.

"I told her to keep it to herself, except you. You know if the government thinks passengers are hearing voices that they'll lock us up in some lab," he replied. She nodded.

"And you just heard something?" she asked. He nodded.

"It said...set them free," he replied and he watched her get up and start putting her clothes on.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"It said set them free so let's go find them," she replied and he looked at her incredulously.

"David...whatever this is…" she said, pausing for a moment.

"It brought you and Henry back to me and if the price of that is doing something for it in return? Then I told you that I'm in. I may not be hearing the voices too, but we're doing this together," she replied and he couldn't help but grin brightly at her.

"Most wives would look at their husbands and tell them they're crazy after what I just told you," he said.

"I'm not most wives and you're not most husbands," she replied, as he started getting dressed.

"We've never been normal, baby...and this is just par for the course," she added, as he kissed her soundly.

"We were holding hands on the playground at eight. You were picking flowers for me at ten and all the rest of my life after that," she added.

"Snowdrops…" he said fondly.

"Only snowdrops," she agreed.

"We had our first kiss at twelve after your Mom died and endured no less than fifteen lectures about how we were too young and we didn't understand love, but that was, crap, as Emma would say," she said passionately.

"Definitely...I knew I was in love with you then," he said.

"We made love for the first time when we were sixteen and endured the glare of every teacher in High School for our closeness that no one else could understand," she replied, as she slipped her arms around his neck.

"I've always felt you in my soul...and that never left me, even when you were gone," she said, as her voice choked a bit. He kissed her tenderly.

"You remember when the study hall teacher caught us making out in the janitor's closet?" he joked. She laughed.

"Which time? And it was worth the detention," she teased, as they melted into each other again, until he heard the voice.

"You heard it again…" she said and he wasn't surprised that she could still read him like a book.

"Yeah...it's not going away," he lamented.

"Come on...Olive will be fine here with Henry for a bit," she insisted, as she led him out. Yes...he was certainly the luckiest man on the planet, he was positive of that.

~*~

Not long after she had left the scene with those dogs, the voice returned to plague her. She gave up on sleep, got dressed, and took a bus back to the fence where the dogs were locked up.

"Set them free," the voice told her. She groaned and put her hands on her head. She jumped though, as there were suddenly headlights on her. She squinted, as the car stopped and the doors opened. She was surprised and relieved to find her brother and sister-in-law there.

"Guys...what are you doing?" she asked.

"Set them free," David said, with a note of frustration in his voice.

"I told him that we had to find what this voice is trying to tell you to do," Margaret said. She looked at her in surprise and he shrugged.

"I know...her first reaction to me hearing voices in my head is that we should follow the voices and not that I might be crazy," he joked.

"You are not crazy...and neither are you, Emma. But this...it means something. I'm not hearing anything...but I feel it," she explained.

"You both came back to me...and there is something out there that had to help you do that. All things work together for good," she added. Emma and David exchanged a glance.

"You're a lucky bastard, you know that, right?" Emma asked. He grinned and looked at his wife fondly, before hugging her close to his side.

"Trust me...I know," he agreed. Margaret looked at him with a dreamy stare and then at Emma, before hugging the blonde.

"This has to be so hard…" she fretted and Emma shrugged.

"Killian and I...we're not you guys and I don't think we were ever going to be," she replied.

"That just means that your true love is still out there for you," Margaret promised.

"Yeah...let's not talk about that now," Emma deflected, as her brother heard the voice again.

"Set them free," Emma said. He nodded with uncertainty and got a crowbar out of the car.

"For the record...this is a felony," he said wearily, as they broke the lock. The dogs, instead of attacking, ran off down the street. Curiously though, the voice stopped.

"What the hell was the point of that?" David wondered.

"Dunno...but the voice stopped," Emma replied.

"Then I suggest we go home for now," Margaret said. Emma raised an eyebrow.

"For now?" she asked.

"I think we all know that whatever this is...it's not over," Margaret reasoned. They agreed and got back into the car, as David drove them home.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Emma Swan #Regina Mills #Henry #Mr. Gold #Manifest #with a Once twist #AU #romance #adventure #family #lightning in a bottle

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thewildwaffle · 5 years

Text

Abduction - Chapter 21

A week later than I’d hoped, but I added a lot more to it that I thought I would. I’m getting to the point in this story, where I know what needs to happen, but it’s the details of how to do it and have it make sense with what I’ve already written and how the characters are is what’s getting me.

Good thing this is a first draft, I guess! And as such, I always appreciate your thoughts, comments, critiques, suggestions, or whatever!

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

It was all a dang mess, that’s what it was!

A dang mess and Wenona didn’t like it one bit.

A camera got too close to her face. Without even looking at it, she grabbed the lens and shoved it back, sending the small blue alien carrying it stumbling several feet. It struggled to not drop the camera while trying to regain balance. In doing so, it nearly ran into Drin.

The scientist shot Wenona an unamused look as he grabbed the flailing camera operator by the shoulder. The second the smaller alien had steadied itself, Drin released his grip and continued looking over his notes.

“The whole point of having the cameras around is to endear you to the rest of the empire,” Drin muttered.

“Endear this,” she held up her middle finger at him. The camera zoomed in on the gesture.

Drin looked up and tilted his head unemotionally. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Well, it’s a super high honor. You’re welcome.”

“I’m sure.” Drin’s face could have been a statue. A very bored statue. He went back to work reading over the results of the latest test Wenona had just undergone. He didn’t say anything else, just hummed a bit when he read something of interest.

Wenona sat back on one of Drin’s lower workbenches. Eventually, the camera operator stopped recording and excused themselves. Apparently, she wasn’t interesting enough. Good.

She looked around the lab. It had been reorganized since the first time she and Mike had visited. Wenona figured it must be more spill-proof. She kept her eyes trained for maps or anything that might be remotely helpful in figuring out the layout of the ship. She would sometimes catch glimpses of room lists Drin had things stored in. At first, she didn't understand the language they were written in. The translator she'd been fitted with on the Gladius worked on spoken word, not so much with writing. With some observation and watching, she'd noticed a pattern with the numbers at least. The number system seemed to be base six, starting over at each seventh number in the count. Okay, good to know, it was weird, but it was helpful to know.

She'd also spend her time in the lab with Drin (when he wasn't busy running tests on her or whatever) swiping any small tools she thought would be useful. So far, she'd managed to smuggle two weird screwdrivers and a short wrench that had a flashlight in the handle.

“How much longer is it going to take you to finish up with those readouts Drin?” She was still mad at him from their first meeting. How long ago was that? Oh yeah, too long. But hopefully, she, Mike, and Jeb wouldn’t be here much longer.

The scientist hummed and put the datapad down on the counter, “I think I’ve actually been done for a while. I’ve just been reviewing. I think I might have figured out why you heal so fast.” “Oh really, do tell,” Wenona rolled her eyes. She’d already had this conversation with medics Gerben and Demfar back on the Gladius. Drin didn’t catch the sarcasm in her voice, and so launched into how her blood cells were able to carry insanely large amount of oxygen and nutrients in comparison to most other species in the galaxy.

It was probably one of the most avid lectures on biology she’d ever heard. Honestly, if Drin had been the teacher instead of Professor What’s-his-bucket from the general sciences class she’d had to take at school, she probably wouldn’t have fallen asleep as much. He went on and on even as he started clearing up his work area. He gathered up tools and began either placing them in their proper places or dropped them into a bin where they could be washed and sterilized. One tool in particular caught her attention - a small blade, basically an over-sized exact-o knife.

That could be helpful. She needed to swipe it.

She stood up as Drin walked by, still going on about fibrin platelets and white blood cell counts. She reached out to the bin, “I can help. Let me take that for you.”

Drin paused and blinked at her.

“I just want to help,” she added on as she took a hold on the bin, “I know you’re busy, so I can carry those for you. Where do they need to go?”

She knew it would work. She saw it in his eyes at ‘you’re busy.’

He handed over the bin, "You can put most of this down the chute in the wall over there. Anything with metal, you can just leave in the bin and put by the sink." He turned back to his workstation to finish cleaning up.

Wenona walked carefully towards the chute he had gestured to. She looked back over her shoulder to make sure Drin wasn’t looking. She set the bin on the counter and started grabbing tools one by one to drop in the chute. After about three tools, she slipped the blade into her sash. Two more tools down the chute. The rest had metal.

“If you’re still up to help,” Drin called out, “I could use some assistance over here.”

Wenona sighed and put the bin down. “What?”

Without another word, Drin pushed a large box over to her. “Once you get that open, there are two more that are still sealed over by the door.”

She pried at where it looked like the lid was supposed to open. The dang thing stayed stubbornly tight. She clawed, pushed, pulled, everything. Finally, it started giving way and she was able to pull it off.

“Don’t you have a tool or whatever to open these things?” She massaged her fingers.

“I had two,” Drin looked up from across the lab where he was still organizing datapads and tools, “But it seems that my good one was broken when some humans decided to trash my lab half a partec ago, and the other one was later found being used as a chew toy for the same humans’ four-legged companion.”

A few snarky retorts came to Wenona’s mind, but she didn’t feel like voicing them. The sooner she got done with helping Drin, the sooner she could get out of here and stash the stolen blade. She went to the door and started working on another box.

It was quiet. The only sounds were of Drin reorganizing and placing his things on shelves and in drawers, and Wenona’s occasional grunt or growl of frustration at the stupid box that seemed to actively fight being unsealed. With a satisfying snap and a hiss, it opened. Wenona gave a smug, “Ha,” and kicked the base of it for having been such a bugger. It was heavy and sounded very full. Full of what, she couldn’t really see. She turned and started on the last container.

“Wenona, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Drin came around the table. “Are you alright?”

She stopped pulling at the lid to turn around and gaped at him. “Am I alright?”

“Yes, that is what I asked. Your behavior seems odd today.”

She frowned and started working at the lid again. “Hmm, well I was abducted by aliens a few times and am now helping a giant goat-man open supply boxes in his science lab. I have no idea how anything about my behavior could be odd.”

“Well, I might say that you seem quieter today lately, but you're always much quieter than Mike. Is there a reason?”

“Hmm, maybe because Mike and I are two completely different people?” She’d gotten a good hold on the box now. She could feel the lid starting to give. She was getting the hang of this now.

“I realize that. That's not what I meant,” Drin stepped closer and reached out as if to help her pull, but before he could, Wenona had it off.

“It's really none of your business.” Wenona handed the box’s lid to Drin, who took it with a frown.

“As head scientist, it is literally my business.”

“Is there anything else you need help with, or can I go? I want a nap.”

Drin stared at her cooly. “You’re tired.” He didn’t say it like he was asking a question. Drin reached into the first now-opened box and pulled out a small package. Wenona’s frown deepened. “I know you haven’t been sleeping well. You want to tell me why,” Drin continued.

If looks could kill, Drin probably wouldn’t be dead, but he’d most likely take a few partecs to recover from his injuries.

“How?”

“Speak up, I can’t hear you very well when you growl like that.”

“How the freak would you know? What, did you set up cameras to watch us while we sleep?”

“Naturally.”

‘If looks could kill’ could be damned, Wenona was about to kill him right here and now. In her anger, she struggled to find words. Drin cut in before she could say anything. “You and Mike have been granted quite a lot of freedoms and comforts, but we are still very aware of how volatile you humans can be. Until we’re sure of your abilities and allegiances, you will continue to be monitored for security as well as scientific purposes.”

“You’re watching us when we sleep?!” Wenona finally spit out.

“Yes. For science, as well as for your health. And it’s a good thing too. I fear your poor sleep may be adversely affecting you.” He opened the package and pulled out a thin black band. “I’m trying to help you, not hurt you. But in order to help, we need to better understand you. Until we establish better contact and an alliance with your planet, your health relies on our understanding of your bodies.” He held out the band. “Put this on around your wrist.”

If Wenona had been any closer, she would have smacked it out of his hands and onto the floor. It looked like a tiny fitbit or whatever. It probably was and she wanted nothing to do with it.

“Wenona,” he was losing patience now, “this is going on your wrist. You can either put it on yourself, or I can call the guards in from the hall and have them help you.”

He ended up having to call in the guards.

There were a lot of angry glares on the way back to the holding cell. From the first yellow, bird-like guard through a swollen eye. From the second, bigger guard with tree-bark skin as she held her arm and tried to sign commands silently to the rest of the guards. And from Wenona, at the guards, and at the small health tracker Drin had forced and locked on her wrist.

She wondered if her new knife could help her get it off.

It was so loud. The alarm was going off and it was so loud! The corridors were dim, but his eyes had long ago adjusted to the dark. He could see as he ran. He could see the shadows. They were everywhere. They laughed and growled at him from the walls. A few swiped at him as he ran by. They tore through his shirt and Mike yelled out. In fear. In pain.

Everything felt weird. He was running but he wasn't getting anywhere, or he was, but every time he turned a corner or ran through a doorway, he felt like he was where he started. It was so disorienting! Frustrated, he turned around and started back the other way. After limping around a corner, he was suddenly in a dim empty room. It felt familiar, but he didn't sell much on it. The shadows were gone. What a relief!

"Should be easier to find the bridge without being chased, right Wen?"

But there was no answer. He turned around. Where was Wenona? She was right behind him, right? She had been right behind him when they broke out of the cage the Montauk had thrown them in. Maybe she'd gotten separated since then, it had been a long time ago after all.

Wait. No, that had literally just happened. They were on the Montauk ship, trying to escape.

Just then, the room changed. It wasn’t as dark. It didn’t even look like a room on a ship anymore. He wasn’t sure where it was, but it was quiet. And empty.

“Wen?” Mike called out. His voice didn’t even echo, it just went out into nothing and never came back. “Hello?” Maybe he could go back the way he came in, but as he turned, the doorway was gone. “Hello? Please, is anyone here?” He started to feel pressure as worry started to claw at his chest. He was alone. He was alone- and granted that meant the shadows he’d been running from were gone too, but he had this nagging feeling that they were just merely out of sight. He needed to keep running, but he didn’t know where to go now. Where was Wenona? Where was Jeb? Simmo? Anyone? Had he lost them, or had they lost him? Why was he alone?!

“This doesn’t make sense,” he muttered to himself as he turned himself around, looking for a way out. A sickening sense of deja vu and dread seeped through him, but he didn’t know why. His fight or flight senses were screaming at him, but there wasn’t anything to fight or flee from, or at least, none that he could see. It was so confusing. What was going on?

Then it hit him.

“This is a dream. This has got to be a dream,” he whispered. He took a breath and shut his eyes tightly. “This is just a dream,” he shouted to the seemingly empty room. Suddenly, it wasn’t empty anymore. He was surrounded by the shadow creatures again, pressing in at him. He could start to make out some of their shapes. Montauk, humans, Burnti guards, broken shapes of figures that had pieces missing or were seriously wounded- Sefra, Booka, more Montauk, shapes he somewhat recognized.

He tried not to panic. “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream.” “Mike!”

A voice! Someone was here! He knew that voice! He looked around, but still, all he could see were the shadows surrounding him. No! He had to get away, he had to find the source of the voice. Couldn’t he just imagine these things away? It was just a dream, why wouldn’t they just go away?

He pushed away a shadow as it got closer, but it was replaced by two more. They were all creeping closer until he was completely surrounded, drowning in them. He felt claws grabbing his shoulders. He tried fighting his way out.

“What the frewan? Mike what is this? Wake up!”

He was being shaken now. But it felt real. Wait, could dreams feel this real?

He opened his eyes. The shadows were gone. Instead, he was looking up into the face of a very perturbed Montauk.

“Wh… What? Simmo?” Mike blinked a few times to make sure his eyes weren’t just making stuff up. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, you mind telling me what all… that was?” She made a circular gesture at him. “You nearly hit me a few times. I’ve had my fill of one-on-one combat with humans, thank you very much. Even if they are sleeping.”

Mike shook his head to try to clear it. What the heck was she doing here? How did she get in the holding cell? “Uh, just, just a nightmare. I’m fine.” Simmo frowned at him. “Really, it’s fine. It happens… uh, a lot. I’m fine.”

“All that. That was a dream? You were moving like you were awake.”

“Yeah, that happens sometimes. Not a lot though, it’s not supposed to happen really, but sometimes when it gets really bad, or when I’m close to waking up.”

He sat up and looked around the room. The two-way mirror that made up most of the opposite wall was dark. He could see his reflection sitting in the messed up blankets he must have thrown around again in his dream. He could see the reflection of the back of Simmo crouched next to him. He could see the door Simmo must have entered. It was still half-open. He could not see the silhouettes of the guards on the other side of the glass, however. Where were they? Did they know Simmo was in here? If so, was she working for them now? He rubbed his face, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Nothing made sense anymore and his brain was still too tired to think.

“Whatever. Humans are weird. I don’t have all cycle, get up. Time to go,” Simmo stood up and shifted her weight nervously by the bedding.

“What? Go where? What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to answer that now, or do you want to get out of here first?”

Mike disentangled himself from the blankets and started getting to his feet. “Is a little bit of both an option?” He grabbed a clean shirt and shoved his feet in his boots that he had tossed by the door. “Where have you been all this time? What have you been doing? How did you get in here? Where are we-” “By all things bright and shining, please stop talking or I swear to gadring that I will leave you here,” Simmo hissed. She crept to the door and pushed it completely open, stopping briefly to look back at Mike.

He stood up slowly, unsure if he really wanted to follow. What if there were more guards out there and they got caught? How would that mess with the plan he and Wenona were trying to set in motion? He stepped toward the impatient Montauk. This was a chance to go out of the holding cell without guard supervision. And if anything went south, he could blame that Simmo had tried kidnapping him. He was in pretty good standing with the Burnti after the interview.

Anyway, it was worth a risk. He stuffed a few pillows under the top-most blanket just for safe measures and followed Simmo out of the room.

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#abduction #humans are weird #mike #wenona #simmo #space #aliens #humans are space orcs #writeblr #original writing #scifi

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

Text

Through His Eyes - Part 6

Summary: Losing your sight after your accident was traumatic, and Jaebum’s guilt of knowing it should have been him instead creates an intricate bond between you both, as you overcome adversity and try to find your way in life again.

Genre: angst / romance

Characters: Im Jaebum x female reader

A/N: This story is emotional and raw compared to some of the content on my blog. It is in no way an attempt to glamourise or undervalue the lives of those who suffer from something similar. This story is purely fictional.

Through His Eyes will be posted every Tuesday at 10am NZST.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 [M] | 13 - FINAL

“Okay, so we just need to head this way now, Y/N.”

You whipped your head towards the voice and gripped tighter on her arm, unsure if you were hurting her or not. The sounds around you were overwhelming and you tried to compose yourself internally, worrying if you were attracting any attention with your behaviour.

It was your first day back at university and a mixture of nerves and excitement had already sent you into overdrive before your minder, Yoona, had picked you up. You were slightly dejected with having to be led around a campus you had known like the back of your hand for the past two years, but now that you were in the bustling environment, you couldn’t have been more thankful for Yoona’s aid.

“Relax Y/N, you’ll be fine. After all, English Literature is something you did a lot of during high school so your application said. I can’t see how hard it will be for you to keep up with this class.”

“I feel ridiculous though, having to start a new degree when I was already halfway through…”

“Through?” Yoona asked as your throat closed up, your mind imagining the painting studio you had spent the majority of your campus life in previously. A strong smell of clay triggered within your brain and you faltered in your step. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Huh?” Shaking your head clear of your previous Art and Design degree, you tried to smile. “Oh, completely. So we’re near the lecture building now?”

“Almost. I thought we’d have to turn back for home just then.”

“What, why?”

“This seems to all be too much for you. Are you sure-”

“Positive, I need to get on with my life. This will be perfectly fine, come on.”

Three hours later, and you had managed to last through the introduction class for one of my literature courses, and Yoona had taken you to the enrolments centre to get your disability information and access card. Now you were sitting at a table waiting for your friends to arrive, hoping for some normalcy to ease your heightened state. Whilst a small part of your brain was congratulating you for getting around campus somewhat successfully so far, you were slowly beginning to feel despair. You couldn’t even take two steps alone by yourself, the world never having felt this big until now.

It was scary being blind in a place you once knew so well.

“Y/N! I honestly didn’t expect you back so soon!”

“Neither, I honestly thought it was a joke when Clare told us.”

You smiled towards the voices of my friends Jinah and Lian. “Why would that be a joke?”

“I guess it’s not easy for you to be here right? I mean, it must be pretty scary.”

You nodded. “Well starting a new degree is a bit nerve-wracking.”

“I meant-”

You heard them both move across from you awkwardly. “Li, drop it. We’re not here to discuss that aspect to Y/N, right?”

“You don’t have to avoid the fact that I’m blind,” you stated, feeling dejected by their wording. You hoped it was because they were as nervous as you were, and tried to relax. There was no immediate reaction though, and you reached out over the table, tapping your fingers until you knocked into your drink. Both girls gasped as the water seeped over the edge and into your lap.

“Y/N, that was so silly of you! Why would you do that?”

“You both went quiet; I was trying to see if you were still there.” You remained calm, it wasn’t the first time you had spilt something over yourself.

“Of course, we’re having lunch together. Well, we should be but you’re really wet now. Aren’t you embarrassed? Where’s your minder?”

“Jinah’s right, you shouldn’t be alone like this. God, what a mess.”

The pair continued with their exclamations, whilst you remained silent in your chair. You were confused, wondering if they had always been this superficial, or having to look at life in a different way had made you take nothing for granted and let the small stuff not affect you anymore. Despite not understanding the sudden change in the pair, you were beginning to feel more uncomfortable being in their presence the longer they made a big deal about it.

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head slowly. This seemed to cease their constant talking. You sighed and folded your arms across your chest. “Leave.”

“What?”

“It’s obvious that my lack of eyesight is hard for you both to comprehend. Further, I’m not embarrassed by small things like this, it’s a part of my life now. You two have the problem though, so you’re free to leave.”

You heard Lian scoff. “Seriously Y/N, we took time out of our schedule to meet you here today. Clare was right, you’re not the same!”

You didn’t reply, unable to form a sentence that would make you sound as strong as your previous words had been. You listened to the scraping of their chairs, knowing you were alone at the table again. Your body let out a small tremor, the suppressed emotions making it difficult to sit and remain composed. You checked your watch for the time, knowing Yoona had given you an hour before she would come back. You had assured her that your friends would take good care of you, though that clearly had been a poor assumption.

Choking back your sobs from thinking over the word friend, you had never felt this alone in your life. You were known as the adaptable one, the friend who easily meshed into any group or scene, and happily made friends wherever you went. Now, because you had lost your ability to see, things were different. You were frustrated, knowing you still were you on the inside. Further, just because you lost your sight, didn’t mean you had misplaced all the years of memories and friendship with them. You were desperate to view yourself in their eyes, wondering what exactly about you made you seem different. You gripped the table edge then, hoping that Yoona would arrive soon. Admittedly, the wetness of your pants was bothering you, and adding greatly to your discomfort.

You managed to calm down enough to give Yoona a call, hoping she would be able to assist you to go home. Her phone, however, kept switching to the unavailable message, and your mind started to race, wondering what or who could help you. Your Mum came up as the most obvious solution but you shook away the thought, knowing if your first day had gone this rocky, she’d never let you back out the door again. Anxiety began to creep up from the pit of your stomach, and you felt queasy, your immediate need now being to make it to the bathroom.

Trouble was, you had no idea where it was.

You gathered your bag clumsily and reached inside for your guide cane, clicking it out to its full length once you had it out and stood up. You then raised your hand and feebly called out, praying someone would hear you. Thankfully, someone did and helped you over to the bathroom, allowing you to feel your way along the countertop before leaving you to assess your current predicament. You felt your pants and groaned that they were still damp. Cupping your hands under the faucet that you had managed to find, you waited for the sensor to catch your hands, unexpectedly getting sprayed with more water. You cursed, reaching into your pocket for your phone again.

“Why won’t she answer?” you questioned softly and contemplated calling your Mum. It was then that you heard the bathroom door open and footsteps entered. You tried to angle yourself away, feeling ashamed at how you must look to them. There was a small giggle and you lowered your head further.

“Don’t laugh; those taps have sprayed all of us before. She’s blind, she can’t help it.”

You stood there whilst they used the bathroom, and then when they came closer, you tried to smile. “Could you please tell me the name of this café?”

“It’s C4, do you need any help?”

“Thanks, do you think you could help me outside the building?” you continued, trying to battle away your ever-increasing anxiety. The truth was you wanted out. You needed to escape this hellish experience, but you knew you couldn’t do it alone. Despite the initial comments, they both were kind enough to escort you to the exit and after thanking them, you pulled your phone out again. Lowering your head, you rehearsed what you would say to your Mother, your mood darkening at thinking how poorly your first attempt of returning to normalcy had been. I guess I need to accept my goals are too big for who I am right now.

Your phone went off in your hand and you jumped at the sudden vibration, scrambling to make sure you didn’t lose it as you fumbled to push talk. “Help me!”

“Where are you?!” Jaebum asked and you felt so relieved to hear his voice. You could hear that his breathing had increased and yet the sound seemed to relax you further. “Y/N!”

“I’m at university and everything has gone terrible. My minder won’t answer her phone and I’m completely alone outside of a café.”

“What’s the name of the café?”

“C4, it’s near the English department. But I’ll call my Mum-”

“I’m already heading to my car. Don’t move, I’ll be there soon.”

The phone disconnected and you obeyed his instructions, shifting about slowly on your feet as you waited. Holding onto your cane for support, you remained standing still for an immeasurable time, until you smelt a familiar perfume coming closer. You moved towards it somewhat recklessly, hoping that Jaebum would be the only person in the vicinity to wear it. A hand soon slipped into yours and you began to cry with relief.

“I told you to stay still!”

“I knew it was you,” you told him despite your emotions and allowed him to lead you away from the campus, and all the way to his car. You hopped in and relaxed into the chair, listening as he soon sat down beside you. It was then that you panicked over who Jaebum was and gasped noisily. “Oh my god, why did you come here?!”

“You needed me!”

“Jaebum, you’re famous! You’ll get recognised!”

He sighed heavily. “I took measures to make sure I didn’t stand out too much. Regardless, how could I not come for you? Now explain to me in full what happened.”

You did as he asked, and when you finished telling your events, you hung your head dejectedly. “I guess I can’t return to university after all.”

“Why can’t you?” he asked softly reaching for your hand. “You’re too smart to be cooped up, Y/N/N.”

You blinked, realising the way he shortened your name was new. It felt good to hear him relax with how he called you. “Did you just give me a nickname?”

“Isn’t that what friends do? Give nicknames, listen and help, and drop their entire schedule when needed?”

“Jaebum!”

“Why not try giving me a nickname too then?”

“Okay, I choose irresponsible.”

“I choose to ignore that choice.”

“Idiotic.”

The car engine started and Jaebum pulled the car out of its park. “Well, my manager will agree there. But it doesn’t sound good, and it’s definitely not a nickname.”

“Oppa?” You teased and he went silent. “Hey, that was a joke!”

“Oh, so calling Mark that is fine, but not me?”

“Eh, oppa seems so, so-”

“Correct?”

“Fangirl,” you insisted and scrunched up your nose. Jaebum scoffed and you grinned. “I mean, I was, well am, a huge fan of you all, but it seems weird to call you that now.”

“So what will I be to you?”

“Everything,” you blurted out, feeling your cheeks redden deeply at the slip of tongue. Jaebum didn’t respond immediately and then you felt the car spin on itself quickly, disorientating you a little. “What is going on?”

“I need to show you something. It might give you some confidence to take control of who you are.”

You became curious; wondering how today had gone from disaster to complete comfort within such a short space of time. Smiling, you knew it was because Jaebum had become someone who you wanted to do everything with.

He accepted who you were regardless of your eyes.

_________________

[Part 7]

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nyxdelanuit · 5 years

Text

A Dream In Red Ch14

A03

He awoke that morning with a deep warmness in his chest. The softly sleeping girl pressed up against his chest contributed to the warmth, but he felt it more from her presence in his arms than from her slumbering form. He slipped his arms around her slowly, not yet willing to wake her up. Once he was able to tear his eyes from her face- calmer than he had ever seen when she was awake- he took in the splendor surrounding them.

She must be sleeping well. Blooms and butterflies bordered them in an ephemeral fairy ring. She seemed so apprehensive of her quirk, but who could be afraid of something so beautiful? Every time he witnessed a new side to her quirk, a new side to her, he felt himself drifting deeper. She burrowed into his thoughts day and night.

She stirred in his arms. He knew this moment would end. Life inevitably went on. But his mouth worked faster than his mind, and he asked her to stay a bit longer. To his surprise, she did. She nestled into his chest, tracing scars and sending a sweet tingle through his skin. They had shared so much of themselves last night, not with words but actions. Now would be the time for words. Maybe if he said the right things, he could make this work.

Instead, he felt her stiffen in his arms. Of course, she wouldn’t want a confession from him, not now. Whatever happened last night, they were both drunk. It didn’t have to mean anything, but it already meant so much to him. He swallowed his feelings, he didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize what they already had.

He watched her move across the room, not wanting to move from her bed. He didn’t want to leave, everything carried her scent, her warmth. She left to shower, and he let himself get lost in this moment. If this was all he would have from her, he wanted to commit it to memory. He’ll take this moment for himself and then dedicate himself to being the best friend he could be for her.

It was even harder once he stepped into the bathroom. The scent of her shampoo drifting through the air almost made him dizzy. He forced himself through the motions, his mind drifting. He had seen so many things this morning that may have been a clue, that maybe he had a chance. Even if he did, after all of the drama with Inasa, he knew he couldn’t rush it. Just let the pieces fall where they may.

The whole day was littered with small interactions that fueled his hope. He was her favorite support throughout the day, leaning and laying over him with no hesitation. If she was bothered by what had happened last night, she didn’t show it. If anything, her affections came easier the more time they shared.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit victorious. He watched her fawn over the new splash of color in her hair, matching his own. It made him feel a bit possessive as if he had laid a claim on her that everyone could see. Although he couldn’t take credit for it, he thought that Mina may have staged a bit more than she let on.

She stayed later than she should have. He should have made her leave sooner. The darkness outside felt oppressive to him at that moment. He had always liked the night, but what good was it when it meant she had to leave? There was so much more he wanted to experience with her, so much more he wanted to know. How could he when he only got the daytime? So much time remained untouched.

Their goodbye was soft and quiet. His door shut and his dorm room felt so much quieter than he remembered. He was so tired before she had left, but now he laid awake in his bed. He wished he hadn’t washed the scent of her shampoo from his hair.

Maybe he was reading into this too much. She really didn’t do anything more with him than any of their other friends. Sure, he was the one who got her attention most often, but he also had the privilege of having the most time with her. Who knew how that would work out in the future?

If she did choose someone from their group to fall for, why would it be him? He knew he was nice, but what else? If she wanted possessiveness or brashness, or someone to protect her, surely Bakugou was a better choice. He knew she had a good sense of humor, and she could flirt all day if she was in the mood, and he already saw how well she got along with Kaminari. Not to mention he could think of plenty of good Hero Duo names for them. Shockwaves, Blackout, Shock Therapy… And Shinsou. The looks she gave Shinsou at the party. He would kill for her to look at him that way. Once she met the rest of his friends, he stood no chance.

He wasn’t flashy, or funny, or all that strong. The familiar threads of insecurity filled him. He knew he had grown as a hero throughout the years, mostly due to Fatgum and Suneater’s constant support, but that didn’t mean he grew to be a good person or a good boyfriend. None of his previous relationships went very far.

His fears sat heavily on his chest. He felt himself sinking slowly into his fears, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t felt before.

You awoke to your alarm in the early hours of the morning. You had gotten too little sleep, but the train ride to your parent’s home would be decently long. If it wasn’t too busy, maybe you would be able to get a few minutes of precious sleep.

You walked the barely lit streets. Dew clung to the grass and clung to your ankles as you passed. The chill of April air seemed to pass through you, causing you to shiver every now and then. The sun peaked above the horizon as you neared the station. It would be a two-hour train ride and another long walk before you arrived.

The sun was warming the streets. It seemed like the train was running late, and the new warmth pulled a yawn from you. You fought your drowsiness, urging the train to come faster. You wished you were back in your dorm, snug in your blankets and pressed up against the warm chest of your friend. That thought brought you a surge of energy, coloring your face with embarrassment. You really needed to learn how to control yourself.

As you reprimanded yourself, the train pulled noisily into the station. Luckily for you, not many people seemed eager to take the early train, and you quickly found a secluded seat. Once you situated yourself, you pulled on your headphones and let the scenery flashing by lull you into a light sleep.

You awoke a few stations from your stop. The train had filled more while you had slept, but everyone seemed to have the decency to keep clear of your space. With a stretch, you stood to depart. A solemn melancholy filled you as you realized that you would have taken this trip with Inasa. He would have let you sleep, watching over you. He would have walked you to your parent’s home, stopping by to greet your family like they were his own. The two of you may have even had dinner at his parent’s house, and they would have gushed over how much you had grown.

Your feet carried you through the familiar streets as your mind drifted. Inasa would often chastise you for walking through the streets with your head in the clouds, but he wasn’t here to ground you now. Why did he have to do this to you? Both of you? The two of you were supposed to be best friends, basically siblings. It wasn’t fair to you. You pushed through the gate of your parent’s home absentmindedly, only pulling out from your thoughts as a gentle hand smoothed the crease between your brows.

“I can hear you thinking from inside.” Your mother smiled warmly at you, pulling you into a soft hug. Every time you saw her, you felt like a child again. She had that effect on you, grabbing your hand like a toddler and leading you into the house. She had snacks waiting for you, guessing correctly that you’d forget to eat before you left.

She sat across from you as you nibbled at the offered food, grabbing your free hand. Your mother had always taught you to be open with your feelings and to freely give your affection. Words can be misconstrued, but actions showed intent. Not to mention she could very easily just pry into your thoughts if you didn’t.

“So what’s got your attention this time?” She smoothed a thumb over your knuckles. You sighed, not wanting to have a full-blown therapy session with your mother, but this was in her blood. She didn’t know how to leave it alone.

You sat with your mother into the early afternoon. Once you started talking about Inasa, she pulled you to the living room. You leaned into her loving embrace as you told her all you had experienced in the last week. You left out the party on Friday, still wanting to keep something of a private life from your mother. Even without the party, she still sensed your confusion and budding feelings for your friend.

“Would it be so bad to take a chance?” Your mother said simply, smoothing down your hair. “It seems like you and this Kirishima may be extraordinarily compatible. You are able to communicate openly and candidly, and when faced with adverse situations, you have been able to work through it quickly and completely.” She spoke almost clinically as if human emotion was nothing more than an academic issue to her.

“I just told Inasa I wasn’t ready for a relationship. Wouldn’t that make me a hypocrite?” You sighed another problem that seemed to have roots in Inasa. “And besides, as my mom, I thought you might want me to get to know this guy a little bit more?” Your mom shrugged with a laugh.

“I’m not saying go elope. A date or two wouldn’t hurt you. And as far as Inasa goes, tell him the truth. Just because you aren’t interested in him does not mean that you are unable to have feelings for others.” Her face fell as she spoke, “I do wish the two of you would make up, though. Inasa was your only friend for so long. While time may not excuse everything, it is worth something that he’s been around so long.” You nodded against her shoulder.

Your father walked in later that day, tired from a long day at work. Although you could see the exhaustion weighing on him, his face still lit up when he saw you. “Hey kitten, how’s my college girl?” He wrapped you up in his sweaty arms and placed a kiss on your forehead. You had talked with your mother about the early days of their relationship, and you couldn’t comprehend that this man was the same ‘emotionally stunted man-child’ your mom told you about.

Your mom had set up a hot pot for the three of you. They knew it would be harder for you to visit the further you got into the semester, so they made the most of the time you had today. You sat cozily between your parents after dinner, barely paying attention to the news on TV. Your dad talked about all the new projects he was working on, even a new Hero Agency on the other side of town.

The sun had begun to set much too early for your liking. You all knew that you had to leave soon, but you couldn’t help but wish for a few more hours. There was nothing as comforting as being in your childhood home.

Your dad walked you back to the station, arm in arm. “I’m proud of you, kitten. Your mother is too. Don’t ever forget that. I may be able to make skyscrapers with the blink of an eye, but you will always be my greatest work.” You teared up a bit at that, you would never get used to your dad’s praise. With a final hug, you boarded the train. You watched as your father grew smaller, and the setting sun swallowed his silhouette.

You rode the train for an hour or so, watching the colors of the sky bleed out onto the landscape. “Y/N?” A welcoming voice called out to you, causing you to turn with a grin. Kaminari stood next to you, a big smile stretched across his face.

You pulled him into your seat and into a hug. “What are you doing here ‘Minari?” You were so happy to have company on this long ride.

“Well..” A flush overtook his face, “Shinsou had to go back yesterday… so I went with for a while. We just noticed how late it was so I caught this train back. What are you doing here?” He seemed eager to switch the subject, and you wondered if Mina and Sero weren’t the only ones to cement a relationship this weekend.

“I was just visiting my folks. I haven’t been this far from my home for a while.” You felt a bit bashful about how close you were to your parents. A lot of your classmates didn’t have the same privilege as you did or didn’t understand why you would want to be close to your family.

You and Kaminari spent the remainder of the ride chatting and playing games on your phones together. It was nice to have a companion, and you wondered if any of your friends would join you the next time you went.

Kaminari insisted on walking you back to the dorms. “Kirishima would kill me if he knew I let you walk home after dark. ‘It’s not manly!’” You laughed at his impression but shot him a confused look.

“You wound me! So it’s only Kirishima that wants to make sure I’m safe?” You nudged his shoulder, laughing at the way he scrambled to take back what he said. It sat in your head still, out of all the people, why did he say Kirishima?

Kaminari left you at the doors to the dorm with a quick hug. He was eager to make his own way home after his long weekend. The dorms were eerily quiet as you snuck in, which wasn’t much of a surprise for this time on a Sunday. You felt fatigue set in as you clambered to your room, unlocking the door with a little difficulty.

You collapsed into your pillows, catching a faint scent of Kirishima’s shampoo on the pillowcase. You brought the pillow to your face, allowing yourself a moment of weakness. This weekend had brought a lot of things for you to think about. Those would have to wait for another time though, you had classes in the morning that would need your undivided attention.

#Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #bakusquad #bnha #mha #nyx writes #adir

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