#but we trudge on because Henri is fucking locked

[insidethebarrier]

The Sweetest Man Ever

In through the nose, out through the mouth.  Whitney thinks to herself as she curls into a ball next to her sleeping husband. This has got to help

Unfortunately, fetal position is no match for excruciating cramps that are invading her lower abdomen. God, I hate this shit. 

Reluctantly, she throws the sheets off of her and gets out of bed to fetch a glass of water. Her pain is so intense that she begins to feel nauseous. She hunches over in the kitchen and barely makes it to the couch with her water. 

She hugs her legs to her chest and begins silently sobbing into her knees. Being a woman fucking sucks. Eventually she lays her head on the cushions.

To her surprise, a giant figure emerges from the darkness after some time. 

"Darling?" Her husband calls out in a raspy voice. "What are you doing?"

Whitney sits up when she sees him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

When Henry gets close enough, he notices that his wife had been crying. "What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep. My cramps are so bad and I've already maxed out on medication for the day," she explains. 

"Oh sweetheart," Henry sits down beside her and rubs her back. "I'm sorry." I hate seeing her like this. I wish I could take her pain away. 

"You don't have to stay up with me baby. I'll come back in a bit." Whitney says. 

Henry kisses the top of her head. "I don't sleep well without you. I'll sleep where you sleep."

Whitney rests her head on his shoulder. He is an angel.  "I love you,"

Henry positions himself upright on the short end of the sectional. Whitney crawls to him and rests her head on his lap. He begins fondling her hair immediately. 

"Why don't you get back on birth control?" Henry asked after a few minutes "It would help regulate things more and decrease your discomfort."

Whitney rubs his thigh. "I can't honey. You know that."

"I just hate seeing you like this, especially when there is something to fix it." He explains running his fingers through her dark locks. 

"I'm having enough trouble getting pregnant as it is. We won't ever have a baby if I go back on it."

Henry is silent for a minute. He curls a piece of her hair around his finger. "You don't know that."

"I do. Johnse women have a hard time conceiving." Whitney begins playing with a loose thread in Henry's pajama pants.

"Your mother didn't. She had 5 kids." 

"My mother isn't a Johnse, baby. My grandmother barely had my dad and my sister is sterile," Whitney turns her face towards him. 

Henry hopes Whitney can't see his glassy eyes in the poorly lit room. "You're right darling. It was a stupid idea. I'm sorry."  How could I have been so insensitive?

The next morning, Whitney wakes up alone in her bed. Henry must have carried me up here last night. She gets out of bed, walks to the bathroom and is instantly reminded of the tremendous pain she was in last night. 

She reaches under the counter in search of a tampon and she picks up the bottle of Mitol to learn that it was empty. You've got to be fucking kidding me. 

She turns and heads to the medicine cabinet looking for Alieve to use as a substitute, but it looks like Henry took the last of it a few days ago. 

This enrages Whitney. Not because Henry took the last of the pills, but because she had to run to the store unmedicated to buy more. She angrily gets dressed and throws a ball cap on her head instead of brushing her hair then trudges down the stairs. 

Just as she reaches the bottom of the staircase, Henry opens the front door and comes in with a bunch of stuff in his hands. 

"Good morning," Henry says when he notices her. "I was hoping to set all this up before you woke up."

"Set what up?" Whitney asks curiously. It was then that she noticed what her husband was carrying.

Henry sets down everything he was holding and shows it to her one by one. 

"I got you flowers," He says handing them to her "Wild ones, your favorite. And chocolate, to make you feel better. And drum roll please," Henry pulls out 2 pints of frozen deliciousness. "Ice cream. Strawberry and  chocolate,"

Whitney smiles as she smells the flowers. They remind her of her childhood.

"I noticed you were out of your medicine so I bought you more," he pulls out a bottle of Mitol "I also got some Alieve because I finished those off the other day."

Whitney doesn't know what to do with herself. She hugs Henry before he can get another word out. "Thank you," Is all she says.

Henry kisses the top of her head. "I've got one more thing. I know how much you love cold pizza in the morning so," He shows her a box of pizza. She squeals. "It's not cold yet. I haven't had time to put it in the fridge-"

Whitney jumps on top of him and covers him in kisses. "You are the sweetest man in the world. I think I just might have to keep you forever."

"I might just like that," Henry says softly.

[claybefree]

Seeing as it's the twentieth anniversary, I guess I should post this again

September Third, Two Thousand and Nine

For years whenever anyone asked me when my son Henry was born I’d start to say September instead of August 25, 2001. Sunday he had his eighth birthday party at his mother’s house, and I stayed here. Most of his mother’s friends don’t care for me much. The feeling is mutual. Tonight coming home from work I started stitching what I’m about to write together in my mind and suddenly got very afraid. I thought for a moment that I was about to go get drunk, which might very likely be death for somebody like me. I was sure I was going to change direction of the truck, that I’d drive the same route I always did back then, that I would stand by the register and stare at the bottle in my hand without really knowing I where I was. I think it has to do with the weather finally changing and perhaps that Henry’s mom and I are no longer together. I sat on the porch of my little house and called a friend and told him all this. He listened and after a while I felt better, which is exactly how these things should go. When we decided we were done he told me I should go in and write all this down.

I worked on through that whole day. Most everybody else on the job had stopped and listened to each of the radios on the different floors or cried. The asshole Turks I was framing a bathroom for wouldn’t let me quit. They had tile to run. I found it made me feel better to keep going anyway. The laborers cussed me when I asked them to move so that I could use the table saw, a natural gathering spot on any job. They seemed to think I was calloused or hard-hearted and it was because I was from Tennessee. It just now occurred to me that maybe they were right.

That afternoon, when it was determined safe to walk across the bridges, most of the job, the other carpenters and trades-people, wandered home to Brooklyn or Queens. Me and the two left to close everything up had it different as we lived in Jersey. Anthony, the boss, was big and red-haired, red faced and lived in Hoboken. Duane was in charge of demolition and waste, was a little shorter and darker, and lived in Secaucus or maybe somewhere west of that I think. They squared off on each other frequently. It always reminded me of two walruses going at it on a beach.

Whenever we went out to the bar afterwards Anthony would have a Bud tall boy in each hand at all times, the waitress would come up with four for him whenever we sat down. On the job we liked to yell at each other, I once told him I was doing him a favor by giving him such an easy target, and he never missed an occasion to oblige me. Duane was a single dad, dark haired with deep sunken yet kind eyes that always seemed to have bags under them. One of the black laborers told him once he was the most Uncle Fester looking motherfucker he had ever seen. I tended to agree.

We locked the job up at four I think, humped it across the park through the smoke to the A-train. There was smoke forming a mist around the trees of central park that day. There were no flower children loitering at Yoko’s “Imagine” monument to barge through. Our thinking was to get downtown to the Path train. We had no idea that two of the stations had been destroyed. It didn’t matter, we were underground fifteen minutes before Anthony vetoed the idea. People were running wild through the stations, on the trains, everything was panic and Oh Fuck and Anthony had no intention of being underground. He had a funny look on his face that I couldn’t figure out. It wouldn't occur to me until later that the big man was very afraid.

In the years since I have always wondered why people have reacted so strongly from that day. Later we would go to war because of a something that happened one day in New York City and this has always seemed really strange to me. I guess what I mean is that I was there and never wanted to kill anybody because of it. Most of the time I just thought it was very strange and sad and mostly just very interesting. I only remember ever crying about it twice. The first time was a few months afterward, I had quit Anthony to stay home with Henry. Part of our routine was to watch Sesame Street. One day in the winter there was a skit where Elmo got very scared because of some smoke and noise that was never identified. I suppose in this case it was a nameless fear. A New York City fireman came on screen and hugged him, told him it was okay to be scared, Elmo, and that everything would be alright. I remember little red furry Elmo hugged the fireman tight. I held Henry in my lap and cried into his fine blonde hair.

It was the fireman that did it. I still get upset when I think about the firemen. I have had a lot of trouble with cops in different times in my life, but I never had a problem with any fireman I ever encountered, drunk or otherwise. They seem to me to be a different animal entirely.

Anthony, Duane and me ran into two firemen on the deck of the cruise boat that carried us across to Weehawken. They came in and collapsed on the painted metal floor, shedding boots and letting their helmets roll away. Some people applauded weakly, others asked questions, they just stared at us and said nothing. It didn’t occur to me until much later they were probably the only ones from their station who lived. Other men that for years they worked with, ate and fought with, got drunk with were dead. There was a bar I frequented in Jersey City a few blocks from our house where a couple of weeks later I saw three firemen in dress uniforms. One was between his partner on a stool and the third who was older and may have been a captain. The captain was clearly upset, swaggering and poking the other two in the chest. Everybody else was trying hard not to pay attention to what seemed about to develop into a fight. I think later I saw the old man leaning against the bar and weeping openly, he must have been sixty at least.

I got drunk in this bar Sept. 10th while my wife and kid slept back home. She’d start nursing and pass out with him and I’d head out to roam. The thing I liked about this place was the Sinatra on the jukebox, so that night I loaded it up and sat at the bar listening. I think it was the first time I’d ever heard “Summer Wind.” The tattooed brunette tending bar must have thought it was cute because she serenaded me, singing along with a couple of the songs. There was another man with a mustache further down the line who was putting the blast on her and didn’t seem to like me much so I got the fuck out early. By “early” I mean I didn’t close the place.

I won’t tell you what we saw on the boat ride across the Hudson, you’ve seen it already. We unloaded at Weehawken and everyone, thousands of high end refugees really, started walking south towards Hoboken where we had been told there were buses waiting to take us home. I noticed that even wearing boots, the three of us walked faster than the others. We were construction workers living and working around Manhattan and we were very good at walking. I remember being comforted by walking with them. Hundreds of buses lined the streets of Hoboken and the three of us walked the length of that town. Anthony broke off about halfway to head home. A couple of weeks later I showed up having laid out drunk for two days and told him I had come for my tools. He looked at me and didn’t say a word. He mailed me my check. I haven’t seen the man since.

Duane and me trudged the rest of Hoboken together. I heard that not soon after I left he was let go to cut costs and that not long after that he got into a bad time with a prostitute on rt. 1 & 9. The smoke in Hoboken was thicker than in the city and the fumes from streets filled with idling buses finally got my hangover to officially kick in. I told Duane about how I’d had “Summer Wind” playing as background music in my head all day. He laughed and began singing the song, each line perfectly. We got through the crowd easily, after hours of walking together we had finally hit a stride together. We were marching, really. There was the giant blue sky of the day broken intermittently by smoke and there was the roar of diesel noise and Hoboken and Duane singing Summer Wind to me; some punk kid from Tennessee who had no business being there.

The only other incident I remember having to cry because of some assholes who decided to fly planes into tall buildings was coming across the Manhattan bridge one night after carrying my sister-in-law home to Park Slope. She would come over most nights to hang out with the baby, and around eleven or so and in various states of sobriety I’d be asked to drive her back home. I never hated the terrorists for invoking a War of Terror, I hated them for causing enough terror that it fucked the roads up. Shit got closed for what seemed no fucking reason whatsoever. One day coming back from the pediatrician’s office, Henry got stuck howling in his car seat for four hours because the Holland Tunnel was handling too much traffic and we were too afraid to take him out of it because of the cops everywhere. My sister-in-law and I spent a lot of time in the Saturn together on the nights I drove her home. I can’t remember what we talked about, probably everything. I haven't spoken to my sister-in-law since I moved out last summer.

This particular night the Brooklyn Bridge was only operating east-bound into Brooklyn so after I dropped her off I was diverted back across the Manhattan Bridge in order to get back into the city and eventually home. The Manhattan Bridge back then was still under renovation and I guess has always been the ugly, cross-eyed cousin of the Brooklyn Bridge. I got stuck on it, moving slower than shit, and staring at trash and old faded plywood encasing the little bit of wrought iron and Neo-Classical elements that were left up by the arch. Off to the left t seemed as though the entirety of Downtown was illuminated from the work lights that were set up down by Ground Zero. Downtown glowed with lights that were set up to look for people that weren’t there anymore. The DJ on WFMU that night was playing a super slowed down cover of the B-52’s Song for a Future Generation. If you’ve heard it, you’ve probably laughed, it’s a ridiculously chirpy pop song. I’ve always loved it. The lyrics go a little like this:

Wanna be the ruler of the galaxy

Wanna be the king of the universe

Let`s meet and have a baby now

In between each stanza, the different members give spoken-word tidbits of information about themselves. For example Ricky, the original guitarist, was a Pisces and “loved computers and hot tamales.“ Ricky also died from AIDS back in 1985 when people still had no idea what the disease was.

The version I heard that night had slowed the tempo to that of a blues song. The dip-shit ironic hipster that sang it reflected this. Stuck on the bridge it felt as though I was listening to a lament. What reduced me to tears, smoking Winstons in my little Saturn station wagon, was the feeling that whatever was left of innocence had recently been or was about to be brutally murdered by pig-face, ignorant men. Wanna be the first lady of infinity. Wanna be the nicest guy on earth. Let's meet and have a baby now.

[malereader-inserts]

How Do You Know?

Fandom: Criminal Mind Pairing: Bau Team & Male!Reader Summary: It turns out your team doesn’t know much about you, it’s okay, you understand the life of a profiler. Word Count: 1,275

“I don’t think I have ever seen (Y/n) late.”

Prentiss had started a conversation about you, things she had never seen happen to you. She was convinced that you weren’t human, you were too perfect, no flaws to pick out. Then, everyone in the team decided to put their two cents in.

“Once,” Garcia said, “But barely late, it was ten minutes late and he was holding a coffee in hand. But, I don’t think I have ever seen him drunk.”

“I have,” Hotch came down to the bullpen to see why his team decided to talk about on their lunch break, “I was unaware what the reason why he was drinking but I ran into him at the bar. You wouldn’t realise he was drunk until you squint at him.”

“Would love to see him drunk,” Morgan chortle, patting Reid’s back, “Shame he never comes out on Team night.”

“I’d say he’s done good on skipping them out,” Rossi replied back, rubbing his temple before looking around the circle of the team, “Speaking of (Y/n), where is he now? I haven’t seen him all day.”

“He’s ill,” Hotch announced, cross his arms over his chest, “He called in at six, hacking his lungs out.”

“I don’t think he’s ever missed out work,” JJ realised, standing straight, “In the years we’ve known him, I’ve never seen him ill and if has been ill - he’s done a well-done job in concealing it.”

“There’s a lot of things we don’t know about him,” Morgan reconsidered, looking at boy genius, “Like, his he a dog person or a cat person? I’ve seen both hairs on his clothing.”

“Well, I’m going to check up on him after work, you’re welcome to join,” Aaron had suggested as the team looked at each other.

Garcia clapping her hands, “I can buy him cookies, that will make him happy right?” She looks at the team, looking if they know you like cookies, but JJ shrugged her shoulders - Garcia's nice gesture falls flat on her face.

You hated being sick.

But, then again, you have never been this ill before. You’ve been moderately ill. A common cold here and there, nothing you couldn’t hide. But, you woke up at five in the morning, with the bed drenched in sweat, your chest tighten as your lungs rather be out of your body as your throat hacks out coughs. 

You somehow managed to get soup down you, with warm tea and, here and there with water. You’ve bundled yourself on the sofa of your living room, blankly watching Netflix whilst your dog lie upon your legs whilst your cat purr from her seat upon the coffee table - you have no energy to tell her off. 

You had to do something productive whilst you were ill. Turning off your television and putting your old record player on with the volume on soft, you move to the corner of your living room where your long window sits. Commonly known as your art corner, with pretty canvas on display to dry. You sit down on the floor, a smaller think blanket draped over your shoulders as you prepare your medium canvas. The acrylics you wanted to use, you started to sketch out what you wanted to paint.

You cat resting next to your art window, lying on the sill, pretending not to care about you but enjoying the warm sun against its fur. Your dog sitting underneath the low sill, wanting to be by the side of his best friend the cat and you. Sure, your insides were killing you from within but with the old record player playing music in the background with the warm spring sun beaming through the window of your apartment - you forgot your body was currently withering in.

A third into your painting, your hands to your wrist splattered with the odd colour of paint upon your skin, you hear a knock on your door. You ever content in sitting in your comfy corner to paint, with the reluctant trips to the bathroom to throw up or pee and an every-so-often visit to the kitchen for things that might stay down you.

You get up at the knocking on the door persisted, wrapping the blanket you had dropped in the middle of the living room around your shoulder as you slowly make your way down to the door. The knocking had stopped when you had turned the lock before opening the door.

“You look shit,” Morgan had blurted out upon sight before getting promptly smacked by Garcia with a disapproval look from Hotch.

“Oh,” You responded dully, “I’m aware.”

Your dog wiggles his face between the doorway and your leg, the big dog carrying the cat on it’s back, wondering who was greeting their beloved owner.

“You have pets?!” Emily exclaimed, promptly kneeling down to stroke both your pets.

“Um, yeah, little miss princess here is Mochi and her best friend, Rex,” you introduced before coving your mouth to hack out a violent cough. You smack your head against the door, then leant against it with a small groan escape your mouth.

“You relax,” Hotch giving you a look, dad mode instantly activating, “I’m sure you won’t mind the company for a few hours?”

“By all means, sure,” You open the door wider as your dog and cat run away into their home. You trudge your way back into the living room.

“Eaten?” JJ asked, her motherly instinct wanting to swarm you down, even more, when you shrug your shoulders pathetically.

“Barely,” You responded, “Doesn’t want to stay down really.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” JJ claps her hands, “I have a recipe for you, I make it for Henry and Will when they’re sick and it’s perfect for everyone else. Spence, Penny come help.”

Spence pats your head tenderly before following JJ into the kitchen, your lips twitch upwards, a soft smile drawing on your face as Morgan sits himself down on the sofa, playing with Rex as Emily took claim with your cat Mochi. You rolled your eyes.

“I’ll make you tea, sit down before you fall,” Hotch warns as you turn to look at Rossi, waiting for his comment.

“You paint?” He finally asked as you tilt your head in confusion, “Well, judging from your painted hands and the corner of art.” 

“Oh,” You let out with a sullen nod, “It’s a passion of mine.”

“How come you never said anything?” Rossi questioned as you knitted your eyebrows at him.

“Because profilers like to think they know everything about you until they realise they don’t,” You flat out exposed them, Hotch entering with steaming tea, “I know you guys quite well because I ask questions and pay attention to the smallest details. If you just focus on the smaller things you barely see the bigger picture. If you don’t ask, you don’t get to know. Like, would you have asked what sport I played in high school?”

“Football,” Morgan instinctively answered, you scoffed.

“Baseball and on the swimming team,” You correctly as a few eyebrows were raised, sitting down in your armchair, “I’m not mad, I know what you guys are like.”

“Huh?” Emily asked, narrowing her eyes, “What are we?”

“Bunch of fucking idiots.”

There was silence before the room erupted into laughter and chuckles, you lean your head back, relaxing in their comforting presence, despite being ill you had momentarily forgotten about it.

“Twenty questions anyone?” Hotch asked as you rolled your eyes, shaking your head but there was a fond smile on your face.

Ill or not, your team was always there to brighten your day.

[particularemu]

Insanity | A Hwang Hyunjin Series | Part 3

Part: [Prologue] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Epilogue]

Word Count: 5265

Type: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: mentions murder, suicide, self-harm, drugs, being drugged, weapons (kinda), depression, anxiety, manic episodes, 

Tag List: @alightiny​

Author’s Note: Shit is about to hit the fan!!! Stay tuned fam :3 

As usual, if y’all want to be added to the tag list, please shoot me a message 💖

“What are you two doing?” 

Your head snapped to the door, shoulders relaxing instantly when you saw Chan’s smiling face. His dimples popped out, making you smile as you greeted the brunette. “Hey, Chan.” 

“You look like you’re having fun.” Chan kneeled next to you and Hyunjin, offering his hand to the boy. Hyunjin shook Chan’s hand, smiling when he introduced himself. “I’m the one who takes over the night-shift.” The man chuckled. “Dr. Bang, but I hate the way that sounds so please call me Chan.” 

Hyunjin couldn’t help but snicker at the older boy as he stood up. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Bang. How many jokes did you hear your first week?” 

“Please. I’m still hearing them.” Chan laughed. “Well, if you’re ready to head home, go ahead. I’ll take over. If you want to stay, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind your company.” 

Hyunjin paused, wondering what he should do. The next hour or two could be a HUGE opportunity to bond with you. If he could build a solid foundation of trust, Hyunjin might be able to dig into that brain of yours and figure out why you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia. It was clear that he gained your trust over the past hour. He was having fun chatting with you about this and that — and well… hearing you compliment him wasn’t half bad either. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about Chan. The man seemed trustworthy, but so did Dr. Henry when Hyunjin first met the man. Who’s to say that Chan isn’t going to get upset and beat you down? He was quite muscular. You wouldn’t stand a chance against him. Despite Hyunjin’s concern, he could see you trusted Chan, and in the end, that’s all that mattered. 

Pure exhaustion took over and Hyunjin decided that yes… yes he did need to go back to the dorms and get some sleep. After all the fucked up things he’s seen today, he just wanted to plop in bed and sleep for a good twelve hours. “I think I’ll head home.” Hyunjin sighed and leaned forward, whispering in Chan’s ear while you were making your bed. “She witnessed a suicide today, so watch out for nightmares.” 

Chan chuckled a bit. “You must care about her a lot.” 

“Hmm?” Hyunjin cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Of course I care about her. She’s my patient.” 

“Mhm.” Chan looked unconvinced. “Sure.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down, making the younger boy flush bright red. 

“Not what you think.” Hyunjin rubbed his cheeks to disguise the redness. “I’m going home. Goodnight.” Hyunjin turned to you and smiled brightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

You smiled and waved at Hyunjin. “Thank you. For everything.” 

Hyunjin kneeled down to your level and ruffled your hair. “We’ll figure this out. I know we will. Sleep well.” Hyunjin stood up and headed out the door, smiling when he saw you wave goodbye. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Hyunjin smacked his cheeks a couple times, wincing at the sting. “I gotta get my shit together.” Hyunjin leaned his head back against the wall, shaking his head to rid himself of the images of blood, death, and deceit. The boy slowly sunk down the wall, threading his fingers in his hair as he tried to pull himself together. 

He couldn’t cry. Not here. Not now. 

The institution reminded him of something from a horror movie — one of the ones where everyone dies in the end. Hyunjin couldn’t help but curse himself for taking this job. During his first day, he’s dealt with an abusive doctor, creepy caretakers, an asshole boss, and he witnessed a man slice his own throat open with a shard of glass. 

And then there was you… 

You were like a bright ray of sunshine cutting through the cracks beneath the rubble of this institution. Behind all that anxiety — all that panic — was just a girl who was terrified of what lurked behind the walls. Hyunjin vowed to help you get out of Rosewood, and he was planning to follow through. 

Hyunjin sighed and stood up, hoping no one saw him have a small meltdown. The amount of tension he was carrying in his shoulders was borderline painful. Hyunjin stretched his arms, hoping to ease the ache as he left the institution, pausing to wave at the kind-looking receptionist. 

Hyunjin took a deep breath, eyes scanning the landscape around the institution. Perhaps he should start taking night walks? Rosewood looked even more beautiful at night. The rolling hills looked as though they jumped right out of a painting, the lush green grass illuminated by the moonlight. As he walked to the staff building with his hands in his pockets, he couldn’t help but think about you once more. 

From what he’s heard over the past few hours, you were a horrible patient who constantly had anxiety attacks, meltdowns, and violent episodes. Many people told him you were on the brink of insanity. Based on your actions today, Hyunjin couldn’t see you putting up a fight with anyone. If you were, you probably had a good reason to. Hyunjin couldn’t shake the memories of Dr. Henry throwing you across the room. Your body would be clad with bruises in the morning. Too bad Dr. Douglas wouldn’t listen. 

Hyunjin pushed on the door to the staff building, pausing when he spotted Minho slumped over by his room, head held in his hands. What’s he doing here? Minho looked defeated. Hyunjin could practically see the memories playing over and over again in the older boy’s head — a shitty slideshow telling him how he fucked up a man’s second chance at life. 

“Hey,” Hyunjin gently rested his hand on the older boy’s shoulder, noticing the way Minho relaxed under his touch. When was the last time this man had someone on his side? “Why don’t you come in?” Hyunjin smiled sadly at Minho when he raised his head, dead eyes meeting Hyunjin’s lively brown orbs. Minho nodded and pushed his tired body off the ground, smiling ever-so-slightly as Hyunjin helped him stand. 

“Sorry.” Minho’s voice was so quiet, Hyunjin wondered if he was hearing things correctly. His shoes scuffed against the floor as Minho trudged over to Hyunjin’s freshly made bed. “Today…” Minho paused, wracking his brain for the right words. “Can I…” He trailed off once more. 

“Of course.” Hyunjin didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence to know what Minho was going to ask. He couldn’t forget the look on Minho’s face — eyes full of grief as the needle fell from his hands. Minho lost the patient he’s been taking care of for three years. It had to be tough. 

Besides… Hyunjin would rather Minho stay the night. He could use the company.

Minho plopped on Hyunjin’s bed, messing up the sheets as he scooted up to the headboard, hugging his knees to his chest. Brunette locks fell down his face, masking his glassy eyes. 

Hyunjin felt for the older boy. He’s never witnessed a suicide before. Hyunjin couldn’t imagine watching you commit suicide — and he’s only known you a day. 

“I met with Dr. Douglas.” Minho’s voice was small, voice barely above a whisper. 

“You’re not in trouble right?” Hyunjin frowned. “You tried your best to stop him.” 

“No…” Minho sighed. “They’re removing anything breakable from the patient’s rooms in the morning.” 

“That makes sense.” Hyunjin leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’ll prevent any more suicides.” 

“No, it won’t.” Minho scoffed, an empty chuckle slipping past his lips. “You don’t know what people will do to end their lives.” 

“How can they…” Hyunjin trailed off, unsure if he wanted to know. 

“I’ve seen a man run headfirst into the wall until he knocked himself out.” Minho clenched his eyes shut. “I’ve also seen someone stab themselves in the eye with a needle because they thought it would be long enough to kill them.” 

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. “Are they still alive?”

“No.” Minho took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. “They always find a way, Hyunjin.” Minho shook his head. “Anyways, your girl has a glass music box from her mother. It’ll crush her when they confiscate it.” 

“What?” Hyunjin sat down next to Minho. “I thought she didn’t remember anything from her past. How does she know it’s from her mother?” 

“She doesn’t,” Minho mumbled. “Her mother knew she was here before…” Minho trailed off. 

“Knew?” Hyunjin’s heart dropped. “Oh no…” 

“Her mother died three months ago when I took over her care.” Minho chuckled. “That glass music box is her inheritance.” 

“She doesn’t know?” Hyunjin couldn’t blame Minho for keeping it from you. Telling you heartbreaking information like that when you’re recovering could set you back. The last thing the doctors wanted was another patient losing their mind. 

“She wasn’t doing well.” Minho sighed. “At all. I thought telling her would make things worse.” The poor boy felt horrible for keeping this from you for so long, but he didn’t know if you would have a breakdown. “She was constantly in and out of solitary confinement, she was having multiple electroconvulsive therapy sessions a day, and she was trying to attack me with a lamp every time I walked into her room.” 

What? Multiple electroconvulsive therapy sessions in one day? That’s complete bullshit! Hyunjin’s mouth dropped open as he tried to process the information given to him. You were suffering from retrograde amnesia. This confirms his theory that the electroconvulsive therapy sessions were making your memory loss worse. Minho’s deep sigh shook Hyunjin out of his thoughts. 

“Hey.” Hyunjin rested his hand on Minho’s shoulder. “You made the right call. Do you know about her father?” Hyunjin figured that changing the subject would help. 

“We have no idea. We’ve never heard of a father, so we figured she grew up in a single-parent household.” Minho took a deep breath. “She’s about to lose the only thing that reminds her of her family. She’s going to be crushed.”

Hyunjin thought about it for a second. He was right. You had one little music box to remember your mother by. There’s no way in hell he was going to let you lose it. “Not if I have anything to do with it.” Hyunjin reached into the dresser and threw on a hoodie, rushing out the door before Minho could do anything about it. 

“Dumbass.” Minho chuckled and laid under the covers, drifting off almost instantly. 

Hyunjin rushed over to the institution and headed straight for your room. As soon as he opened the door, he could see the beautiful glass music box resting on the windowsill. The glass sparkled in the moonlight. He could see why you were so attached to it. The colorful glass was a nice contrast — compared to the dark, prison-like room you were forced to live in. The patients weren’t allowed to have pictures on the wall, the room was painted white, and the pitch-black sky didn’t help the eerie-looking room. No wonder you were depressed. 

Little did Hyunjin know, eyes were watching his every move as he opened the door. 

Hyunjin smiled when Chan waved at him from the desk in the corner of the room. “Forget something?”

Wait… Could he trust Chan? Despite his encounter with the older boy an hour ago, Hyunjin couldn’t shake that feeling of paranoia. Hyunjin knew he was being unreasonable, but he really only trusted Minho. Minho was the one who warned him about this place. Chan? Chan was continuing his work as if nothing was out of place at the institution. Hyunjin didn’t know if he should trust someone like that. 

“Dr. Douglas needs you quick!” Hyunjin gestured to the door. “It sounds like an emergency!” 

“Oh damn. Okay!” Chan closed his laptop and rushed out the door, pausing to say “Thanks!”

Great! Now that he’s gone, Hyunjin could grab the music box without you knowing. Hyunjin couldn’t help but smile as he saw your sleeping face. You looked unbothered by the world — as if you hadn’t been living in a horrible institution for the past few months. 

Hyunjin reached out to the music box on the window sill, eyes sparkling as the colors shimmered in the moonlight. 

“Why are you taking my music box?” Your small voice made Hyunjin’s heart drop. “That’s all I have.” 

Hyunjin’s heart completely shattered when he looked over, noticing the pure betrayal in your glassy eyes. He worked so hard to build trust with you over the past 12 hours, he couldn’t lose it now. “Oh, I wasn’t.” Hyunjin smiled brightly. “I just thought it was pretty.” Hyunjin sat at the edge of your bed, brushing some hair behind your ear as you yawned. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have tried to touch it. I just wanted to hear the song.” 

“It’s fine.” You mumbled and rubbed your eyes. “You can open it.” 

Hyunjin reached over, grabbing the music box off the windowsill, holding the fragile box in his hands. He gently opened the lid, closing his eyes to listen to the beautiful melody that began to play. Hyunjin felt your head drop onto his shoulder, sending his heart into a frenzy as he leaned his head onto yours. 

“My mother gave this to me.” You smiled as you looked up at Hyunjin, noticing how beautiful his milky skin looked in the moonlight. 

“Yeah?” Hyunjin smiled. “Your mother has good taste.” 

“She used to sing this song to me when I was a kid.” Your face fell. “She hasn’t come to visit me yet.” Hyunjin’s heart broke when your eyes started to glassy. “She sent me letters saying she’ll come. Why hasn’t she come Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin’s face paled as he said, “I don’t know sweetheart. She’s probably sick. The institution won’t let sick people in the building because they don’t want any of the patients to get sick.” 

Did you buy it?

“Oh that makes sense.” You smiled at Hyunjin. “I can’t wait for you to meet her. She’s a wonderful person.” 

Cute...

Wait, what?

Hyunjin’s eyes widened when he realized what just happened. Okay, so he thought you were cute. That’s not a bad thing, right? It’s not like he wanted to take you out to the gardens for a picnic and oh my god that’s exactly what he wants to do. 

Hyunjin’s cheeks flushed. He was doing it again. He was falling way too hard way too fast for someone he barely knows. 

“I came to check up on you after today. Are you doing okay?” Hyunjin chose to ignore his feelings and change the subject before he ends up telling you how he feels. 

“I guess.” Despite being really tired, you were still happy to see the ebony-haired boy. “I’m tired though.” 

“That’s fine.” Hyunjin smiled. “Go ahead and go back to sleep. I’m going to head home.” 

“Be safe.” You laid back down in bed, almost instantly falling asleep. 

As he left the room, Hyunjin couldn’t shake the disappointed look in your eyes. He missed his opportunity to take the music box, despite the damn thing being right in his hands. Hyunjin felt like he couldn’t take it now. You’d never trust him again. Who knows what would happen if he told you about the new rule in the institution? Hyunjin was convinced that you wouldn’t believe him. It is the first day after all. 

“Hyunjin!”

Oh, Christ what now?

Hyunjin sighed as he turned around, spotting Dr. Douglas in front of him. “Hello, sir.” As much as he wanted to throw a fit and call him names, Hyunjin knew he had to play nice for now. 

“Minho informed me about the incident in room 304.” Dr. Douglas frowned. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I appreciate what you did in there.” 

“No worries.” Hyunjin smiled. “I didn’t do much. It was all Minho.”

Dr. Douglas smiled nervously, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he said, “Look, son —” 

“I’m not your son.” Hyunjin’s eyes hardened as he waited for the older man to continue. 

Dr. Douglas sighed, arms crossing over his chest in frustration. “I’m trying to be friends here.” 

“Pardon my confusion, but I’ve never worked in a place with a friendly boss.” Hyunjin smiled an innocent look in his eyes — almost enough to fool the man in front of him. 

“You don’t have to like me, but you have to do your job.” Dr. Douglass glared. 

“I plan to.” 

Dr. Douglas rolled his eyes. “Did Miss _____ get her medicine today?”

Hyunjin’s heart dropped in his stomach. “Of course.” 

A long, unnerving silence followed — one that made Hyunjin’s blood run cold. Did he know? If Dr. Douglas found out about Hyunjin hiding the pills, he’d surely lose his job. Getting fired the first day on the job wouldn’t look good for his resume. 

“And how was she?” Dr. Douglas stared at him. 

Hyunjin swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing the sentence out of his throat. “She was fine. A little nervous, but that’s to be expected.” 

Dr. Douglas seemed to accept this explanation. “See? All her medications are working for her. There’s nothing to worry about.”  

“Of course sir.” Hyunjin smiled. “I apologize for my behavior earlier. I just wasn’t aware of Peroproxin, and I realize that Dr. Henry was merely doing his job.” 

“That’s quite alright son.” 

Hyunjin’s eye twitched at his designated nickname. “I have a quick question.” 

“Of course son.” Dr. Douglas smiled. 

“Not your son — umm. Could I look at the ingredients that are used in Peroproxin? I’m just curious because I’ve never heard of that medication. I’m curious to see what it contains.” Hyunjin figured he’d play dumb. Maybe he could get his hands on one of the bottles and see what’s actually in the medication? 

“Sorry, Hyunjin. It’s late and I’m headed home.” Dr. Douglas sighed. “I’m glad we hired you. You seem to be doing a great job.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Hyunjin yawned dramatically. “I’m pretty beat. I’ll head home too.” 

“Goodnight son.” 

Hyunjin rolled his eyes after Dr. Douglas walked off. That asshole was just trying to piss him off. After sighing like a passive-aggressive child, Hyunjin made his way to the lobby, pausing when he passed by your door. 

Maybe Chan could help him out? 

Even though he didn’t quite trust the man yet, Chan was his last chance. If Hyunjin had to sacrifice his career to help you, so be it. Hyunjin slowly opened the door and smiled at Chan. 

“Everything okay?” Chan turned towards Hyunjin, brows creasing when he saw the boy’s shoulders slump. “Because I recall being told I was needed in Dr. Douglas’s office, and he wasn’t there.” The older boy raised an eyebrow at Hyunjin. “If you needed a moment alone with your girlfriend, all you had to do was ask.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Hyunjin crossed his arms over his chest. “I just…” 

“Don’t worry.” Chan chuckled. “You don’t have to explain. I understand how hard it is to trust people in this place.” He smiled. “So, what can I help you with?”

Hyunjin strolled over to Chan, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “I need to get my hands on a bottle of Peroproxin.”  

“Hyunjin I can’t help you with that.” Chan sighed. “We’re doctors, not pharmacists.” 

“Yes, but we have the ability to prescribe. We should be allowed to look at the medication we’re prescribing these patients.” Hyunjin was frustrated. This didn’t make any sense. 

“We’re not allowed to change prescriptions in this institution. Dr. Douglas handles all of that.” Chan’s brows creased.

“But —” 

“Hyunjin. Let it go.” Chan’s stern voice startled the boy. “There are eyes and ears everywhere. You need to be careful.” 

What?

“I know this looks like I’m just being a brat, but I need this Chan.” Hyunjin’s eyes glassed over. “I need to figure this out for her. I can’t just watch her suffer.” 

Chan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Down the hall, to the left. There’s a big ass room filled with bottles of pills. Peroproxin is on the second shelf from the top — you’ll be able to reach it.” He paused. “Look for bottle 258B. That’s what she’s prescribed. If you’re caught and my name gets dragged into this, I’m going to find you and kick your ass.” Chan looked up at Hyunjin and chuckled. “Rosewood Psychiatric Institution will be the least of your worries.” 

“Thank you!” Hyunjin hugged the man, catching Chan off guard. He just threatened Hyunjin, and now the boy is hugging him? Well, worst things could happen. 

“Hurry up before the guards start to take their rounds seriously.” Chan shooed Hyunjin off, hoping the boy wouldn’t be seen. 

Hyunjin rushed off to the medicine, smiling when he spotted the big ass room Chan described. That’s it! Now all he has to do is —

“What are you doing up sir?”

Hyunjin spun around, head spinning as he met face to face with Dr. Henry. “Please, just call me Hyunjin.” Hyunjin smiled. “I was looking for the bathroom on this floor and I got lost.” Hyunjin chuckled. “Can you please tell me where it is?”

“I was told your shift ended two hours ago.” Dr. Henry smirked. “Why are you here still?”

Hyunjin paled. How was he going to talk his way out of this one?

“I asked him here.” A short man stepped out from the shadows. “I just wanted to confirm what he saw in room 304.” 

Dr. Henry frowned. “Alright then. I assume Changbin can help you with your little…” Dr. Henry leaned forward, breath ghosting near Hyunjin’s ear. “Problem.” The man chuckled darkly before walking away. 

“Okay, that gave me the jeebies.” Hyunjin shivered, wiping his ear with his hand. 

“I don’t blame you.” The short man — Changbin chuckled. 

“Thanks for saving my ass.” Hyunjin smiled. 

“Don’t mention it.” Changbin smiled. “I’m a friend of Minho’s. He’s told me a lot about you.” 

“Wow…” Hyunjin laughed. “Day one and I’m already making a name for myself.” 

“You aren’t like other caretakers.” He chuckled. “What are you after?”

“Medicine,” Hyunjin replied. “I’m looking for Peroproxin.” 

“I can’t help you there.” Changbin chuckled. “I’m the head of security, so I typically handle crazy patients.” 

“So you’re the one who makes sure they get beat into submission?” Hyunjin scanned the various shelves in the medicine room, spotting the bottle he was after. 

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about?” Hyunjin’s chest tightened when he saw the genuine confusion on Changbin’s face. “I don’t beat anyone. I’m just the muscle that kicks unruly visitors out of the institution.” 

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin apologized. “I’ve seen some disturbing things over the past 12 hours and I’m starting to get paranoid.” 

“That isn’t a bad thing.” Changbin sighed. “You have your medicine. Now get out of here so I can erase the footage of you stealing.” 

Hyunjin’s eyes widened at Changbin’s words. “Thank you.” He paused, resting his hand on Changbin’s shoulder. “Seriously… Thank you.” 

“Yeah yeah.” Changbin sighed. “Get out of here.” Hyunjin thanked him once more before darting out of the institution — heading back to his dorm room. 

The ebony-haired man yawned as he opened the door to his room, smiling softly when he spotted Minho passed out in his bed. At least the boy was able to get some sleep. Hyunijn brushed some bangs out of Minho’s eyes, noticing the way the boy’s nose scrunched in his sleep. 

Hyunjin has always had a nurturing touch. He’s been taking care of his mother since he was a young boy. His mother suffered from a few different mental disorders, and after his father committed suicide, she completely stopped taking care of herself. So at five years old Hyunjin started taking care of his mother. He cooked her meals, made sure she took her medicine, and he kept her company until she was well enough to take care of herself. 

This stuck with him over the years. Hyunjin always wanted to please — to make sure that people were taken care of. 

Unfortunately, much like his mother, his emotions were like glass. Hyunjin always fell too deep too fast when it came to love. After a few bad breakups, he decided that romance just wasn’t in the cards for him. 

Well… That was until he met you. 

Seeing someone with such a pure heart being mistreated, hit something deep within him. He couldn’t help but admire your courage. Every day you woke up, putting your trust in these corrupt doctors, in hopes that your memories will return. 

Speaking of missing memories…

Hyunjin pulled out the bottle of Peroproxin — spying the list of ingredients in the back. What on earth were those? Hyunjin gasped when he realized that he had no idea what any of these ingredients were. How could a doctor prescribe a drug like this to his patients without knowing what’s in it? 

Hyunjin pulled out his laptop, opening the browser and searching the ingredients one by one. Nothing popped up. Hyunjin sighed and rubbed his eyes. His vision started to blur as exhaustion took over, knocking the boy out cold on the floor. 

--------

“Wake up sleeping beauty.” Hyunjin smiled at you as you slowly sat up from the bed. 

“What time is it?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes. 

“Time to get up.” He chuckled and sat next to you on the bed. “I’m just popping in to ask you a question.” 

Hyunjin flipped shifts with Chan every-so-often. He must be working the night shift today. 

Over the past few weeks, you and Hyunjin were like two peas in a pod. After your music box was taken, you had a few meltdowns, but Hyunjin was able to help you through all of them. He always took care of you — no matter how bad things got. 

“Here’s your dose of Prozac.” Hyunjin handed you a pill and you took it, washing the pill down with some water. 

“Are you allowed to do this?” You loved taking this medication, but you were worried about Hyunjin. The last thing you wanted was to see Hyunjin lose his job because of you. The boy worked so hard to become a doctor. One bad experience could wreck his chances at getting another job. 

“No, not at all.” Hyunjin chuckled. “Minho handles a lot of the medication these days, so he’s been adjusting the count for me.” He smiled at you. “Minho hates this place as much as we do. Don’t worry.” 

“Thank you.” You held Hyunjin’s hand, making the boy’s cheeks flush a bit. “I appreciate all you do for me.” 

“I’d do it for anyone,” Hyunjin replied. 

Oh…

Well, that hurts a little. 

“Well, thanks anyways.” You visibly sulked, but Hyunjin didn’t notice. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Oh yeah!” Hyunjin beamed. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

“What?” You tilted your head in confusion. 

Cute… 

“What’s your favorite?” Hyunjin smiled brightly. “It’s your birthday tomorrow and I have a surprise for you.” 

“Chocolate I guess.” You smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.” 

“I want to. You have a special place in my heart.” 

Oh my god there it was. 

You couldn’t stop the blush spreading on your cheeks as you grinned. That means he likes you right? Well, like as a friend but what if… What if he liked you as more than a friend?

“All of my patients have a special place in my heart.” Hyunjin smiled. 

You couldn’t help but sigh. Or perhaps you’re just another patient to him… 

“Hey, I have to go get something to eat, but I’ll see you in an hour for my shift!” Hyunjin quickly left the room, leaving you excited for his shift, yet confused about your feelings for the boy. 

You trusted him. 

You trusted him with your life but… that wasn’t the main reason you loved him. It wasn’t because of his beauty — nor was it because of his kindness. You were entranced by his every move. Every word that left his lips was interesting to you. You loved everything about him. 

But clearly, he didn’t see you as anything other than a patient — which is to be expected from a guy who has lived his life with his nose in a book. 

You couldn’t help but sigh, boredom taking over as you tried to figure out what you should do. Hyunjin gave you a book to read a few weeks ago. You should probably finish that so you could stay up tonight and chat with him about the book. You pulled the worn-out book from your shelf and started to read. 

Chan left earlier to help Minho with something important, and you told him you’d be fine until Hyunjin came in for his night shift. You weren’t used to being on your own, and you missed the company. Hyunjin always chatted with you about many different things. You told him stories you’ve never shared with anyone before… at least you think. Your memory wasn’t the best. 

Footsteps tore your attention from the pages. Did Hyunjin forget something? Chan said he’d be gone the rest of the night, so you didn’t think that he’d be back so soon. You turned around to see a new face — someone you weren’t familiar with. He was in a uniform, so you figured he must work at Rosewood. “Where’s Chan?”

“Chan told me to look after you until your other doctor comes.” The man answered, eyes avoiding your gaze as he scanned the room. 

What was he looking for?

The energy in the room completely shifted. Instead of being calm, you felt nervous and afraid. You wanted Hyunjin back. You were scared. If Chan actually sent this man, wouldn’t he know that your other doctor was Hyunjin? Did this man actually work here?

The man lunged for you, catching you off guard as you fell out of the chair. A sharp pain in the side of your neck made you cry out in pain, hand smacking at the man as the tip of the needle pierced your skin. What was he giving you? Was he sedating you? You didn’t do anything wrong?

“Hyunjin!” You cried out, but your voice sounded off. The room went blurry as you slumped to the ground, unable to support your body with your weak arms. 

Another man walked into the room as you tried to lift yourself up. You were too dizzy to do anything other than sit up on the floor, but you were kicked down as soon as you saw a large body dropped beside you. You tried to scream, but you couldn’t. It was as if you were paralyzed. One of the men positioned your body so you were laying right next to the dead body. You could see red seep onto the floor as the man from earlier stabbed it multiple times with something. The pieces clicked together all at once. He was trying to frame you for murder. 

Where was Hyunjin?

The man left the room, leaving you scared and shaking on the floor. Your consciousness cut in and out for a while. You could feel the blood reach your fingertips, staining the skin red. You couldn’t remember much of what happened, but you remembered one thing when you regained consciousness. 

Your heart shattered when your eyes met Hyunjin’s — fear evident in his big brown eyes. 

“What did you do?”

[jj-lynn21]

A Castlerock New Year’s Eve party

Notes: I reworked this one one short story instead of three small chapters. I know its New Years Eve but it is also creepy So it is a good fanfic to start off October. These characters will continue into an All Hallows Eve story I am I working on. Also I write The Kid/Henry Deaver a little different than most. He is based on the rumor that he is The Crimson King in the Steven King Universe. Word count 3,033

Warnings: creepiness, smut,

tags: @loomiz​ @super-pink-a-palouza​ @ill-skillsgard​ @waywardtigersandwich​ @dreamtherapy​ @grandpa-sweaters​ @goblincxnt​ @dragsraksllib​ @bskarsgardlove92​  @taintedglass​

Genevieve and her best friend Nadine, prepared for their yearly New Years Eve bash.They always invite practically the whole town of Castlerock, but only the very brave showed up. For most people that have survived in Castlerock long enough, know it’s no a place to be out during the night. Hell, the local bar has been closing at 8pm since the last disappearances.

But they revel in the possible dangers lurking around every corner especially in the evening hours. They have seen some weird shit growing up around here. Like part of the town of Derry falling practically underground like there was an earthquake, but no earthquake ever registered there  Parents kept children inside the whole year before that happened.

Now that they are adults they feel, either embrace the darkness that goes on around you or you let it drive you madd. Most people in the area lean towards the crazy side but pretend to be completely normal.

“What if we put on the invite for everyone to wear cloaks this year?” Nadine suggested.

Genevieve agreed. “I love that idea. Oh, we need to find that Kid that they say went missing from the prison and hasn’t been seen since. Did you see his wanted posted? He’s fucking hot. We need him at the party.”

“We need him?” Nadine Smirked. “More like you think you need him because he is creepy as fuck.”

“You say, creepy. I say, hot.” Genevieve laughed. “What ev. I want to find him. I want to know his story.”

Nadine huffed. “Fine, we can do some research and see if  anyone is talking, which I doubt because no one in this town talks about anyone who has gone missing weather they are a good person or bad.”

“He’s good. I just know it.” Gen grinned. “I mean he is at least as good as me.”

Nadine cackled. “Oh, so, the bar isn’t that high,”

They giggled continuing shopping for party supplies. This task is not so easy in a town like Castlerock. No after dark parties, equal no great party supply stores. They buy left over red Christmas lights and some cool looking statues from Pop’s, who never asks questions why anyone would need anything. The décor is complete.

A trip to the grocery to get chips, dips and hotdog tots and they are done for the day. They left invites in every mailbox and a handful at each store. This is mostly to tell the town they don’t care about their petty fears. Tomorrow night this party is a go.

Gen is walking down the street alone. It seems something is gnawing at her to head into the woods. The ground is covered in fog; it is dark with a chill to the air. Her small flashlight and this feeling kept her on a path leading through the woods. The hat on her hoodie pulled up over her head keeps her warm enough. She stopped when she saw a small cabin up ahead.

A little frightened she walks to the cabin anyway. Genevieve feels something is waiting inside. The hairs on the back of her neck rise as she opened the unlocked door slowly.

“Hello, is anyone here?” Only her echo is returned.

The room is silent. The darkness blankets it other than her flashlight with its one beam of light. She lifted the flashlight up slowly. An iron cage in the corner of the room comes into view. Gen started to walk over. Hearing shoveling she stopped. Gen pointed the flashlight towards the sound. It’s him. It’s The Kid on the wanted poster. He is caged like an animal. His big sad eyes meet with hers.

 “Who left you hear like this?” Genevieve asked.

He said nothing just looking at her pleading for help with his expressive eyes. She looked for the opening of the cage. Seeing the padlock, she rummaged through her mini backpack to find anything to help pick the lock.

“I’ll get you out of there.” Genevieve kept looking threw her bag as she toldl him, “Just let me find something to pick the lock. I’m really good at it with just the right…Oh, yes, this safety pin will work.”

Genevieve worked on the lock as The Kid watches closely. It barely takes her a minute to pop the lock. She opened the door. Taking his hand, he leans on her a little as she helped him to the couch. Gen ran her hand through his thick brown hair holding the flashlight between the two of them. He caressed her cheek with his large hand.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

He managed to speak in in whisper. “Here they have been calling me Henry, but I go by other names. You can call me Red or Henry like others do. Thank you, My Queen, for opening that cage. I knew you would come eventually.”

Goosebumps ran over her body. He leaned in kissing her lips as a thank you. His lips are dry and chapped. When he moves back watching for her reaction she dug in her backpack and find some cherry Chapstick. Gen applied it to his lips gently.

“This will help make those lips feel better.” Genevieve put the flashlight down between them so she could hold his chiseled jaw as she applied the Chapstick. “I’ll get you a drink from the kitchen if the water is working. Some of these old cabins…”

Genevieve gasped as he touched the inside of her thigh. He ran his hand up slowly unbuttoning her jeans as he watched her reaction. It seems like a split second they are naked and she is riding him moaning out as he rests his hands on your hips.  As she rolled her hips, he thrusts powerfully pushing her to the edge  of ecstasy.

Genevieve wakes in a sweat breathing heavily. Her mind swirls as she tried to remember the dream that brought her to this state. All she remembered is there is a cabin in the woods she needs to get to, but maybe during the day would be better.

When daylight breaks she gets ready for an adventure. Gen is not sure what She will find, but she brings some bottled water and turkey sandwiches in case she gets lost. She has heard of people getting lost, never to be found again, in these woods. Plus, there is something about them that always makes her ears ring.

Genevieve has never told friends that because they love to have bonfires in the woods to try to scare each other with stories they have heard about the area. It doesn’t bother her enough to ruin a good time. Once she has a beer or three Gen doesn’t even notice the ringing.

Sticks and dried leaves crackle under her feet as she makes her way through the woods. Unsure where she is exactly going, she trudges along watching for the cabin in your dreams. Gen shakes her head thinking, Why, would I ever come out here alone? Then she sees it through the trees. It’s a pretty rundown looking cabin.

Silence drops around the area as Genevieve gets closer to the cabin. She thinks, That’s not weird at all, but I’ve come this far. She goes to the door. Looking around she knocks because who is dumb enough to just walk into a creepy old cabin. No one answers. The door creaks as she opened it slowly. It smells musty and dirty. No one seemed to be in there. Gen starts to turn to leave and then she heard the shoveling.

Genevieve turned her head seeing him in the cage. Her eyes widen as he looks to her innocently. It’s the Kid she has wanted to find. The one, she dreamed of finding here. Could that even be true? She is not sure what to say or do. Maybe she is just dreaming again. It all seems a bit bazaar.

His voice is barely audible. “You’re here?”

Genevieve whispered, “yeah.”

He replied, “To help?”

She asked. “Who are you?”

A slight grin appears on his face. “You know.”

Gen swallowed hard as they stared at each other for a few moments.

He whined. “Help?”

Genevieve is a little hesitant, but he seems so fragile and helpless. She still doesn’t really know what is going on. All she knows is this strong feeling to help him. She looked around the room and in every drawer for a key. Only in her dreams is Gen a master at picking a lock. She can feel him watching her as she tore up the place looking for the key. She finds it taped under the coffee table when she overturns it.

Gen holds the key up. “I found the key, Red.”

She thinks, Where did I get that name from? But she is sure that is his name or one name he likes to be called anyway.

He smiled. “Good girl. Open the door, Now.”

Shivers roll down her spine as he emphasizes the word, now. A small wicked grin crosses his lips as she unlocked his prison. He stumbles a bit as he gets to his feet trying to walk. Genevieve tries to help. They sat on the couch. She watches his hands as he studies her closely. It seems neither trusts the other in this moment.

Genevieve finally broke  the silence. “I brought water and sandwiches.”

She got up mostly to get some distance between them. She has never been so unsure about a person’s motivations in her life. Gen set the table back upright and put her bag on it.

As she got out the packed stuff, she questioned him. “How long has it been since you had food or water?”

He sighed deeply. “A while.” His body was stick thin. His face a bit gaunt. His eyes sat back in the sockets deep but still large.

Gen untwisted the cap on a water and handed it to him. He took small sips as if conserving it in case it is the last thing he ever drinks. When she handed him the sandwich, he took it apart carefully. Then he balled up the bread to eat.

When Genevieve  watched him stuff it in his mouth she laughed. “I guess the rumor of you being a carb addict was correct. You should eat the protein to, so you heal.”

As he chewed up the bread he noded.

She took a swig of bottled water. “If you want, I can take you back to my loft to get cleaned up?”

. “Yes.” He croaked

 “My Friend and I are supposed to throw a New Years Eve party tonight, but I can stay home and take care of you.” She mentioned even though she originally wanted him at the party. “I don’t think you should be alone or be around a lot of people right now.”

 “We should go.” He countered.

That surprises her. “You want to go to the party with me?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

 “Okay, I’d like that.” Gen smiled. “Do you think you can walk? Oh, I should find you different cloths. Maybe there is some in the closet.”

He watched as she went towards a closet. He took off all his clothing throwing them in the cell. “I can walk.”

 “This will have to do.” Gen pulled a long brownish-red cloak from the closet. “It will be perfect for the party.” When she turned around she gasped. Then grinned. “Okay, Big Red. Put this on. And let’s go.”

He puts on the cloak. Then they head to her place.

When Genevieve let him in the door he ducked. She felt bad her loft apartment had such low ceilings since when he stood the top of the cloak brushes the ceiling.  He sat spread out in a large chair.

Gen is not sure why, but she has a desire to sit at his feet looking up at him. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

He sits up to caress her cheek.“Yes, my Queen.”  She leaned into his touch.

The way he says it gives her chills. He tilts his head seeming to contemplate something. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

Genevieve shuddered “I uh, I think I should know more about you before anything, I mean before we go to the party.”

He nods in agreement as he thinks of a clever story to ease her mind. “I don’t remember how long I was in that cage or how I got there really. I don’t even know why. If you need to know why I am sorry I can’t tell you. I was a fiction writer obsessed with how science fiction dealt with time and space. I was mostly alone other than my gold tabby, Randal, who seemed to worship me. He was a little asshole but still wanted me to care for him. You know animals?”

Gen giggled. “Yeah, I know. So, have you written anything I might know?”

He shrugged, “I don’t think so. I self-published once. That seems like ages ago or maybe after now.  I’m not really sure.”

His words confused her. “After now?”

He answered, “Yeah, I created something or someone else did. I can’t remember now.”

She nods concerned his lack of concentration.“I think you need to eat and drink more to clear the cobwebs from your brain.”

He caressed her cheek again as Gen looked to him for answers. “Yeah, I think that is what happens now or should happen or did.”

Genevieve blinked several times as if that would help her understand. “Okay, weird, you relax in here.”

She headed into the kitchen to put on some steak and eggs. Gen hummed as she bustled around to get things together. She put the steaks on and seasoned them. Then she cracked the eggs beside them still humming the last song she heard as she shook her bum a little. When Gen did a little turn, she jumped seeing him standing naked in the doorway.

“I’m not sure I meant for you to get that comfortable.” Gen tried to laugh it off.

“Are you done yet?” He gave her a wanting look. “I need you.”

Genevieve turned back to flip the steaks. “It depends on how rare you like your steak.”

He came over behind her watching the steak and eggs cook. After a few minutes he put his hands on her hips.

. “Turn it off.” He pleaded. “I need you. I always need you.”

Gen is surprised to feel his arousal so prominently. She reached to turn off the stove. Then she turned to look up at him. Holding her hips, he pulled her away from the stove. He did not break eye contact. She could not tear her eyes away from his. As he reached down undoing her jeans she pulled off her hoodie with the t-shirt underneath it. Gen stepped out of her jeans and panties as he griped her face with both hands plastering his lips against hers. As she moved backwards, he continues to kiss her hungerly. She hit a wall. He pulled her hands over her head as he positions himself to wreck her. She moaned out at the complete fullness she felt. The utter intesity of the moment.

He captures her mouth in another kiss as Gen felt yourself getting close to her peak. He looked at  her with a devilish grin when she screamed out “YES OH FUCK YES!” as her orgasm hit. He groaned as he came soon after. Slowing to a still he held Genevieve close not wanting to lose their closeness. He leans his forehead to hers.

Gen ran her fingers though his drenched hair when he let go of her wrists.  “I’ll always find you. I don’t fully understand but I’ll always find you.”

He nods, “Most of the time you do.” He pulled out. “I live for these times.”

“Yeah?” Gen smiled. “We can stay here.”

“No we have to go.” He sighed. “ Put on your cloak. I’ll put on mine.”

Genevieve took a deep breath. “I think, we eat, shower and then get ready and go to the party.”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

About three hours later they go to the party. When Nadine sees them her eyes are wide.Her heart practically stops. Jealousy swells in her thoughts.

“Oh, wow you actually…” She looks to Henry. “Your Henry, right?”

He nods a yes since he knows that is the name he is called here. She looks to Genevieve. She silently mouths, you fucked him? Gen blushed. He grins walking in front of Gen knowing what Nadine is feeling. He stays close to Genevieve without saying a word as she socializes with friends. They can’t believe he is there. He just  nodded no expression on his face unless Gen turned to him in which case, he gave her a partial smile and sometimes a small kiss.

When the countdown started on the television Nadine screams, “ITS TIME. LET’S GO EVERYONE!”

Genevieve pulled The Kid outside with the rest of the crowd. He pulls her to face him as they go into the woods. A countdown to midnight goes on through cellphones as everyone laughs dancing around in their cloaks. Gen winced when her ears start to ring. He looked at her with dismay and fear in his eyes.

Several people are screaming, “Five, four, three, two…”

Genevieve put her hand on his cheek. “Don’t worry. Nothing really ever happens in these woods.”

The countdown continues as they walk near a clearing

” …two, one HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

He grabbed Gen. “Don’t worry you’ll find me another time.”

He kissed her passionately as long as he could keep her close to him as others are kissing and hugging and wishing each other a Happy New Year. But eventually Gen is pulled away to hug and kiss Nadine and others. Her hand still holds his but slowly he slips out of her grasp.

When Genevieve no longer felt him, she looked around. He is no where to be seen. Her chest hurts. Her ears are killing her. She stumbled around the scene.

Nadine helped her back to her place. “What happened? Where is he?”

“He’s gone.” Genevieve cried. “But I’ll find him another time.”

[ghost-nabbers-imagines]

👶 The baby is mine isnt it? Larry x reader

Ok so two things about this request. One, this is Larry's I have one started for Sal but really wanted to get this one up And two, a trigger warning is in effect. And in both instances the husband or boyfriend is an asshole who does not treat you well but it's going to be bad in Sal's.

Larry

I never meant to be the kinda guy who slept with another man's girlfriend. People who cheated on their partners were assholes and I wasn't like that. However, Sebastian was worse than any other asshole I've ever met. I've always thought he treated (Y/n) terribly and that she deserved better. I mean the guy treated her like shit, he was constantly poking fun at her, and making her feel bad about herself.

The day the affair happened she showed up at my door crying about how he had apparently cheated on her with a friend of his. We spent the night at my place hanging out like always except we got a bit too drunk and ended up having sex. It was the best sex I'd ever had with anyone and I knew that my love for her was genuine. I thought she felt the same way about me, I thought she would leave him and finally be mine. But I was so wrong.

She all but promised me she was leaving him that they were done. She told me she was leaving him for good this time, but a month later they were back together and she was avoiding me all together. I noticed she was different after that, more closed off, distant, almost scared. It was two months after that Ashley informed us that (Y/n) was pregnant. The news broke my heart and shocked me to my core.

It took me two weeks to get fed up with my feelings and to tell myself I had to to confront her about it. Pulling my hood up over my messy brown hair I trudged down the snow covered pavement. My hands were trembling and my mouth was dry, not because of the weather but from nerves to how she'd be towards me. Had I become a dirty secret that she wanted to hide away? Did she lie when she said she'd always felt that way?

As I knocked on her door a million ways this could go wrong flashed through my head. 'Shes pregnant with his baby what are you doing here?' My head practically screamed at me. Before I could turn and run the lock clicked and the door opened. (Y/n) peaked her head through the door her eyes widening when she saw me. She stepped out into the hallway closing the door.

"Hey Larry."

"Hey really that's all you have to say?"

"I'm sorry I know this is hard to understand right now but please try and believe me I'm doing what's best."

"I thought you were leaving him but now all of a sudden your pregnant?"

"Larry I wanted to leave I did but the baby changed things."

"Did you know you were pregnant when we slept together?"

"N-no I swear I-"

"And what about how much we drank that night? Did you tell the doctor you had gotten drunk within the first month?"

"Larry-"

"No please explain to me how you could be so damn careless. Not just to me but to the baby. And with everything you've told me about that jackass how could you want to raise a kid with him? Do you seriously think he'll get any better? For fucks sake (Y/n) are you really gonna let him treat your kid that bad?"

I truly didn't want to be yelling at her but I couldn't help it I was angry and hurt. Silent tears were cascading down her cheeks falling to the floor. Part of me wanted so badly to wrap my arms around her and stop her tears but the other part of me was focused on the pain in my chest. She didn't bother to wipe her tears away till the door clicked open again. Sebastian stepped out a frown already plastered on his face.

He glared at me in a way animals look at their rivals. It took every ounce of strength I had to not pounce on him, however whether I liked it or not he was still the father of her child. She would need him and that almost angered me even more. "What's going on here?" He asked putting his arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders making her flinch. I clenched my jaw shut balling my hands up into fists in my hoodie pockets.

"Nothing. I was just leaving." I scoffed turning to leave. "Wait Larry please." (Y/n) pleaded in a broken voice making me stop in my tracks. "Yeah. Larry (Y/n) hasn't told you the good news yet." He said in an odd voice. I turned to face the two, (Y/n) was looking away fresh tears pooling in her eyes. He had a boastful smile as he lifted up her left hand revealing a small diamond ring.

I like a sharp knife had pierced right into my heart at the sight. (Y/n) couldn't face me but she had tears falling down her face again. "We're engaged. Right after graduation we're getting married and then moving to Santa Fe with my mom." He informed me. "Congrats. You deserve each other really." I spat turning to leave their building. I felt numb but also broken as I made my way home.

What was the point of any of this any more? The girl I'd been in love with since fifth grade was pregnant and engaged to another man. I had truly lost her for good. I hated thinking I had become just another regret to her. Our drunken one night stand was nothing but that to her while I had hoped it would be the first of many times I'd get to be intimate with the girl i loved.

With slumped shoulders and silent tears I made my way into the apartments. Sal would be with Ashley so I knew I could get what I needed from his apartment. I grabbed the bottle of pills petting Gizmo on my way out. Next I went out to the treehouse turning on some of my favorite music taking a seat in a bean bag chair. I sat pondering the whole situation while staring at the bottle of pills now sitting on my shelf.

"She chose him over you." The voice in my head whispered. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to focus on the lyrics and drown out the voice. "They're going to get married, and have their baby and you'll just be a bad memory she wants to forget." The voice continued. I cranked up the music louder pressing my hands to my ears but it was no use. The voice was in my head, and unfortunately it was right.

Finally giving in I quickly scratched a note for mom and Sal. Once it was finished I began taking the pills followed by a swig of Fireball I kept up in my treehouse. I didn't cry or feel angry it was like something inside me was urging me to continue to take the pills. I made sure to include an apology about taking the pills to Sal in my note. Pretty soon there was only a small amount of pills left and I was feeling almost relieved.

As I took the last pill I leaned back in my beanbag chair my eyes landing on a Polaroid of (Y/n) and I. It had been taken by Sal just two weeks before the affair. Despite the drowsiness overwhelming me I picked up the picture a sad weak smile on my face. (Y/n) had a really bad day at school between Sebastian being a dick and apparently having her period, she ended up borrowing my jacket so she could tie her jacket around her waist. That's when it clicked in my head.

I tried to do the math in my head but I was slipping into unconsciousness quicker than I could add. The world began to get darker and darker. The last thing I saw before I passed out was (Y/n)'s beautiful face. I felt like such an idiot. Now both my girl and my baby would be stuck with that monster.

The next thing I knew I was standing across from my own corpse. "No! No I take it back! I'm not ready! I don't want to die!" I screamed at my slumped over body. Black opaque tears began to fall from my eyes never landing on the floor but disappearing mid air. "No you asshole! The babys yours! Wakeup and go save them before it's too late!" I yelled at my corpse. It was too late, I'd truly lost them both for good now because of my issues.

"Larry dear dinner is ready!" I heard my mom call from the ground. My poor mom would he the one to find me rather than Sal or anyone else. I felt even guiltier for leaving my mom alone. First my dad disappears on her now I kill myself? I felt selfish for leaving so may people behind.

"I'm so sorry mom." I whispered unmaterializing so she wouldnt see me. I stood there and listened as she called me once more still not getting any response. She began climbing the treehouse ladder mumbling something if I was asleep up here in this weather she'd kick my ass. My ghostly tears quickened hearing my mom's voice. When she reached the top of she immediately noticed the bottles and my body.

"Oh no oh god! Larry!" She screamed tears falling down her face. She kneeled next to my body her hand reaching up to feel my forehead. I could practically still feel her warmth but she felt how cold my body was. "Someone help! Please oh god be ok Lar Bear!" She screamed through sobs. She turned me on my side trying to get me to vomit.

Henry came running out to the bottom of the treehouse. "Lisa what is it what's wrong?" He asked in the same panicked voice Sal has sometimes. My mom tried and failed getting me to throw up the pills. "Call 911 Henry hurry!" She sobbed. Henry shakily pulled out his phone and ordered for an ambulance to come quickly before joining my mom in the treehouse.

"Oh no Larry." He said in a saddened voice as he knelt down next to mom who was cradling my head in her lap sobbing and taking her fingers through my hair. "My poor Lar bear." She choked out. I kneeled next to them placing my hand on my mom's shoulder making her turn and face where I was confused. I knew she wasnt ready to see me yet but I kept my hand there till the sirens came.

I watched from the treehouse as the loaded my body into a bag and into an ambulance. My mom and Henry went with a couple officers leaving me alone. After rematerializing I debated going into the actual apartments and talking to Megan but before I could I heard someone shouting my name. "Larry? Larry! Did you think that was funny? Because it was a really sick fucking joke." Sal's shaky voice yelled. I looked down to see him climbing up the treehouse.

Taking a deep breath I stood back preparing to deal with a very hurt best friend. When he got up to the treehouse he was shaking and had clearly been crying before. His eyes wondered up and down my ghost form seeing that it was in fact not a joke. "No. Not you. How could do this? How could you leave?" He said through a sob. "I'm sorry Sally Face. I left you and my mom a note. I went to see (y/n) today and Sebastian said they were getting married and moving so I lost it. I felt broken so I came back here to do this." I explained.

He shook his head sadly using his sleeve to wipe under the prosthetic. "I'm sorry Sal the voices got to me. By the time I realized the truth it was too late." I said apologizing. "Realized what truth?" He asked confused. "I found that picture the one you took remember?" I explained pointing towards the picture.

Despite being hurt and angry he leaned down grabbing the Polaroid. "Yeah that's the day you spent like all night cheering up (Y/n) and making her smile as much as you possibly could." He said confused as to why this was important. "Do you remember why I had to give (Y/n) my hoodie even though she's got a flannel around her waist?" I asked pointing to her in the picture. Sal went to speak but before he did his eyes got wide and he looked up to me.

"Oh my god dude!" He yelled shocked. "I know. I'm an asshole and now I'm no better than my dad." I said sadly. For along time I had a constant battle in my head about why my dad had left and why he didnt want me. Now here I was abandoning my baby and (Y/n). It made me hate myself even more to think about.

"But Larry you have to stop her from going!"

"How the hell do I do that when I'm stuck here? Not to mention, what would I say 'oh hey i know I'm dead and all but since you're pregnant with my baby you should stay in town and not marry that fuck head of a boyfriend of yours."

"You have to do something Larry. I mean she can actually see you and the baby will able to too."

"You're right as always little dude. Just hopefully she'll come over here after I was so horrible."

Not even minutes later we could here someone calling for both Sal and I. The voice was sad and scared but i recognized it immediately. "Go ahead hide for a second I'll try to break it to her." Sal said. I nodded unmaterializing as Sal and I made our way down from the treehouse it seemed like I could only go as far as the ground underneath the treehouse. The sight of (Y/n) almost hurt worse than that of my mom.

Her eyes were red and puffy and she had tear streaks down her slightly pink cheeks. She had a hand on her stomach the other clutching the necklace that had been a birthday present from me. I'd recognize the guitar pick anywhere it had been one I'd gotten at a Santiy's fall concert that she'd been to sick to go to. "Tell me it's not true Sal. Tell me it wasnt him." She pleaded crying. Sal pulled off his mask before comfortingly grabbing one of her hands.

"I'm so sorry (Y/n). But you should know he loved you so much." Sal said as she gradually lost it more at his words. She began shaking her head her other hand covering her mouth. "No! No no it's not true it's not true!" She cried out sinking to the ground. My heart ached and screamed for me to hold her but I knew I couldn't yet. Sal crouched down next to her placing a gentle hand on her back.

"(Y/n) do you remember what Larry and I told you about this place. About how we showed you Megan?" He asked trying to ease her into the subject. She looked up sniffling thinking for a brief minute. "About the ghosts? I thought we made all that stuff up." She said tears still falling down her precious face. Sal shook his head before answering "it was all real Megan was real. If you die in this building you stay here. Larry is still here." He told her. She let out another small sob.

"Where is he?" She asked looking towards the treehouse. I took a deep breath and materialized making her eyes widen in shock and she stood up quickly. "I'll give you some time alone." Sal said excusing himself. I turned my stare to the ground I couldn't look at her knowing what I had done. "Oh Larry. I'm so sorry this is all my fault." She said sadly. I finally looked up at her meeting her sad eyes.

"No I'm sorry. I was an asshole. A jealous fucking asshole and I'm so sorry."

"Larry theres something you should know. About-"

"The babys mine isnt it?"

She nodded and I felt myself begin to weep again. I fell to my knees the pain of this whole situation hitting me again. She moved in front of me and I wrapped my arms around her waist letting my head barely lean against her stomach. Her arms hovering around my neck. I sobbed into her stomach till I felt something gently nudge my cheek.

I looked up to face (Y/n) confused but she gave me a weak smile moving my hand to her stomach placing hers next to mine. "She's kicking." She whispered. Sure enough I felt the smallest little nudge once again. My face broke out into a grin. "She? I have a daughter?" I asked happily. She nodded giggling "Yes Larry we're gonna have a little girl."

My grin only got bigger as I stood up pulling her into as much of a hug as I could manage. "I fucking love you (y/n). I know i can't really be what you need considering I'm a ghost but I want to be a part of your life and our little girl's life." I told her pulling away from the hug but continuing to hold her hands. When I looked down I saw her hand no longer had a ring. "I want that too bear. I told Sebastian earlier it was over. That I wanted to be with my baby's actual father. He yelled and threatened me but I had already packed up my stuff and left. I was heading here when the ambulances passed me. I asked someone out front and they told me the young stoner Overdosed in the treehouse." She said frowning. "I'll have Sal fix my note to mom so she knows about you." I told her knowing despite my moms broken heart she would love to take care of her grandbaby and sort of daughter in law.

"Does Lisa know about any of this? Or about you still being here?" She asked. "No I haven't talked to her about it yet. She asked why you weren't coming over anymore I just told her you were back with him. And I dont think shes ready to see me just yet." I explained making her nod her head. Sal came back out his prosthetic back on but I could tell he too had been crying. "Hey Sal can you grab my note from the treehouse I need to have you change something." I asked smiling at my best friend. He smiled back climbing the treehouse before returning with the note and a pen.

"Tell my mom what happened, that I thought I was losing them both and how much I really longed for (y/n) to be mine and the baby to be mine. And add that Henry was the best step dad I could have asked for." I told him. He scribbled everything down as close to my handwriting as he could get before folding the note back up. "(Y/n) you can stay with me tonight if you'd like and go to Lisa's tomorrow." Sal told (Y/n). She turned back towards me smiling softly. "I'd ask to stay in the treehouse with you but I take it you won't want me climbing up there and everything. I laughed shaking my head. "I'll be watching over you dont worry." I promised.

~your pov~

The next morning I made my way down to Lisa's apartment with a lasagna I had picked up the stuff to have Sal help with. From the outside of the door I could hear Lisa's soft crying coming from inside. Taking a deep breath I knocked on the door. After a couple minutes the door opened to reveal Henry. "You hang out with the boys, (Y/n) right?" He asked observing my growing belly. I forced myself to nod with a smile before answering "Yeah Hi Mr. Fisher. I wanted to bring this by for Lisa."

A moment later Lisa appeared next to Henry. "(Y/n) sweetheart come in." She sniffled offering me a broken smile. Henry let me in and took the lasagna to the kitchen for me. Lisa pulled me into a hug holding me tightly. She was wearing her pajamas but with one of Larry's jackets on. "He loved you so much dear I hope you know that." She said with a small sob.

"I know Lisa. I loved him too. I'm so sorry this is my fault. If I had just told him the truth about the baby, or if I hadn't been so scared of Sebastian he'd still be here. I'm so so sorry." I choked out feeling myself break down into tears again. Lisa pulled away pushing some of my hair back. "Now dont you talk like that Larry wouldn't want you blaming yourself or stressing about his actions. We'll all miss him of course but he wouldnt want you to be in so much pain in this state. He loved you and if you're saying what I think you are he would have loved this baby too. It's not your fault you were in an impossible situation." She told me sternly. I nodded trying to wipe away some of the tears. "The babys a girl. I wanted so badly to go tell Larry when I found that out. But Sebastian said if I talked to him there wouldn't be a baby to talk about." I admitted making Lisa frown before smiling and putting a comforting arm around me as we sat on the couch.

"Where are you staying dear?" She asked taking a sip from a mug on the coffee table. "I stayed with Sal last night once I found out about Larry. I was coming over here to talk to him about our baby but I got here too late." I sniffled. I pulled the picture from my pocket, I had brought a copy of the ultrasound picture for Lisa. She smiled grabbing the picture. "Is this her?" She asked. I nodded smiling at the picture of my daughter and her granddaughter.

"I hope she has Larry's eyes." I sighed. "Hopefully she doesn't have his nose. My father gave him that nose and he hated it. I cant imagine it's a trait he'd want to pass on." Lisa said with a pained laugh. "Oh god yeah. I kinda hope she does. It'd be like having a little Larry running around." I laughed. "What if you moved into Larry's room? I couldn't stand the idea of getting rid of his things or donating any of it." She suggested looking up from the photo. "Are you sure I dont want to impose Lisa especially with everything that's happened." I asked. She shook her head smiling. "Of course dear. I could use more family right now." She smiled.

~Third person pov~

Over the next couple months you lived happily with Lisa helping her around the house while she helped you with baby stuff. You spent most of your time after school hanging out with Larry in the treehouse. Sal and Lisa went with you to your appointments. Sal would take his walkie and let Larry listen in each time. Of course when you'd get back you'd go straight to him and talk to him about it anyways. As the baby was born and got older Larry was an amazing father in your opinion. He was always there for you and your child.

~Lex💛

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

A love that never leaves (10)

Summary: Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. SMUT, 18+ please.

A/N: Bucky’s reaction surprises her, Sam Wilson might bitch slap Steve Rogers, Bucky makes my favorite sandwich in the entire world because he is a skilled chef, and they have a memorable night together (please stop by if you would like a smut free recap).

But of course, you guys know me, so…I am sorry...

Links don’t work, so if you want to access the full ALTNL Masterlist, just click the MASTERLIST header on my blog.

Previously...

She mourns for Henry and the tragedy of his fate. Loving a soldier was one thing she never expected and the experience nearly killed her. The war trudges on, and sometimes soldiers pass through the village; while she always puts her nursing skills to good use, she keeps her distance.

Sometimes she sits by the creek, washing clothes in the cold water and thinking. She wishes she had the power to scrub her own brain clean, but no.

This is her penance, the one she will pay from now until the end of time.

To remember.

*****

MISSION REPORT

BOTH TARGETS UNEXPECTEDLY INFILTRATED BASE. UNABLE TO SEPARATE AND ADDRESS INDIVIDUALLY. WILL CONTINUE HOLDING PATTERN UNTIL OPPORTUNITY ARISES.

What did they find? Sweat beads along his scalp, freezing drips wetting pale hair. He needs to know, he searched that base from top to bottom, but he knows they found something. The Soldier was skittish, and her - well.

Something happened.

They will tell him. That he can promise.

All in due time.

*****

No one knows this, but sometimes when Bucky can’t sleep, he likes to draw.

Between the two of them, Steve is the real artist, no contest there. For Bucky, it’s not about drawing well, it’s about drawing something that helps him connect with his past.

So occasionally, when the nightmares are really riding his ass, he wanders to the roof of the tower with three things: his pink notebook of “Bucky Facts”, a blank pad of paper, and Steve’s Prismacolor colored pencils. He flips through his notebook and finds something he’s struggling with - and he draws it. For some reason, when he can transpose the memories from a bundle of echoes into a colorful sketch, it cements the idea in his head.

A paint by number puzzle. Words and colors swirled together to reimagine the past he's so desperate to remember.

Now, he sits on the coffee table in front of a woman who has no need to ever remind herself of the past. No need for clumsy outlines and careful colors; the endless infinity of memories locked behind her haunted eyes speaks of every color in the universe and Bucky wonders if he had to paint her memories, what colors could ever convey the horrors of her past.

He thinks she and the Soldier would have a remarkably similar color palette.

God, he hates that fact.

Her voice is hoarse from talking and she keeps swallowing, stubbornly pushing down the lump of tears threatening to melt in her throat. He understands why she was reluctant to tell him, why she said those ridiculous words.

I don’t think you’ll like me very much, when you know.

Everything about her seems so much clearer now. The hesitancy to reveal her past; the strange collection of items he found stashed around her home; her fear he would be angry when he knew her ability. Bucky gets it, he really truly does, but here’s the thing.

It makes no god damn difference.

He loves her. Nothing will change that.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” he hears her whisper and that’s it.

Scooting forward, he drops from the coffee table to kneel before her. Wiggling himself between her legs, he wraps his arms around her waist and gazes into her miserable expression.

“Listen to me. Do you remember when you told me not to apologize for what happened to me? That is wasn’t my fault? It took me years to even start believing that, but the moment I heard it from you, it finally made sense. You did that for me. So right now, I need you to remember those words and repeat them back to me, alright?”

“I can’t -”

“You can,” he says firmly. “What happened there, what you did - it was not your fault. Do you understand that? It was not your fault. Say it back to me.”

The words are lead in her mouth. It takes several stumbling attempts, but Bucky is patient.

“It wasn’t - it wasn’t my fault,” she finally says, her cold fingers clutching his forearms. Bucky rewards her with a huge smile and buries his face against her belly. He hugs her tighter.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeats, his voice muffled in her sweater.

"It wasn't my fault," she says one more time. Threading her fingers through his hair, she drags her nails lightly over his scalp and Bucky leans contentedly into the touch. They sit in silence and let the minutes drift along until he finally feels her tension subside.

A peculiar thought occurs to him, then.

“The base in Poland, where you were held. I think I know it,” he says cautiously. “Awhile back, we got a distress signal from there. I saw that chair, the one you mean. I, um, sort of broke it. Went kinda nuts and tore it apart. They stuck me in rehab after that, but - totally fuckin’ worth it.”

“Good,” she says fervently, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm. Bucky reaches up and catches her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and trying to lighten the mood.

“Well hey, so - you met Carter then,” he says with a grin. Her lip trembles slightly, but she tries to smile.

���I did,” she confirms.

“Wish you could’ve met under better circumstances, you would’ve had a lot in common. Steve loves telling people how often she’d bust my balls.”

Bucky tickles her and she huffs out a breathless laugh and squirms away. He feels a thousand times lighter when he hears a playful note return to her voice.

“Something tells me you probably deserved it Sergeant.”

“Won’t argue there,” Bucky agrees and stretches up to plant a firm kiss on her lips.

*****

The sun is setting when she asks if she can have some time alone. Bucky can see the struggle in her face - reliving nightmares is exhausting.

“I’ll just be outside,” she says quietly, shrugging into her coat. “Need a few minutes to - think, I guess.”

“Hang on,” he says. Going into the kitchen, he flips on her electric kettle, pulls her favorite purple mug from the cupboard, and plops a teabag inside. Grabbing her biggest quilt, he fluffs it open and wraps it tight around her shoulders; once the kettle sings, he hands her the steaming mug of Earl Grey and drops a kiss on her nose. “There, now you’ll be warm.”

For a long moment, she stares at him. Bucky watches her bite her lip, steeling her nerves to speak. He waits expectantly, his hands running lightly up and down her arms to warm her, but nothing happens. Whatever she wanted to say disappears and she looks down.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“Anytime,” he says softly and opens the door for her. She steps onto the cold porch and sinks onto the top step, tipping her face toward the setting sun. Bucky shuts the door with a click.

Everything changes.

Stalking to the kitchen counter, white-hot rage fills his chest. Snarling at the offending photos, he snatches his phone and dials Steve, and before the phone finishes the first ring, a blond head appears.

“Whaddaya got?” Steve asks, as he rummages through the fridge.

“Are you ever not eating,” Bucky scowls and Steve grunts.

“I’m a growing boy. So?”

Rubbing his forehead, Bucky tries to organize his thoughts and figure out where to begin. The clink and clatter of silverware keeps coming through the phone and then Steve’s piling leftover containers in his arms and dumping them on the counter and out of nowhere, Bucky loses his shit.

“Steve, can you - can you just - I need you to - god fucking dammit Rogers, sit the fuck down!”

Steve jerks to a stop when Bucky’s voice scales up. Considering him for all of three seconds, Steve dumps the mess of leftovers - which all have THESE ARE SAM’S DON’T TOUCH written on them in black marker - without a word and walks away, sinking into an armchair.

“Sorry. I’m listening.”

The whole thing is insane and Bucky has no clue how to begin.

So he just starts talking.

About the woman who saved his life when he was bleeding out in a blizzard; how she called him Soldier and brought him to her home and sewed him up. How he shoved a butcher knife to her throat in thanks, before she told him the story of how she met him years ago. How her words helped him remember that bloody night in Paris.

He tells Steve about deciding to stay, about her potato soup, about how he remembered Steve telling him about the letters he got from his girl during the war, and how it felt when Bucky realized he was the Jimmy she wanted that night. He relays the story of how they met during the war and Steve sucks in a shocked breath. Bucky tells him she kept all his letters and how she let him read them again and how he asked her to marry him the last time they were in the village and if he sees tears fill Steve’s eyes, he forces himself to ignore it.

He keeps talking.

About discovering the information at the base, photos and information about the original soldier trials and how there must be someone who fired up the signal, because Bucky found recent blood and a clean black glove. He tells Steve about her ability and what Hydra did to her all those years ago and he can hear Steve’s teeth clack together, can see the furious tick in his jaw.

It smooths away for a moment, when Bucky recounts the story with Peggy. Steve always was a sap.

Bucky tells him almost everything, but saves some things for himself; he figures he deserves to have a few memories that are all his own.

Well, not just his. Theirs.

When he finishes, Steve is silent. Bucky can see the thoughts swing dancing through his brain as he works it out. Finally, Steve clears his throat.

“Okay, that’s a lot to unravel. I’m gonna have some questions, but for now I’m just gonna go with it. Sounds great.” Bucky snorts and Steve just shrugs. “What can I say? It’s fuckin’ weird, but we’ve seen weirder. I trust your judgement. Tell me what you need.”

Yes, Steve Rogers can be a massive pain in the ass, but Bucky sure fucking loves him.

“Alright. The first distress signal we got was that base near Krakow, where she was kept,” Bucky says. “They were testing soldiers there and I found more evidence here - it can’t be a coincidence. I think there’s something or someone connected, I just haven’t found the link.”

“Let’s assume you’re right,” Steve says. “What next?”

“I’m going back into town tomorrow to see if I can dig up anything else. Can you look into that Hydra fuck who was chasing her? See if there’s something we’re not seeing?”

“Got it,” Steve answers. “Say the name again?”

“First name Wilhelm, last name Richter, Romeo-India-Charlie-Hotel-Tango-Echo-Romeo,” he rattles off. “I vaguely recognize his face, but I was still new when he disappeared, and those early memories are shit. I think the story was that he deserted, but that’s all I got.”

“Going to the lab now,” Steve heaves himself to his feet and walks swiftly toward the elevators. Smashing the button, he waits impatiently and then looks down at the phone, his expression softening. “Hey Buck?”

“Yeah?” Bucky says distractedly, craning his neck to see out the window. He can still see her sitting on the steps, gazing pensively into the coming night.

“You got your girl back. I’m - hey. I’m really fuckin’ happy for you.” Surprised, Bucky looks down at the phone and sees Steve giving him a crooked grin. “You deserve this. Don’t forget that.”

Bucky nods, feels his face grow warm. “Yeah. Thanks man.”

“I’m coming out to see you both, soon as we get this sorted,” Steve warns. The elevator in front of him dings and Bucky barks out a happy laugh. The idea of his best friend staying at their house like they’re an ordinary couple, with a boring life and annoying friends who crash on their couch - it sends cozy domestic tingles skittering up his spine and he can’t fight the idiotic grin.

“You got it.”

Steve gives him a goodbye salute and the elevator ends the call.

*****

“I was thinking,” Bucky says an hour later.

Dressed in his old sweatpants and ratty Captain America t-shirt, he’s slouched against the arm of the couch. Curled tight against him, her head is tucked into his shoulder. She musters a tiny smile when she looks up. “Should I be nervous?”

“Hey,” he pouts. “It’s like you assume I’d have crazy ideas or something.”

“When the shoe fits,” she murmurs, poking him.

“Very true.” Placing a finger under her chin, he tips her face up and gives her an exaggerated kiss. “But it’s not that crazy. How about I make you supper?”

She perks up at the suggestion, her strained smile morphing into something real. “I’d love that.”

Scrambling from the couch, Bucky grabs her hands and lifts her up. “Come keep me company,” he urges, guiding her to the kitchen counter. Tugging a blanket tight around her shoulders, she shuffles with him and hops up on a barstool. Even through the layers of sadness, he sees a glimmer of happiness spark in her eyes, and honestly?

That’s all he wanted.

Digging through her drawer of kitchen towels, he finds a green polka-dot apron and ties it around his waist with a flourish. Pulling a hair tie off his wrist, he coaxes the strands into a messy bun, and then cracks his knuckles for good measure.

“You definitely look the part,” she compliments and Bucky winks.

“Alright, so this is a Bucky specialty,” he says confidentially. Rifling through the cabinets, he sets a skillet on the stovetop and starts assembling the ingredients: bread, butter, honey, peanut butter, and three bananas. “I make excellent cereal, exceptional frozen pizza, and this - fried peanut butter, honey, and banana sandwiches.”

She wrinkles her nose skeptically. “That doesn’t sound like a real thing.”

“Darlin’,” he says, reaching over and tapping her on the nose with a spatula, “where’s the trust?”

Finally. Finally, he gets the sound he wanted.

A small laugh escapes.

“You’re right. Sorry Buck,” she says, and when he sees the adoration in her eyes, he thinks his heart might explode.

Ten minutes later, he slides the gooey sandwich onto her plate and if she still looks skeptical, she gives him the benefit of the doubt. Taking a small bite, she chews for a moment and looks up in surprise.

“This is fantastic!” she exclaims. Bucky grins and takes a huge, messy bite; peanut butter drips onto the plate, a bit of honey gets stuck in his beard, and a few bananas tumble out.

“Got lots of hidden talents, just you wait and see.”

*****

One bottle of wine, and four sandwiches later, Bucky sees her stifling a yawn and proclaims himself exhausted and ready for bed.

“You go on up,” he tells her, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

While she makes her way upstairs, Bucky does a methodical loop around the small cabin. He checks, double checks, and then triple checks every single lock; every window and every door, even the fireplace flue, gets a thorough review. Once he’s satisfied, he flips the lights off and stands at the living room window, letting his eyes adjust. Feathery snowflakes are swirling again and as he glares into the moonlit night, he finds threats lurking everywhere.

The wind whistling through the trees beyond the front door. The shadows beside the weatherworn walls of the woodshed. The meandering flow of the icy creek down the slope. Before it felt peaceful and idyllic - now it seems harsh and sinister.

It infuriates him.

What does he have to do to have a normal god damn life with her? Why is there always something standing in their way?

“Whoever you are,” he mutters, “and whatever you want, you stay the fuck away from her.”

But the night keeps it’s dark secrets. With a vicious sneer, Bucky heads upstairs.

*****

Flickers of blue and orange dance merrily in the fireplace, casting a warm glow around the dark bedroom. Padding silently to the doorway, he stops.

And he drinks up the image hungrily, slotting it into his newly built box of favorite memories.

Huddled on the bed, her knees are drawn up to her chest and she gazes thoughtfully into the flames, her chin cupped in her palm. When he clears his throat, she looks over with the ghost of a smile.

“Hey, you,” Bucky says quietly. Walking to the foot of the bed, he waits nervously. For what, he doesn’t know, but it feels like the right thing to do.

Sitting up on her knees, she leans forward and skims her hands lightly up his chest, circling his broad shoulders and trailing down his arms. When her fingers brush over his hands, one a little sweaty, one always cold, she picks both of them up together and drops a kiss on his knuckles.

It nearly makes him cry.

Instead, he curls a wide hand behind her neck and finds her lips. The kiss is deep, his tongue rubbing gently against hers and it feels like heaven, sizzling hot and full of fire. God, her kiss could bring him to his knees.

But rather unexpectedly, she breaks away.

And Bucky feels his entire world tilt when she sheds her t-shirt, before eagerly meeting his lips again. Frozen in surprise, he feels her guiding his hands over her body, until his fingers are splayed across her bare skin and this time he breaks the kiss with a strangled groan.

“Are you sure?” he says hoarsely, staring intently while he struggles to keep his hands from roaming. “We don’t have to do anything, I don’t expect - “

“Please, Bucky” she interrupts softly, her cool hands skimming down his chest and he tightens his abs reflexively. “Please?”

There’s no way on earth, he’s telling her no.

Cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing lightly over her nipples, Bucky moves in for another kiss. Metal and human, his fingers circle her breasts, pinching and rolling the sensitive skin until she’s panting into his mouth and he drinks down the sweet sounds. He feels her bunching up the fabric of his shirt, wordlessly asking him to remove it, and he wants to feel her skin on his more than anything, but then his stupid head gets in the way again.

“My - my scars and everything, they’re not - it ain’t pretty,” he warns. “I know you saw them when you fixed me up, but this is different. I know that, you don’t have to - I mean, I can leave the shirt on, if you - you know, if you want.”

“No,” she says fiercely. “I want you, Bucky. All of you.”

The words are magic and Bucky sags with relief. Taking a deep breath, he crosses his arms and and he shakes only a little when he pulls the shirt off. It drops from numb fingers, and the web of thick scars looks surreal in the firelight, smooth and dark pink. He watches her eyes find the pattern carved into his skin, five ropes of raised tissue clearly outlining his attempt to claw the damn thing off in some past life.

Fucking Christ, he hates this part of himself, he really fucking does.

But of course, it doesn’t faze her.

Bringing her mouth to the joint of his shoulder, she presses her lips to his scars, and each line Bucky unwittingly scratched into his body, she memorizes with her tongue. On and on, her mouth moves against him and when she finally stops, the puckered skin feels warm for the first time in his entire life.

In disbelief, he stares at the unfiltered love in her face and he feels the faint burn of tears pricking his eyes.

How the hell did he ever got so god damn lucky?

With a rush, he slants his mouth back over hers, and pushes her back into the fluffy blankets. Crawling hurriedly over her, he settles between her legs, never breaking the kiss, while he reacquaints himself with everything. The tiny noises she makes, the feel of her body beneath him, the insistent way she rolls her hips against him. Every bit feels perfect and Bucky loses himself in her, time immaterial as he does his best to take her apart.

Because if she really does have to remember everything, well - Bucky's damn well going to give her something incredible to remember.

When her fingers trail down and hook in the waistband of his sweats, desire zings straight to his dick and he’s so close to just going with it, he really is, but god dammit, he’s a moron who’s unable to let himself be happy, so once again, he breaks the kiss with a reluctant hiss.

“Fucking hell. Wait, wait, before we do anything, I’m sorry, but I need - I have to tell you, I gotta be honest,” he rasps urgently, cursing himself in every language he knows. “There are - there were - there have been others. Through the years, I’ve been with other people. During - when I was with them. And then a couple others since I came back.”

Okay, maybe Steve Rogers isn’t a cockblock after all.

Maybe Bucky Barnes is his own god damn idiot cockblock.

Shame wells up and he tries to look away, but she immediately turns him back.

“Bucky, no. Don’t. I assumed. It was seventy years. Of course, there were other people,” she gives him a crooked little smile. “There were others for me too, sometimes. When I needed to - to cope. With the loneliness.”

There’s a wild flash of anger at her words, not directed at her, not even directed at the nameless lovers in her bed, but directed at the circumstances that put them on this path; they deserved better than this. But regardless, he needs her to understand something.

Something that shapes everything they are together.

“It was only ever you though,” he promises heatedly. “Deep down inside, it was only you. It’s only ever been you. I need you to know that.”

“I know,” she says, and she tugs him down for another toe-curling kiss.

This time, finally - he goes with it.

“I want to memorize every single inch of your body,” he murmurs. “Don’t want to ever forget again.”

So he starts at the top.

He kisses the curve of her shoulders, the delicate skin over her collarbone; he licks and sucks at her nipples until her skin feels chaffed from his rough beard. He pulls down her sleep shorts as he moves lower, fumbling awkwardly with his own sweats and tossing them both over his shoulder. At first he skips what he really wants, and instead searches out the fragile bones at her ankles, traces the smooth muscle in her calves, nips the skin behind her knee.

He holds himself back until he can’t take it any more.

And then he buries his face between her legs with a groan.

She tastes like heaven. Fuck, how did he live this long without having her on his tongue every single day? He feels her knees tip inward self-consciously and he gently pushes them open, keeping them pinned to the bed because he’s planning to stay here forever if she'll let him.

Looking down, she finds him watching intently. His dark hair tickles her thighs, his bright blue eyes burn her from the inside out, and her entire body begins to tingle. Fingers flex, toes curl, her breath comes fast and rough, and then Bucky sucks her clit hard and pushes two thick fingers into her.

Strung out and floating, she grab fistfuls of his hair and moans.

Bucky grips her leg tight and breaks away for a split second to speak.

“Come on honey, let go for me,” his voice is a low growl and she glances down to see him grinding his hips into the bed, searching for his own relief, and it’s that flex and roll, the way his muscles bunch so beautifully, that tips her over the edge. With a cry, she comes hard, clutching his face to her as the orgasm shivers through every cell of her body.

“Oh god,” she rasps, “oh god, Bucky.”

It thrills him beyond anything, the sound of his name like a prayer on her lips.

“So good,” he murmurs, still continuing the light strokes of his tongue. “You taste so fucking good.”

“That was - that was - god, Bucky” she mumbles, tripping over the words. Mouthing at the curve of her hip, he hums delightedly.

“Just getting started. Can you turn over for me?” he asks gently, and she blinks slowly, before her smile follows. Rolling to her stomach, she stretches languidly, wrapping her arms around a pillow. “I hope you have another one in you,” Bucky says lowly, giving her bottom a playful squeeze.

“I think I can manage,” she says, her voice muffled, and Bucky huffs a laugh. Planting a kiss at the base of her spine, he works his way north, his tongue tracing every bump along the way. Up, up, up, his lips cover the knobs up her back and his fingers follow, warm flesh and cool metal walking up her ribcage, until he reaches the back of her neck. Licking a slow line up, he mouths at the smooth skin behind her ear and her body twitches at the feel.

Nudging her legs open further, he shifts his hips and reaches a hand down to grip himself tight. Willing himself to stop shaking, he rubs himself between her legs, and finds her so wet and so slick from the orgasm he gave her just moments before. With his lips at her ear, he whispers his favorite words in a low rush.

“I love you,” he tells her, before he pushes himself inside.

At the feel, he goes utterly still.

It rattles him down to his god damn bones, this love he has for her - she can feel him trembling above her and she glances over her shoulder to meet his wide-eyed stare.

“I love you too,” she breathes, and her voice is the anchor he needs. Blinking rapidly, he dips down to kiss her cheek.

And he starts to move.

All Bucky knows in this moment, is her. The tight feel of her on his cock. The way her skin holds a hint of salt. The way she shudders every time he bottoms out. Every nuance of her body that he must have memorized in his past life.

Sliding his hand beneath her, his fingers find their way between her legs and he strokes her clit with every slow rock of his hips. Against the backdrop of dim light from the crackling fire, the room fills with the delicious sounds of pleasure, quiet grunts and the sharp catch of breath and the rustle of fabric as a body slides over silky sheets.

Dropping his mouth to the pulse at her neck, he sucks gently, insatiable for the thrumming feel of her heartbeat laid bare on his tongue. When he hears her breathing harder, sees her hands gripping the bedsheets tighter, feels her body beginning that faint tremble again, he abruptly changes his mind.

“Wait, please wait,” he begs, pulling himself carefully from her body and rolling her onto her back. Wide eyes meet his and time stops.

Spread out beneath him, she is sheer perfection.

Before she can speak, Bucky captures her lips again and shoves himself back into her.

And maybe it’s the strangest thing, but even without the memories to guide him, that muscle memory branded into his heart knows what to do. Just like their first time together, Bucky pulls her leg up and hitches it around his waist, thrusting into her harder. Unable to speak, unable to even look away, they watch each other, both devouring the small bits they find, in case god forbid, they ever lose each other again.

When her fingers curl around his neck, drawing him closer, he rests his forehead against hers.

“Bucky,” she whispers, his name catching in her throat, “Bucky.”

“I’m here,” he pants above her. Every thrust comes faster and his control begins to slip. “I’m here, I lo-love you, god I love you so fu-fucking much, never leaving you again, not ev-ever,” he grits out.

Anchoring his knees to the mattress, he slams himself into her again and again, hitting every nerve ending just right and suddenly she finds a universe of stars. Clutching his shoulders, she clings tight to him as her body tenses and she comes one more time.

Bucky stutters out a wrecked groan when he feels her body gripping him, and that familiar tingle hits his belly. Burying his face in her neck, he gives one last, hard thrust and then grinds himself against her, a strangled growl ripping from his throat when he follows her into that blissful oblivion.

Breathing hard, he keeps his eyes shut tight against her, willing his heart to slow. Against her neck, he sucks a wet line up her throat, back to her lips. Warm, lazy kisses ease them both back to reality and their racing hearts find a new rhythm.

One that beats together.

Muscle memory, in the purest sense.

When you cut to the heart of their story, there’s a simple truth: they’re so different from who they were together in 1944. Both have lived multiple lifetimes, filled with all the tragedy and heartbreak the world could dish out; it shaped each of them in ways the other has yet to discover.

But even though time has reshaped them into something new, there are some things that will never change.

Each touch buzzes with forgotten familiarity, the way she trails her fingers up his sweat-slick bicep, like something he remembers from a hazy dream; the way his breath catches with every slow thrust of his hips is a sound she could follow in her sleep; the way their bodies fall easily into a rhythm together, an unconscious muscle memory.

Bucky wants to run into the snowy night, wants to shout his happiness to the heavens. This right here, this is what the poets sing about. Every line, every song, every beat of a lovestruck heart. Here in her arms, he finds everything he ever hoped to have and in the fading firelight, he holds fast to the one truth he knows above all else.

Love like this, is worth any cost.

“You’re the love of my life,” he whispers, and she lays her cheek against his chest and kisses the sweaty skin above his heart.

Right there, Bucky knows he’s the luckiest man on Earth.

*****

The sun is just beginning to creep into the eastern horizon, but he’s been awake for hours.

Laying between her legs, his head is pillowed on her stomach. The sleep shirt she wears is tissue thin and satiny smooth; it smells just like her and keeps taking deep, cleansing breaths, trying to embed that scent into his memory. Bit creepy maybe, but oh well.

Dim rays of light begin to slip into the room, filtering through the tall pine trees flanking the window, and as the world begins to wake, she follows. Like a touch-starved kitten, Bucky nuzzles into her, wordlessly asking for affection and when she scratches her nails along his scalp, it feels so damn good, he gives a blissful little groan.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and she hums.

“I love you,” she mumbles sleepily and there’s a pleased rumble in his chest at her reply.

“Won’t ever get tired of hearing that,” he sighs happily.

“I’ll never get tired of saying it,” she answers with a yawn.

Still half asleep, he feels her relaxing, the comforting strokes of her fingers getting slower, heavier, and he knows she’s drifting back to sleep. Maybe he should let her, but there are these words he’s been practicing under his breath all night long and he’s getting anxious and he just wants to say them, before he loses the nerve.

“Darlin’?” he asks quietly, folding his hands across her chest and resting his chin on them.

“Hmmm?” she says, her voice a bit slurry as she opens her eyes. Bucky fleetingly thinks every bit of light in the world must be concentrated on her, because she’s the only thing he can see.

Heart racing, he tamps down the nervousness and wets his lips. He wants to do this right, wants to make sure it’s perfect.

“Would you do something for me?” he says carefully, choosing those words, borrowing that phrase he gave her back in 1944 and god, he hopes he’s returning them in the way she remembers.

At first, she doesn’t catch it, simply running her fingers down his arm, but her words are so naturally reminiscent of the past.

“I’d do anything for you.” Bucky says nothing, simply waiting. She’s confused by his silence, until he tilts his head and a slow smile curves his lips. Her eyes widen and she blinks slowly. “Bucky -“

The staccato thrum of her heartbeat is suddenly flying against his hands and his blue eyes are so bright, overflowing with emotion when he completes the question.

“Would you marry me?”

Time, normally an unending commodity, freezes. They stare at each other, Bucky holding his breath as he waits, desperate for the same answer she gave him in 1945, knowing it’s a risk, he’s taking a huge leap here, but unable to do anything except go for it.

“I want to marry you Bucky, I do, I want - I want it so - god, I want it so much. You’re all I ever - this is the only thing I’ve ever wanted - “

Blowing out a huge breath, Bucky starts to laugh. Bouncing up, he cuts her off, peppering her face with happy kisses, sloppy wet trails down her forehead, over her cheeks, on her nose, up her neck. Every inch of skin he can find he marks with excited lips.

“Shit, thank god, ugh thank god! I mean it this time, I’m getting you that ring. Soon as I get back to New York I’ll get it, you come with me, we’ll pick it out together, anything you want. Hell, I got decades of back-pay from the army, and I mean, I hate to brag, but I’m sorta rich now.”

“Bucky -“

“Whatever you want for a wedding, I’m game. If you want something big, that’s great. Something small, even better. Only thing I need is to have the team there, and Steve’ll flat out murder me if he doesn’t get to stand up with us, he’s a real bitch for attention sometimes.”

“Bucky -“

“And we can live wherever you want, doesn’t matter to me. I’d love to just stay here if that’s okay, if you don’t mind, I mean it really feels like home and I ain’t had one of those for so damn long, but if you wanna live in New York or hell, anywhere, I can make it work, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Bucky, I’m - “

“And I’m done with work, that’s it,” he laughs exuberantly “Stark’ll be pissed, he just made me this new arm, but I don’t fuckin’ care, I got you now, I’m staying put unless they get really desperate and -“

“Bucky, stop!”

The panic in her voice is like a wave of ice water. It shuts him down instantly. Silence hangs heavy in the room before he blows out a long breath.

“Shit,” he says softly, embarrassment pinking his cheeks. “Dammit, that was - was that too much? M’sorry, I got carried away, I just - shit, I’m sorry.”

Sitting up on her knees to face him, she reaches up and tucks his messy hair behind his ears and cups his flushed face in her palms. “No, it wasn’t too much, it was - it was perfect, that’s not it.”

“Okay. Okay, so - was it something else I said?”

She says nothing, but instead she searches his face, her eyes slowly roaming over every feature and Bucky thinks for a moment that she’s memorizing him. Licking her lips, she rubs her thumbs lightly over his sharp cheekbones and she swallows hard.

“Shit,” she says under her breath. “Shit, shit, shit. Fuck.”

“Hey now, thought I was the one with the potty mouth here,” he jokes weakly. She doesn’t crack a smile and Bucky feels his stomach swoop uncertainly. “Darlin’, what - what’s the matter?”

Still, she says nothing. Longing is so heartbreakingly clear in her face and Bucky can’t reconcile it. Suddenly, she surges forward, pressing her lips to his and he catches her, folding her up in his arms. She kisses him desperately, twining her arms around his neck and Bucky still has no idea what’s going on, but it doesn’t matter. All he wants, is to soothe whatever terrible thought is upsetting her, because this is his job, this is what he does.

He loves her, no matter what.

When she finally breaks the kiss, he tries to smile. “What was that for?”

Breathing hard, she closes her eyes.

“Just in case.”

With those words, she extricates herself from his arms and climbs from the bed. Walking to the fireplace, she slots her fingers into a tiny groove on the bottom of the third stone above the mantle. It takes no more than a gentle tug, and the stone comes away easily. Setting it carefully on the floor, she reaches into the black space it reveals.

Another hiding spot.

Whatever she collects, she stares at it for a full minute, before clasping it to her chest. Turning slowly, fearful eyes lock on his face and for a fleeting moment, Bucky conjures the morbid image of someone walking to their own execution. Climbing back onto the bed, she sits back on her heels and he sees her clutching a small silver box.

“I want to marry you Bucky Barnes. I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you, because I’ve loved you every single day since the moment we met, and I hope - I need you to know that.”

“I know, honey,” he says in absolute confusion.

“You’re the love of my life. Please remember that,” she whispers, and she sets the silver box on the bed. The lock has five numbers, and she spins each dial until it pops open. Fingers shaking, she picks up the small piece of fabric inside and holds it out for him to see.

It’s the strangest thing.

In her hand, is a ripped piece of faded blue cloth, with a familiar gray patch sewn into it; smudgy rust-red splotches color the edges like fingerprints.

Wings. Gray wings. Nostalgically familiar, because back in the war, each of the Howling Commandos wore one on their left sleeve, a mirror image tribute to the one painted on Steve’s helmet.

Including Bucky. Who wore one on the left sleeve of his coat.

The left sleeve of his blue coat.

Now, he stares uncomprehendingly at the piece of cloth. “What - “ he starts, but his voice fades. Small shivers are running through her body as she watches him, her face filled with dread. Taking a shaky breath, she whispers.

“There was one other time we met.”

*****

Next Chapter

*****

[bimbadoll]

Make my heart beat faster

[chloelucia13]

Night and Day Part 3

Pairing: Jack Kline x reader or Michael Langdon x reader

Prompt: What are the chances that there are two antichrists in the world, you know both of them, and they both are in love with you?

Chapter Warnings: ANGST, a lil fluff, language, violence, just oof

Series Warnings: fluff, angst (a SHIT ton, buckle up), language, violence, smut, overall dark themes, love triangle if that’s considered a warning?

A/N: Enjoy y’all! Tag list is open! [listen to “Sea of Doubts” by Azure Ray (prominent role in story)] Read part 1 here! Read part 2 here!

Tags: @featherpool-852, @angelpeachamber, @korrynn-nadine, @aliaitee (tag list is open)

“Cordelia,” you whispered, voice quivering with fear. “Don’t do this.”

“We don’t have another choice,” she hissed, avoiding eye contact with you.

“Yes we do. We can do anything other than this.” Tears began to well in your eyes as they tied the people Michael loved to the stakes.

“Why are you defending them?” John Henry chided, turning to glare at you.

“Because I know what Michael will do when this happens, and it sure as hell isn’t what we want him to do. This plan is idiotic, and that’s putting it lightly.”

“Enough!” Cordelia shouted, making you jump slightly. “We are going through with this, whether you like it or not.”

You turned and immediately locked eyes with Ms. Mead, a tear slipping past your face.

“I don’t know what you did, kid, but Michael sure has grown to like you,” Ms. Mead told you while you were waiting for Michael to come.

“What do you mean?” you asked, nervously playing with the sleeves of your jacket.

“Do you think he would ever take anyone out on a date, especially since the cops are looking for him and he’s being watched 24/7 by a bunch of warlocks?”

You pursed your lips in thought for a moment before shaking your head, a small smile gracing your face. “I didn’t think about it that way.”

She smiled and patted your shoulder. She stared at you, contemplating what she was about to say next. However, before she could say anything, Michael appeared from behind the tall black wall, his face lighting up the moment he saw you both. He ran over to the both of you and gave Ms. Mead a brief hug before pulling you into a big, tight hug. A hug that you knew he needed. “I missed you both so much,” he whispered, letting out a laugh of almost disbelief.

He let go of you a moment later and turned to Ms. Mead, only for her to shake her head. “You guys go have fun, don’t worry about me,” she instructed, shooing the both of you off.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Mead,” you choked out, stepping closer to her.

“Y/N,” Zoe voiced, weakly attempting to keep you from going further. 

Before you could even process what was happening, the three people in front of you were lit on fire. You gasped and stumbled back, your hand shooting up to cover your mouth as screams and sobs escaped. You couldn’t even focus on what Ms. Mead was saying, your pleas drowned out all other sounds.

You knelt on the cold concrete as everyone else retreated, unfazed by the complete... disgust of it all. Your sobs turned to whimpers as the flames slowly died down, leaving only their charred remains behind. “What do I do,” you choked out, bile beginning to rise up in your throat. You stumbled away and hurled up all of the contents in your stomach, the sight before you too horrid for your own body to comprehend.

Once everything came out, you trudged back over to the three stakes, collapsing in front of Ms. Mead’s remains. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You laid your head against the cold metal base and sighed, feeling your tears slide down your face and land on the metal. “I should’ve helped you. I should’ve used my powers.”

You sniffled and let out a harsh sob. “This is all my fault.” 

With that, everything went black.

You woke up hours later to the sound of footsteps behind you. You sat up and looked at the source, too drained to even attempt to wipe away your tears. “Y/N?” Michael whispered.

You only sobbed in response and pushed yourself to your feet. “I’m sorry. I tried to make them stop but they just wouldn’t listen. It’s all my fault.”

Your legs were wobbly as you stepped closer to him, wanting nothing more than to just cry with him. “W-Who is it...”

Another sob ripped through you and you collapsed into his arms, the moment he was close enough. He held you up and you both half-carried each other over to each of the stakes. A gasp left his lips when he sensed the bodies of the two warlocks, but when he made it to the middle stake, both of your bodies began to shake. “I’m so sorry.”

You let him go and fell to your knees, his scream of pain surrounding you when he finally sensed it as the body of one of the only people who truly cared about him. Suddenly, you felt his arms wrap around your waist and he pulled you close to him, both of you sobbing. You clung to the sleeves of his jacket and he clung to the fabric of your skirt. “It’s over, we know who you are,” a voice announced from behind you. You both hesitantly let go of each other so Michael could face the person that created this disaster. “Your allies are all dead. You’ve failed.”

“I’ve already proven to you that I can defy death,” Michael hissed. “I can bring her back, and when I do, my Ms. Mead will stand by me as we watch you die.”

“You can certainly go to Hell, but you won’t find her there.”

You rose to your feet and clung to Michael. “Cordelia, please tell me you didn’t,” you whispered, shaking your head slightly.

“What have you done?” he demanded, gripping onto your arm.

“Her soul is hidden by a spell only I can break. You’ll never see her again.”

A harsh sob ripped through his throat and he collapsed to his knees. You fell with him and wrapped your arms around yourself. “I’m so sorry, Michael,” was all you could say to him. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re alone,” Cordelia continued.

“I’m never alone. I have my father a-and I have Y/N,” he growled, his hand instinctively reaching behind him to grab your hand.

“But do you really have Y/N? She is a witch after all, so she’s born to follow her supreme. Not the devil reincarnate.” She slowly strutted over to you two. “And where is your father now? Why did he let this happen?” She knelt down in front of you both and locked eyes with Michael. “Michael, you don’t have to follow this path your father laid out for you. You can write your own destiny. You can still turn away. There’s humanity in you, I see it.” She pushed herself back to her feet. “If you come with me, maybe we can find it.”

With that she extended her hand out towards him. Just as you were about to speak up and tell her that the last thing he would do is listen to the person who just killed the person he trusted most, he took her hand. She smiled softly but, before she could say anything, Michael yanked her forward so they were nose-to-nose. “Somehow, some way I will bring her back, and then I’m gonna kill every last one of you,” he seethed, making your jaw clench.

“Michael,” you voiced, so quiet you doubted he could even hear it. He let go of her hand and turned to face you. “She... She isn’t wrong. Even if her plans were completely idiotic, her message is right. You- you can be good.”

He stepped over to you and grabbed your wrists, holding them tight. “Am I not already?”

“Michael, you know that’s not what I meant-”

“No, I know exactly what you mean. You’re all the same. And I’m not going to stay with someone like her.”

You sighed softly and sniffled, feeling a fresh wave of tears slide down your cheeks. “You don’t mean that-”

“You obviously don’t know anything about me, then.”

With that, he stomped away from the two of you. You rose to your feet and stepped towards Cordelia. “Well, I obviously know him enough to know that this was the worst plan to get him to join you,” you hissed at her. 

“Y/N...”

“Just because you’re the supreme doesn’t mean I’ll follow you, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean that you’re right all of the time. I knew what would happen, and now I can only guess what is gonna happen next. You’ve pissed off the antichrist, and the only person that can keep him in control lost his trust. This is worse than any other worst case scenario you could ever imagine.”

You snapped yourself back to the house and hurried up to your room, packing up your things before changing into a pair of shorts and a tank top. You zipped up your bag and slung it over your shoulder before trudging over to the boys’ room and banging on the door. “Get your shit packed, we’re leaving,” you voiced, using every last bit of strength you had in your to seem even slightly serious.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, looking up and seeing your tear-stained cheeks.

“It doesn’t matter. You wanted to leave, we’re leaving.”

“No, you tell me what the fuck is going on. The house is silent and almost every teacher is gone.”

“We had to burn people at the stake, and everything is going to hell. Is that enough of an explanation for you?”

“No-”

“Too bad. We’re leaving. Now.”

With that, you hurried downstairs and out the door, ignoring the pleas from multiple girls begging you to talk to them. You ran down the street and, with shaking hands, picked the lock on the car door before collapsing onto the back seat.

“Y/N?” Jack’s voice sounded from the other side of the door, making you jump for a moment. 

“Yeah?” you coughed out, wiping a stray tear away before sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

“Can I come in?”

“Oh-uh-yeah, of course.”

He stepped inside a moment later, a sandwich on a plate in one hand and your favorite book in his other hand. “Dean told me that you should have something to eat.” He handed you the sandwich and you smiled gratefully, scooting over slightly and gesturing for him to sit next to you. “And I brought you your favorite book because I know you aren’t in the mood to be on your phone or watch TV.” He smiled at you and sat down next to you.

Tears welled in your eyes and you let out a watery laugh. “Thank you, Jack. That is really sweet of you.”

“We take care of each other. It’s just what was needed.”

You set the sandwich down on the bed and pulled him into a tight hug, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He immediately reciprocated the hug, his arms wrapping around your waist. You sighed into his skin and struggled to find anything else to say.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Jack offered, and you nodded.

“All I can see is their burning bodies. I can still smell it. And I...” You sniffled and tangled a hand in his hair. “I could’ve stopped them somehow. I should’ve. It’s all my fault that they’re dead.”

“None of this is your fault.”

“But it is, Jack. Now Michael lost one of the only people who cared about him and God knows what he’ll do now.”

“What can he do? He’s only a warlock.”

You shook your head and pulled away from the hug to look into his eyes. “Jack, Michael is more powerful than any of us combined.”

“How? What is he?”

“He’s the antichrist.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he scooted slightly closer to you. “But how?”

You just shook your head and shrugged, ending the conversation there. The two of you sat in silence for a moment before you sucked in a breath. “I need to talk to him somehow but I... I don’t know how or-or if I should.”

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

“A week ago. When everything happened.”

Jack sighed and he wrapped an arm around you, tucking you to his side. “I would talk to him.”

“How?”

“Isn’t there a way for you to enter someone’s dreams?”

“Y-yeah, but I haven’t done it in years.”

He smiled at you. “I guess it’s time to start again.”

With that, you explained the process of astral projection to him while you ate the sandwich he gave you. Once you were done, you laid yourself down on the ground while Jack knelt next to you. “Are you ready?” you asked him, taking his hand in yours.

“I should be asking you that,” he teased, squeezing your hand. “But yes, I’m ready.”

You offered him a sweet smile and closed your eyes, immediately descending into the astral plane. You launched yourself into Michael’s dream quickly, sensing it the moment you reached the plane. 

You woke up in what you remembered to be Michael’s bed at the academy. “Y/N?” you heard his voice behind you.

You turned around and immediately locked eyes with him, your noses nearly touching. A weak smile spread across his face and he draped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. “It’s me,” you whispered, tangling a hand in his hair. 

“H-How? Why?”

“Astral projection.” You pulled away to look into his eyes. “And I needed to talk to you. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I need to talk to you. To tell you everything.”

“I’m right here. Tell me.”

“There’s not enough time for that.”

You thought for a moment. “How about you tell me a little bit, and then you can tell me where you are, and I’ll meet you there?”

He nodded and moved a hand up to cup your face. “I- Fuck, I need you here with me.”

You sighed softly and sniffled. “Me too. I need you.”

The two of you sat in silence for God knows how long before Michael spoke again. “I... I saw you.” You furrowed your eyebrows, silently urging him to continue. “I was in the woods waiting for my father to talk to me and I-I started to... Hallucinate, I think. There were these kids, and then Ms. Meade and-and...” He stopped for a moment, trying to hold a few details back before continuing. “Then you appeared.”

He sat on the cold ground and stared up at the figure, completely enticed by what he saw. It was you, in a flowing white gown with a flower crown atop your head. His heart began to race at the sight, and you knelt down in front of him. “Hello Michael,” you whispered.

“You-You’re not real. This isn’t real.”

“But you wish it was real, don’t you?”

He nodded and stared straight into your eyes. “Yes, so badly.”

“Then why are you trying to find your father who doesn’t seem to care about you at all? Why are you waiting for him when you could be with me?”

“Because it’s what I was born to do-”

“You were not born to do anything but live your life how you choose, regardless of what other people think. I can see the good in you, Michael. Don’t let the darkness take you over.”

“B-but how?”

“You know how, you just have to realize it.”

Michael didn’t tell you a word of what his hallucination of you said to him, and you could tell he was holding a lot back. “At least you’re safe now,” you whispered, tangling your legs with his. He just nodded and you pressed your lips to his forehead. “I have to go now, Michael. Tell me where you are and I’ll come tomorrow.”

“Please don’t go, not yet,” he begged, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

“I have to, Michael. But I’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll be there in the flesh.”

He sighed and pressed a soft kiss to your throat before reluctantly pulling away. 

Mere moments later, you shot up off of the floor, back in your room. “Did you talk to him?” Jack asked, immediately hurrying to calm you down.

You nodded and scrubbed your hands over your face before getting up and writing down the address you faintly heard before you woke. “California, of course,” you chuckled, shaking your head for a moment. 

“When are you leaving?”

You spun around and faced Jack, offering him a soft smile. “I’ll leave in the afternoon tomorrow. But I’ll be back within a few days. I need to spend some time with him after everything that happened.”

Jack nodded and grabbed the glass of water off your desk, handing it to you. “Be safe.”

You smiled gratefully and downed the glass in a few gulps. “I always am.”

You hurried down the alleyway, tugging your jacket tighter around you. “The one goddamn day it rains in California,” you grumbled, spotting a door straight ahead. You hurried over and watched as a hunched over figure looked up at you with utter disinterest. “You lost?” he asked.

“I don’t think so...?” you told him, stepping back as he stood up and opened the door for you. You offered him a thankful smile before hurrying down the flight of stairs and down a hallway. A disembodied choir’s voices echoed throughout the odd building as you walked towards the glowing red light coming from what you assumed to be the room the choir was in. 

The moment you stepped through the doorway, bile rose in your throat. 

Michael stood in front of an inverted cross and a pentagram, wearing a red cloak. In one hand, he pushed the head of a man against the head of a woman while with the other hand, he held a knife to their throats. “No,” you choked out, bringing a hand to your mouth to muffle the screams as Michael dragged the knife over both of their throats.

The two bodies collapsed to the ground and Michael stood proudly as everyone knelt in front of him. You quickly stumbled back into the shadows and listened to the sound of retreating footsteps. Once the footsteps ceased, you hurried into the room and over to the two people. You hovered your hands over their bodies and you threw your head back as visions rushed through your mind. 

A social worker and a doctor.

Two people who were good. Who wanted to help the world.

Immediately, you tried to heal them. To bring them back. “No, no, no, come on,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your face.

After trying to revive them for a few minutes, you slumped to your knees in defeat. You closed their eyes and grabbed the two capes, which you assumed were theirs, and draped them over their nearly naked bodies. “I’m so sorry.”

With that, you hastily wiped the tears off your face and stomped into the next room. Everyone was just eating like what just happened wasn’t a completely disgusting occurrence. You looked up and immediately locked eyes with Michael, your heart pounding in your ears. “Michael?” you choked out, your eyes watering.

“Y/N,” he sighed, hurrying over to you. His eyebrows furrowed, however, when you stepped away from him. “You… You came.”

“I did.” You pursed your lips and silently begged the tears to subside, not wanting to break in front of him and all of his followers. “And now I wish I never did.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” He took another step towards you and you took another step back, clenching your jaw. “What’s wrong?”

“I always come when you call, but I can’t anymore. I won’t.”

“Y/N, please talk to me. Stop being so cryptic.”

You furrowed your brows and squeezed your eyes closed, feeling anger and sadness well up, your fingers beginning to twitch. “You killed those people. You… You killed innocent people who have done nothing to you.”

“Y/N-”

“For these people. For people whose only purpose is to fucking worship you. That’s all you wanted, huh? That’s all you want. You want to be seen, be the leader. Be… worshipped.” You shook your head and sniffled, opening your eyes to stare into his. “That’s all you wanted of me, too.”

“Y/N, you’re insane.”

That was it. Your powers flooded over, along with your tears, and you flung him into the wall with a flick of your wrist. “You would’ve killed me if I was up there, huh? Maybe even if I wasn’t up there. Maybe just for fun. Those two people were just like me, like my family. They were innocent people who wanted to help. Look what the fuck you did!”

You collapsed to your knees and sobbed, your eyes turned towards the ceiling. A pentagram was painted in black paint right above your head. Your skin began to burn and fire erupted from your fingertips, unable to control anything at the moment. “Y/N, please.”

“I begged you. I begged you to be good. I tried so hard to avoid this, but I guess evil always finds its home, doesn’t it?” You rose to your feet and watched as all the candles around you flared up. “I… I love you. I love you more than you could ever imagine, but you don’t care. You’re too fucking selfish and narcissistic and… you don’t love me.”

“Y/N-”

“But I’m gonna keep coming back whenever you need me, because that’s what I do. That’s all I do. I’m just your fucking lapdog. Your doormat. The scum beneath your shoes, the-the dirt under your fingernails, the small inconvenience you want to get rid of but I always linger because that’s what I always do.” You shook your head and rose to your feet. “But not this time. I’m not coming back. I give up.”

With that, you felt as if your entire body was heated wax, ready to melt and collapse at any moment. “You’re all I’ve ever needed, Y/N. Please.”

“Bullshit.” You trudged right past him without even looking at him, his damp eyes, his hands tangled in his hair, his body laying weakly on the floor, his back slightly propped up against the wall. You stopped and spun on your heel to face the crowd of horrified and angered satanists. “This is your God, do whatever the fuck you want with him. You’ll have more than I ever could.”

“Y/N, please don’t go.”

“What are you gonna do, kill me?”

You sniffled and ran out of the building, completely broken and lost. You wandered through the streets until you came across a motel with the vacancy sign lit. “You look like hell,” the clerk told you and you nodded.

“I feel like hell.” You handed them a wad of cash and they handed you a room key in return.

You trudged out of the lobby and over to your room, fishing your phone out of your pocket as you wandered.

10 texts from Jack, 2 missed calls from Sam, 4 missed calls from Dean.

You quickly texted the boys, telling them that everything was fine. Afterwards, you called Jack.

“Hey, Y/N! How’d it go?” Jack’s voice sounded after the phone rang only once.

“I’m gonna go back to the bunker and I need you to help me again,” you stated, your voice shaking. 

“O-of course. What do you need help with?”

“I need to astral project again.”

“I thought you went to California to fix everything?”

“I did. It didn’t work out.” You sighed softly and sniffled. “See you in a minute?”

“Yeah, see you soon.”

You found your room and set your phone down on the nightstand, hands fiddling nervously with your jacket for a moment before you transmutated yourself to the bunker, right into Jack’s room. Jack nervously smiled at you and you pulled him into a tight hug, burying your face into his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?” Jack asked, prompting a small head shake from you. “Okay.” You both stood in the silence for a moment, clinging onto each other, before he spoke again. “I need to tell you something.”

You nodded and pulled away from the hug, staring into his eyes. “What is it?”

“I-I just need to tell you that... I love you. I love you so much.” He smiled shyly and you cupped both sides of his face. “I had to tell you that before you went back to him. I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

You smiled softly and pressed your lips to his, melting into him. “I know, Jack. And once all this shit is figured out-”

“You don’t need to decide. Not for a while, okay?”

“Okay.” You moved your hands to grab his, squeezing them for a moment before leading him through the bunker and out the door. 

Rain fell heavily, just as heavily as it did in California, and you led Jack into the line of trees just outside the bunker. His hands never left yours and he curiously followed you. “Why do we need to go outside?”

“I can stay in dreams longer if I’m laying in the earth.”

Jack nodded and stopped next to you as you finally found a place to lay. You heaved in a deep breath and watched the rain fall around you. “Are you sure about this?” Jack asked, taking your hand in his. 

You nodded and pressed a kiss to his cheek, running your other hand through his hair. “I have to, Jack,” you choked out, your voice nearly drowned out over the sound of the rain. “If I don’t wake up in half an hour, get Cas, okay?”

Jack nodded. “Okay.” With that, you laid down on the damp earth, letting out a nervous sigh. “Y/N?”

You looked over at him and he leaned over you, his eyes locking with yours. “Yes?”

Before you could even process what he was doing, he pressed the lightest kiss to your lips, his damp hair brushing against your cheek. “No matter what happens, know that I love you.” Tears welled in your eyes and you nodded, leaning up to peck his lips before smiling and letting your eyes flutter closed. “I will, promise.”

Though you couldn’t see him, you could sense the wide smile on his face. “Okay, are you ready?”

You nodded, and immediately, your body began to sink lower and lower into sleep. Then, all of a sudden, it felt like a rope tied around your waist and yanked you down, your body landing on what felt like soft carpet a moment later. “Son of a bitch,” you grumbled, immediately scrambling to your feet and looking around. 

You remember this place.

With a sigh of relief, you got up and wandered over to what you remembered as the kitchen, smiling softly when you saw the familiar blonde mop of hair sitting at the table. None other than Ms. Mead sat across from him, watching him intently.

However, in a blink of an eye, Ms. Mead burst into flames right in front of you, making both you and Michael gasp and stumble backwards. Michael leaped out of his chair to try and help, but to no avail. All that was left was her burnt remains, and he let out a harsh sob. “No, no, no,” he choked out, falling to his knees.

Slowly, you began to walk over to him. “Michael,” you whispered, reaching over to touch his shoulder. The moment he felt your touch and heard your voice, he spun around and looked up at you. You offered him a small smile and kneeled down in front of him.

“You’re not real. You-you can’t be real,” he whispered, hesitantly reaching to touch your face.

“I’m as real as you think I am.” You leaned into his touch and sniffled slightly, trying to keep your tears at bay.

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

A tear slipped down his face and you gently wiped it away. “Because I wanted you to be here, and I’m only dreaming.”

“You may be dreaming, but I am here.” 

“No you’re not. You told me you would never come back. You… you gave up on me. Just like everybody else.”

You sighed and let the tears begin to fall. “I could never give up on you. That’s just not in me.” You let out a watery laugh and continued. “But, I will if you tell me to. I can just leave you alone, and you won’t have to worry about me.”

“W-why would I do that?”

“Because of what I said.”

Michael shook his head and moved to grab your arms. “But you were right. You-you…” He sniffled. “You’re worth more than any of them. Than my father.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’ve always been with me. You’ve never let me go. And I’ll never let you go.”

“Michael, I-I wish you could do that, but you can’t.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t truly believe that. You aren’t able to just leave everything behind for me. I don’t mean that much to you.”

His eyes bore into yours and he shook his head, scooting closer to you and cupping your face in his hands. “You mean so much more to me than you could ever imagine.”

“If I did, you wouldn’t do any of this.”

“I’ll be good for you, Y/N. I can change. I can… I-”

“Michael, you’ve gone too far. I know you want to be good, but your… your need to be evil overshadowed it.”

“No, no, Y/N, please listen to me.”

“I’ll be back. I have to go.”

“When will you be back? I-I need you!”

You shook your head and let out a soft sob. “Don’t say that.” You wiped away your tears and brushed away a strand of his hair that fell in his face. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I promise.”

You rose to your feet and Michael followed suit, standing in place as you headed towards the door. “Wait.”

You stopped and stared at him, wishing you could just leave. But you couldn’t. You needed him, despite wishing you never did. 

He hurried over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, his eyes searching yours before pressing his lips to yours. “Please, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips, your tears beginning to mingle with his. He repeatedly pecked your lips and, after a moment, you returned his kisses. “I love you too. I love you. You’re all I have, and you’re all I’ll ever need. All I’ll ever want.” His kisses finally ceased, and you closed your eyes. “Please look at me.”

A sob ripped through you and you hesitantly opened your eyes. His fingers danced across your jawline, a sad smile playing on his lips. “Michael…”

“Can you come with me somewhere tomorrow? I-I’ll text you the address to this place. I really want you to come with me.”

You nodded and took his hand. “Okay. And after we go, you’re gonna tell me everything that happened. Deal?”

“Deal.”

You smiled and stood on your tiptoes, brushing your lips against his before kissing him fully. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Before you could say another word, you shot up from the cold wet ground, soaked head to toe in mud and rain. “What happened?” Jack asked, immediately wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm.

“I-I need to go back to California.”

You played with the ends of your hair as you sat in the lobby, waiting for the extremely snarky receptionist to acknowledge your existence. “You know there is a dress code, yes?” she hummed finally, her eyes never leaving her computer screen. 

You looked down at your black high-waisted skirt and dark red crop top before looking back up at her. “What is it, purple?” you hissed in response, taking in her nauseatingly violet attire. 

She just rolled her eyes and pursed her lips in response. “A fat mouth will get you nowhere in this world.”

What a shame,” you deadpanned, rising to your feet. “Are they ready for me yet?” 

As if on cue, her buzzer on her desk rang, and a nasally male’s voice echoed throughout the office. “Uh, big guy says there’s someone waiting for him?” the voice claimed, prompting a victorious smirk from you.

She just glared at you in return and pressed a button. “She is on her way back now.” With that, she rose from her desk and pounded her cane against the tile floor. “Follow me.”

“Gladly.” You trailed behind her as she made her way through the winding corridor, finally stopping in front of an open doorway that revealed two men sitting in the sleek room with haircuts you could only describe as the worst bowlcuts imaginable. 

In front of them was the beautiful boy you missed so much.

[henrybcwer]

Girl all the bad guys want

REQUEST: Hey ! If you do scenario/imagine, can you do one where Henry had a secret relationship with a girl who already had a boyfriend but she wants to break up with him because she thinks he is too annoying and she is more and more in love with Henry ?

Tag List: @bowersgangvslosersclub, @kyloreneges, @kathrinebutterlover, @pennywise-fucker, @bisexual-flowerchild, @captainjacksparkles, @emo-shakespear-with-lube

“Scowling menacingly at her locker isn’t going make manifest her up any sooner.”

Henry flinches at the sound of Gretta’s voice, a conditioning forge through the short lived period they were together as an item. Ask either one of them and they’ll agree it was the longest week of their lives. His stance doesn’t loosen an inch, though a conscious effort had been made. “Go away.”

“You’re brooding in front of my locker. You go away.”

There’s contemplation before he side steps to the right, raking his back across the lockers.

Gretta sighs, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t know what you see in him. Look wise he’s at best a seven and size wise… well, her tampons could give her more pleasure. “She’s not coming into school today. She’s at the doctors.”

Henry’s eyes flit to glance at her. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Don’t know. Something about sprang wrist.” Gretta breaks from putting her books away, shooting Henry a sharp stare. “Your doing?”

Henry shifts awkwardly, thinking back to last night. He was rougher than normal—you both were.

Gretta blinks, lips pressed and unamused.  “Thought so.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Sure it isn’t. So my bestfriend’s not cheating on her boyfriend with a scrub like you just for mediocre rough sex?”

“… It’s pretty damn close to what you think. But you’re wrong about one thing.”

“Enlighten me.”

“The sex ain’t mediocre.”

Gretta angrily swings at Henry’s smug smirk and misses with minimum error on her part. “You’re a fuck pig, Bowers. I don’t know what she sees in you.”

“Me?” Henry shouts. “What the red fuck does she see in ‘im?”

“Her boyfriend?”

“Yeah!”

“Why do you care? You jealous?”

Henry falls silent, wearing the eyes of a man who’s said too much. “No.”

Her eyes light up. Fucking pansy. “You know, I could ask her tonight at the sleepover. If you do me grant me a boon.”

His eyes narrow. “What boon?”

--

True to his word, the only decent quality he had, Henry with company spent their evening in the gutted remains of old sewers until they were able to collect a garbage bag worth of rot and ruins to handover to one of Gretta’s girl packs the next day mid school.

At the final bell he waits for Gretta at her locker. His eyes meet your for a second when you pass by to get to your own locker, your boyfriend staying close to your side.

Look at him. Henry sneers, his arms tightening across his chest. What a banal boy, with his boring shirt tucked into his boring pants, no doubt talking about some boring topic. He momentarily entertains the idea of giving the boy an atomic wedgie, body slam him into your lock and shut the door, but shakes the thought free almost as quickly as it came; it would only make you mad and he couldn’t bare the idea of you publically aligning yourself with someone against him.

Gretta makes her appearance shortly after he perishes the thought still holding on to her cosmetic appearance without sacrificing her natural abrasive charm.

“What crawled up your ass and died?”

“The same slut that works her way into every guy’s pants.” She huffs and yanks open her locker.

Ah. The town’s finger puppet.

Grabbing her things and slamming the locker shut, she quickly makes a beeline to the bathroom at the end of the hall only to be stopped by Henry’s firm grip on her arm. “Forgetting something?”

Gretta frowns and lurches away from his touch, wiping her arm as if he carried a disease. She looks to you, well aware of the stolen glances you took of Henry, her face finding solace in her palm. You really needed to work on your subtlety.

“Just—wait!”

Henry quirks an eyebrow. “What?”

She groans and trudges forward again, repeating herself. “Fucking wait for it!”

Henry’s eyebrow goes impossibly higher then caves in a scowl, ready chase her down until your voice pierced through the hall’s noise with a soft: “I think we should break up.” His head turns to your side of the hall. By now the flood of students has trickled down to barely a tendril of a stream, giving him a front row seat to what he hope would be a painful break up.

You make all the excuses you can to soften the blow. It’s not you it’s me, We’ve changed, We can still be friends; all excuses Henry would tear down if directed towards him. Not that your boyfr—ex-boyfriend wasn’t trying to do the same thing.

“Is there someone else?”

You pause, biting your lip. Both Henry and the boy clinging tightly to what you might say.

“Yes.”

Henry’s eyes widen and he swears he can feel his heart swell at your blunt answer.

“Who?”

With a crooked smile bearing his teeth and darken eyes hone in on the boy, Henry makes his presence known by placing a possessive arm around your shoulder, something he’s been dying to do the second you two hooked up. “Howydoon, fuck face.”

You look up at him, exasperated.

So much for being discrete.

[thefuckingazebos-blog]

The Losers Club//xReader (Chapter 1)

Prologue - Chapter 1 (You’re here!) - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Bill’s p.o.v. ( I know that he is supposed to have a stutter but I find it so hard to write that in without it seeming off so just pretend guys lmao )

               I shook my head, looking at my hands that laid in my lap. My chest felt tight as I shrugged my shoulders, peering up at the others that sat in front of me.

“No, I can’t forgive her. I don’t know what he was doing at her house, and I don’t want to know. I just know that he was there, and she was supposed to be my best friend. Since we were young.” I mumbled, leaning back against my chair and kicking the tip of my shoe against the floor. “She knew how I felt about Henry. She knew that he bullied us, yet he was still in her house. Acting as if it was normal he was there.” I shivered, shaking my head to get the image out. Beverly rolled her eyes at me, and I looked over at her, raising an eyebrow.

“You can’t think that everything she does should revolve around you. She’s allowed to make her own choices.” Beverly said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. I took to my feet, hands at my sides, shaking my head firmly.

“No. You don’t understand her. You don’t know anything about her, Beverly, just because you’re a girl. She’s…complex. But she understood me.” I explained, defensively, my cheeks growing hot once I realized what I was saying and I rubbed the back of my neck, sitting back down and rubbing my eye. Everyone looked at me curiously, and I knew that at some point I would have to explain to them, but right now wasn’t that time. Richie looked as if he was going to make some sort of joke, but once I shot a glare his way, he closed his mouth again and slumped down, biting his tongue.

“Man, you can’t stay mad at her forever. Sooner or later you’ll have to come around and try to understand why she was with him. Did you even ask?” Mike asked me and I looked down at my hands again.

I turned on my heel, going back to my bike that I had propped against YN’s garage. I could feel my blood boiling inside of me as I put the kickstand back up and throwing my leg over the side of the bike. How could she? She knew how shitty of a person he was, and her she was, with him in her house. Touching her. Putting his hands on her.

“Bill come on! Don’t act like this!” YN called after me, walking down the sidewalk towards me but I shook my head at her anyways, looking over my shoulder at her.

“No, you know what you did. I don’t understand how you could do this. You know what he’s done, you know what he does to us.” I spat out, gripping my handle bars tightly, feeling my eyes get foggy as I look down at my bike below me. YN stopped where she was and held her arms close to her stomach, looking at me. I looked up at her again, the tears finally threatening to spill over. “You’re dead to me.” I whispered, taking my feet off the ground and pedaling off, not wanting to even look at her any longer.

I looked up at Mike again and shook my head.

“I can stay mad at her for as long as I need to.”

 YN’s p.o.v.

               I slammed the door to my house closed, leaning my back against it and looking up at my ceiling. Why was he making everything so difficult? I just want to be friends with him again. I just wanted him to understand that nothing was going on between Henry and I, and that all of it was just in his head. I had no feelings for Henry, he was over for a school project and he just got a little too close to me, a little too touchy with me. That was all it was, and that was all it would ever be, but Bill never asked for the specifics.

“Don’t go around slamming doors!” My father slurred from the other room, causing me to shiver as I kicked my shoes off next to the front door. My mother peeked her head around the doorway to the kitchen, smiling at me as she rubbed the water off of a plate with an old rag.

“Was she home?” My mother asked in her usual, sweet voice. I shook my head, trudging into the kitchen, avoiding looking into the living room where my father sat drunkenly in front of the television. She frowned as she watched me pull an RC out of the fridge, cracking it open and looking over at her.

“No. But Bill was. He still refuses to even look at me, mom, I don’t know what to do anymore.” I told her, slumping against the counter. She sighed, giving me a sympathetic look as she set the plate into the cabinet, closing it carefully.

“He will come around, sweetie. Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to his mom?” She asked me leaning her palm against the counter and looking at me as I sipped on my RC. My eyes went wide and I shook my head at her, setting my can down.

“No, mom, that will just cause more issues.” I said quickly, shaking my head again. Her expression dropped slightly and she sighed, turning to the sink and letting the water run as she looked down into it.

“I don’t want you and Bill to have a falling out. You’re just kids, things will get okay again. He will understand.” She said in a hushed voice and I looked over at her, smiling a bit and wrapping my arm around her in an awkward side hug.

“Yeah. We’ll be alright. We always are.” I assured her before turning and jogging towards the stairs. “I’m gunna go get some homework done if you need me.” I called to her over my shoulder and I looked back, watching her nod as she continued to look into the sink. My face dropped slightly, but I took the stairs up two at a time, grabbing the railing for support.

I flung my bedroom door open, looking around for a second before turning on the light. I always liked to make sure nothing was looking at me in the dark, some habit I had just picked up even though it wouldn’t have helped me ever if there was something there, due to the fact I wouldn’t be able to see it anyways. I walked over to the window, my feet making a soft sound against the hard wood flooring of my bedroom as I padded over to it, sliding the window up to let in the cool breeze from the fall air. The street lamps shone through the window, casting an orange light over the side of my bed even though my overhead light was on. It had never shined very brightly. I picked my backpack up off the floor next to my bed and threw it over, jumping onto the bed and sitting cross legged to start my homework. Something from the window caught my eye and I looked over slowly, looking my eyes on a single red balloon that sat beneath a street light. I shoved my binder off my lap, sliding my feet over the side of the bed so that I could walk closer to the window, wanting a better look. As my feet hit the floor, a figure flickered into view, its fingers wrapped around the string that held the floating balloon. My breath caught in my throat and I held the edge of my bed tightly, afraid that if I moved it would look at me, but this couldn’t be right. There was nobody standing there when I looked at the balloon the first time. The figure was too far back to be lit by the light of the street lamp, so I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, and as I stood up to close the window, I felt a chill go down my spine. Its head turned, looking its eyes on me and from where I was standing in my bedroom I could see the glowing yellow. Lunging forward, I slammed the window down, locking it tightly and pulling my curtain closed, the color draining from my face.

“What the fuck was that thing…”

[hadesburns]

in which, as the day demands, i kill something inside myself.

the massive white ship sings, howls, blares, and every flashing red light pulses with havoc, with longing, with nails through the veins in jaewon’s skin, the essence of the alliance vessel dragging at him, calling his name even as he flees through its hallways and tunnels, even as he pounds across its pristine, hallowed flooring. the heavy, thundering boots slow him down, legs wading through the artificial gravity like an ant through honey, but he presses on, he storms onward, his teeth clenched, his eyes burning, his fingers still wrapped like iron around the small, bruising wrist of his charge, the petite ward he’s halfway adopted.

every hallway in this cursed, expensive cruiser looks just like all the others, completely devoid of any traces of personality, any scraps of personal touches, anything reverent or holy, and jaewon has to check the convector beacon in the hand not dragging sonmi along behind him, the handheld equipment beeping purposefully at him in warning. it doesn’t rival the blaring redness of the ship’s own code red operations though, the signals going out to all hands on deck for the renegade hunt, alliance officers rising from whatever other tasks they had, to stretch across the ship in search of pirate captain yang jaewon and his crew. they’ll be descending on him and sonmi any second now, he can feel it, the needles beneath his skin poking out from the marrow of his bones, the hairs on the back of his standing, knotting, scratching, the ghosts on his heels clawing at him, threatening to yank his ankles out from under him as he runs.

but he stays stable, he stays immutable, he keeps pace with the throbbing of his own supernova heartbeat, never releasing sonmi’s grasp, never slowing down for corners or tight fits, never wavering from as straight a line as possible between themselves and their destination. he has to make it, he has to push forward, forward, forward, has to get sonmi to safety, has to get them all together again, safe, secure, out, out, out of this god-forsaken place, away from these prying eyes and fingers and hellish intentions. the alliance will rip them all to shreds, section them out like lab experiments, cut them into smaller and smaller pieces until they are nothing of themselves anymore.

jaewon can’t let that happen. he has to give them all their best fighting chance.

he races against time, against the thrumming of military-grade boots, uniformed and in unison, thudding down the stairwell behind them, muffling out the ragged huffs of breath heaving through sonmi’s nose and panting lips, louder than her small missteps, louder than her wide eyes, louder than her still-unfailing trust in him.

they reach the last leg of the journey, the hall yawning before them, reaching towards the exit bay pods at the end of it, where jaewon can imagine himself almost hearing henry’s arguing, harper’s rushing, mina’s frustration. it boils there, at the end of the line, and jaewon throws himself and sonmi towards it, full speed, full abandon, just as officers behind them open fire. the plasma shots ring out towards them and they duck occationally, one beam singeing sonmi’s coat, another flaring against his shoulder-- but jaewon is too much flame and fury to feel it, and sonmi is more blackhole than girl; they’ve chosen the wrong targets.

they reach the room at the end of the way, and jaewon nearly tosses sonmi into nine’s arms, spinning around to gather himself near to sid, who frantically works to close the blast door and trigger the locking mechanism, helping him as best he can. it works, but jaewon shoves a few travel crates in front of it, just for good measure.

“glad you decided to join us, asshole, where the hell have you been?” sid doesn’t look angry, but then again, he isn’t really looking at jaewon directly.

“sonmi saw some flowers, we decided to smell a few.”

the door bangs loudly as the alliance officers reach it and begin shooting at it from the other side, causing sid and jaewon to take a step back, blinking. jaewon turns and is relieved to note that everyone is loading up inside one of the pods; nine gathering as much material as possible that they might need and can hold, jinyi tearing off strips of her clothes to wrap around mina’s bleeding leg. harper’s fingers dig into henry’s clothes as he lays still unconscious in her arms, slowly whitening with each passing second. she and the captain exchange looks. “is he still…?” jaewon has never been one to falter his words, but the last of that sentence, the mere mention of the possibilities of a negative answer, the fact that there is any life teetering on the balance… he swallows thickly.

“still alive, yeah.” her voice is tight, flat, walled and barricaded from all emotion, just in case the avalanche breaks, just in case the floods come and her universe descends once again into a lonely catastrophe of one. she’s always been independent, always a storm in the black, always a legend in wry grins and versatile leathers, but henry is an anchor. for all of them, but especially for her.

jaewon ignores the tick, tick, ticking of the clock, a countdown in his head for just how long men survive wounds to the stomach, how long henry’s had his, how soon he needs to get back to kairos, get back to shiloh, get back to the ship they call home, the life they call theirs. kylynn’s out there somewhere, just out of view of the cruiser, flying the ship in the wings of solar stasis, ready to punch out of orbit, out and away from the alliance who had stolen the boat for a time. she’s waiting for them.

shiloh is waiting for them.

instead, he focuses on another kind of ticking, the kind associated with the bomb nine gingerly retrieves from his pack and sets it down on the far side of the room. jaewon helps him attach wires and cables into a nearby wall socket, the explosive simple enough that jaewon doesn’t feel like a complete idiot setting it up, but impressive enough to know it’ll take out a good chunk of the alliance cruiser ship, after they’ve managed to get far enough away. jaewon nods to his mercenary and nine sets the timer for five minutes.

five minutes, that’s how long they have to just hold off the officers and get bundled up in the escape pod.

the captain rushes over to where sid is programming the coordinates into the pod, his fingers shaking and messy, sweat beading on his forehead as he obviously fights to pay more attention to his task than all of mina’s groans and hisses, her blood staining the floor beneath her, staining the fabric of jinyi’s scraps and skirts as the two women fight to properly tourniquet the wound. “is the pod launch immediate?”

“what?”

“last time i was on one of these, the pod had a countdown of like fifteen seconds-- some kind of safety procedure thing-- do we have to worry about that?”

sid actually pauses, his eyes scanning the dials and electronics before him. “fuck.”

“it’s okay i’ll take care of it. just program everything correctly and--”

the door bursts open just a hair, a few too many inches, just wide enough for the alliance bastard on the opposite side to fire through with minimal accuracy, sending sid into a slew of curses and mutterings. jaewon ducks under a blaze of blaster fire, but aims his own pistol at the hole and unleashes a few bullets, hearing at least one of the men cry out and hit the ground. while they’re semi-distracted, jaewon races back over to the door and shoves hard against it again, relocking it and pushing the crates back into place.

“sid! what’s the fucking situation?!”

jaewon turns to catch sid wiping at his own brow, his eyes panicked and wide, dark brown-on-white plates in the center of his face, his jaw strains, his breathing hitches, and the captain already knows whatever is about to come from his mouth is something terrible, something unfair, something harrowing that already eats away at the hacker’s mind as it races to figure out some alternative.

“sid,” he tries again, lowering his tone but increasing the force of his words. “talk to me. tell me what it is.”

“captain, get inside the pod.”

something in the air around sid pauses and calms, the hurricane in his blood melting to a harmonious stillness, and jaewon knows that silence, knows it like the back of his own eyelids, knows it like the voices calling from the end of his sanity, knows it like he knows the exact tint of the taste of blood, the way it salts and burns and sobers. jaewon recognizes it from years of trudging through mud and guts and filth, years growing from a brown-eyed boy to a golden-eyed monster, knows it from the millions dead between his fingers; the way oblivion descends on a person, perches on their chest and shoulders like a great bird of prey, rests on them as a shroud.

“no.”

“captain--”

“tell me what it is first.”

sid finally looks up at him from the control panel, finally braces himself for the steel in jaewon’s gaze, both hardening themselves into what they need to be, what their positions demand of them. sid was a soldier once, jaewon remembers-- it’s so easy to forget, so, so easy because sidereus still smiles sometimes, still laughs with his whole face sometimes, still learns to love and fear death, still learns to extend beyond his trauma in ways neither jaewon nor mina can go anymore. jaewon shoots a glance at mina now, who is struggling to stand, gritting her teeth and hobbling towards them.

jaewon steps away from the door hesitantly, his gun still trained on it as he comes around closer to where sid stands, only stopping just a few steps beyond the barrier of the pod, so the rest of the crew can hear them. so mina doesn’t step beyond the barrier. he already knows what this is, but he doesn’t want anyone coming out from the pod in protest.

sid takes the bait but only just a little, taking only a step away from the controls panel beside the pod door-frame, just enough to explain in short, terse expels of words. “the door only closes from the outside. it’s got to be locked in. this pod wasn’t meant for human people. i don’t know. i can’t override it. so.”

a beat passes between them while somni and jinyi inhale terrified gasps, harper and nine frown harder, exchanging looks, and mina grits her teeth harder. “you’re not staying.” her voice is clipped and furious even at the implication of it.

“mina, somebody has to close the doors and keep these assholes at bay.”

“fuck no,” is her immediate response. jaewon’s mind flashes back to two nights ago, stepping into the hallways and catching the way she’d kissed sidereus, the desperation in her body, the ache, the pain--

the door bangs again, with something harder this time. they must have gone to get something heavier than their bodies to break against the door, judging from the indentations bursting from it.

sid ignores them, ignores mina, focuses on jaewon, and when their eyes meet, jaewon knows they are no longer a pirate captain and a space hacker-- once upon a time, they’d been brothers in arms, once upon a time, sidereus had been a soldier, and jaewon had been a sergeant. “jaewon. we don’t have time.” his eyes glance over to the still-ticking bomb. “get on the goddamn pod.”

“yang,” harper’s strain reaches into jaewon’s veins, and through it, he hears henry’s labored breathing, the small gurgle at the base of his throat. they don’t have time for this.

“hell fucking no, you’re not about to--” mina starts forward but nine grabs her, keeps her planted and while she would be enough of a match for him on a good day, her injury and the off-kilterness of the situation has her equilibrium in shreds. “nine, no! fuck off! sid! sidereus, i swear to god!”

but sid only looks at jaewon, that infuriating grin tugging on the corner of his lip, the one jaewon has always hated, the one he’d punched him for not a month ago. “i’m not part of your crew. remember?”

the captain inhales deeply, jaw tightened, fists locking, everything in him razoring to this point, to this moment. there’s just… no fucking way. “you’re right, you’re not my crew.” he puts a hand on sid’s shoulder, as though he’s about to commend him, before smashing the butt-end of his gun across his face, kneeing him in the stomach, and then kicking his ass into the pod when he’s doubled over. sidereus crashes into both mina and nine, a small scream breaking from jinyi’s lips. “so don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

he steps back to slam a palm down on the pod’s closing mechanism, the crystal doors shutting air-tight, before shooting the console three times as well, to make sure it’s as irreversible as possible. sparks fly out and jolt towards him and he turns away from it, lifting an arm as the thing catches a small fire, and a countdown begins. fifteen seconds. two bullets left.

jaewon takes a moment to block out the others, their shocked cries and angry exclamations, to just think about his bird, think about her halls and echoes, think about the way she glides and shakes, curves and hurts and tumbles, think about the scars in her hull, the pieces he still has yet to replace, all the things left undone, all the places left unvisited. he’s always felt the ship a part of himself, always felt as though she is the missing half of his soul he hadn’t even realized he’d been born without before meeting her. there is one thing in this verse that jaewon loves wholeheartedly, and it is that ship. he aches with it, he burns with it, he haunts his own history for it.

a millisecond he closes his eyes and remembers the way it had felt to cling to a rooftop on valluria, dust and smoke and sand flying everywhere, and watch as the great hulking form of shiloh burst over the edge into his vision, the way one minute, everything in his life had been all bones and rugged skin, all flayed backs and bleeding sores, and degradation, and humans-- and the next minute, it had been just about her, just about this collective machine of gears and engines and a soul so large he couldn’t hardly breathe looking into it. he’d never been so impressed, he’s never fallen so hard for anything else. she’d brought him the whole sky and all the stars, and he’d spent sixteen years reaching for as many of them as he could.

but she is more than just his home now, she is more than just his soul. she houses more than just him and all his ego, all his inferno and chaos, she opens her wingspan and brings in other orphans as well, a siren song across the black, to attract other wayward, desolate rebels as well. turncoats and traitors, homeless and dangerous. a makeshift family. and they need to return to her, and she needs them to return.

his eyes shift quickly. the bomb. a minute and a half. they’ll get to shiloh’s hull in time, they’ll get out of the blast zone and the alliance won’t follow them, too injured, at least temporarily, to give proper chase. a head start. he has to give them their best fighting chance. isn’t that what leaders do?

he comes back to himself to the sound of mina cursing loudly at him and jinyi crying, pounding against the glass with bloody fists. sid is on the floor and holding his bleeding head but he’s alive at least, and harper is crawling out from under henry to glare at him like the selfish bastard she no doubt thinks he is, and nine is silent but tall as always. sonmi stands like an island, the way she always does, the way she always will.

“you fucking fuckhead, what the hell are you doing?! you really are the stupidest goddamn motherfucker, yang jaewon, i am going to kill--”

“jaewon please! please don’t do this please, please open up, by the gods, please please…!”

“jae no! you’re the captain! i’m not even part of your crew, you don’t need me, i’m--”

“yang, why do you always gotta do shit on your own like this?”

“oppa…?”

he just looks at them for a few seconds-- four, to be precise. and preciseness is important right about now, he supposes, but when he lifts a hand and puts it on the glass, over where jinyi’s fists connect to the wall separating them, everyone falls silent, except for jinyi who cries harder. he hopes somehow the words they never said to each other, the words they can never say to each other now, can be embedded in this movement, imbued inside this one singularity, this hiccupped space of two seconds.

mina can run the ship, she’s always been better than him at everything, always perfectly capable of handling people and missions just fine on her own. she’s more like vera than he ever was. sonmi is still scared and small inside herself but she’s more healed now than ever and the others, kylynn and jinyi especially, have pieced her jigsaw puzzle heart back together, and will continue to do so. henry will be angry with him when he wakes up of course, but… he has kairos and harper, safe, together, mending. nine knows death as intimately as jaewon does, he’ll look after them all. jinyi… beautiful, shining jinyi, full of the stars she so fears, full of the life she so yearns for, she’s found her family. in all this, he regrets her the most, regrets not kissing her longer, not giving her more of himself, not telling her anything he’d ever wished to have the courage to say. sidereus will get over it. kairos, damn him, will probably say a prayer for his soul.

and shiloh will burn on without him.

he steps away and bows, low and deferential to them all, and when he straightens up again, he is nothing of the burning sun they’ve all come to know him as, he is nothing of the maelstrom firestorm that’s been branded across his skin, his eyes, his soul, since the day he’d woken up beside a dumpster on valluria, he is nothing of his tyrannical heritage, the wars and evil bled into him from his heart to his fingertips.

his eyes are gold, but not blazing. just warm. a boy finally of light, instead of only heat. a boy finally of treasure, instead of constantly searching for it. a boy finally as calm and settled as summer sand dunes, for once not barren or dry, just… composed.

somewhere, another orphan on valluria is looking up through the light of kalidasa’s fury and seeing the stars. and wishing. and hoping. and reaching. and things will continue on without him.

“it’s been my greatest honor… to fly with you all.” his baritone is calm. finally a star, instead of a sun. “take care of my boat.”

the pod launches off, quick as a heartbeat. one blink they’re all there gnashing their teeth at them ( beautiful and tattered and half-crazed, just the way he’s always loved them ), and then the next there’s nothing but empty space.

and he blinks out at it, the void, and realizes it’s not void at all. it’s not dark, it’s not cold. he’s spent most of his life needing the sky more than air, more than life, but he’s always found space to be freezing, so unlike the vallurian weather he’s always been more accustomed to. for as much love as he’s held for it, he’s always found space a frigid bitch of a mistress, all wintery and empty, yearning and hollowing, like the ghosts on his heels, the frayed edges of death constantly on his back, in his dreams.

but just now, this moment, the sky is so full of stars he can barely breathe. the verse opens up in front of him and shines, shimmers, yawns into a tapestry of diamond light, and he’s aware dimly of the door banging open again behind him, wide enough now that men are pushing through, aware dimly that they’ve come in, yanked the gun from his limp fingers, forced him down to his knees, shouting and braying commands at him. he’s aware of their guns locked and loaded against his head, the cold metal melting against the heat of his body, the men sneering threats at him that he doesn’t fear, hasn’t feared for years and years and years, but he can’t hear them, he can’t even hear his ghosts anymore. the silence swallows him whole and he understands just how bone-weary he is, how tired, how ready. how ready he is. for this.

he doesn’t look away from the large window, he doesn’t tear his golden, mechanical eyes from the vision of the universe spreading out before him. the second most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, after shiloh.

heaven. or hell.

somewhere behind him, a spark on the bomb catches and alights, grows and bursts out. somewhere before him, a star flashes and a supernova explodes. if he squints, he’s pretty sure he can see shiloh flaring to life, the lights of her hull flipping on as she turns around and burns out into the black.

[spilling-blood]

I'm trying to finish clearing good ends so I can finally reach Henri (and move on from Piofiore 1926 finally to the rest of my backlog). And as much as Orlok is not my fave, I think it is swell they gave him his good end kiss scene and let him be covered in blood for it. Like ya know what, good for him and Lili. He worked so hard for this.