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just-come-baek · 4 years ago

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Merry Crisis

Pairing: hockeyplayer!jungkook x pickpocket!reader

Themes: smut | fluff | sports!au | christmas!au | yyy... action?

Word count: 12k

Summary: During a casual meeting with friends at a local ice rink, a handsome boy bumps into me. Though it was just a small accident, a series of extraordinary adventures follow, helping me realize I should really change some of my life choices.

A/N if you get uncomfortable during this story, just stop reading. it gets weird later on. Also, sorry for posting it so late, it’s still Christmas somewhere!

4 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

“What the hell are we doing here?” Kibum asked for the tenth time as he nearly slipped, even though his hands were glued to the railing. “None of us can skate for fuck’s sake,” he remarked, not being careful enough to watch his tongue, letting children hear his foul language. “We should’ve gone drinking mulled vine instead of this nonsense.”

“Speak for yourself. I am a decent skater,” I argued, though it was maybe my third time on the ice rink. The surface was slippery, yet I was brave enough to try my luck without sticking to the railing at all times.

Whoosh!

Kibum and I turned our heads around to see a few men racing on the rink like lunatics going probably at least two thousand miles per hour. They were skating so fast we barely could get a blurry image of their backs – fucking show-offs.

“Can you believe it? Fucking road hogs wanting to kill us all,” Kibum complained, searching for an exit with his eyes, desperate to get the hell away from the ice rink. “I’ve seen enough TV to know how this ends. Someone is going to leave this paddock with a blade in their neck,” he added, and I cursed in disgust, trying to erase the vivid picture my mind conjured.

“You really can ruin everything, can’t you?”

“Isn’t why you brought me here in the first place?” Kibum challenged, readjusting his woolen scarf around his neck in a fabulous diva manner. “Come on, go get Yeri. I’ll wait on the bench,” he ordered, clumsily escaping that icy trap.

“I think your cousin wouldn’t appreciate me going over there,” I stated, spotting her on the other side of the rink, flirting with a cute guy. “Now, that would be so cruel,” I added, leaning over the railing, staring at Kibum ineptly wobbling to the bench.

“What?” Kibum barked in an over-protecting manner, looking for the unworthy punk wasting Yeri’s time. “Just bring her here, please. I’m gonna treat you to lunch.”

“You should’ve said that earlier. I’m on it,” I said, content with how much I stalled the conversation to get a free meal from Kibum for completing such an easy task.

Having pushed myself off the railing, I made my way towards Yeri. She was basically at the opposite end of the ice rink, so I was forced to skate around lovely-dovey couples in the rhythm of overhyped Christmas songs.

Halfway there, the DJ ordered changing directions, so with a loud groan, I obediently turned around. Unfortunately, one of the speeding men didn’t halt quick enough and smashed right into me, ungracefully knocking me into the ice.

Crash!

It was a painful fall for both of us. If it wasn’t for the beanie with a big fluffy faux ball at the top of it, I’d most likely end up in hospital with a third-degree concussion and possible skull fraction.

Though I was in a mild shock, I could feel a nearing headache and blood dripping down my chin after his forehead collided against my nose. With his knee sharply boring into my thigh, I whined, trying to push him off of me.

At this point, I didn’t care about his injuries. He was the one who bumped into me in the first place; he deserved all the pain he was experiencing. Hopefully, it was similar to mine. According to Newton’s third law of motion, he ought to feel the same amount of pain, and if he sensed it any less, I was about to become livid about the lie I had been told at school.

“Get off of me!” I yelled, once again trying to shove him to the side. Huffing in defeat, I accepted my death by freezing my ass off due to a motionless pile of muscles lying on top of me. “Dude, move,” I tried again, and the man winced, sliding to the side.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered, whimpering in ache. “Are you okay?”

“Been better,” I remarked, trying to sit up. However, as soon as I was in a sitting position, I started to feel dizzy – the surroundings just kept spinning in front of my eyes.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Two men and Yeri scared in unison as they made their way towards us. “It was quite a fall,” one of them added, making me roll my eyes. His friend literally smashed me off the ice like a bulldozer – I wouldn’t call it a fall.

“She’s bleeding,” Yeri mentioned, looking for a bag of single-use handkerchiefs to give me one to aid my problem.

“How many fingers do you see?” the other man leaned over, showing me his palm, and I swatted his hand away with an angry hiss. “You’ve hit her bad, Jungkook. Good luck apologizing to her,” he commented, making it really difficult for me not to kick him in the shin with the blade.

“Is this a joke to you?” Yeri challenged the man, not particularly enjoying his comment. Attagirl! “You better make yourself useful and carry them off the rink,” she ordered sternly, her voice laced with concern.

“Hold on, beautiful,” the shorter one said before he bent to pick me up and wrap his arms around my shoulders to carefully escort me out of the ice rink. Slowly, we staggered to the benches where the man helped me sit down. “I’m Jimin, and you are?”

“In a tremendous amount of pain,” I replied, massaging my head, trying to ease the throbbing. I was about to get a headache of a century, and they kept asking me these stupid questions.

“I’m fine, Hoseok, put me down,” the man, who had smashed into me, complained as his friends dropped him at the bench beside me. “I’ve been through worse,” he groaned, and I gritted my teeth, trying to stop my instinct to cause another scene.

Thankfully, I’ve got Kibum, who would channel his inner Karen to argue for me.

“You stupid fucks, look what you’ve done!” Kibum yelled, hitting Jungkook in the back of his head, making everyone gasp in shock. “What were you thinking, skating this fast? You’re lucky she didn’t end up with a blade stuck in her throat, or else, I’d have to murder you!”

“Guys, stop shouting,” I whispered, barely withstanding the pain. “Can we please go somewhere quiet?”

On cue, Kibum and Yeri went to get my stuff. At the same time, Jungkook’s friends walked away from us to get their belongings, leaving me alone with the villain himself.

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook apologized once again, being considerate enough to volume down his words. “Come on. Let me help you,” he stood up, offering his hand to escort me out of the tent. Unwillingly, I grabbed his palm, allowing him to save me from random shouts of joy and repetitive Christmas hits.

Once outside, I felt a little bit better, but it was still far from perfect.

“How are you feeling? Should I take you to a hospital?” Jungkook inquired as he looked into my eyes, trying to detect any lie.

“Nah, I’m good. I think I’ll just walk it off,” I shook my head, trying to stand up to demonstrate my current state. Unfortunately, I was still a little bit shaken after the fall, almost collapsing onto the ground. “On a second thought, I’m gonna sit here for a while,” I added, sheepishly, experiencing an unfamiliar feeling of helplessness.

In silence, Jungkook and I started at each other, unsure what to do or say next. We were just two strangers who participated in an accident. Our friends were nowhere to be found, giving zero fucks about the uncomfortable moment between us.

“Should we exchange numbers?” Jungkook suddenly asked, making me crease my eyebrow in confusion. What did he need my phone number for? “When there’s a car accident, both parties exchange contact info to work out a settlement,” Jungkook explained, and I sighed, trying to digest what he just said. Apparently, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. “Please, don’t sue me,” he added with a light-hearted giggle to his tone as he sat down on the bench.

“I didn’t plan on doing that, but since you’ve mentioned it, I’ll think about it,” I teased, reaching into my coat’s pocket to get my phone. “Give me your number, I’ll ring you,” I muttered, carefully typing Jungkook’s digits into my device. After a few seconds, Jungkook’s phone vibrated, flashing my number.

“Under what name did you save me?” Jungkook asked in curiosity, looking over my shoulder, cackling when he read totally suing this guy on the screen. “Well… at least you didn’t save me under do not pick up the phone, so that’s a relief,” he added, laughing at his joke.

Though I was a little bit curious how Jungkook saved my number, ultimately, I decided not to entertain this impulse. After all, the chances of him actually calling me were slim, if not none.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked, but before I managed to give him a proper reply, Kibum shouted it loud and clear from afar. “Duly noted,” he added with a tiny grin.

Along with Yeri and Jungkook’s friends, he made his way toward us, having the guys carry all our stuff like indebted servants.

“You’ll never guess,” Kibum stated, plopping on the bench beside me. At this point, I wasn’t in the mood for charades, so I just rolled my eyes, failing to accordingly react to Kibum’s attempted suspense.

Thankfully, Yuri chimed in, revealing the big plan. “We’ve talked to the guys, and they proposed to treat all of us to dinner. The race was their idea, so they figured it’s one way to make it up to you for you know what,” Yuri explained, and I sighed.

Hooray!

That’s exactly what I needed, to spend more time with the asshole that slammed into me with the force of a hundred horses.

Perfectly splendid.

“Sure, that sounds amazing,” I replied through gritted teeth, staring at that cheap bastard Kibum. He owed me dinner, so he used his sly manipulation to guilt-trip these naïve boys into treating all of us for a meal.

“See? I told you guys she doesn’t hold grudges against people who provide her with food,” Kibum answered, not surprising me all that much. I was accustomed to his ways. Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jimin, on the other hand, were about to get exploited to Kibum’s heart’s content.

But hey, free food, there’s no way I’d say no to that.

Fifteen minutes later, we were walking down the alley, looking for a restaurant or a diner that was able to provide a table for six. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on our side.

It was a long stroll. All establishments were either packed with people, or they simply weren’t capable of catering for such a large group like ours.

We didn’t give up, though. In pairs, we walked further, our stomachs growling louder and louder. Hoseok and Jimin were leading the way, chatting about some hockey game somewhat this week. Right behind, Kibum was giving a lecture on relationships to Yeri, being the highly unnecessary third parent to her. And lastly, there was Jungkook and me, awkwardly trailing behind all of them, talking about nothing in particular, unable to find a ground topic for a proper conversation.

At some point, a man in an expensive black coat bumped into me, smashing his shoulder against mine. It was quite a powerful collision on the sidewalk, resulting in me falling right into Jungkook’s arms.

“Hey, watch where the hell you’re going,” I yelled, massaging my limb to ease the soreness, while the man didn’t seem to pay any attention to my angry shout.

“Hey, you should really apologize,” Jungkook hollered at the man, standing up for me. Unfortunately, the man didn’t reflect his misbehavior even after Jungkook stepped in. He barely turned his head around to check what that was about, dismissing it a few seconds later.

“Let it go; he’s not worth it,” I wrapped my hand around Jungkook’s shoulder, stopping him from confronting the rude asshat. “Karma is gonna get him,” I added with a smirk upon my face as I imagined how much cash he had in his wallet – which, in fact, was at the bottom of my pocket right now.

It ought to teach him a lesson.

“It’s your unlucky day,” Jungkook admitted, feeling sorry for my misfortune.

“Well… it’s not that bad,” I assured Jungkook with a happy beam, realizing my mistake the second the words left my mouth. Fantastic, I was just enthusiastic about the cash I found lying all over the ground. However, now, Jungkook must’ve thought I was into him.

Dear Lord, save me from this misunderstanding.

Before Jungkook managed to question my ambiguous comment, Jimin and Hoseok shouted. Apparently, they found a restaurant with a large enough table to fit us all.

At last!

Once inside, we quickly sat down, ready to skim through the menus. Honestly, we were all hungry way past the I-need-my-food-tasty stage, so we decided to order two giant pizzas and six pints of Christmas Ale beer.

“I think we should play a game before our food arrives,” Jimin proposed as he looked at the people by the table, not appreciating the awkwardness. Within Jimin were two wolves – one was a social butterfly, and the other was a people pleaser. Sitting in an uncomfortable silence irked him immensely. “How about a little integration, anybody?”

“You have to excuse him,” Hoseok interjected, trying to calm the angry crowd of grownups. “Jimin’s going to be a counselor on a hockey camp during the winter break, and sometimes, he forgets he’s not talking with middle-school pupils.”

“You’re never too old for some good old bonding,” Jimin fought his case, really keen on getting to know us better. “Especially over some beer,” he added when the waitress walked up to our table with our beverages.

Though none of us wanted to participate in Jimin’s fun activities, we eventually gave in, realizing his persistence was even more energy-draining than the bonding games themselves.

The rules were simple, you had to name three finds you love and three things you hate. Jimin went first, and it was actually quite funny to see the contrast between him and Kibum, who was the second to speak up.

“I love Mexican food, horror movies, and money,” I confessed when it was my turn, having no regrets. After all, we would never meet again. “I hate banana milk, wireless earphones, and doing laundry,” I added, completing the horrid task, making everyone at the table grow silent. Cocking my brow upward, I asked, “what?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still trying to comprehend the situation. “It’s just unbelievable.”

With each syllable that rolled off Hoseok’s tongue, I knew less and less. What the hell was going on? Could somebody explain to me what the fuss was all about?

“Basically, Jungkook loves all the things you hate,” Jimin finally explained, making Kibum cackle in entertainment.

“Ooh-la-la, the plot thickens,” Kibum snickered, laughing loudly, kicking his head backward.

“Ignore him. He’s just being a drama queen for no reason,” I interjected, ignoring Kibum’s ridiculous reaction.

“Guys, look, the food is ready,” Yeri said in excitement upon seeing our waitress walking toward us with delicious pizza in her hands. “I am so hungry,” she added, rubbing her hands together, licking her lips with appetite.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening went smoothly. After the beer and the food, the conversation sailed without any disturbance, everybody chiming in once in a while. A friendly atmosphere surrounded us, but we all felt it was the first and final meeting. Our groups had completely different vibes, and though we had somewhat fun, there was no point in forcing this friendship any further.

In an amicable mood, we parted ways.

Having dropped Yeri at her dorm, Kibum and I took an Uber to our shared apartment.

“I am dying,” I complained, stretching my arms as soon as I walked through the threshold of our comfy place. Having hung the coat, I fished out the stolen wallet. “I deserved a long bath,” I added, plopping down onto the couch, looking through the content of my newest possession.

“You really have to stop doing that. You’re gonna get caught one time,” Kibum mentioned as he sat down beside me, tearing the wallet out of my hands, browsing through the loyalty cards, looking for a bargain. “When did you even steal it? I was by your side the whole time,” Kibum wondered as he found a coupon for a free coffee amongst the plastic cards.

“You know what they say,” I started, counting the cash in my hands – almost two hundred bucks, not bad. “The first million is the hardest and is meant to be stolen,” I finished my thought, putting the cash into my purse.

“First of all, nobody has ever said that,” Kibum argued, groaning. It wasn’t the first time we had this conversation; at this point, we had this pep talk rehearsed to perfection. “You’re pushing your luck here. One day you’ll pick the wrong pocket.”

“What do you want me to say? I can’t stop now,” sighing, I replied. Maybe in the future, once I land a stable job with an adequate wage, I’ll quit. In this economy, it may be quite challenging, but that’s the goal. Right now, I was as poor as a church mouse, barely getting by each month on my level of living.

“I’m gonna be so pissed if the police catch you,” Kibum complained, giving up on his daily lecture. Trying to convince me was a vicious circle. Kibum felt as if he was trapped in some lame remake of Groundhog Day, only failing at knocking some common sense into his friend’s stubborn head.

“Take it easy. They won’t,” I mused with a light-hearted smile. “If you’re forgotten, you’re like super old. You’ll get bald if you keep worrying so much.”

“That’s a low blow,” Kibum mentioned, frowning in annoyance. Ever since he reached the dreadful thirty mark, it was his biggest insecurity. “Alright then,” he carried on, ready to attack me with just as strong jab. “What about Jungkook?”

“What about him?”

“You’ve had a moment.”

“What moment?” I inquired, pretending to be way clueless than I really was. “If, by moment, you mean that he basically nailed me into the ice, then yes.”

“You should’ve given him your phone number,” Kibum commented casually, and I turned my head around, avoiding his gaze. “Oh my, you actually gave it, I knew it,” he realized, looking right through me. “Finally, you need some. Later on, maybe he’ll talk you out of your bad habits,” Kibum carried on, blabbering nonsense.

“Don’t you think you’re getting way ahead of yourself?” I questioned, folding my arms over my chest. “I guess Jungkook’s a good guy, but he ain’t gonna call me.”

“You never know,” Kibum reasoned, and I sighed, walking away to the bathroom to run myself a relaxing bath, which was all that I needed.

3 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

It was a terrible day.

First of all, I was still a bit sore after the ice rink accident. Then, I tried strolling along the bustling alleys, picking a few pockets. Unfortunately, people didn’t carry that much cash.

Having stolen three wallets, I only collected fifty bucks.

That was pathetic.

Sighing, I decided to call it a day.

Kibum would be so proud of me, I thought as I made my way to a random coffee shop, wanting to accidentally lose one of the wallets. That way, the rightful owner would have a chance of actually finding it if he decided to trace back his steps.

On my walk of shame back home, my phone randomly stopped playing music. Instantly, I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to fish it out of my pocket, knowing there was an incoming call waiting to be answered.

Normally, I’d either ignore it because I knew it was a spam call or just ignore it because I preferred texts to calls. Whoever opted to dial must’ve been devil’s spawn. No doubt.

Totally suing this guy.

Hmm… what does he want? I wondered as my thumb hovered over the answer icon on the screen. I wasn’t serious about suing him; it was just me teasing the poor guy. I didn’t actually mean it, and I thought it was obvious.

Before I managed to make up my mind about picking up the phone, Jungkook must’ve given up and hung up. Unfortunately, right when I was about to put it back in my pocket, I received another incoming call.

Totally suing this guy.

“Hello?” I asked, picking up the phone. Hopefully, he would check up on me and end the conversation. It was weird and uncomfortable, so it better be the last time.

“Hi, it’s Jungkook,” he said, sounding somewhat shy and timid. “From the ice rink, how are you feeling?” Jungkook inquired, and I sighed, getting mentally prepared for my reply.

“I’m better,” I answered shortly, not giving him any details on my condition. It was just a few bruises; I wasn’t dying. “Your knee left a bruise, but in a few days, I’m gonna feel all good,” I added, remembering the large mark on my thigh. It looked like a big ass hickey, but that’s the comment I was about to keep to myself.

“I’m really, really sorry,” he spoke through a tumult on his side of the call. He must’ve been in a crowded place, like a locker room packed with fellow hockey players or something. A second later, I heard a noise of shutting the doors close, assuming Jungkook must’ve left the room, wanting to continue this talk without any further disturbance.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I reassured that he cared so him. It was adorable much about my condition, but it was starting to feel a little bit excessive. A regular amount of repentance would be understandable, but he was quite over the top.

“Actually, it’s not why I’m calling,” Jungkook admitted, taking me aback. Why else would he call then? “It was just an excuse,” he added, and I genuinely started to wonder what was going on inside his head. He didn’t want to ask me out, did he?

Nah, it didn’t make any sense.

Get a grip, woman.

“Oh, why are you calling me then?” I challenged him as I couldn’t wait any longer for the big reveal. “What is so important that couldn’t be a simple text?”

“Well…,” Jungkook started, and I smiled, hearing in his tone that he was beaming. “To be completely honest, I really suck at texting. One time, I texted back my friend after a few months, so yeah, I’d rather call,” he explained, and though that’s not my preferred way of communicating, I found it adorable.

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to hang out,” Jungkook asked, and I became speechless.

“Really? Why?” I questioned as I couldn’t find any reason why Jungkook would like to meet up with me. Yesterday, I had been grumpy as fuck – it was hard to believe he wanted to see my face ever again.

“What do you mean why?”

“I wasn’t particularly nice to you yesterday,” I admitted, looking down at my feet.

“You were just angry, it happens,” Jungkook claimed, once again surprising me – he wasn’t just good-looking. Besides his gorgeous looks, he, most importantly, was a kind, soft-spoken person with a heart of gold.

“Yeah, but still, I was an asshole.”

“No, it must’ve been that spur-of-the-moment kind of attitude,” Jungkook brushed it off without my thought, and I sighed in relief. Thankfully, he didn’t think I was a complete bitch. “I would be pissed too if someone tackled me down at a public ice rink.”

“Could we please stop talk about it?” I proposed, willing to put it all behind us.

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologized sheepishly, and I giggled, shaking my head, unable to process how adorable he was. “So, back to the topic, I was wondering if you’d like to come to that charity hockey game tomorrow,” he trailed off, a little bit insecure about my answer. “And after that, we could grab some coffee. I mean, if you don’t have any plans, I’d really like to meet up,” Jungkook added, sounding like a ball of a blabbering mess.

“Hmm… tomorrow, I am busy in the morning and early afternoon. What time does the game begin?” I questioned, buying myself more time to think over Jungkook’s proposition. He was a good guy, and I’d love to hang out, but I still had doubts.

“At three o’clock!” Jungkook exclaimed in excitement, probably hoping I was available to attend this charity event. “We’re raising money for a winter camp for kids from St. Paul’s orphanage. That’s the one Jimin’s gonna volunteer at.”

Now, there was no way I could say no.

“I should be free by then,” I answered, hoping I wouldn’t regret my decision later on.

“Fantastic, see you tomorrow,” Jungkook exclaimed happily, and I giggled at his enthusiasm.

“Ayo, Jeon, what are you giggling at?” Someone in the background hollered, teasing Jungkook. Though I thought it was cute and playful, Jungkook must’ve felt so embarrassed that he hung up before I managed to say my farewell.

2 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

According to Jungkook’s instructions, the charity game out to start around 3 in the afternoon. A bit too early if you ask me, but who am I to judge the authorities who organized it? Nonetheless, I put on a nice outfit (effortless though chic) and made my way to the university’s stadium, ready to sit through the entirety of the game, already suspecting it wouldn’t appeal to my preferences. It was far too brutal to be enjoyable.

I had no interest in hockey, nor even knew the basics; however, Jungkook wanted me out of all people to support him. Normally, I’d skip, but there was just something about him that made it really difficult to say no to him. There I was – on university grounds during the holiday break, heading to the sports department where I had never stepped my foot willingly.

It was a charity event our university annually hosted. To be completely honest, it was the first time I heard of it. Moreover, there was a high chance I wasn’t the only one. Right in front of the entrance, there was no queue – I was the only one, and it was suspicious as fuck.

Unless I had first-hand info about the beginning of the game, I would just turn around and leave. However, Jungkook had specifically said 3 p.m., so I walked up to the entrance, seeing a man distributing tickets. He must’ve been one of the volunteering students. Admirable.

With a deep sigh, I pushed the doors open and entered the building. “One ticket, please,” I spoke, pulling out my wallet to pay for the entry fee. It was all for charity, so I gladly paid up the round sum. These kids really deserved a treat, and I’d love to contribute.

“You’re the first one to arrive; you must be a hardcore fan of our hockey team,” the friendly man said, and I just giggled at this obvious misconception.

Me? A fan? A hardcore one at that? Wow.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m here to support a friend,” I answered, denying the accusations with a casual response. “Where should I go?”

“Right this way, the first doors on the left,” the man answered with a happy beam. “Seats are not assigned, so be free to sit anywhere you like,” he added, and I bowed, thanking him for the directions. Though I was near graduation, I had no idea how to move around the building.

Having pushed the heavy doors open, I made my way to the bleachers.

A few players were skating across the ice rink, while the area for spectators was empty. As if that wasn’t awkward enough, all the players looked at me, whistling like a bunch of starved wolves. What the hell was that all about?

Ooh! Ooh!

“Wow, Jungkook, this girl really came,” one of the boys, probably Hoseok, shouted loud enough for me to hear. What? Did Jungkook talk about me with his teammates? What for? Or did they listen to us chat on the phone the other day? Even so, what’s with the reaction?

At first, I wanted to turn around and run away. I didn’t like the way they looked at me. It resembled a combination of concern for their younger teammate and playful support for whatever was about to stem between us. Ridiculous!

Then, I considered sitting in the last row, ignoring their curious glances. I’d probably pull a book out of my bag and devote myself to the plot for the duration of the game.

Unfortunately, none of my ideas seemed to be possible – especially not when one of the players with number 1 written on the sports uniform skated toward the railing. It must’ve been Jungkook. I mean… who else would that be?

Once he took off his helmet, I realized that my suspicion was right. It was indeed Jungkook with his messy, sweaty hair and a goofy smile upon his face. He was waving at me, enticing me closer to the ice rink.

“You really came,” Jungkook whispered when I walked up to him. “I really doubted you did,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“If I didn’t, you would keep calling me,” I answered playfully, still unable to comprehend how, on earth, he preferred calling to texting. It was ridiculous; he couldn’t be that bad at replying as he had claimed. “And also, why am I here this soon? Where is everybody? Care to explain?” I asked, my tone slightly laced with anger.

“Did I really say 3 o’clock?” Jungkook inquired innocently, staring at the big clock on the scoreboard. “My bad, I fucked it up, sorry,” Jungkook apologized, but I suspected his words weren’t entirely genuine. Apparently, he wanted me to come this soon, and I had to figure out why.

“Also, care to explain why your teammates stare at me like that,” I questioned, cocking my eyebrow, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder. The hockey team really seemed to be invested in what was going on between Jungkook and me, and I didn’t like the way they were gawking at me as if I had two heads growing out on my shoulders.

“Oh, I might’ve got caught talking to you yesterday,” he mentioned as if I didn’t already suspect that. “Apparently, I looked like an embodiment of teenage crush, and they keep teasing me about it. I am sorry if they creep you out,” Jungkook explained, and I beamed, thinking it was actually pretty cute.

“They’re your friends; that’s what friends do.”

“Hey, Jeon, quit flirting and get your ass on the rink. We’ve all gotta warm-up,” the coach hollered, urging Jungkook to return to his teammates. Though it was just an out of the season game, their coach didn’t want to lose anyway.

“Good luck, Jeon,” I whispered, shooing him away from me, really trying to give him a chance for a proper warm-up before the match. “Don’t let anyone tackle you down. It’s not that pleasant,” I added with an encouraging smile.

“I got it,” Jungkook spoke, sending me a cute wink.

Just as I asked him to, Jungkook skated away, only to come back around ten seconds later.

“By the way, you’ve got any plans after the game?” Jungkook asked, waiting for my answer with utter impatience. “I thought maybe we could grab something to eat.”

“Well… that depends,” I replied, and Jungkook cocked up his eyebrow.

“Depends on what?”

“Ask me again after you win the game,” I teased, giving him some extra motivation to try his best on the rink. “Go, they’re waiting.”

And with that, Jungkook finally got his head in the game.

The coach shouts tips and occasionally scolds players that aren’t on their best performance. In the meantime, people fill up the seats on the bleachers, excited to see the match and open their wallets for the laudable cause.

By the time the match finally begins, I am bored out of my mind. I gave hockey a fair shot, but it didn’t raise my interest in the tiniest bit. It just wasn’t my thing.

Thankfully, I had a newly purchased book in my bag to pass the time. It was just a Christmas themed erotica with a half-naked Santa with a six-pack on the cover. It wasn’t anything promising, but the holidays were around the corner, so maybe it’d put me in the right mood.

Though I didn’t have high hopes for the novel, it felt disappointing. The plot was cliché, and the pace was too rushed, but nonetheless, I’d still choose it over a hockey game. Contact sports weren’t really my thing, especially when it was giving me PTSD.

From time to time, my eyes would locate Jungkook on the rink. He was really out there, showing off his talents, making people gawk in admiration. He was one of the best players in his team, scoring goal after goal. Or whatever they score in hockey.

It was an even match, but ultimately, our team won by two points.

“On children’s behalf, I’d like to thank everybody for coming,” a woman in smart clothing spoke through the microphone. It must’ve been the orphanage director showing her gratitude for all the money they had managed through the ticket sale. “My heart really melts when I see how many people decided to help our children, especially in this difficult time of the year,” she recited, putting the microphone away from her mouth before a grateful tear rolled down her cheek. “Thank you so much!”

Shortly after, she handed the microphone to Jungkook’s coach.

“Hi, everybody, I’m coach Min,” he introduced himself, and the spectators clapped their hands in gratitude for leading the team towards victory. “I’d like to thank everybody for donating the money. I hope the kids will enjoy their winter break,” he added, looking at the crowd, proud of so many people gathered to support the cause. “However, if you’d like to contribute, even more, my team will wait outside with boxes. With this extra money, we would like to buy Christmas gifts for these amazing kids. I wish you all – Merry Christmas.”

Another round of applause echoed among the walls before people slowly started to head towards the exit. Taking my time, I followed the crowd, looking for Jungkook. It was difficult; people were feeling generous today.

“Over here,” I heard somebody call my name, so I turned around, recognized Jimin. He was standing a few meters away with a heavy box stuffed with cash. “Would you like to make some children happy?” Jimin asked, placing the box right under my nose, wanting me to contribute some more. “What do you say?”

Although I had already paid the entry fee, I still wanted to give more. All the goodness I had witnessed at the stadium pulled my heartstrings; it was impossible to say no now. Once I started, I just couldn’t stop.

With a genuine smile, I pulled out my wallet. I had plenty of cash in it. Everything I had stolen during this week. It was about four hundred bucks. Without a slimmer of doubt, the team would spend it wisely. Better than I ever could.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money,” Jimin asked, wondering if I was in the right state of mind donating so much.

“Yes, I am sure,” I confirmed, giving all of the money away. The feeling was deliberating, and it was really nice. “Oh my God, Jimin! What are you doing?” I asked in panic when Jimin put the box on the ground and picked me up, spinning around.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat before continuing, “am I interrupting something?” A familiar voice asked, making Jimin drop me down. Thankfully, I didn’t stumble. Somehow I found my balance before I hit my face against the pavement.

“Oh, Jungkook,” Jimin whispered, smiling awkwardly, almost as if we were caught cheating. “It’s not what it looks like,” he started, and I rolled my eyes. Literally, it was the worst phrasing he could choose, especially given the reputation this line holds. “I was just showing my gratitude after her generous donation.”

“Let’s just go,” I interjected before Jimin managed to embarrass me even more. With a smile upon my face, I grabbed Jungkook’s box and handed it over to Jimin. “Take care of that, okay?” I said, grabbing Jungkook’s hand, pulling him away from the campus ground.

Since it was quite chilly outside, Jungkook and I decided to grab drinks at the campus café. Having taken seats by the window in the back, we looked through menus to choose something delicious for our little informal date.

“Order anything you like; it’s my treat,” Jungkook mentioned before he proceeded to look through the menu. “You were my lucky charm today.”

“Well… of course, it’s your treat. I gave all my money away to charity,” I spoke, looking through the tea section for something I haven’t had before. “I’d like vanilla cinnamon tea,” I read out loud the position off the menu that really caught my attention.

“On it,” he added before he walked up to the counter to order. In a minute, he was back at the table, sitting comfortably at the other side of the table. “So… you and Jimin, huh?”

“Speaking of which, what kind of jealousy scene was that?” I inquired, teasing him for completely misunderstanding this situation.

“Sorry for that,” Jungkook apologized sheepishly, looking away. “It’s just it was so unexpected. I mean… you don’t know Jimin that well, and acting like that was quite strange,” Jungkook explained, and I nodded, trying to understand his reaction.

“Jimin’s cute. Is he single?” I asked, and Jungkook frowned upon my question, visibly upset with my wording. “What I meant is that I have a friend. I have a feeling they would click, you know,” I clarified, giggling when I saw relief wash through Jungkook.

“In that case, he’s very single,” Jungkook gladly answered, smiling brightly like an idiot. “After the last girl he was seeing dumped him a few months ago, he didn’t date. Maybe it’s about time he gets back to it,” he added, and I nodded, scribbling down my friend’s number on a piece of paper, sliding it over to Jungkook, believing he would pass it to Jimin.

“So… what are your plans for Christmas Eve?” I asked when the barista brought our order to the table. Apparently, Jungkook is quite a sweet-tooth. Beside my tea, he ordered a large cup of hot cocoa with roasted marshmallows on top along with four beautifully decorated cupcakes. I got cavities just by looking at it.

“I’m going Christmas shopping,” Jungkook answered, licking off some whipped cream off the pink cupcake. “I gotta buy gifts for the kids,” he added, and I smiled at the boy in front of me. Although I knew him only for two days, he kept surprising me.

In a good way, of course.

“Do you have any idea what I can get them?” Jungkook inquired, stuffing his mouth with the cupcake, enjoying his sweet treat. “There’s like thirty-five of them. I am clueless.”

“I don’t know… board games? Art supplies? Lego blocks? I’m sure you’ll figure this out,” I replied, suspecting I wasn’t much of a help.

“You could always come and join me,” Jungkook proposed, reaching for another cupcake. “I could use some help,” he added, pushing the tray with sugary treats towards me.

“I’d love to, but I will be at work, sorry,” I answered truthfully, now kind of regretting replying to that ad on Craigslist. “I’m babysitting tomorrow. Parents of three go on some business trip, and I have to watch them until their grandparents take over,” I explained, and Jungkook nodded, sipping his hot cocoa.

“Any plans after that?”

“I’ll just come back home and watch some Christmas movies on Netflix. This year, I don’t have time to go to my hometown. I gotta go to work as soon as Christmas is over,” I explained with a deep sigh. Although I wasn’t exceptionally family-oriented, it still felt a little bit odd to spend Christmas alone. “What about you?”

“My parents finally saved up enough money for the second honeymoon they always wanted to go, so there’s no real celebration this year,” Jungkook mentioned, showing real support for his parents. If that’s what they really wanted, he didn’t want to be a burden. “I’m really happy for them. Raising me and my brother wasn’t easy, so that’s the least we can do.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” I commented, wondering about Jungkook, his family, and their customs. “We could hang out tomorrow evening if you want to,” I proposed, and Jungkook beamed in utter joy, almost as if he waited for my offer.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jungkook admitted, grinning like a child. “Come on, have some cupcake. I bought them for us.”

“I’m fine with my tea,” I replied, raising the cup to my mouth, taking a tiny sip. “I’m full just by looking at you eat,” I added, encouraging Jungkook to devour the rest of the goodies.

As if I didn’t know already, Jungkook proved to me one more time how charming he was. Though we had different opinions on some topics, we also had a lot in common.

This date was really informative. For example, I had no idea that Jungkook only plays in the hockey team for the scholarship. His true passion is photography and directing, and it’s actually his major. Moreover, he shared how much he likes to sings in the shower, for which he often gets teased by fellow teammates.

Maybe our first meeting was a tragedy, but the more time I spent with him, I began to realize that it was actually worth it to take this fall.

CHRISTMAS EVE

“My parents should arrive around seven,” the mother of three boys announced when she finally found a second to talk to me. “Jin is ten, Namjoon is eight, and Taehyung is five,” she added when the boys ran across the corridor, chasing one another.

“They’re adorable,” I commented, though I didn’t really mean it. I had no idea how the kids would behave when their parents would walk out the door.

“My sweet little angels,” she said with a deep sigh, feeling a bit sad that she had to leave her children alone on Christmas day. Unfortunately, whatever they had to tend to at work was way more important than spending holidays with their children. “How much money do I owe you?” She asked, being unaware of the amount her husband put on the advertisement.

“Five hundred,” I answered, and she nodded her head, giving me the correct amount.

Thankfully, the kids weren’t all that troublesome.

After their parents left for the airport, the children were a loud mess playing some console games. As long as they didn’t want me to participate in their fun activities, I didn’t mind the noise. I’d just simply wait for the grandparents to arrive.

Just two more hours; I can handle that.

“Can I have some candy?” Taehyung asked cutely, holding a bag of jelly beans in his hands. Usually, I’d say no. Kids tend to be hyperactive on the sugar rush. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, but then, I was quite impressed that he even bothered to ask for permission.

“Of course, sweetie, it’s Christmas,” I replied, tearing the packaging for him.

After the boys got bored, they wanted to play some board games with me. I wasn’t particularly interested in interacting with them but ultimately decided to join in. It’s been a while since I destroyed someone at Monopoly, so I might as well do it now.

Just one more hour; it’s almost over.

The boys had a particularly short attention span. The average game of Monopoly should take at least two hours – Jin, Namjoon, and Taehyung returned to their previous shenanigans, running around and screaming at one another maybe twenty minutes into the game.

Just when I was about to yell at them to keep quiet, I heard my phone ring. Under these circumstances, it was a blessing. At this point, I’d diligently answer all the questions the spam caller wanted to ask me. I was desperate for some interaction with an adult.

Having locked myself inside the bathroom, I answered the call, enjoying a little bit of peace and quiet. “Hello?” I asked, waiting for Jungkook to brighten my day.

“Hi, there,” he spoke cheerfully, “all gifts are bought and wrapped,” he added, proud of his today’s achievements. “What time do you finish up?”

“In an hour or maybe earlier,” I answered, looking at the wristwatch.

“Do you want me to pick you up? We could take a walk, and then just go with the flow,” Jungkook proposed, and I immediately said yes as I couldn’t wait for him to show up and rescue me from these children.

“I’d actually love that. I’ll text you the address,” I spoke, biting my bottom lip in excitement. One more hour and I’d walk away with five hundred bucks in my wallet.

When the clock struck seven o’clock, the grandparents were nowhere to be seen. They were running late, and I was growing impatient. Jungkook would be here any minute, and I wanted to leave. I tried calling their parents but to no avail. They must’ve already boarded the plane.

This situation was helpless – they were just little boys, I couldn’t leave them alone.

Thirty minutes later, I heard the bell. In a hurry, I opened the doors, wishing to see the grandparents on the other side. Unfortunately, much to my dismay, it was just Jungkook.

“Shall we go now?” Jungkook asked, eyeing me from head to toe, biting his lip. “Wow, you look amazing,” he added, and I stared down at my outfit consisting of a cute tight purple turtleneck, a short black skirt, and a pair of warm tights.

“I can’t go yet. Their grandparents aren’t here, and I don’t have a way of calling them,” I explained, and Jungkook sighed, taking off his shoes, willing to help me babysit.

“What is he doing here,” Jin asked, as he folded his arms around his chest, judging me for inviting someone to their household.

“He’s my friend who was supposed to pick me up after I’m done here, and since your grandparents are getting late, he’s staying, so be nice to him.”

“Whatever,” he grumped before running to the living room, joining his brothers on the couch.

We tried watching a movie. However, once again, the boys couldn't focus enough to last to the end of it. Then, I realized I royally fucked up by giving them sugar earlier. They wanted to play hide and seek, and I agreed with a tired sigh.

Unwillingly, I turned around to face the wall. I closed my eyes and began counting, giving them more than enough time to find the perfect hiding spot.

“Three, two, one,” I hollered, making sure they heard me.

The apartment was suspiciously silent and pretty dark. I could definitely feel that weird vibe often present in horror movies. First of all, I checked all the hiding spots in the living room. Then, when I was about to enter the corridor, I felt a presence behind me. Before I managed to react, a hand snaked around my body, covering my mouth, muffling my unexpected screams.

In a second, the person turned me around. I should’ve figured it out it was Jungkook. With a goofy smile, he mentioned me to remain quiet.

“What are you doing? This is not how you play this game,” I whispered, giving him a lecture, but Jungkook only laughed at my reaction.

“Look, they’re finally quiet. You should take your time finding the kids,” Jungkook suggested, and I hummed in agreement. He was right – I should cherish the silence. He was a genius. “Shh…,” he added, pressing his forefinger against his perfect lips.

Maybe the atmosphere wasn’t perfect, but I just couldn’t help myself. We were standing there in the dark, completely still. I couldn’t fight this temptation.

Acting out of my urge, I took a step forward and gave him a chaste kiss. It was a delicate brush of my lips against his, but it was just perfect. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed this innocent form of affection.

The moment I pulled away, Jungkook grinned, placing his hands on my hips. Staring down at me, he yanked me against his firm body, leaning forward for another kiss. Tenderly, his mouth moved, feeling my lips.

Within seconds, the kiss became even more passionate. Smiling, Jungkook began to nibble on the sensitive skin of my lips, and I hummed in pleasure. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I opened my mouth slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

“Fuck,” Jungkook loudly cursed as he bit my bottom lip, making me shriek in pain. At first, I thought he was just getting turned on, but then I realized what happened. It was Taehyung. He was standing right beside Jungkook, smiling as if he did something inappropriate. “He bit me!” Jungkook exclaimed, massaging his thigh, trying to ease the pain.

“He bit you?” I asked, being confused as ever. “Is that true, Taehyung?” I questioned the boy, but instead of answering me, he ran away to another room, chuckling like a maniac. Now, that was odd. “What is going on?”

The grandparents were supposed to arrive over an hour ago; I was losing my patience here.

“This kid bit me,” Jungkook carried on, unable to comprehend this entire situation. Well… he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wrap his head around this. What the fuck was wrong with them? “What is this?” Jungkook asked as he felt something on this thigh. “Ew, it’s his tooth!”

That was enough.

It was about time I set up some rules.

“Let’s find them, meet me in the living room in five minutes,” I ordered before we split up to search more ground. The boys were getting out of hand, and they had to be stopped. For the love of God, Taehyung bit Jungkook!

“Have you found them?” Jungkook hollered, and I shook my head.

They vanished.

“I know it’s very irresponsible, but how about ditching this place?” I offered, even though I already knew the answer. They were just kids; we couldn’t just walk out, leaving them alone.

“It’s tempting, but we shouldn’t do that,” Jungkook spoke, regretting making the adult decision. “Isn’t that Namjoon?” He asked, and I turned to look where he was pointing at.

“Wait there, young man!” I yelled, storming out of the room, following Namjoon. The second I turned to the left, Namjoon was nowhere to be seen. It was weird; he must’ve run into one of the rooms. Unfortunately, before I managed to make up my mind, which room I should check first, someone pushed me onto the ground. It made me fall on my knees, painfully bruising them. “What the fuck?” I looked behind my shoulder, seeing Jin bolt off to the living room.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked in concern as he approached me, helping me stand up. “What is wrong with them?”

“I have no idea. The boys seemed fine earlier,” I spoke, seeing Taehyung run towards us. In a matter of seconds, he jumped at Jungkook, wrapping his hands around his neck, dangling off his back. “Hold still,” I ordered, but Jungkook was in panic, afraid of earning another wound.

I wanted to peel the kid off Jungkook’s back, but there was something wrong with Taehyung. Though he was a good boy, right now, there was something inhuman about him. He behaved like a wild animal with rabies, and it crept me out as fuck.

Jungkook smashed his back against the wall, hoping Taehyung would loosen the grip around his neck. At this moment, Jungkook felt as if the little boy was strangling him.

Unfortunately, the impact didn’t do much help.

Then I saw it. There must’ve been something really wrong with them. Taehyung’s eyes were all black with a few black veins around them, making him look extra creepy.

“Fuck this shit, let’s go,” I yanked Jungkook’s arm, wanting to get the hell away from this apartment. There was something wrong with them, and it wasn’t a part of my job to find out what. I was about to babysit them until seven o’clock and leave.

It wasn’t a part of the deal.

“We can’t leave,” Jungkook argued, but I didn’t want to listen.

“We’ll call the police,” I spoke, desperately trying to convince Jungkook to escape this trap. “They’ll send someone here to check up on them,” I added, running to the living room to get my bag. “Let’s go before I drag you out of here.” Maybe my words sounded like a threat, but it successfully made Jungkook move.

“It’s locked,” Jungkook said when he tried to pull the doors open. Though I didn’t lock it after Jungkook’s entrance, the doors wouldn’t budge now. “Do you have a key?”

Trapped inside the apartment, we looked at each other. None of us knew what to do next.

Then, the lights went out.

As if we weren’t already crept out.

“What is the plan?” Jungkook inquired, searching for my hand to hold onto something.

“Stay calm,” I answered, not realizing that quoting the office wasn’t the best idea at the moment. “You try everything to open the doors. Kungfu the shit out of them if you have to,” I ordered, and Jungkook hummed in understanding. “I’ll distract the kids.”

It wasn’t the wisest decision to make, but somebody had to do it. I wasn’t exceptionally proud of myself, but what could a bunch of weird kids do to me?

“Be careful,” Jungkook whispered before I turned on the torch on my phone, looking for the kids around the apartment.

They had to be hiding in one of the rooms. Having taken a confident sigh, I pushed one of the doors open, stepping into Namjoon’s bedroom. The space was spotless, and it was hard to believe it was one of the children’s rooms.

“Game over, Namjoon,” I spoke, urging him to show himself. “You won,” I added, as I kneeled on the carpet to check if he was hiding under the bed. He wasn’t there. “It’s not funny,” I exclaimed, marching towards the closet, anxious about opening it.

It had to be done, though.

Abruptly, I opened the closet, hoping I’d be the first to react if it was indeed Namjoon’s hiding spot. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. Before I managed to prepare myself, Namjoon pushed me, making me painfully fall on my back.

“You little fucker,” I yelled, groaning in pain, earning probably another big ass bruise. “You’re gonna regret that,” I added, unable to control my anger any longer. I was getting easy on them, but it was enough. Now, I’d punch them in the face if I had to.

Namjoon was staring down at me with these creepy black eyes of a demon. His eyes studied my movement, almost as if he was a predator, waiting for the best moment to strike its prey. Then he screeched, jumping right at me in an attempt to bite me.

This time around, however, my reflexes were quicker. Before Namjoon landed on top of me, I rolled to the side, kicking him in his stomach, sending him flying across the room. I couldn’t believe I just did that, but when Namjoon stood up as if nothing happened, I understood I had to go all the way if I wanted to make it out alive.

Quickly, I jumped to my feet, determined to Bruce Lee kick the devil’s spawn into another dimension with my close-to-none self-defense skills. Women in stress could pick up cars, and I had to beat up an eight-year-old.

I could handle it.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Bouncing on my legs like on the ready mode in a fighting game, I stared at my opponent. Namjoon was the first to attack, and I just jumped at the side, not wanting to get bitten. Unfortunately, Namjoon still managed to scratch my arm, drawing blood.

“You’re dead,” I threatened when I saw that he tore the sleeve of my favorite turtleneck. With anger in my eyes, I approached him, throwing punches left and right. My fists collided against Namjoon’s jaw, but no matter how much force I used, it didn’t seem to have any impact on him. He didn’t feel any pain, and it pissed me off.

With a hiss, Namjoon jumped at me, wrapping his hands and arms around my torso. His mouth was dangerously close to my throat, so in a state of complete panic, I started to spin around, trying to shake him off of me.

Now, Namjoon’s room was a complete mess – especially when I walked into a mirror, smashing it into a thousand pieces. Namjoon and I were rolling in the broken glass, earning plenty of tiny cuts across our bodies.

“That’s enough,” I warned him as I spat blood on the carpet. “Say hello to Satan for me, will you?” I added before I pushed him out of the window without any regrets. Namjoon kept screaming, but when his tiny body smashed against the pavement, the peculiar screeching finally stopped. “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker,” I whispered, unable to control myself.

I just killed a kid, and the first thing that came to my mind was quoting Die Hard.

It wasn’t the time for celebration. There were still two children running around the apartment.

Looking around Namjoon’s room, I found a baseball bat. That’ll do, I thought to myself as I stared at my new-found weapon.

“Jungkook!” I shouted.

Once I was in the corridor, I saw the doors. They were open, but Jungkook was out of sight. Did he seriously ditch me here alone? No, it wasn’t possible. Jungkook would never do that.

The boys must’ve done something to him.

One by one, I checked all the rooms, but I found nothing. It almost felt as if I was alone in this creepy apartment.

“Cut the crap, boys,” I hollered, ready to smack anybody in the face with my baseball bat. I was done playing games. I just wanted to go home and wrap myself in blankets in front of a television. “Come out! I don’t have the whole day,” I added, looking around.

I was on high alert. Adrenaline and other hormones were running through my veins, enhancing my senses. Then I heard it – the sound was coming from the staircase. Quickly, I ran out of the apartment, checking the reason behind this commotion.

It was a yellow ball. Somebody must’ve thrown it. Leaning over the railing, I looked up, trying to spot the villain behind this prank. Then I heard giggles. It must’ve been Taehyung.

“Get down here, right now,” I ordered, but the boy didn’t listen. “You’re going to be so dead when I get up there,” I warned, skipping two steps at a time, climbing the stairs.

On the top of the stairs, Taehyung was sitting comfortably, playing with a yo-yo. His face was stretched into a creepy smile, and in all honesty, it gave me chills.

“Get down here,” I repeated myself, but Taehyung didn’t even budge. “Where is Jungkook? What did you do to him?” I asked and received no answer.

Angrily, I walked upstairs, swinging my baseball bat around. Taehyung tried to mess with me with his yo-yo, but I managed to catch the toy and pull it out of his hands.

Like a maniac, I swung the bat, repeatedly hitting Taehyung’s head until it turned into a pulp. Wiping the blood off my face with the back of my hand, I turned around, studying the area. There was one more child out there, and I couldn’t lose my focus just yet.

“Where are you, Jin?” I shouted, waiting for a sign from the boy.

“Here,” Jin whispered, as he emerged from the shadows, pushing me off the stairs.

It was a painful fall, but thankfully, I didn’t break my neck. I felt a pulsating sensation in my left ankle, but besides that, I was fine.

Groaning in pain, I watched Jin slowly descend the stairs. His weird-ass demon eyes were drilling holes in my face, his lips turning into a devilish sneer. Step by step, he made his way downstairs, enjoying the way I tried to crawl away from him. The anticipation was draining me of energy; he was going to murder me, and I could just watch him do it.

“Help!” I shouted though I doubted anyone could hear me. “Somebody call the police!” I carried on but to no avail.

Jin was maybe thirty centimeters away from me, savoring my misery. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, showing me his teeth, ready to tear me apart.

I had maybe a minute of life left, and I was going to spend it looking into my killer’s eyes.

That was sick.

When Jin was about to jump at me, I heard a noise coming from the apartment.

The scene unfolded in front of my eyes so soon, I couldn’t properly react to it. Right before Jin took a final leap towards me, Jungkook emerged out of the apartment with a fireplace poker, piercing it through Jin’s neck.

Jin’s blood, like a fountain, squirted on me. With my eyes closed, I waited for this moment to end. A few seconds later, I could hear Jin’s dead body collapse to the side.

“Are you okay?” I asked Jungkook, who dropped onto the floor beside me in shock.

“I just killed a kid,” Jungkook whispered, still unable to process what just happened. “When you walked away to look for the kids, I heard a noise in the kitchen. It was Jin, and when I entered, he began throwing shit at me. That motherfucker cut my face,” he added, showing me his fresh wound on his beautiful cheek. “Then, he stabbed my side with the knife and locked me in the closet,” he added, squeezing his side, trying to numb the pain.

“Let’s get the hell away from here,” I spoke, trying to stand up. It was difficult with all my wounds, but I couldn’t stand being inside this building.

CHRISTMAS DAY

We just killed three children.

At first, we had no clue what to do next, but then, I listened to my voice of reason – Jungkook. No matter how bad it looked, we had to go to the police.

Hand in hand, we slowly walked to the nearest police station. People were turning their heads when we were passing by them. I couldn’t blame them. I looked like Carrie with better clothing, while Jungkook seemed to have survived a zombie apocalypse.

When we entered the police station, everybody stared at us. Wobbling, we approached the front desk. “We killed three children,” I admitted, realizing how bad it sounded without the context.

The policeman was shocked. He didn’t witness this kind of thing regularly.

A few minutes later, we were escorted to a questioning room, where we could describe everything in great detail. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to buy our story, thinking we were trying to pull some kind of a prank.

Taking all precautions, they called in an ambulance. We were seriously injured, and we needed some medical care. Though the doctor did a great job, I’d kill to get some better painkillers.

Once our wounds were dressed, the police locked us in custody. We had to wait until a pair of policemen checked the apartment and secure the evidence.

“Merry Christmas, Jungkook,” I whispered as I looked at my wristwatch, realizing it was already past one o’clock. “I know we had different plans, but out of all people, I am glad I was stuck there with you. You saved my life,” I carried on, looking at Jungkook fondly.

“We killed three children,” he replied, still shaken after what had happened. Perhaps, he didn’t need me now, but I really wanted to hug him and tell him that everything’s gonna be alright. Too bad that we were locked in two different cells.

“In self-defense,” I added since Jungkook often seemed to forget that part.

After ten minutes of painful silence, one of the guards walked up to the custody, unlocking our cells. What else did they want to know? We already said everything we knew.

“You’re free to go,” the guard announced, surprising us immensely. “It was an elaborate prank, but don’t ever do that again, or else, we’re going to seriously put you in jail,” he warned, urging us to leave.

“I don’t understand,” I wondered out loud, unable to process what was going on. “I thought you sent your men to check out the crime scene.”

“We did, and the apartment you wanted us to check out was empty. We talked with the landlord, and he said this flat has been vacant for the last year,” the guard explained, making me and Jungkook gasp in shock.

What the fuck was going on?

In complete silence, with our heads hanging low, we exited the police station.

“What now?”

“Let’s just go home and watch Die Hard,” Jungkook whispered, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened inside the apartment. We almost died in there. However, when the police checked it, it was like we had never been there.

My apartment was closer, so we both headed there. Our moves were robotic, our heads were empty. At this point, we just wanted to sit down and keep our minds busy, so we wouldn’t try to analyze what happened back there.

It wasn’t a figment of our imagination. Our wounds were concrete evidence that we were telling the truth. Unfortunately, the police didn’t want to believe us. However, as the saying goes – no body, no crime.

In light of the law, we were innocent.

As soon as we entered my apartment, we sat down on the floor, resting our back against the sofa. Mindlessly, I grabbed the remote and turned Die Hard on Netflix.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I whispered as I interlaced my fingers with Jungkook’s, resting my head on his shoulder. “Or we can just pretend it never happened. Let’s just say we watched a really weird movie or went to a hardcore escape room,” I added, studying Jungkook’s arm tattoos, getting lost in his skin art.

“I’ve known you a few days,” Jungkook started, staring into my eyes. “But I’ve experienced more stress than in my entire life altogether,” he added with a sigh, placing a delicate peck against my neck.

“Actually, my life is pretty boring,” I admitted, though I knew where Jungkook’s words were coming from. I wouldn’t believe myself, either. “It took a 180 on that ice rink,” I reasoned, trying to find a connection.

“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook confessed genuinely, staring at my face with his big sparkly eyes. He was bullshitting me, but I didn’t have enough energy to argue with him. How could I be beautiful? My hair was all sticky due to all the blood which the doctor hadn’t washed off. My skin was covered with cuts and bruises. Even my clothes were ripped. I was certain Jungkook didn’t mean it, but I wasn’t going to admit that.

“You’re beautiful, too,” I beamed, teasing him. “Even after what we’ve been through today, you’re absolutely breathtaking,” I added, and Jungkook looked away, trying to hide his red cheeks. Carefully, I cupped his face, pressing another delicate kiss against his lips.

Just like feathers, our lips moved against each other. No rush, no hastiness, just pure delight.

Though we were both sore and exhausted, we took our time. Maybe it was past three o’clock now, but we didn’t care. I could stay up all night, kissing him like that.

Slowly, Jungkook’s hands found purchase on my hips, carefully pulling me closer on top of his thighs. Gently, I began rubbing my sex against his muscular legs, trying not to make him hiss. His beautiful thighs had already suffered enough damage when Taehyung had bitten him – I didn’t want to inflict any more pain.

“I wish I could fuck you the way I want to,” Jungkook confessed, taking me aback with his filthy words. He was a good soft boy with a heart of gold; how could he talk dirty to me like that? It was out of his calm and collected character, but I absolutely loved it.

“Don’t worry, I think I’m gonna stick around at least until you’re fully recovered,” I answered with a teasing tone as I reached down to his zipper, freeing his semi-hard cock. “Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve? Or Valentine’s Day?” I questioned, but Jungkook was too busy to answer right away, ripping my tights apart.

“Actually, I do,” Jungkook mentioned with a lopsided smirk upon his face. “I’m gonna be sitting here between your thighs, buried deep inside your pussy. How do you like that?” He asked mischievously, biting my bottom lip before I managed to reply.

“I hope you’re not all talk,” I answered, staring down at his dick. Carefully, I pulled it out of his pants, giving it a few strokes before I raised my hips, slowly sinking down on his length. “Mmm…” I purred, feeling a pleasant stretch.

“I should’ve prepped you,” Jungkook whispered as he felt my walls slowly adjust to his girth.

“Nah, it’s all fine,” I spoke, getting all comfortable on his dick. “There’s always a next time.”

With a languid, stable pace, I rocked my hips back and forth, riding him. Going this slow allowed me to properly feel every inch of him. It was intimate, and I enjoyed it much more than any mindless pounding, which didn’t always get me off. With Jungkook under me, I was in complete control. He was obedient and responsive to my movements, really making it look easy to push me over the edge.

“I’m coming,” I moaned, feeling the approaching orgasm. Jungkook, instead of messing with my tempo, grabbed my hips, helping me maintain my current pace. “Fuck, Jungkook,” I hissed when he gently pushed his cock deeper inside of me, being seconds away from his own release.

“Come around my cock,” Jungkook ordered, and I obeyed his order, falling into a million pieces on top of him, screaming his name. Thankfully, Jungkook’s hands held me in place. Otherwise, I’d once again collapse onto the floor. “Argh,” Jungkook grunted, shooting his load inside of me. “I want to go again,” he added as soon as he calmed down after the powerful orgasm.

“I think it’ll have to wait,” I answered, though I’d love to go another round. “We can try in the morning. Right now, I need a shower,” I added, and Jungkook nodded his head, resting it between my boobs, too lazy to let me go.

He was still balls deep inside of me, and his cum was slowly oozing out of my pussy, but none of us wanted to move. It felt as pleasant as it was nasty, but we didn’t mind.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Jungkook asked innocently, batting his eyelashes in an attempt to woo me. “That would save lots of water,” he added, and I didn’t want to argue with his reasoning.

“Why the hell not? Let’s go before I change my mind,” I spoke, giving him a hand, helping him stand up. “But,” I added, sternly staring at the boy beside me. “Until we’re fully recovered, it’s just a shower.”

“Sure thing.”

#jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeongguk fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fluff #christmas smut #bts christmas #bts #bangtan smut

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yongtxt · 5 years ago

Text

turn back time [taeyong]

word count: 6.2k words

characters: amnesiac!taeyong x girlfriend!reader ft. doyoung

genre: angst [meant to be just melancholic so no crying !]

warnings: few mentions of a car crash and some wounds. taeyong suffers from amnesia. it’s a couple trying to learn how to love again.

author’s note: yesterday was my first year anniversary here on tumblr and i give you a short angst fic of the first nct member i wrote for as a present. anyway. i need a break from angst after this also i need to stop writing people getting hurt/wounded???? [stream turn back time by wayv later <3] / unedited

Taeyong awoke to harsh fluorescent lighting filling his vision, a throat so dry it could compare to a desert, and the muffled cries of his lover.

His arms ached, muscles extremely sore that it hurt him to even lift his limb. He wanted to reach out to you, to run his fingers through your hair, and to tell you that everything was gonna be okay—he would work it out with you, together.

You had Taeyong’s hospital gown clutched in your hands, soaking the fabric with your weeping. WIth your face buried into his blanket, it took you a second to realize that your boyfriend had already woken up from his deep slumber. Your cheeks flushed at his intense gaze, dropping your hold on him almost immediately as if it was hot to touch.

“You’re awake!” You exclaimed, voice cracking. Fumbling to wipe your tears, you scrambled to your feet. “Let me grab some food, okay? You must be hungry.”

Taeyong did his best to shake his head, “No, you don’t have to. Please just stay beside me.”

A beat passed and you could only stare at him. The hesitance you exuded didn’t pass unnoticed, you sat back on the stool beside him and stayed tight-lipped. Taeyong sighed through his nose, a bubble of nervousness growing in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t even look you in the eye, his attention darting everywhere but to you.

“How are you feeling? Do you think you can move better now?” You asked, soft and wary—afraid of what his response would be and he didn’t like the sound of it not one bit, but he didn’t let it show.

“I can move my head better than yesterday.” Taeyong pointed out, craning his neck enough to prove it to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your face and his chest floods with an unfamiliar warmth. He added, “My joints just hurt since I’m kept on bed rest all day.”

“Well, you’re getting released tomorrow.” You said, subconsciously outstretching your hand to brush off the fallen lock of his hair from his forehead. He blushed at the contact of your fingertips and you immediately retracted it back. “Uh, your doctor wanted me to tell you that you should start walking around again if you can to avoid using crutches.”

“I’ll try to go for a walk tonight.” He nodded his head, staring at his lap as if it was the most fascinating thing in the room. “Can you help me drink some water?”

“I’m sorry, of course.” Your cheeks reddened the same way his were, fumbling to punch in a straw inside a bottle of water as you propped it up for him to sip on. Of course he was thirsty, he had been asleep for almost half the day.

Your fingers were trembling, he noticed. Before he could point it out, the door slammed open and you were forced to draw away his drink. You haven’t been told of anyone visiting so it came as a surprise to see your boyfriend’s childhood best friend panting in the doorway, holding himself up on the frame while he gawked at Taeyong’s wounded form.

Bruises of varying sizes littered across Taeyong’s pale skin and a bandage was wrapped around his forehead, his bleached hair peeking out from the bloodied cloth. A large gash can be seen trailing along his jawline and although it had been healing nicely, a mark remained. He had dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken from fatigue and a lack of nutritional intake, much like you.

He didn’t look well, Doyoung thought with a pitiful gaze Taeyong was already too familiar with.

“Aren’t you gonna come in?” Taeyong chuckled, grinning at Doyoung who frowned at him. He rushed to his side and mindlessly took him into an embrace, cradling his bandaged head into his shoulder. You felt hot tears pool into the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away before they could see.

He berated him, the way he always would when Taeyong got himself into trouble that could’ve been easily avoided if he would just think straight. The blizzard, Doyoung kept bringing it up, he shouldn’t have driven when the weather was too dangerous.

“I’ll try to remember that next time.” Taeyong said, reassuring him before Doyoung could burst into tears. He wouldn’t know how to handle him if he got too emotional, he doubted you’d be able to.

“Why were you driving, anyway? What was so important that you had to risk your life to travel?” Doyoung huffed and you rose from your seat from instinct, about to insert yourself into their conversation when Taeyong grasped your fingers.

You stared at him and you were suddenly reminded that he must’ve put himself in pain to stop you. You sat back down and he smiled, he wanted to say it himself and you could only respect his wishes. You hadn’t been able to inform Taeyong’s friends about his car crash as it had been only a week since it happened, all of your time was spent tirelessly tending him back to health. You didn’t have the time to share the unfortunate news.

“Apparently, I was on my way back to Seoul from visiting my family.” Taeyong said, gently grazing your skin away from his best friend’s sight. At Doyoung's confused knot on his forehead, he continued, “My mom told me that they couldn’t make me stay because it was the night of my anniversary with my girlfriend.”

“Taeyong, why are you talking like that—”

“The doctor said I hit my head on the steering wheel pretty badly.” Taeyong laughed mirthlessly, and you subconsciously squeezed his hand. “Bad enough that my memory got a bit fuzzy. Retrograde amnesia, I think that’s what they called it.”

Doyoung blinked, lips gaped at Taeyong who only smiled at him. He looked up at you, a sudden onslaught of anxiety coursing through him that you could just see him almost shake in worry. He whispered to you, “Amnesia? How far back can he remember?”

You bit your lip, turning away and loosening the grip you had on Taeyong’s hand, but he held it tighter with a strength you were sure he was only forcing. You said, “The beginning of third year in college.”

“What?!” Doyoung choked on his spit, leaping from his seat in shock. You offered him an unopened bottle of water but he shook his head. “You’re already a working man, Taeyong! We graduated two years ago, man!”

You did your best to calm Doyoung down, much to Taeyong’s appreciation. You knew where his emotions were coming from so you had to explain why it happened in a manner he would understand. You said that the blizzard was so strong that the roads had iced up and due to the speed he was driving, the car had slipped and crashed into a tree. He hit his head and the sheer impact caused trauma to his brain and made him lose his memories.

The doctors diagnosed him with retrograde amnesia, a form of memory loss that occurs from a traumatic brain injury. It prevented Taeyong from remembering what happened prior to his accident. His recovery was supposed to be gradual, it will take time for him to regain the memories he had lost but it wasn’t assured.

Taeyong doesn’t like telling what happened because people’s first reaction to his amnesia was to resort to aggression. As if their anger and frustration could magically make him remember what he had lost. You didn’t think of it that way, on one quiet night you told him that maybe it was just their desperation to bring him back to the person he was.

He thought it was selfish of them, but you kept your lips shut and refused to tell him that losing two years was a big deal to some people. Although he was still himself, quirks and habits are the same as you’ve first witnessed them, little aspects of him were different; some just different enough that others would do a doubletake to make sure it was really him. The person he is now just wasn’t exactly the person he used to be.

A slightly-off Taeyong, he grimly made a joke about.

You wanted to reassure him, comfort him that he didn’t need to try so hard to be who he used to be. You know despite all of his nonchalance and soft smiles, he was hurting. He instilled it in himself that he disappointed his loved ones by being a person they weren’t accustomed to. But you couldn’t, you weren’t in the place to when his last memories of you were when you have only first met during the anthropology class in your third year of college.

“God, that means you can’t even remember your own girlfriend.” Doyoung mumbled, mostly to himself but you heard it clearly enough as if he personally made it a point to stomp on your heart. Taeyong frowned.

“Shut it, Doyoung.” You grumbled, tears threatening to spill again. You and Taeyong have been so emotionally exhausted that having another person in the hospital room usually would lift both of your spirits, but Doyoung proved himself to be a disturbance instead.

Hours were spent lounging around with Doyoung talking Taeyong’s ears off with stories that he had missed in the past two years, how he was the one who had forced him into the class he shared with you and how coerced him into asking you out before he graduated; a bunch of stories that it almost made Taeyong wish that everything could just go back to the way it was.

He wasn’t the Taeyong they speak so fondly off, he was merely just the shell of him. Still, Doyoung had brought out a smile that you had been unable to make and for that, Taeyong gave him his thanks. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and sniffled.

Doyoung left not too long after, but he promised to visit soon. He knew you needed the support. You were left alone with your boyfriend again and the silence envelops you whole. When you excused yourself to grab a much-needed coffee, Taeyong sank to the hospital bed and succumbed to his tears.

This was his last night in the hospital and it had felt like the longest. He was out like a light but you stilled in your chair beside his bed, fumbling with the ends of his blanket in worry of tomorrow. Not much had progressed in your relationship with him. He was still embarrassed, timid in how he acted around you. You asked if he wanted to go home with you and he reassured you that he would be fine with it, but the panic you felt was still prominent.

Morning came and after what seemed like hours of finishing what was left of Taeyong’s documents in the hospital, it was time to finally leave. You hailed a taxi and you couldn’t help but notice your boyfriend’s sudden rigidness inside the vehicle. Swallowing your reluctance, you took his hand and forced his attention on you throughout the entire drive. He was thankful that you were able to distract him.

The apartment you shared with Taeyong was small but humble, the third unit in an old building that you swore was built in an era before the current. Thin walls and a poorly constructed floor, it was all both of you could afford when you’ve decided to move in together fresh out of college. Despite its imperfections, it was home as long as you had him with you.

With the creaky sounds your front door made, you heard the familiar sound of soft thudding of feet run across the wooden floors to welcome your arrival. Your heart leaped at the sight of Lala, the three-year-old Labrador you adopted with Taeyong, bolting towards your direction with her tongue sticking out.

Taeyong trailed behind you, drinking the place in. His gaze kept on darting from one place to another, his lips parted in amazement at the thought that he really had the courage to move out of his parents’ house to live with his girlfriend. It looked lived in, bits of his and your personalities showing in the way it was decorated and cluttered. The clashing of color schemes and wood tones almost made him want to laugh over how it was clearly furnished purely on indecision and compromise.

He was too busy familiarizing himself to notice that Lala had jumped on him. Your heart squeezed at the sight.

You crouched down to your knees, reaching over to scratch the back of Lala’s ear. You chuckled at Taeyong’s confusion on how to approach the hyperactive puppy, “Her name is Lala, she’s three years old. We adopted her on your birthday last year.”

Taeyong nodded with widened eyes, getting down to your level to attempt to pet her. He commented offhandedly, “Good girl, Lala.”

“She definitely prefers you over me, too.” You mumbled, watching Lala cave into Taeyong’s touch. She hadn’t seen him in a while so you wondered if her attachment to him would waver but it seemed to only grow stronger, the same way you were with your boyfriend. “I had my friend take care of her while we were gone.”

Taeyong kept his quiet and you swallowed the lump in your throat. His doctor told you to treat him especially kindly since he was in a vulnerable state, but you should instill a sense of normalcy. You were instructed to treat him as you normally would, he needed to be reminded of the lifestyle he used to have little by little.

The idea of having to consume copious amounts of medicines every day was already exhausting and gruesome, he even had the bandage around his head to deal with. He had a lot on his plate, you wouldn’t dare add to it by pressuring him to become the adult he doesn’t remember that he was. In his mind, he was still twenty years old and was living in a rickety dorm with Doyoung; it will surely take time for him to grow out of it.

You told Taeyong to go sit down on the stool across the island, to make himself comfortable while you prepared dinner—attempt to prepare dinner. Racking all the recipes his mother had taught you over the years, you wanted to cook a meal he would enjoy and reminisce over.

“Doyoung told me you didn’t like cooking very much.” You heard Taeyong’s voice said, a voice free of malice and full of genuine interest. He said, “It makes sense that I should be the one making food for us right now. You know, for all the trouble I’ve caused you the past week.”

You shook your head firmly, turning around so your back faced him. You didn’t want to let him see your ever-growing frown. You sighed, “Don’t worry, I can handle this. Do you want some coffee?”

“Yeah, sure.” He mumbled, pressing his cheek against the palm of his hand. He wished he could do more for you, but you weren’t letting him; you had your wall up as high as he had his.

Shuffling to where your coffee maker was, you quickly fixed a cup of coffee for him as if you moved purely on instinct. Taeyong watched you in amusement as you slid a blue mug to his way. The paint of its design was chipping off the edges and it had a small crack on the handle, it definitely had seen better days but he felt oddly drawn to it.

You saw him eyeing it out and you chuckled, “We went out on a pottery class for a date once and I made that mug for you. You refused to drink coffee without it, but I think it’s time for us to throw it out and buy you a better one.”

“No!” Taeyong interjected almost immediately, waving his hands to dismiss your idea. “I like it. We’re keeping it.”

Your chest ached, but you were unable to pinpoint the feeling that made it so, “If you say so.”

Taeyong was a picky man when it came to his coffee. He wasn’t an avid drinker of dark and rich brews, often preferred the sweeter and creamier side of the spectrum. The drink you made for him tasted just right, the perfect balance, and he was overwhelmed with gratitude. It made him laugh, how his taste in college didn’t seem to change in his twenty-three-year-old body.

“You can go look around while I cook.” You remarked, jutting your chin towards the rest of the apartment that he has yet to see as you run your hands under the running water. He followed your gaze and shook his head. You quirk an eyebrow, “You sure? It’ll take a bit before these noodles cook.”

Lala encircled his feet before cozying herself on top of his shoes, refusing to leave his sight. He laughed, bending down to pick her up and place her onto his lap. With his hands deep into the puppy’s golden fur, he asked, “Is Lala supposed to be a reference to the Teletubbies?”

You turned the stove on and plopped in the boxed pasta you retrieved from the pantry, “Your nephew loved the Teletubbies at some point so we made him name her.”

A visible twinkle appeared in Taeyong’s eye at the mention of his nephew. He’d only seen photos of him recently, the last he remembered of him was that he was only an infant cradled in his sister’s arms. And as if a barrier was put down, he asked if you could tell him more about what he had missed in his personal life. If Taeyong from the past trusted you enough to move in and adopt a dog together⁠—which he couldn’t believe he was able to do in college, he had to trust you, too.

You gladly entertained his curiosities while you prepared a mediocre version of his mother’s Jajangmyeon. As obscure some of his questions were, you were as honest as you could be. From how he managed to pass his senior year to how he got the job at his company, he asked it all while stuffing his face with dark noodles.

In your eyes, he looked like a kid who wanted to know what his older brother did, to follow in his footsteps and be just like him. He wanted to absorb so much information, it almost pained you to look at him listening to you with an expression so clearly resembling envy.

He cut you off and called out to you with a voice lower than before, sadder but still hesitant. You glanced at him in worry that you were rambling too much. He averted his attention away from you, “You’re crying.”

Raising a hand to your cheek, it was wet. You coughed in embarrassment, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He mumbled, meekly offering his half-empty drink to you.

You hopped out of your seat beside him, carrying your empty bowl to the sink. You stayed a bit longer away from his line of view, wanting to keep your emotions in check for Taeyong’s first night back in the apartment. You didn’t want to scare him away, he was getting more comfortable and you succumbing to your feelings would ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.

You turned the tap on and cracked your neck, “I’ll clean up here while you can go take a bath. The bathroom is next to the bedroom.”

He let out a breath and nodded, lingering for a moment before ultimately deciding that it would be best to leave you be. He didn’t know how he could comfort you when he was the reason for your distress, it would only hurt you more if he tried to console you of things he didn’t know of.

He spotted a box on the coffee table on his way to the bathroom, a bright red box with doodles scribbled onto its sides. Glancing at you, he was about to ask what it was inside when he clamped his mouth shut. He sat down on the couch and let his curiosity get the best of him, reaching to fiddle with the latch that sealed it closed.

Inside were piles of polaroid films, photos were not only of you and him but also of his friends from college and people he had yet to remember. An assortment of knickknacks filled it to its brim, variations of trinkets that included movie tickets and receipts. It was a box made to help Taeyong remember the memories he had lost, the connections he had with people that he had forgotten.

Taeyong bit the inside of his cheek, it must’ve been your doing. You probably asked around for others to help assemble the box, his heart swelled at the thought. You were working hard to make himself and his environment feel normal after losing a good chunk of his memories, he had to work hard as well.

His fists were shaking, his knuckles turning a shade paler than it already was. Lala snaked into the crook of his arm and whimpered at her owner’s change of composure. He laughed humorlessly, scratching her belly in appreciation.

Shutting the box closed, he sighed. He made his way towards the unfamiliar bathroom and filled the tub. Doyoung always told him that a bath could melt all of his troubles away, and how he wished it was that easy.

Taeyong came out of his long bath with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, blushing as he hastily pulled on the clothes you had prepared for him in the bedroom. You remained unfazed as you waited for him in a change of sleepwear, he realized that you might’ve already seen him naked before and the thought of it only worsened the state of his cheeks. He perched on the edge of the bed once he was finished.

You grabbed his ointment and attended to the injury on the side of his head, a gash that the doctors had sewn back together. You had a light hand, he noted, but the ache persisted. It burned when the tip of its applicator grazed along the stitches. He reached out to toy with the hem of your shirt, to divert his attention from the pain. You wrapped a bandage around his head as quickly as you could.

You mumbled, “It’s all done.”

“Thank you.” He smiled up at you and you returned it halfheartedly. “Let’s go to sleep, yeah? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, don’t! This bed is yours, too.” You said, holding onto his wrists before he could make a home on your busted couch that functioned as Lala’s chew toy half the time. “I know how much your back hurts because of the hospital bed so please, sleep here.”

Taeyong looked at you with a conflicted expression on his face but after seconds of contemplation and mental debate, he relented only if you’d use the bed as well. You sighed and caved in.

He crawled to his side of the bed, making you wonder if there was an inkling of a chance that he remembered how much he preferred his half that faced the windows. You shuffled to your side, mindful to not cross any boundaries. This would be his first time sleeping next to you and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable by being too close for comfort.

You switched to your side, away from his sight. The awkwardness was suffocating you, it seemed like you were the only one affected by it because soon you felt his side dip as he made himself more comfortable while you were frozen like a statue. You were nearing the edge of the bed, so far the end that one wrong move would make you fall out of it.

“Taeyong, are you asleep?” After an hour of silence, you spoke up but in hopes that he was already sleeping.

Unfortunately for you, he hummed in response. You could feel the blankets shift, making it known that he was facing your direction now that you’ve called him. At your lack of reply, he must’ve thought you didn’t hear him so he cleared his throat, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, look. I just want to say that if you want to break up with me, I’ll understand.”

“What?” He slowly sat up in confusion, hefting himself up with his elbows. You refused to look at him, gnawing on your lips and your eyes squeezed shut as if you were a kid caught by your parents awake past your bedtime.

“This situation we’re in, you don’t have to force yourself to be with me if you don’t want to.” You managed to choke out, choosing your words carefully. “I want you to continue living who you are now, I’ll just hinder you from moving on if I only remind you of the memories you lost.”

He called out your name, much sterner and different from the gentle tone he always used on you. You were suffering worse than he was, that he knew, but he didn’t know just how much until you’ve finally cracked—the insecurities and worries you’ve hidden from him, pouring out all at once and he didn’t know what to do with it.

You were sobbing into the sheets and he could only rub circles onto your back as a failed attempt at comfort. He wanted to tell you so many things, to reassure you that he wasn’t thinking the way you assumed he would be.

Taeyong thought of you so highly. You were someone who carried all of his burdens and stories that made him the person that he was, someone who had so much love for him despite not having it reciprocated back, someone who just wanted him to forgive himself for not being who he was and to start living again. You weren’t just some stranger to him, but the world had robbed him of you.

He ignored his hesitance and whispered under the blanket of the night, “You might’ve lost the Taeyong that you love but I promise I will spend the rest of my days proving to you that I’m worthy of the same love you’ve once given to me.”

“Taeyong—”

“It’ll take some time and I can’t assure you that things will be the same as it was but I swear, I will never forget you again and we’ll be happy.”

There were a lot of things to do, but none of those things were as important to him as lying here next to you, to pick up what remained of you from his ruins. He knew full well that he wasn’t the only victim. He was aware that you were also trying your best for him, to hold onto what’s left of the pieces you used to love about him.

“I really want this to work out.” You admitted amid your hiccups and sniffles, his heart broke at the sound of it. “I know I haven’t lost you yet.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” He mumbled, running his nimble fingers through the locks of your hair as a serene silence filled the room as you didn’t say anything back. After a week of being in the hospital, your heavy breathing was enough to lull him into his sleep.

You glanced at him for the first time since you had laid down, observing his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. A small smile appeared on your face, he looked tired even though he was already deep in his sleep. You whispered in the dark, “Sleep tight, Taeyong.”

The cold of the night renders you restless once again, your eyes brimming with a bright red hue and utter exhaustion. You swung your legs to the side of the bed, careful enough to not wake your boyfriend who was already asleep. His gentle snores filled the room and you made your way towards the balcony connected to the bedroom with your phone in hand and a blanket draped around your shoulders.

It was another starless sky, you looked up and the absence of the twinkling lights comforted you. You pulled on the blanket closer as you fiddled on your phone, tapping on an option that directed you to a phone call.

“Don’t you know that it’s two in the fucking morning? What do you want?” Doyoung’s voice replaced the monotonous ringing, sounding raspy from what you assumed was his sleep.

“I wanted someone to talk to.” It was your honest answer and you knew he wouldn’t judge you for it.

He yawned, and for a moment you felt a twinge of guilt but it dissipated the second after, “How is Taeyong doing? You brought him back home earlier, right?”

“He’s okay. He’s passed out on the bed right now.” You said, stealing a glance at where Taeyong was sprawled across the bed. A weak smile tugged at the corner of your lips, you haven't seen him more at peace. “It kinda sucks, you know? I want to be strong for him but I don’t know how long I will last.”

“You love him, right?”

“I do. So much.”

“Then just be patient, please. You’re the only person he can truly rely on right now.” Doyoung sounded like he was almost pleading with you, entrusting his best friend to you for a second time with the first was when you agreed to be Taeyong’s girlfriend. He said, “The love you shared is very strong, it conquered many hurdles and it will overcome this.”

You nodded your head, but you remembered Doyoung couldn’t see you. You whispered, “I’m scared, Doyoung.”

“Of?” He asked as quietly as you were being as if you wanted the conversation to only be a secret between each other.

“What if he never loves me again?” Your nail was shoved in between your teeth, your leg anxiously bouncing against the floor. It was a thought that had flitted about your mind but you have shoved it so far back in an attempt to ignore it but it demanded your attention, to face its possibility.

He scoffed at the other end of the line, “It’s Taeyong we’re talking about here. If he could fall in love at his first sight of you in college, he could easily do it again.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Thanks, Doyoung. I needed that.”

“Alright, good night. Take care of yourself.” He said, dropping the call when you didn’t return his farewell.

You bent over the railing, tilting your chin up to face the night sky once more. You scoured the endless dark for even just a glimpse of a shooting star, for a chance to wish upon the universe to end this nightmare of yours. Your boyfriend was right there with you, but you have never felt more lonely.

Shutting your eyes closed, you let out another sigh. You were so tired of crying but it felt like the only thing you could do. You wondered just how much an average person could cry, maybe you’ve exceeded their record.

You left the balcony not too long after, padding back to the bed with a heavier heart. You sat on your side and twisted your body to face Taeyong. His mouth was parted and his cheek was pressed onto the pillow he held onto, a chuckle rolled off your tongue. Before you could even think of stopping yourself, you leaned onto him and placed a kiss onto his forehead.

A familiar heat rises to your neck at what you have done, you jumped from where you sat and raised a hand to your lips as if you’ve been burnt. You hadn’t been this intimate to him since the accident happened.

You grabbed your blanket and bolted to the living room, making do with the couch for the rest of the night as you forced yourself to sleep. Lala sleepily watched you in confusion.

Days passed and things have gone relatively the same as the first time Taeyong returned from the hospital, but you noticed the tension has lifted ever-so-slightly. You finally stopped crying yourself to sleep and eventually he has grown enough courage enough to express his affection—discreetly holding your hand and tugging you into his arms late at night to cuddle.

He was forced to stay at home for the remainder of the month while he recuperated, family and friends have visited from time to time to keep him company while you returned to your job. All the stories he’d heard about the two years he’d forgotten about, all of them were linked to you one way or another and it sparked a familiar surge of jealousy he had over his own self; that his past self made so many good memories with you that he could not never experience again.

His feelings for you were growing steadily, dare he said that he may have grown a crush on you. He could never admit it aloud for how pathetic it was, to have a crush on your own girlfriend. But it was your soft hair, your gentle hands, and your never-ending love and patience for him—these were some of the things he could not believe he had forgotten the existence of, how loved it made him feel, and he was ready to drown himself in it again.

Taeyong received a package when you were still at work one day, the label of his hometown address stamped at the right-hand corner indicated that it was from his parents. He ripped off the packaging tape with Lala nuzzling into his side.

He looked inside and saw his luggage. When he was rushed in an ambulance after his crash, his parents were the firsts to arrive at the hospital so the nurses had entrusted to them his belongings that were found in the wreckage. They failed to return it to him once he regained his consciousness as they hurried home soon after you had arrived, unable to stay much longer for personal matters.

He supposed that he only had clothes in it for he was told that he came from his hometown for a week-long visit. Rummaging through his clothes, he was surprised to see a velvet box hidden underneath the pile.

He took it out and gaped at it with owl-like eyes, he fumbled to flip it open. A shiny sparkle of a diamond reflected a faint rainbow from the sunlight that poured from the nearby window, he stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Chuckling softly, he held the engagement ring close to his chest with a newfound source of encouragement.

You returned home that day to a romantic dinner. Candles of different scents were lit up and a torn picnic blanket covered the dining table, you took off your shoes and followed the scent of your boyfriend’s familiar cooking and spotted him in the kitchen. He donned a suit but he had on an apron to protect his front, busy with whatever meal he was preparing to see you peeking in from the doorframe.

“What are you doing?” You asked, and Taeyong swore you had on the brightest smile that he had seen in a while.

He turned off the stove and threw aside his apron, he strode his way to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He placed his chin on top of your head and said, “I want to get to know you better.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“But I want to take you out on a first date—well, not out out, but you get what I mean.”

You giggled, pressing your cheek against his chest but you suddenly drew back, the worried expression you had taking him by surprise. Raising a hand to his forehead, you asked, “Your heart is beating really fast. Are you okay? Do you want to sit down?”

He stared at you incredulously before bellowing a laugh, a hearty laugh you’ve never heard before. Shaking his head, a small hint of a smile appeared on his lips. He gently pried off your hand from his face and placed a kiss onto the back of your hand. He said, “I’m okay now.”

You were unconvinced that he was, but his sudden affection made it easy for you to ignore it. He leaned down and stole a chaste peck onto your reddened cheek. He put his hand inside the pocket of his suit and nervously fiddled with the velvet box.

Taeyong lost so much of his memories, but he was ready to make new ones as long as he was with you. He will learn to love you again as much as he did before, if not more as long as the universe allowed his heart to.

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seungmoroll · 4 years ago

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Taking Care of My Princess | Mark Tuan

Word count: 1.5k

Genre: angst, fluff, Mark x female!reader

Requested: yes

A/n: to the anon that sent in this request, thank you! I hope you like it!

You had just finished running a few errands in town when you had gotten a call from your boyfriend Mark. When you had picked up the call, it was just Mark catching up with you, telling you that he missed you and that he wanted you back at your shared apartment. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your boyfriend, knowing that you were just at your apartment three hours ago. Too busy with your phone call, you had missed the oncoming bus as you crossed the street. Unable to slow down fast enough, the bus had struck you, causing you to crash into the bus and then into the ground. While strangers quickly come to your aid, from your phone, one could faintly hear the concerned voice of Mark calling out to you.

“Y/n? What was that? Y/n? Y/n?” But alas, you were unable to respond to him as you laid there unconscious next to your phone.

When Mark had gotten the call from the hospital, he had dropped everything and came racing to you. On his way there, he felt himself getting sick. He didn’t know what your condition was, all he knew was that he had to get to you quick. Once he had got to the hospital, he had gone to the reception desk, frantically asking about you. Luckily, a doctor had picked up on your name and was able to escort him to you. To say he was shocked about your condition was an understatement. His mind had quickly gone to the conclusion that you were in critical condition, but there you were, simply resting in a hospital bed with only a few stitches and a cast on your leg. As if you weren’t hit by a bus, you nonchalantly wave at him when you see him approach you. Pulling you into a crushing hug, Mark reveals, “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Silly, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” Pulling away from you, Mark asks you, “How you could possibly be joking around during a moment like this?” Simply shrugging, you show Mark your cast.

“Look, the doctor says I have to wear this for 6 weeks.” Mark carefully inspects your leg, thanking the heavens that this was the only bad thing that happened to you. “You know what that means right?” Taking his eyes off your leg and back to your face, he looks at you in confusion, “It means that you can’t leave my side for the next 6 weeks.” Brightly smiling at Mark, he can’t help but wonder how you’re being so casual about this whole situation.

Later on, when you get discharged from the hospital, you are given crutches to walk on, but Mark refuses to let you use them, telling you to get on his pack so that he could give you a piggyback to the car. You happily accept his proposal with no hesitation. “I could get used to this,” you say as you let Mark place you into the car, “It’s like I’m a princess.” Buckling you up, Mark replies to you, “What’re you talking about? I’ve always treated you like a princess.” Quickly giving you a peck on the cheek, he goes to shut the door and makes his way to the driver seat to take you home.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Mark did exactly as you said and did not leave your side once. He always made sure that you were comfortable and that you were taking your medication. “Hey babe, you take your medicine yet?” Shaking your head no, Mark goes to grab your pills and a glass of water. Handing everything over to you, he sits down next to you and watches as you take your medication, putting the glass down on the table for you once you were done. Pulling you into his side, he pulls out his phone so that the two of you could cuddle as you watched youtube videos together. Eventually the two of you would fall asleep like this sometimes, and every time you woke up, you’d be in your bed with your foot carefully propped up.

He made you your favorite meals. Not wanting to leave you alone, he would carry into the kitchen with and set you on top of the counter as he went about cooking; letting you taste the food as it was made. He refused to let you help him, not wanting you to injure yourself any further. One time you were in the kitchen by yourself and you wanted to grab a bowl to eat some cereal, but you were struggling to get the bowl from the cupboard and Mark reprimanded you for not calling for him to get it for you. “Y/n,” he said sternly, “Why didn’t you call for me? You know I could’ve gotten it for you.” Feeling bad for making Mark worried about you, you put on your best puppy dog eyes, “I’m sorry, I just thought I could get it on my own.” Not being able to stay angry at you for more than a second, Mark’s features soften, petting your head gently, he says, “It’s fine, I’m not mad. Next time just call for me okay?” Nodding your head, you silently point towards something. Following the direction of your finger, Mark sees that you’re pointing up towards your favorite cereal, understanding what your implying, he says to you while smiling, “Of course I’ll get it for you.”

He even helped you get dressed and bathe, though it first it was a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but now the two of you were just used to it. Secretly, it was your favorite way to spend time with each other because that’s when Mark was extra careful with you and paid attention to the littlest details. Moments like those shared between the two of you held a different type of intimacy, and you loved every bit of it.

Though if you were to be honest, you missed being independent. It’s not like you hated the time spent with Mark, you just missed being able to do your own things without needing his help. Sometimes you felt like a child and sometimes you just didn’t want to hassle Mark, but he hasn’t voiced out any problems at any point of time. You were pretty sure that he was enjoying this more than you were. This week especially, you just starting to feel like Mark was being slightly overbearing.

At this point, your leg was almost completely done healing. It was still in a cast, but you felt like you could do more things by yourself now, but the problem was that Mark still wouldn’t let you do any of it. Your breaking point was when you had gotten up from the couch to grab something and you had accidently stubbed your toe on your other foot on the coffee table. As soon as Mark heard you yelp in pain, he had come out to check up on you and when he saw you clutching onto your foot, he raised his voice towards you. “Y/n, how many times do I have to tell you? Just let me do everything for you.” Tired of hearing the same thing over and over again, you retorted, “I’m not a child Mark, I can do something as simple as grabbing a snack from the kitchen.”

“Obviously you can’t,” he says as he lifts you back up onto the couch.

Letting out an exasperated groan, you say, “Ugh I can’t wait until this stupid cast comes off and I can be free of your overbearingness.” Taken back by your confession, Mark quietly sits down next to you. “Didn’t you want to be pampered like a princess though? I just wanted to take care of my princess.”

Feeling bad that you might have hurt Mark’s feelings, you explain to him, “I did at first, and it was amazing, and I appreciated everything you did for me, but sweetie, I just want to have me time again and be able to do things on my own.” Understanding how you felt, he nods in response, “And that’s fine, but I just don’t want you to get hurt again.” Taking his hand into yours, you tell him, “I won’t, I promise, and if I do, I’ll let you take care of me all over again, but you know, with you being just a tad bit less overbearing, okay?”

Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, he pulls you into his side and lays a kiss on your temple, and says to you, “I’ll do whatever you want me to because for you, I’ll always take care of my princess.” Playfully hitting him in the chest, you push him away from you, “Ugh, you’re so cheesy.”

Giving you that bright smile that you loved so much, he quips, “You love it.”

“Yeah, yeah, now why don’t you go make me a cup of hot chocolate so we can cuddle while watching movies together.” Getting up from the couch, he bows in front of you, “As you wish, princess.” Rolling your eyes at his playful nice, you think about how lucky you are to have someone like Mark in your life.

A/n: ugh Mark would be such a wonderful and caring boyfriend. my requests are open if you guys have any requests, you can check out which groups I write for here: x

masterlist

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choices-ethanramsey-4life · 4 years ago

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Part 2 of days with you make me feel better...

Pairing: EthanXMc (Samantha Valentine)

Warning: slightly on the angsty side

Description for part 2:

Ethan has come to the realisation that he cares too much about Samantha. He can’t be due to being her boss she could lose her job so he decided to move away to the Amazon and hide his feelings away. But when Samantha goes through something deeper... will Ethan be there to help her or will she deal with it alone?

P.s in my one Naveen Banerji is her parents friend when she was a kid. However overtime they lost contact after she left home at 18. They meet again during her intern year when Naveen is dying.

It had been 3 weeks since she’s seen Ethan... she would wake up at 6am every morning. Go to work like always work until late go home, eat and sleep. She was stuck in a cycle of repeating herself. She felt lost. She felt the pain and acceptance of losing her brother. It’s stupid she thought that her brother died almost ten years ago and now she’s finally knows and accepted it. Ethan was gone.

He left her she still remembered when Naveen announced it in the atrium Ethan had gone to the Amazon.

“Samantha, we’re going to Donahues want to come?” Jackie knocks on her bedroom door which was locked. There was no response. When Samantha found out her mom was dying she did the same thing she locked herself in her bedroom and became quiet...which was shocking for her friends when they saw this side to her for the girl who can talk for hours non stop about anything.

All of her friends tried to get her out of her room they tried everything. It didn’t work.

At Donahues

“What are going to do?” Elijah asks drinking his drink.

“It’s not healthy. She doesn’t sleep, she doesn’t eat she just sits in her room. She only comes out for work, even then she barely says two words at work.” Sienna sounded upset.

“Why? What happened?” Aurora asked. She had been with them for a while now and she fitted right in, despite not moving in the apartment yet.

“It’s her brother, he died like ten years ago but she had a hard time accepting he was gone. She’s hurting.”

“There must be something we can do.” Bryce asks.

“Unless one of us should just try and talk to her instead of all of going together.” Raf suggested.

“Yeah it’s a good idea. Whose going to go first?” Kyra raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll go first I don’t mind.” Bryce speaks up.

“Ok Bryce will talk to her and then bring her here, she’s going to enjoy herself.” Sienna says

“Ok but meathead don’t bore Samantha.” Jackie rolls her eyes as they all go home.

Once they reached the apartment Sienna calls out for Samantha.

“Samantha? Samantha sweetie it’s Sienna, did you eat dinner?” To her surprise the door unlocked as she enters to see Samantha by her window sitting on the ledge with her sketch book and pencil in her hand.

Sienna sits beside her as the rest of the roommates plus Aurora stand outside peering in trying to Listen.

“How are you?”

“I...I don’t know.” Samantha leans against the wall putting her sketch book down.

“Me and everyone else are going out tomorrow to Donahues. Come please.” Siennas eyes pleaded. Everyone outside had high hopes.

Samantha hesitated and thought for a second as she said “sure...ok.” Sienna saw her smile which she hadn’t seen in weeks.

***Samanthas POV***

Did I feel alone? Yes. Did I feel like I was stuck in a constant cycle of just breathing not living? Yes. Did I want to be alone? No.

I hold the locket tight in my hand and open it.

“Mom, Jake missing you guys loads...” the picture of mom and Jake...and dad.

I know my dad is alive and well... but I wasn’t ready to see him after the years of abuse... it wasn’t the right time.

The next morning I woke up and opened the door. Elijah and Jackie just staring at me with their coffee mugs in their hands.

“Morning Samantha...” Elijah spoke slightly surprised.

“...morning...” my voice came out small.

“Coffee?” Jackie asks as I nod yes and sit on the couch.

“Morning Jackie, Elijah...Samantha?” Sienna looks perplexed second and then says

“I’ll make breakfast...” they all talked I just listened it diverted my mind as Sienna got breakfast ready.

“Samantha are you not going to eat?”

“I’m not hungry...” I get up walking back into my room thinking maybe I shouldn’t of come out. Everyone’s acting weirdly.

“Please Samantha just a little bit.” I turn to face the three in the room and nod.

But all that’s going through my mind are two things Ethan and the loss of Jake. That maybe if I was fast enough...or didn’t end up arguing with Jake beforehand just maybe he could be alive.

I sit in my room until it was time to get dressed Jackie and Sienna barged in with dresses and shoes.

“Right Samantha get up we’re all getting ready let’s go!” Jackie exclaimed as we got dressed.

Sienna who wore a light blush coloured dress just above her knees with her hair out and wavy. A simple necklace which had a small crystal the same colour as her dress.

Jackie who had a dark blue dress laced in with silver. She refused to take her hair out but that’s our Jackie.

“Samantha what about you? You haven’t even tried on a dress.”

“She’s too small to fit into mine...” Jackie pointed out as they looked through and Jackie pulled out a red dress and Sienna a black one laced with gold.

“Samantha what about these?” My eyes set on the black one Ethan gifted it to me 2 weeks before he left.

“Right then the black one it is!” Sienna exclaimed excitedly as she curled my hair and got my black heels and we set out.

We sit inside at Donahues everyone there Raf, Kyra, Bryce and Aurora.

I even saw Zaid and Ines with some other residents.

And then my eyes followed the main spot the first spot I saw when I came into Donahues for the first time. But it was empty. The person who used to sit there was gone. Reggie waves and smiles at me as I gave a friendly smile back.

Over the weeks I would go out alone at times see Reggie we’d talk and I’d sit in the back get my sketch book out and draw.

I sit by the table with my friends they talk I’m there but my mind isn’t.

“Samantha want a drink?” Raf asks

“No...I’m ok thanks.” He nods smiling.

I felt suffocated sitting here as if I couldn’t breathe I shouldn’t of come. Everyone just asking me if I’m ok every 5 second and why I wasn’t here last week. My breath felt like it was being taken away like someone or something inhaled all of the oxygen.

My hands shaking in my lap.

“Samantha?” Kyra put a hand on my shoulder.

“I..I..I’ll be right back.” They watch me leave Reggie did to concern waving over his smile.

I run out the oxygen back into me as I sit down on the step outside raking my hands through my curly hair. I hear footsteps behind me and a figure sitting beside me.

“Hey? You good?” My head facing down I shake my head but a small “no” comes out breathless. He knew I was having a panic attack, he helped me and then asked

“Are you ok? What happened?” As if a dam had burst I stood up so did he as I spoke out mainly anger coming out with hints of pain which only grew as I finished speaking.

“Why does everyone ask me that every 5 second?! You want the truth then no! No I’m not ok! It’s my fault! Everything is my fault! My brother died because of me.” My voice break at the end with tears I sit back down on the step.

Bryce coming closer hand on my shoulder “no it’s not it was an accident ok. You didn’t do anything.”

“I...I c-could of st-stopped h-him from leaving.”

“How? You were injured weren’t you? How would you of ran after him with all those stitches? Trust me I’m a surgeon I know what I’m talking about.” He joked

I laughed for a second as he hugged me tight and close. After I calmed down for a bit he says

“Why did Ramsey leave?”

“What?” I let go looking at him.

“I know you know...”

“Yeah?”

“Obviously...”

“Ok then but not here. I want to take you somewhere, it’s my special place when Si, Elijah and Jackie told you guys I used to go out at town alone I’ll take you there it’s better.” He nods as his phone lit up.

“I’ll tell them we’re going somewhere quieter less noise yeah?” We nod as he gets into is car we sit as i directed him

“You know I could of just drove us there right? I’m an amazing driver and more safer than you.”

“What?!” He threw a fake face of offence as we laughed. “I would let you drive but do you legs even reach the pedals? And can you see over the wheel or do I need to get you a book for you to sit on?” He joked.

I slapped his shoulder lightly, “hey!”

After 10 minutes of driving we reached.

“We’re going to have to walk it like 10 minutes come on almost there.” We reach the top of the green hill the cities light shining bright and the stars which twinkled.

“What is this place?” He asked

“This is my place of peace. When things become hard or I need to wind down alone I come here...it reminds me that life is crooked.”

“What?” He asks smiling but slightly confused.

I turn him to the distance a sign of a building in red LED lights flashing “Life” written across but it was backwards the way we saw it.

“Life is crooked. Things go wrong, things go right. We find happiness and love sometimes it’s life long...and sometimes it’s a limited time. We only get a few glimpses of it before pain and darkness comes.” He looks at me as I look over at the city view and continue to say,

“I already knew that in life the people we love the most we always take them for granted. We think that we wont separate from one another but when life comes in it’s crooked ways it can. We make life long promises forgetting how short it really is. They say that you don’t miss someone’s company and them until they’re gone...you don’t realise what impact they’ve created until they’ve left you. There’s so many moments with our loved ones which remember for the rest of our lives...and maybe even after our life when we die.”

He looked over thinking about what I said.

“You said why did Ethan leave? I don’t know. There are few reasons but either could be wrong. He knows why he left and I’ll leave it at that.”

“Ok sure. And Samantha this place is beautiful I can see why you like it out here.”

“Don’t tell anyone about it can it just stay between us please.” He nods smiling.

“Sure.” We sit on ground sitting talking looking at stars I remember mom and Jake.

It’s like she said “the brightest stars that shine are those who you’ve lost but love.”

And she was right. We sit over talking my phone in my hand debating to call Ethan or not.

But now I wanted to enjoy my place of peace...

For Samantha still hurting her hurt Lessing when she shared with a friend at her place of peace.

P.s Thanks soo much for reading this part i was thinking of extending this fic as I have a few details I want to write in it might end up being 4 parts instead of 3.

Tags:

@schnitzelbutterfingers

#choices ethan ramsey #choices open heart #ethan ramsey #open heart #open heart ethan #bryce lahela #choices bryce #choices jackie #jackie varma #open heart jackie #oh choices #choices oh #open heart book 3 #open heart book 2

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varyen · 4 years ago

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as heavy as the snow falls (i fall for you)

„Hello Detective. I am Connor, the Android sent by CyberLife.“ The android sent to replace me, you think but it’s not what you say. Instead, you look up from your $1 instant noodles, and freeze. Oh god, you think. Oh god, fuck. They made it CUTE.

Chapter One; It's just another day to pretend (I’m feeling okay)

Hank had warned you.

“They sent one of those plastic pricks to help investigate that deviant shit”, he had told you.

You just thought he was messing with you, a good old joke to welcome you back. That was until you were officially allowed to get back to work;

you had annoyed your doctor into releasing you from sick-leave and partly got what you wanted — except that you were stuck on desk-duty. But that was better than being stuck at home. You never thought you’d be sick of your apartment walls but there you were.

After almost two and a half months, you finally walked back into the precinct.

Gavin was the first one to give that face — an ugly smirk, splitting open his mouth and showing his teeth, like a warning, like a threat. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t have to. That smirk alone, creepy enough to give you goose bumps, told you everything you need to know.

Hank didn’t mess with you. They sent an Android to replace you in your own investigation.

“Glad to see you’re back”, Gavin greeted you, though, and you forced a smile at your desk-partner. “Were you getting bored without me?”, you asked and tried to forget the obnoxious smirk he had thrown at you just a second ago. “You know me, baby”, he laughed and slapped on your shoulder. He disappeared behind you and you were left unguarded without any distraction. Everybody was staring at you and you weren’t sure if those looks were painted in relief or pity.

Silently you sat down at your desk, towers of paper stacked everywhere, and started to work. A few of your colleagues stopped by, asking how you were doing, being shot multiple times and all, and that they were happy you were back safe and sound – they didn’t say anything about Hank, or the Android. Their eyes, though, their eyes betrayed them.

Fowler called you in an hour later or so, asking how you do — not that he’d really care, anyway — before sending you back to work. He didn’t say a word about Hank, or the Android. His eyes did.

Nothing has happened since.

Now, it’s almost one pm and desk duty is more boring that you anticipated — so boring, in fact, that you decide to take your break. Usually Gavin and you keep each other entertained and airdrop each other memes out of the nowhere but he’s nowhere to be seen. Also, you’re hungry as shit, as you skipped the breakfast this morning. Not only because you overslept but you’re also not really a breakfast person.

There is no sign of Hank or that infamous Android so you decide to shrug it off and bury your concerns under the $1 instant noodles you got stored in the lowest drawer of your desk; your emergency food and snack box, as you like to call it. Sometimes Gavin raids it when he feels like it but he has kept his promise about not telling anyone about your emergency food and snack box — so far.

And while it’s generally not too bad to have him right in front of you most of the time, he’s the person you want to avoid the most because, honestly, you don’t need his mockery and you are not in the mood to endure that stupid smirk one more time. There is a possibility that you just try to punch it off his face.

He did leave the precinct when you entered it, so he’s probably off at some crime-scene.

You glance towards the empty Break Room and see your chance. You take one of the spicy chicken instant noodles, your all-time favorite, and speed as fast into the Break Room as your body allows you to; it’s still heavy sometimes and your movements are slowed by pain and stiffness.

Nobody disturbs you while you prepare the kettle and get a can of coke out of the fridge. The only sound remarkable to you is the news channel and by now the threat of a war outbreak has become too old to still be shocking.

You take your phone and skip through your messages, ignoring most of them except the ones from your mom to which you reply yes mom, work is going great so far. I’m stuck at desk-duty until my doctor gives me the green light, before you switch to your social media.

Caught up in some memes, you only notice Hank when he’s standing right in front of you.

“Listen kid”, he says, shrugging. “I didn’t ask for this either.” His voice sounds grumpy and unhappy and he looks like he just got out of bed which wouldn’t be a surprise, actually, and he still reeks a bit of beer.

And with that said, he leaves you alone again and you stay behind, slightly dumbfounded and just unnecessarily more confused than you already are. Why do they all behave like you’re already fired because some stupid robot took your cases?! Fuck them. As if there isn’t enough shit going on in Detroit. You could go back to work on the Red Ice cases with Gavin; Red Ice cases have everything you want – adrenalin, excitement, relentless pursuits, the subtle threat of danger and you get to bust high wanted criminals. The only thing that makes you avoid Gavin’s Red Ice cases is, in fact, Gavin himself.

It’s not like you don’t like Gavin; he is your desk-partner so you’re kind of forced to like him and you know you can count on him, he did save your life after all, and you like discussing the latest gossip with him — nobody would ever think that he is such a gossip bitch — and not only did he message you multiple times during the last weeks to make sure you’re good, he also stayed in the hospital until you woke up.

It’s just … It’s Reed, he’s a dickhead most of the time, and is only relaxed after he got laid or had at least 3.5 beers.

“The fuck’s going on”, you mutter under your breath. You’re annoyed and by now a thick, gray thunder cloud has formed over your head. Frustrated you stare into the still half-filled cup in front of you; that’s a very you thing to do – looking for answers in ramen soup.

„Hello Detective. I am Connor, the Android sent by CyberLife.“

The android sent to replace me, you think but it’s not what you say. Instead, you look up from your $1 instant noodles, and freeze.

Oh god, you think. Oh god, fuck. They made it CUTE.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the Android in front of you; his innocent, deep eyes with just the right amount of honesty and the sparkle for fair justice within them, the faint freckles on his nose and the friendly, but still kind of forced smile on his lips — it looks a smile you’d give to Gavin sometimes. His LED blinks yellow for a second and you realize that that son of a bitch scanned you; you bite down a sneaky comment on how rude that is — he probably doesn’t know any better, you decide and you swallow the mean comment down before it can escape your mouth.

“Hi, Connor”, you manage to blur out instead. “You probably heard of me.” As you took all my open cases, thank you very much.

“Yes, I have. I am sorry to hear that you were fatally shot eleven weeks and three days ago. I am glad to see you recovered.” He smiles that forced smile again — seriously, where the hell did he pick that one up?! — and you raise your eyebrows at the weirdly accurate time span. “You are the Detective to have worked on the cases concerning Deviants before, correct?”

You take the still half-filled cup of instant noodles and throw them away, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“Correct”, you reply. “That was before I was shot. Seems like Hank and you took these cases.”

His LED flickers again, probably analyzing the darker tone hidden in your friendly voice and it seems like he wants to say something but Gavin interrupts him. “Seems like you have met your replacement, he?!”, he laughs in your face and slaps Connor hard on the back, way harder than necessary, and the Android is forced to move a step forwards.

“Fuck off Reed”, you mutter. You are absolutely not in the mood for his games. He laughs and the sound rings in your ears in an almost obnoxious way.

“I must correct you, Detective Reed. I am not anyone’s replacement”, Connor says, his voice neutral and even, like the voice of an Android is supposed to be. “Sure, you plastic fucker”, Gavin snorts. “Just stay the fuck away from me, got it?” — “For heaven’s sake, Gavin, leave it alone”, you sigh and shake your head. “It ain’t do anything to you personally. Take your issues out on someone else.”

Gavin throws a dark glare at you, one that says he’d wished you got shot with one more bullet, before releasing Connor from his hard grip and leaving the Break Room, cursing under his breath.

“Don’t mind him”, you say to Connor, shaking your head. “He likes to provoke.”

Connor tilts his head to the side. “Most humans are uncomfortable in the presence of Androids. Just as you, Detective.”

You cough. “Gavin isn’t uncomfortable, he’s just an asshole.”

You decide to ignore what he said about you — he’s partly right —but only partly, though you don’t feel like emphasizing this right now.

You yourself never had an Android, and you never saw why anyone would need one — that was until your parents had that car accident, your father died and your mother was left paralyzed and with only one arm. It was either giving up the job you love so much and not being able to afford literally anything, or getting an Android who would take care of her. You went for the latter option and it’s not like you regret it; the Android they recommend you at the CyberLife store is actually pretty sweet and sends you regular updates about your mother whenever she herself can’t find the strength to check on you. When you got shot and were in the hospital, it was the first time you felt truly thankful having that Android around — an AP something model, you don’t know jack shit about it. Your mother named her Hope. Thinking about it hurts you only a little.

You throw yourself back into reality and realize you have been just staring at Connor the past minute or so. You cough again, now being uncomfortable, and try to keep the red flash on your cheeks hidden.

“Do you already have a desk, Connor?”, you ask, changing the topic without even trying to be subtle.

“Yes, I use the one in front of Lieutenant Anderson.”

You stare over to Hank who is watching you with a certain glow in his eyes. “Of course”, you say, looking away from Hank and back at Connor. “Look”, you start, and shrug, “I’m on desk-duty for the next few weeks and officially off the cases anyway. They’re all yours, so I’ll transfer you all I have, evidence and personal notes I made. Maybe you’re luckier than me.” You shrug and leave the Break Room, leaving that Android, Connor, behind.

Obviously you are not happy to give up your open cases — you did work hard on them and all the evidence you collected wasn’t exactly easy to gather. Deviancy is a fresh and new thing and you were excited to be the Detective to figure it out. Then you got shot by some asshole because you grew too confident and thought you could take them on your own. You almost had to pay with your life for your cockiness, so maybe it’s better this way, you suppose.

Gavin doesn’t say anything to you when you sit down at your desk and stare blankly at the screen for a moment, not knowing what you’re supposed to do. Most paperwork is done and all your open cases have been reassigned. Seems like you’ll go back to investigate robberies.

You sigh deeply and send all the files and evidence you got saved on your terminal over to Hank before leaning back in your chair.

“Sorry for snapping at you earlier, Gav”, you say to Gavin who just rumbles something under his breath without looking at you. Without thinking about it, you open your emergency food and snack box, take the package of garlic bread and throw it at Gavin.

“Why don’t you have a piece of bread and maybe you’ll come down”, you laugh at him and now you at least get an annoyed grin. “Fuck you”, he says and you laugh.

“Hey”, he says then, “Tina told me about a series of robberies downtown. You should take those cases. It ain’t nothing too wild and it might get you back in shape.” He rips open the package.

You stare at him for a few seconds before realizing that you are indeed back on robberies. Great!

You sigh deeply.

“Sure”, is all you say and Gavin is smart enough to stay quiet, silently munching his garlic bread.

The excitement you felt this morning about going back to work has made room for nothing but frustration.

It’s eating you from the inside out, turns your lungs around and for a second you can feel the holes the bullets left in your body.

This week is starting great.

read on ao3.

#i am VERY much stuck in dbh hell again #cant blame me #detroit become meme #dbh #detroit become human fanfiction #detroit become human fanfic #detroit become human fic #dbh fanfic #dbh fic #dbh connor #connor rk800 #connor x reader #reader insert #my writing #hank anderson #hank detroit become human #gavin reed #gavin detroit become human

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minniemixe · 5 years ago

Text

Beauty And The Beast

Gangster AU

Stray Kids Fanfic

Chan x Reader

Other Appearances: GOT7 BTS

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Violence, Mentions of stabbing

Beauty and the Beast Masterlist

Chapter 3

Moon screamed in shock and pain as she gasped for air, falling on her side, her vision blurred as she tried to sit up. “Yah! stop overreacting, I know what I’m doing, it’s not severe” but before his sentence finished, Moon had already fainted. Kneeling down next to her, he shook her body, assuming she was bluffing. “Hey, wake up” but to no avail, inspecting her wound, he saw no signs of a serious injury, his knife wasn’t that big, so the cut couldn’t be too deep nor was there excessive blood loss, which confused him as to why the girl fainted. He picked her up and sprinted out of the gym. Carrying her towards the infirmary, he stopped midway thinking to himself about how he was going to explain the situation, and there was no way that the leader wouldn’t find out about this, which worried him even more. Looking at the unconscious figure in his arms, he knew he messed up real bad.

To his dismay, when he opened the door to the infirmary, the leader was inside, joking around with Anna, “She’s not dead” he spoke before either of them could question him.

“How did this happen?” CB inquired

“Long story” HH answered putting Moon on the bed

Anna started working on the wound as the two boys engaged in the conversation.

“The wound isn’t very deep, was there too much blood loss?” the brown haired girl asked, interpreting the two boys

“No, that’s the confusing part, why did she faint?” HH spoke

“Probably from the shock” CB stated

“I’ll still need blood samples, something doesn’t seem right. She once came to me for painkillers after training with Changbin, saying she had a headache and was feeling dizzy, I shrugged it off thinking it might be because of hunger or low blood sugar since I have that all the time. But her fainting like this, I think it might be something else. Chan could you hand me that kit” Anna explained pointing towards the said kit

“Hwang stabbing her was a little too much man” Chan spoke, handing Anna the kit

“Oh and IV drip as well from that cupboard”

“Yeah yeah, I know, I admit this was my fault, but it was kinda accidental” he defended himself

“Hyunjin dear, there is no such thing as kinda accidental, you either stabbed her or it was an absolute accident, please choose one” Anna sarcastically spoke while attaching the canola to Moon’s arm

“Well I meant to make a small cut but my hand slipped and I ended up stabbing her, but before I could even say anything, she just screams one second and is out cold the next” he explained

“She’s a feisty one, you should sleep with your eyes open, she’ll definitely get you back for this” Chan laughed

“You se-” Hyunjin was cut off as Woo and El entered the infirmary

“I need the pill” El told Anna

“You know Woojin, it wouldn’t kill you to get a condom.” Chan told the older

“Nah that’s too much work” El replied popping the pill in her mouth

“It’s literally just rolling it on, how is that too much work” Hyunjin questioned

“TMI bro!!!” Anna shouted

“Alright that’s enough” Woojin spoke

“What happened to her?” El asked looking towards Moon’s unconscious figure

Anna lifted the blanket from the side to show her the stitches. “Could you let the girl be???? Don’t you think stabbing her was a little too much” El said samacking Hyunjin across the head

“Owww!!!”

“Woojin could you please get this blood tested?” Anna asked, handing him the blood sample

“Yeah sure” he took the blood and left the infirmary

“How long do you think she’ll be out?” Hyunjin asked

“I’m not su-” Anna got cut off hearing a groan coming from behind them, the three turned around to see Moon sitting up on the bed. The moment she spotted Hyunjin she threw the sheets off her and leaped at him “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU” she shouted, before Moon could touch him, Chan casually grabbed her waist and bought her flush against his chest, stopping her from hurting Hyunjin or herself. However Moon wasn’t having any of it as she struggled against his hold trying to get to Hyunjin. “Calm down princess, you don’t want to open your wound”. Moon’s heartbeat increased hearing that pet name and the fact that his hand was on her bare stomach didn’t help either. Hyunjin stuck his tongue out and ran out the infirmary.

Moon sighed loudly and cursed under her breath. “How long was I out for?” she asked turning around to face the Chan

“About an hour, maybe less” Anna answered

“Do you have any iron supplements?” Moon asked running a hand through her hair

“Why do you need those?” Chan asked

“I’m anemic” she answered

“Oohh, must’ve been the reason you passed out” Anna put the dots together

“The blood test isn’t of any use now” Chan said

“When did yo-” Moon was about to ask when she looked down at her arm, which was bleeding around the canola, “-is this supposed to be happening?” Moon asked extending her arm towards Anna

“No it’s not and it wouldn’t have happened either if you hadn’t tried to jump Hyu- HH so aggressively” she said taking her arm to remove the canola

“Now go easy, you don’t want to ruin the stitches, so it’s best to just rest” Anna said after cleaning her arm.

“What about training?” she asked

“Phase 1 and 2 will be put on hold, you’ll train with Dandy, I.N and Liv, that’s phase 3, we’ll just have to determine your position first” Chan explained

“Don’t get your stitches wet, and come get them checked next week” Anna told Moon, who nodded her head and left.

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It had been 3 weeks since the incident and Moon had been training with the three as told by the leader. During this time she learned that she was not fit to be in the Medic Team. Liv had tried her best to teach the older girl the basics, however it never ended in a good way. After almost killing J.One, Chan decided that it was enough and that more time shouldn’t be wasted.

The gang was once again gathered in the meeting hall, this time to test Moon’s skills in tech.

“There isn’t much to it, I hacked into the phone through which my dad was contacted, but not even minutes later the signal was lost, and the location I picked up was somewhere near a river. I managed to hack the traffic cams around the area and tracked the car CB97 go- is there some easier name I can call you, CB97 is weird. Anyways I tracked the car back” Moon explained when asked how she found them

“Impressive, and you may call me Chris” the leader replied making everyone gasp, considering this was against protocol

“Chris. Hhmm I like it, has a nice ring to it” Moon muttered

“But what we can’t understand is how we couldn’t track back to you?” Dandy questioned

“This one is connected to the projector?” Moon asked pointing towards Dandy’s laptop

“Yeah”

“I.N, can I have yours?”

“Sure”

She took the computer and started typing away on it. 20 minutes later she spoke

“Okay, now both of you, try and hack into this using Dandy’s laptop”

“Excuse me? What did you do to it?” Dandy snatched it away from her

“Nothing, just please do what I asked” Moon said

Dandy looked at her skeptically but nonetheless began the task. Moon grabbed I.N’s laptop again to continue doing what she was. Everyone could see what Dandy and I.N were doing and the atmosphere was starting to get thick. “I’m in” Dandy spoke, Moon pressed a few keys on I.N’s laptop and everything on Dandy’s screen disappeared. “What the fuck?!?!?!?” Dandy exclaimed

“How did you do that?” I.N asked surprised, his eyes as big as saucers

Moon giggled at the younger’s adorable expression and moved between him and Dandy. Taking Dandy’s laptop she started clicking away as she explained what she was doing, “So basically the hacker thinks they’ve gotten in, when in reality they’ve only reached a dummy server, the moment they fall for the decoy, I’ll be notified that someone is trying to break in, and if i do this-” she pressed a few keys “-the whole algorithm will reset and everything they did will be erased”

“How did you do this?” HH asked

“How come Dandy didn’t know about this? He’s the head of all this tech stuff” J.One chirped in

“Because I built this software to avoid legal issues. So no one knows about this” Moon answered

“Not bad shorty, looks like you can contribute after all” Woo smirked

Moon wanted to say something snarky but decided against it, getting on HH’s bad side got her stabbed, she didn’t want to think about what could happen if she pissed off a sniper.

“Well this concludes that Phase three is over and you’ll be put in the Tech Team with Dandy and I.N” Chris spoke

(A/N: I did not do a fact check, and I don’t know shit about hacking, please bear with me)

“What about my field test? What if I want to be on the task force?” Moon asked

“Shouldn’t you stick to what you’re good at princess, make things a bit easier for yourself” that pet name got her feeling butterflies in her stomach

“Too boring, I want some action in my life”

“Joining a gang should be action enough” Lee Know said

“At least give me chance, you said there would be a field test, if I pass that, let me be on the task force” Moon requested

“Okay, complete phase 1 and 2, if you pass, I’ll accept your request” Chris said

“I thought I already passed phase 1? I won with all three of my instructors” Moon stated

“Not with me” HH interrupted

“You cheated” Moon replied

“I told you there will be no such thing as fair play when you’re in the field”

“But I had you pinned down with my knife to your throat, what did you want me to do, kill you?”

“Your body language said it all, your hands were shaking, you were hesitant, even if it were someone else underneath you, you wouldn’t have been able to kill them, that’s why I stabbed you, to show you what happens if you’re not quick” he explained

“You don't know me!! I’d have killed anyone else, it was you that I was nervous, I didn’t want to accidentally do something that’d get me in trouble” she defended herself

“Well how flattering, so glad to know I’m of importance to you” HH said sarcastically

“Don-”

“STOP IT!!! BOTH OF YOU” Chris shouted

“That’s enough. Moon you’ll fight me tomorrow in the ring, if you defeat me, you’ll start phase 2, if not, you’ll continue with SpearB. Dismissed.” Chris said and left the room, everyone following behind.

Hyunjin ran after the leader calling out to him “Chan wait!”, Chan turned around to face him

“Yeah?” he asked

“Why didn’t you put me with her to train, why Changbin?” Hyunjin asked

“Because I don’t want her to end up back in the infirmary due to a childish rivalry” Chan answered

“You seem to care a lot about our new member” Hyunjin smirked

“Watch your mouth or you’ll be the one in the infirmary” the older said turning around, his ears turning red.

“Mouth or hands?” Hyunjin called out. The moment those words left his mouth, a knife went flying past his head. The younger was completely unfazed until a scream was heard from down the hallway. “Shit!” the leader cursed as they both ran towards the source of the scream.

“And I was going to put her in the infirmary” Hyunjin laughed looking at Moon who was clutching the side of her neck with blood trickling down. Chan raised his fist and Hyunjin ran away shouting a bunch of sorries. “Is this a subtle way of saying, ‘please kill yourself and make things easier for us’” Moon sarcastically questioned

Chan released a breathy laugh and replied “Sorry, this one’s on me, let me help you with that”.

“Please do bef-” Moon started losing her balance, Chan hurriedly grabbed her waist balancing her “woah there” he said looking down at her weak figure

“Before I pass out” she completed her sentence, standing up straight with Chan’s help.

“The cut isn’t very deep, it doesn’t need stitches, a simple bandage will do” Chan spoke, inspecting her wound

“That’s a relief,” she replied. The room filled with comfortable silence as Chan cleaned her wound and started bandaging it.

“How come you’re not fazed by anything” Chan asked focused on Moon’s neck

“Fazed as in?” Moon questioned

“I don’t know, you joined a gang 6 months ago, you were quite calm for that and after the beginning of training you were normal, you would be covered in bruises but you’d continue about your day as if it's not even there.” he told looking in her eyes, now done with treating her neck

“Everyone has a story” Moon whispered

“What’s yours?” he asked, hand cupping her neck, thumb gently rubbing her cheek

“Not the best one” she answered leaning into his touch

“Why?” he asked after a few seconds

“Why what?”

“Why did you look for him, why, even though he was abusive?”

“I never sa-”

“I saw. The night you left, I followed you out, and I saw everything” he cut her off.

Moon sighed closing her eyes “I don’t know, it’s complicated. I didn’t want to, but at the same time I wanted to, it was all so confusing” she answered opening her eyes, meeting his honey brown ones

“What would you have done if I didn’t let him go? Would your life be peaceful right now” he asked, suddenly feeling weird towards her.

“I don’t know. I guess I wouldn’t have left, I would’ve forced you, even if it got me killed. I didn’t want to look for him but I did, for my mother. Being honest, my life is much more peaceful than it was back at home” she told. At this Chan let out a series of laughs, his head resting on her shoulder as he kneeled in front of her. “What’s so funny?” She asked giggling

“You, you are one of a kind. Who the hell says, they’re peaceful being in a gang” he said getting up, extending his hand out to her. She just shrugged her shoulders, taking his hand and standing up. “At least now I can fight back when someone hits me” Moon says as they both exit the infirmary.

“Stabbing is not allowed. Pinned under, with a knife against the throat, one of us concedes, cut somewhere where a vital organ is, passing out, counts as losing. Since stabbing is not allowed any cuts made will be considered stab wounds, meaning if the cut is big it insinuates that the victim bleeds to death” Chan explained as Moon and him stood in the middle of the gym ready to fight with the rest of the members watching.

Moon threw a punch to Chan’s throat, he successfully dodged it grabbing Moon’s arm and twisting it. She went to kick his leg but he threw her on the ground before her leg could touch his. Chan lunged forward to punch her when she rolled over causing him to hit the ground. Moon quickly got up and locked her arm around his throat, she tightened her hold trying to choke him but he leaned forward flipping Moon over causing her to fall flat on her back. Chan jabbed her with his elbow making her groan, she retaliated by kneeing him in the head, Chan fell back giving her the perfect opportunity to get back on her feet. Moon kicked Chan in the side making him stumble, quickly straddling him, she pulled her dagger to attack, however Chan was quick to react. He twisted her arm making her drop the weapon, successfully flipping them over, Chan now had Moon under him. But before Chan could draw his weapon at her, she headbutted him. Chan grabbed his nose groaning in pain, Moon took this opportunity and pushed him off herself and ran towards her weapon. Chan quickly recovered and grabbed her arm pulling her back, he turned her around and wrapped his hand around her neck choking her, evoking a scream due to the pressure on her wound. She started scratching his arms to get him to loosen his grip but it was useless. She put one feet on his chest while holding his arm, steadying herself, she hauled her other leg over his shoulder and around his neck. While Moon tried to elbow him in the head he grabbed her waist and pulled her back. Moon wrapped her other leg around his head as well making him bow his head, taking advantage of the position she put both her palms on the ground and with much difficulty she managed to flip them both over. Chan landed on his back with his head between her thighs. Moon tightened her hold trying to choke him which proved useless. Chan was both larger and stronger than her, taking advantage of his strength, he squeezed her thigh bruising it, however Moon was unfazed and kept tightening her legs, Chan grabbed her other leg and pulled them apart. Getting up he pulled her towards himself by her leg. Putting his legs on either of her waist he straddled her, he pinned both her wrists above her head and leaned closer to her, “Not so tough now, huh princess”. She’d be lying to herself if she said that the close proximity didn’t make her heart flutter. Looking up at his smug expression she knew he was doing it on purpose knowing how it affected her. Moon reached forward and attached her lips to his catching everyone off guard. Taking advantage of his shocked state, she kneed his back pushing him off. Quickly getting up and grabbing her weapon, “Not so tough now, huh daddy” the words left her mouth before she could stop them.

“Enjoying yourself baby girl?” he asked trying to grab her, but Moon was fast and swung her knife making a huge cut from his shoulder, across his chest to the side of his abdomen. “More than you can imagine” she smirked stepping away from him.

“That’s definitely going to leave a scar” Woojin spoke

“Don’t worry, Moon’s gonna kiss it better” Hyunjin joined in

“I won, now I get a field test as promised” Moon said before anyone else could pass any comments

“Not yet princess, you still have phase 2 to complete” Chan answered

“How long will that take?” she whined

“Depends on how fast you learn to shoot a weapon” Woojin said

“Why are you so eager for a field test anyway?” Bree asked

“Because it’s boring in here, I wanna go out” Moon answered

“Being almost stabbed to death twice is boring?” Anna exclaimed

“I need more spice” Moon shrugged

Chan grabbed her wrist and started dragging her with him. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, trying to get out of his grip. “To make your life more spicy” he simply said before dragging her out of the door.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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wackygoofball · 5 years ago

Photo

Moodboard: Jaime x Brienne - Time Travel AU

Most people find solace in fiction.

Up until very recently, Jaime Lannister didn’t consider himself to be one of those people. He always enjoyed sports over reading anyway. Yet, ever since his right hand had to be amputated following a horrific accident, Jaime found himself somewhat unable to follow his athletic interests the way he used to.

And so, he now finds himself roaming through the dusty hallways in Westeros’ biggest and most formidable library, the Citadel, hoping to find the only remaining copy of a book he used to read as a child, the only book he ever read with enthusiasm, in fact.

Of course it’s a book about the legendary knights of the former days. Galladon of Morne, Ser Duncan the Tall, Arthur Dayne, Goldenhand the Just, you name them. As Jaime goes through the pages, he stops when he catches some scribbled lines on one of the pages.

“It’s yours. It will always be yours,” Jaime murmurs to himself, frowning. Strange that none of the pain-in-the-ass librarians seems to have caught that. Be it as it may, he continues to read and tries to ease into the easy childhood memories, the familiar stories of his youth that used to give him joy even when times were rough.

But suddenly, the familiar words are anything but familiar. After all, Jaime knows how the story should go. The knight should ride boldly into battle to free the fair maiden from the evil dragon. Instead, the knight is crying out for help.

Last time he checked, there was no new version of the tale. Confused, he flips to another random page, but this passage is changed, too. This time, a young woman from the story tells the knight that what he is searching for will not be found in the castle – when that is where the knight has to go. Jaime knows this. He read the story at least a good hundred times to his younger brother because it was one of those stories featuring not just a strong fighter but also a clever knight.

However, no matter to which page he turns, everything is changed, to the point that the plot of the stories is perfectly lost. Just as he is about to put the book back on the shelf, Jaime sees a figure standing in the hallway, almost translucent, bathed in the meager light in the old library. And if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that it is a knight, but the moment he moves, the figure is gone again.

Needing answers, Jaime “borrows” the book that doesn’t have a library loan option, really, as it is a reference work, being the only one of its kind. One of the advantages of being a rich boy – even if they demand high fees in turn, he can pay that out of his pocket at once. But for now, the only thing that matters is this most strange book.

The car ride back to the hotel doesn’t make things much better as he keeps seeing this figure appearing whenever he eyes the book or calls the stories to mind, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say the knight is scolding at him.

After more pages that keep changing and the figure appearing over and over again, Jaime has had enough and consults the next best eye specialist. Something must be wrong with his vision. To his shock, the doctor finds that he has perfect vision. So to the next doctor he goes. If it isn’t the eyes, it must be the brain. But this doctor finds nothing wrong with him either, though he does suggest to Jaime to maybe see a therapist.

And maybe the guy is not entirely wrong with that.

Not knowing what else to do, Jaime calls up Tyrion for help. The younger brother believes it to be a joke at first, then his brother losing it over his amputation at last, but realizing just how serious Jaime is about the matter, he comes to see him.

Jaime asks Tyrion to read the book and tell him whether those are the same words he used to read to him as a kid. To the younger brother, it is the same story, despite Jaime seeing entirely different plots unfolding. Jaime reveals that he sees this ghost-like figure whenever he reads aloud, which prompts Tyrion to suggest to do just that. If the ghost is real, he should see it, too, right? And if not, Jaime can at least be certain that it is something going on inside his head. Jaime starts to read aloud, and as expected, he starts to see the scolding knight again.

Tyrion is just about to tell him that he can’t see a thing, when suddenly, both hear a woman’s voice ring out, telling them to stop.

“This either means that we both have lost our golden shit, or we both have just stumbled into a ghost movie without asking.”

Tyrion starts to see the same figure, much more solid now, to the point that it almost seems like the knight is just like them, a lady knight in fact.

“You must stop reading this book at last.”

“Why? And why are you telling me only now?”

“That is already part of the problem. I can only speak to you because you already read so much of the book aloud.”

“What now?”

“You bound yourself to the book in most dangerous ways, that is why. You must rid yourself of the book before it is too late – and read no further than you already have,” she warns him. “Or else the book will swallow you, like it swallowed me.”

“So you are stuck in this book?”

“I am the young woman in disguise, giving the just knight direction. I am the knight slaying the dragon. I am Ser Galladon. I am Ser Duncan the Tall. I am all of them and none of them. Every day, for the rest of time. For that is the nature of this most wicked curse. That is why you must stop reading. You must burn it, destroy it, so that no other soul can fall into the same trap I stumbled into.”

“But what becomes of you if we destroyed the book?”

“It does not matter. This is the only way I know to break the curse. I pray you, save yourself and everyone else who may pick up the book and read aloud, so to be consumed by those never ending stories of old.”

“And you know for a fact that destroying the book will break the curse?”

“I do not know. What I know is that you can’t read a book that no longer exists.”

“Then maybe that is not the safest option.”

“If you finish reading the book, it will devour you whole. That is what I know – and that is what I wish to prevent. No one should have to suffer the same destiny as I did.”

Tyrion suggests that they may want to do some more research on the matter before burning much of anything.

“As far as I am concerned, you can read all of it safe for the last page. So just don’t read that page and you should be fine. Sounds manageable to me.”

When the mystery knight introduces herself as Brienne of Tarth, the two brothers perk their ears. Both have interest in history since they were young and thus surely know of the legendary woman knight Brienne of Tarth who fought during the Long Night and disappeared some time after the war without a single trace.

Brienne is quite shocked to learn that the current year is 2300 AC. After all, the two look exactly the same as the Tyrion and Jaime she knew back in that old life she had before she was sucked into the book. Though then she reminds herself of the words the Crow gave her short before disappearing from Winterfell thousands of years ago.

History will repeat itself. We may have won the war against the dead in our time, but we did not defeat the great darkness engulfing the world in the future. I see the future – and it is still dark and full of terrors.

After some prodding from the brothers, Brienne reveals that it was her grief over the loss of the Jaime of her time that got her into the situation. He fell in battle, protecting her.

“I only ever held him as he died, just like Renly. That seemed to be part of my wicked fate all the same.”

After the battle was won, she was visited by the Red Witch who gave her a book, this book. Brienne wanted to believe that she meant to offer solace after the grief she brought her before, but once Brienne finished reading, she was sucked into the book.

“And that was the end of my story and the beginning of the never ending tale.”

While Tyrion dives into research in the hope of finding a solution to this most strange problem, Jaime spends his time trying to get to know both the woman whose story entwined itself with his but also with his namesake, whom Brienne must have loved a lot, as fondly as she speaks of him. Though of course, she wouldn’t admit to it.

As their journey continues, they start to write an entirely new story, one of love lost and found.

Though the ending of this story will only be revealed on the very last page.

And there is no way to know whether it’s a happy ending or a story meant to end in tragedy all over.

After all, history repeats itself, and so do stories.

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #got moodboard #got aesthetic #moodboard #aesthetic #wacky writes fanfic #in smol #this one is actually pretty old but I forgot to post it #for reasons

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kthstrawberryshortcake · 5 years ago

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BTS Reaction: Their S/O comforts them when they cry

Request by anon: “ can u do something where a bts member is stressed out and they cry so their s/o comforts them “

Here’s what I came up with! I hope you like it.

These are set up as member x reader.

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Namjoon: Namjoon had been really busy in his studio lately. His habit of overworking himself was nothing new, but you still tried to do what you could to take care of him a little when he was preoccupied with work. One night you brought takeout to the studio, knowing he wouldn’t have bothered to eat most of the day. You knew he had been writing a lot today, though you had hardly seen him, since he hand’t even come home to sleep. When you entered, you saw him hunched over his desk, looking down at a piece of paper. Then you noticed his shoulders shaking slightly. “Joonie?” You called to him softly, walking up to him and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. It was then that you saw he was crying. “What’s wrong, love?” You asked, concerned. “Writing a sad song…” He replied, and you leaned over him to see what was written on the page. He had very little written thus far and none of it was very sad. You looked at him in confusion. “How long have you been awake?” You asked, and he looked at the time on his phone. “Almost 51 hours,” he answered, causing you to gasp. “Oh, sweetie, you can’t do this to yourself. We’re getting you to bed right this minute.” You said to him authoritatively. To your surprise, he agreed. The two of you went home and got in bed, and you played with his hair until he finally fell asleep.

Jin: You had been conspiring with the boys about something special to do for Jin’s birthday. You all decided on the idea of making a short film about Jin and what he meant to each of you, with Jungkook’s Golden Closet expertise coming in handy. When filming your part, you got a little emotional, having to wipe tears from your eyes once or twice during your portion of the video. “He makes me smile. He makes me feel safe. He is always caring and kind to those around him. He’s so talented. He’s a good friend. He’s a great cook. His dad jokes make my day. He’s the love of my life.” You hoped he would be able to feel how much he meant to you from the video. When his birthday finally rolled around, you all sat together in front of the TV to watch the short film, anxiously watching Jin’s face for his reactions. The boys’ sweet messages made him teary-eyed, but when he watched your portion, that was when he started full-on crying. He was kind of laughing at himself at the same time, but he was definitely crying. You pulled him into a tight hug, thrilled that you’d all done well with the surprise. “I love you so much,” he laughed, holding you a little bit tighter.

Yoongi: Yoongi had been in one of his moods lately. It was that workaholic, hyper-intense mood where he neglected all things but music and never left his studio. Food? Sleep? Interaction with others? Never heard of them. It had been an especially long bout of this behavior this time, now having been over two weeks. Namjoon pulled him aside one day on a rare venture outside his studio. “We’ve talked about this, you can’t keep this up. It’s not sustainable. Have you seen yourself lately? You look like a zombie, and an excessively skinny one at that. The weight loss, the dark circles, the sickly color of your skin… They’re bad signs. Really bad.” He said, trying to make his friend see sense. Yoongi, of course, resisted. “I’m fine. It’s not that big of a deal.” Namjoon sighed and ran a hand through his hair, stressed out by the situation. “Except that it is. We don’t need you collapsing from not taking care of yourself. And if your own sake isn’t enough, think of Y/N. Ever since you started looking this severely unwell she’s been having panic attacks because she’s so scared for you and your health.” That got Yoongi’s attention. You struggled enough with anxiety and he was just making it worse by failing to look after himself. After speaking to Namjoon, Yoongi went to find you. Tears were running down his cheeks as he silently pulled you into a hug, sniffling a little as he tried to keep the crying under control. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I’ll do better, I promise.” He whispered, thinking to himself how lucky he was to have someone who loved him that much.

Hoseok: You were on tour with the boys when one day, your boyfriend got a phone call from his mom. His family was very close, so that in and of itself was not unusual. It was the shocked expression that appeared on his face as he listened to his mom speak, followed by him hanging up and totally breaking down. You had never seen him cry like this before. “Babe?” You called to him, but he didn’t respond, he just kept sobbing. You stood in front of where he sat on the edge of the bed, holding his face gently in your hands. “Hobi, tell me what’s wrong.” You asked quietly. It took him a few minutes to calm down enough to be able to talk. “__________ died this morning.” he choked out, causing you to gasp. They were a relatively young and healthy family member of his. “How?” You asked, shocked. “Heart attack, out of nowhere.” He replied in a quiet, strained voice. You sighed, hurting at the sight of his pain. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible. I wish there was something I could do, but I think all I can do is be here for you.” You kissed the tip of his nose gently. “And that, jagi, makes all the difference in the world.” he whispered in reply.

Jimin: It was no secret that Jimin could be incredibly hard on himself. He had openly spoken about his struggles with self esteem and body image. When it came to the quality of his performance onstage, he was just as self-critical. It was during tour and he had come down with a bit of a cold, which had caused some coughing and a sore throat. He wasn’t feeling great, of course, but pushed through it like any other concert. During one song, however, Jimin’s voice cracked during a high note and he immediately coughed pretty hard. He kept going after that, finishing the show like the true professional he was, but he exited the stage feeling awful about how he had done. You were watching the whole time, of course, and had witnessed the little unavoidable imperfection in his performance, and because you knew him so well, you anticipated how he was going to react. So when he immediately ran off to somewhere more secluded in an attempt to be alone, you followed him. It wasn’t you he was trying to get away from, anyway. You found him sitting in a dark corner crying, his head in his hands. You sat next to him and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, and he rested his head on your shoulder. You murmured words of encouragement and assured him that no one would blame him for the cough, rubbing his upper arm soothingly. Tears continued to slip from his eyes, but he wasn’t sobbing anymore. “What would I do without you, jagi?” he whispered, which brought a small smile to your face.

Taehyung: Your phone rang one afternoon and you smiled to yourself when you saw that it was your boyfriend calling. “Hi Tae,” you answered, only to hear uncontrollable sobbing on the other end of the call. “It’s Tan, he’s really sick. He’s at the emergency vet, they’re going to take him in for surgery now.” He explained as well as he could in his extremely emotional state. “Okay, okay, take a deep breath, I’m on my way. Text me the address and I’ll get there as soon as I can.” You replied before hanging up the phone and hurrying to your car. Ten minutes later you were sprinting into the emergency vet. You saw Taehyung sitting in the waiting room, still crying but no longer sobbing like he had been. You sat next to him and silently wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek. “What’s the news?” You asked softly, a little scared to hear his response. He took a deep breath. “They think he’s going to be fine, but there are always risks with surgery so we won’t know for a little while yet.” You nodded. “He’s going to be okay, love. Tan will be fine.” You whispered, taking hold of one of his hands and intertwining your fingers. He still looked worried, of course, but your presence and assurances were calming him. All he could think was that he was grateful that he wasn’t going through this alone. You had a way of making things better.

Jungkook: If there was one word to describe the way your boyfriend saw himself, it would be invincible. He was the golden maknae, after all. He could do anything, and he would be good at it too. Until one day in dance practice, a freak accident caused him to injure his ankle pretty badly. It was bad enough that he would have to keep off of it for at least two weeks. You had been there when he hurt himself, so as the doctor examined his ankle you held his hand. After hearing the prognosis, you realized he had begun to cry. You wiped his tears away, your heart aching to see him in pain. “Does it hurt that bad, baby?” You asked, worried. He shook his head. “I’m going to let everyone down this way. It’s my fault, I can’t believe I could be so stupid as to get myself hurt this way.” He said, and you shook your head vigorously. “No, this is absolutely not your fault. I watched it happen, it was just one of those freak things. You couldn’t have prevented it. And I know you’re pretty amazing, and all that, but you forget that you’re human. What’s more, you forget that being human isn’t letting the people around you down.” You kissed his forehead, him feeling much less guilty after talking to you.

_________________________________________________________________

There you go children! Hope you all liked this one. PS: don’t worry, in my mind with the Tae one here, Tannie ends up fine :)

Please send in requests to ask or message!

ALSO I LOVE FEEDBACK <3

#bts #bts fanfic #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts reaction request #bts reactions request #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts angst #bts drabbles #bts scenarios

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 5 years ago

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Snow Crossed

@equesasprokishi asked for some heartbreaking Yixing Soulmate Angst, so I am delivering. (If this gets enough likes, I’ll write part two.)

Master List | Part Two (Upcoming)

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The sun was a welcome relief after almost a week of nothing but snow and storms, its warm brilliance reflecting off the white snow giving the entire world an otherworldly glow. Though the sun shone, the wind still bit into your exposed skin as you walked through the busy square, admiring the Christmas lights. Your hands, despite being bare of any gloves, remained warm. In your right hand, a fresh cup of hot chocolate, which breathed steam into the morning air, and in your left, fingers entwined with your own, rested the hand of your soulmate.

Wong Yuk-hei, though better known as Lucas, had been unexpected, both as a person and as your soulmate. Though he was tall and intimidating, he had the soul of a child and a smile that made flowers bloom. Your meeting seemed so much more like an accident than fate when two years ago you had nearly hit him with your car when he was running after a stray cat, and after yelling at him for nearly ten minutes, he simply smiled broadly and asked to take you to dinner. The rest was history, you had quickly realized you were soulmates, having the same Venetian mask tattooed onto your forearms, and within a year of meeting, you were married, which delighted both of your parents, who had been friends long ago.

Now here you were, nine months later, and while you had both agreed you were far too young for kids, that wasn’t stopping you from visiting the local animal shelter, looking for a furry baby to join your family.

“Should we get a puppy or a kitten? I think we should find a dog, a big breed too! So they can protect you when I’m not home.” He babbles, pulling giggles from your lips. “A husky would be good, with how cold it gets during the winter, but I hear they’re really sassy.”

“Well we can’t get a golden retriever, that's for certain.” Lucas turns to you immediately, confusion etched onto his face.

“Why not?”

“I can barely handle you when you’re excited, do you really think I’ll be able to handle such an excitable dog?” He, of course, laughs at your comparison, leaning down towards you to press a chaste kiss to your lips, which were barely reachable due to the scarf wrapped around your neck.

“You’re right, you always are.” You didn’t get a chance to say more before your phone was ringing in your pocket. Lucas groans, earning a kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t whine, it’s my boss, why don’t you head inside, I’ll be right there.” Lucas pouts but relents.

“Fine, but if I find a dog I really like you don’t have a choice,” He decides, giving you a proper kiss before walking inside the pet shelter.

“Hello Y/n L/n-Wong’s phone.”

“Hello Y/n, I’m sorry to disturb you on your day off, but we can’t seem to find the photos you sent us, the ones about the snowstorm.” You let out a small huff, sipping your drink.

“I sent them directly to Lorn, but I can send the email again, otherwise they’ll have to wait until I can get home.” You explain, glancing inside the building to see Lucas laying on the floor with a puppy excitedly licking his face. “Which may not be for a time,”

“I’ll double-check with Lorn, she was pulled from the article last night, must have forgotten to tell you. If you could forward me the email you sent, that would be fantastic.”

“Not a problem, I’ll send it now, please call me back if you don’t get it in a few minutes.”

“Absolutely, thank you, have a wonderful day Mrs. Wong.”

“And you as well, Mr. Thames,” He hung up first and you quickly pulled the phone away from your face, searching your email for the photos.

You’re about to hit send when someone bumps into you from behind, causing your phone to fall from your grip and your still scalding hot chocolate to splash out of the cup, burning your fingers. Before you even had the chance to swear the person who bumped you is in front of you picking your phone from the snow and apologizing profusely.

“I am so sorry, are you alright? Did you burn yourself?” The person asked quickly, standing up straight. You were shocked to find a smiling man in front of you, his deep dimple on full display.

“It's alright, nothing too bad.” You assure him, looking down at your hand which was still screaming in pain, though it was lessening.

“May I?” He’s holding his hand out, asking for your own and for some reason, unknown even to you, you accept, placing your injured hand in his. The instant your hands touch, a spark jolts through your body, and you try your best to attribute it to the shock of his cold fingers against your much warmer skin. The skin is red, but not blistered and you're sure it’ll be fine in just a few hours, but he seems much more concerned about it. “Ah, it must hurt, I am very sorry.”

“It's alright, there won’t be permanent damage.” You dismiss, but he shakes his head.

“Still, I wasn’t paying attention, and even a minor injury is still an injury I caused, so I must apologize.”

“Well, apology accepted, Mr…” His face perks up, and with your hand still in his, he offers you a low bow.

“I am Yixing, Zhang Yixing, though my friends know me as Lay.”

“A pleasure Yixing, I’m Y/n L/n- Wong.”

“It’s a shame our meeting was like this Miss Y/n.” He places a soft kiss on your hand, and at the spark his lips send through your skin, you jolt your hand from his grip.

“A shame, yes. Unfortunately, I must be going, my husband is waiting for me.” You gesture to the building where Lucas was sitting up now, watching the two of you with a look of confusion etched onto his face, the puppy he was playing with sitting in his lap with the same look.

“Ah, I see.” Yixing is obviously disappointed, but his smile remains.

“My phone, if you please.”

“Ah yes,” The cold device is placed in your open hand. “I don’t believe I’ve damaged it, but if I have, you can find me at EXO Palace, it's where I work.” He explains, “I’ll pay to have it fixed, or get a new one.”

“Thank you, Yixing, have a good day.” You give him a bow, leaving before you had the chance to question the feeling of his lips that still lingered on your hand.

“Are you alright? Who was that?” Lucas asks the moment you reach him, standing to grab your hand. You hiss when his fingers come in contact with the burn, which has him immediately bringing your hand up to see it. “He hurt you?” Lucas’ face morphs into that of rage and you’re having to press your uninjured hand against his chest to stop him from going anywhere.

“I’m alright, he bumped into me, and my hot chocolate splashed me.” Lucas frowns, but nods, accepting that you won’t be letting him fight the man. His focus moves back to your hand, cradling it in his much larger ones, as he carefully examines the red and somewhat inflamed skin.

“Does it hurt?” Concern laces his voice, and his eyes dart from your hand to your face, awaiting your answer.

“Not really.” You assure him. “I’ll be sure to take care of it when we get home.” He nods, and presses his own lips to your hand, kissing both the burns, and the golden ring nestled on your fourth finger, but you can’t help but notice how Yixing’s kiss was the one still lingering on your skin. The puppy Lucas had been playing with earlier paws at your legs, making you giggle, and soon, both your and Lucas’ attention is taken by the small animal.

You had to wait another two weeks before you could take your puppy home. The Chow-Chow/ Australian Shepherd mix, with her two-tone eyes, had affectionately been named Ai, the Japanese word for love, which Lucas thought was the cutest thing. You spent as much time with her as possible, but despite how distracted you were, your brain kept going back to Yixing. The spark of his touch, the plushness of his lips, the depth of his dimple, it didn’t make sense, you had a soulmate, you had even married him, there was no reason to be so caught up in a stranger. Then again, maybe he had felt the spark too, maybe that was why he spoke that way, or why he seemed to be disappointed when Lucas was mentioned.

“What has you so distracted, babe?” Lucas’ voice was soft as he pulled you from your thoughts, his arms wrapping around you as he rested his head atop yours. You let yourself lean into his touch, trying to push away the thoughts plaguing you.

“Just thinking about how much I’ll miss you when school starts back up in a few days.” Your heart clenches at how easily the lie flows from your lips. “I won’t be able to do much traveling until Ai’s older and trained, so I’ll only be doing shoots in town.” Lucas groans, his hand moving to entwine in yours, the one now wrapped in bandages.

“Don’t remind me, I love my students, but they drive me insane sometimes.” You can’t help the giggle that escapes you. “For a bunch of 10 year-olds, they sure are mean.”

“Maybe the holidays have helped them cool down? Nothing like spending time with family to make you realize how little you like getting in trouble.” You joke, turning in his hold. He’s shirtless, which is a rare occasion, so you take the chance to ogle his sculpted torso. His tattoos, so many covering his body from elbows to collarbones, capture your attention, and you reach up to trace the designs. “You know, maybe they wouldn’t treat you so harshly if they knew what you really looked like, instead of being hidden in dress shirts.” He laughs, shaking his head at your words.

“I thought you liked me in dress shirts?”

“I do, I always like you. Even more so when you’re shirtless.” His face goes red at your words, which he quickly hides in your neck. You can’t help your grin at his actions, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, fingers tracing over his tattoos. Your attention is briefly taken by an ornate rose on his shoulder blade, a tattoo you can’t remember the story of, and as the tips of your fingers pass over it, you find it so much warmer than the rest of his body. Your mind must be playing tricks on you, you reason, you must just be tired and stressed about what happened earlier.

“I’m tired.” He mumbles, lips grazing the skin of your neck, “Do you want to take a nap with me, or do you have work to do?”

“A nap sounds wonderful babe.”

Somehow, despite everything you do over the next four days, whether it's going to work, a wedding shoot, or even just making dinner with Lucas, your mind is still clouded with thoughts of Yixing. It made no sense to you, your interaction had only taken maybe a minute at most, but your mind made it feel as though it had been hours. The feeling of his kiss was still on your hand, and his eyes haunted your dreams, which only made you want to find him more.

When you do finally run into him, it's completely by accident.

You were standing in your favorite coffee shop, waiting to order when, once again, you’re bumped from behind, though this time, it wasn’t by Yixing. The older man who had stumbled into you apologized profusely, despite several assurances it was alright. It was then you noticed the man standing just behind you, and he noticed you too.

“Miss L/n- Wong. How nice to see you again.” You couldn’t help the smile that made itself known.

“Mr. Zhang, what a coincidence.”

“Indeed, would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?” Part of you wanted to say no, to avoid asking the questions boiling inside you, that part of you was scared what the answers might be. The other part of you, however, was absolutely struck by everything about him, his smile, the way his eyes lit up, you had to spend more time with him.

“I’d love to, as long as you’re not busy.”

“Of course not.”

Once you had your drinks, you settled yourselves in a table at the front corner of the shop, giving yourselves the beautiful snowy town as your backdrop. You tried to focus on the landscape outside, but the scenery in front of you kept stealing your attention. Yixing was far too handsome, his black hair swept carefully out of his face, his dark green coat hanging onto his frame as though tailored to him, and for all you knew it was. He sat with his back straight, but his shoulders relaxed, giving off the air of grace and refinement.

“How is your hand?” His question had you blanking for a moment, so wrapped in your examination of him you forgot you were meant to be conversing.

“Ah, it's fine, there was no long term damage.”

“That's good to hear.” It becomes obvious neither of you knew what to talk about, the air becoming clouded with awkwardness the moment the last word leaves his mouth. “And your husband?”

“Lucas.”

“Lucas, how is he?”

“He’s doing good, he returned to work today.”

“What does he do?” You can almost make out the glimmer of interest in his eyes, but you’re almost certain it’s false.

“He’s a teacher, at the elementary school.”

“Ah.” The conversation lulls once again until Yixing lets out a small chuckle, leaning forward slightly as he removes his coat. “It’s surprisingly warm in here.”

“It must be the coffee makers.” You joke, earning another chuckle from him as he rests his bare arms on the table. Your attention is quickly grabbed by the black ink on his skin, and he can’t help but notice, turning his arm to show it to you.

Your heart jumps into your throat as the image is fully exposed to you, and you can’t stop yourself from reaching out to trace it gently with the tips of your fingers.

“It’s my soulmate mark.”

“That’s impossible.” Your fingers trace the outline expertly, the lines as familiar to you as your own body.

“Why is it impossible?” He asks, and you can hear the slight uneasiness in his voice. Unsure what to say, you can only remove your own coat, pushing up your sleeve to show him the impossible truth.

You bore the same Venetian Mask. The mark which had been the centerpiece of your relationship with Lucas, the mark that was supposed to be unique to only the two of you, was also painted on the skin of this near stranger.

“Because I married my soulmate almost 10 months ago.”

#zhang yixing #lay zhang #zhang yixing imagines #yixing imagine #yixing imagines #exo lay #lay imagines #lay imagine #exo #exo imagine #exo imagines #wong yukhei #superm lucas #nct lucas #lucas imagine #lucas imagines

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unfolded73 · 4 years ago

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My Heartbeat Shows the Fear (2/4) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: A canon divergent story: Patrick gets into a car accident and it brings the Brewers to town sooner.

Notes: This fic will be posted in 4 chapters, every other day. There is some description of injuries, but nothing too graphic or life-threatening.

The title is from “Overkill” by Colin Hay, which thanks to the show Scrubs puts me in mind of hospitals.

Thank you to Amanita_Fierce for putting so much time and thought into betaing this fic - you made it so, so much better. And thanks also to @high-seas-swan for some helpful suggestions, particularly on that one scene that I tore apart and rewrote.

Rated Teen, this chapter 5714 words. (ao3)

Chapter 1

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Chapter 2

Patrick first became aware of a constant, irritating beeping noise. He blinked his eyes open, his eyelashes crusty with sleep. Oh right, he thought as he took in his surroundings. He was in the hospital. It seemed like no time at all had passed since they told him that he was supposed to go into surgery for his arm. Was the surgery already over?

He looked down and saw his arm enclosed in bandages and a splint. Guess that's a yes to the surgery, he thought. The pain he remembered when he’d regained consciousness after the accident was gone, fortunately, numbed by what he assumed were some powerful drugs. He would have almost preferred some pain to this complete numbness.

Patrick had thought of himself as pretty unflappable when it came to getting injured — as a teen he’d suffered cuts that needed stitches more than once, and the sight of his own blood hadn’t really phased him. Once he’d suffered a ligament tear and knee dislocation playing hockey, and the sight of his leg bending the wrong way had been pretty grisly, but he’d still managed to joke around with his coach while he was being carried off the ice on a stretcher. None of that compared to the sight of his own broken bone protruding through the skin of his arm. That had triggered a visceral reaction, a deep, inborn knowledge from his hindbrain that screamed: this is very wrong! The paramedic in the ambulance had covered it with a bandage to keep any more dirt from getting into the wound, mercifully shielding it from Patrick’s eyes. The pain had been intense, though. ”He’s in shock,” he remembered the paramedic saying as he swam in a viscous soup of cold sweat and nausea and agony.

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked over to his right side and saw David sleeping on the pull-out sleeper chair in the corner of the room. He was still in his clothes, but he’d taken his shoes off and lined them up neatly next to the chair. The sight of David’s shoes brought a swell of emotion to Patrick’s chest.

“David,” he said. His voice was raspy, and he was suddenly aware of how thirsty he was. “David,” he repeated, louder.

David started up, lines on his cheek from the pillow under his face and his hair sticking up on one side. It made Patrick want to hug him.

“You okay? Need me to call a nurse?” David asked.

“No. Is there water?”

David nodded, standing up and grabbing a cup with a bendy straw off of a small rolling table. He brought it over, carefully directing the straw so that Patrick could take it in his mouth and suck down some of the water. It made him feel uniquely helpless, being tended to like this.

“How long have you been here? What time is it?” Patrick asked.

David glanced at the clock. “It’s 2:30 in the morning.” He pulled his sleeper chair closer and sat on it, taking Patrick’s right hand in his.

Patrick frowned. “How long was the surgery?”

“A couple of hours. Do you not remember when they brought you out of recovery?” David asked, the first hint of a smile that Patrick had seen flitting over his face.

“No. The last thing I remember was them prepping me for surgery,” Patrick said.

Now David almost laughed. “In your defense, you were very high when you first came out of anesthesia.”

“What did I say?”

“Well, you swore a lot, which was very out of character. And you said I was handsome several times.”

“You are handsome,” Patrick said with a smile.

“And now all of your nurses know it.” David squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember that.” It sounded embarrassing, but he still would have liked to see a video of it — of himself high as a kite and gushing about his sexy boyfriend to anyone within earshot. He squeezed David’s hand back.

“Mm, don’t be. You threw up and you kept saying your ears were ringing and I might’ve gotten a bit… testy… with one of the nurses when she said it wasn’t anything to worry about.”

“My hero,” Patrick sighed fondly.

“How are you feeling now?”

Patrick tried to assess how he was feeling. He had flashes of more memories — agonizing pain when he was in the ambulance and when they put in him the CT machine, but now there was little more than a dull ache. “Not bad, actually.”

“Yeah, you’re on the really good drugs,” David said, pointing up to an IV bag. “Morphine, I’m pretty sure. Also some antibiotics, but it’s the morphine that’s relevant here.”

“That explains it.” Patrick lifted his uninjured arm and tried to smooth down David’s unruly hair. “Thanks for staying here with me.”

“They would have had to drag me out of here,” David said, his voice cracking with emotion. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault; it was the other driver’s fault.” David reached up and stroked a hand over Patrick’s forehead and cheek. “Do you remember the accident?”

Frowning, Patrick tried to probe his memories, and while he did so the automated blood pressure cuff around his arm filled up, squeezing his bicep almost to the point of pain before exhaling in a long hiss. “Not the impact. I remember flashes of being extracted from my car and put in an ambulance. Some stuff from when they first brought me in here.” He looked down at his arm. “I remember my arm looking really not good.”

David winced. “Yeah. Well, look at it this way: you’ll probably have a very manly scar when all this is over.”

“The car,” Patrick said. “I had all the products from the Mennonite farms in the car.” He knew insurance would cover the losses, but he still felt a stab of guilt that he’d caused some of their precious merchandise to be lost. It would take time to replace, time during which they couldn’t earn any money from the sales. He wanted to kick himself for not watching more closely at that intersection. He’d seen someone run that stoplight before. He should have been more careful.

Shaking his head, David said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“David—”

“Let me worry about it,” David said.

“You should go home and get some sleep.”

‘Not a chance. Besides, Alexis drove me here and I sent her home a while ago, so you’re stuck with me until she comes back in the morning.” He lifted Patrick’s hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. David’s eyes were suspiciously wet. “Also I may never let you out of my sight again.”

“I love you,” Patrick said.

“I love you more,” David replied, “as evidenced by me sleeping on this thing.” He pointed at the sleeper chair. “It makes me long for my bed at the motel.”

Patrick felt an itch between his shoulder blades, and shifted his body in an attempt to scratch it. A spike of pain shot through his side. Broken ribs, he remembered. Right. “Ow.” He chuckled uneasily. “This is going to put a real damper on our sex life.”

David leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you try to get some more sleep? Your parents are going to be here in the morning.”

“My… what?”

His face cracking into a yawn, David answered, “I called your parents while you were in surgery. It seemed serious enough that they needed to know.”

Patrick’s heart began to race, which unfortunately he could hear echoed in beeps from the machines behind him. David noticed too, his eyes flicking up briefly to the monitors before looking back at Patrick’s face. Mind racing, Patrick tried to sit up, and another lightning bolt of pain kept him from executing that maneuver. “What did… what did you say?”

“That you’d been in a car accident and your arm was being operated on.” David’s face betrayed his confusion. “Patrick, I know you’re not super close with your parents but they needed to know that you’d been hospitalized.”

“Yeah, I know, but… David.” This was the worst case scenario, the thing that he’d hoped to avoid David ever knowing. If he could have just gotten up the courage to tell his parents the half dozen times he’d almost managed it, then David would never have had to know that he wasn’t out to them. That he was keeping his relationship with David a secret.

Well, there was no hiding it now. Patrick looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, steeling himself, before meeting David's concerned gaze. “I have to tell you something.”

David frowned. “What is it?”

“I’ve… I haven’t told my parents about the fact that we’re… together. I’m not out to them.”

“Oh.”

Patrick winced at the hurt on David’s face. “I wanted to tell them, I did, but then I didn’t go home for Christmas, and it’s just hard to… I don’t know how to say it, over the phone. I can’t get the words out.” He swallowed around a lump in his throat. “David, I’m sorry—”

“Mm mm, no. Don’t apologize.” David squeezed his hand and then kissed his fingers again, his facial expression difficult to read. The hurt wasn’t in evidence anymore, but perhaps because David was doing a better job of hiding it. “Coming out is very personal, and it’s something you should only do on your terms. Okay?” His mouth slanted to the side. “That’s why I brought this couple home from college one time and just told my parents to deal with it.”

Patrick chuckled in relief at the way David was trying to lighten the mood, but just as quickly his guilt rushed back to the surface. “I’m not ashamed of you, David. I promise I’m not.”

David’s lips quirked up. “Yes, that was obvious from the way you talked to the nurses about me when you were high.” He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “When your parents get here, I can just be… your business partner.”

His gut instinct was to say no. That wasn’t fair to David, or to what they meant to each other. But then he imagined it, lying here in a hospital bed, in pain and a little bit high on opiates, his arm in a splint, looking up at his parents towering over him and telling them he was gay. That he and David were boyfriends. It was an agonizing mental picture.

“Maybe… maybe just for tomorrow?” Patrick asked in a small voice. He sounded pathetic to his own ears. He looked up at the IV bag. “For one thing, I’d prefer to be sober when I do the whole coming out speech.” It was an attempt at a joke, but it wasn’t untrue. He didn’t feel like he was in any kind of mental shape to talk to his parents about his sexual orientation or his relationship with David right now.

Patrick couldn’t help but notice that David had pulled away from him a little bit, but he still had an encouraging smile plastered on his face. “That makes total sense. Don’t worry about that for right now. Just focus on healing, okay?”

Patrick reached out, putting his hand around David’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered against David’s lips. “So much.”

David gave his shoulder a little pat when he pulled away. “Let’s try to get some more sleep, okay?”

“Yeah.” Patrick felt exhausted from just the half hour he’d been awake. “Okay.”

He watched as David resettled himself on the sleeper chair, twisting and turning before finally settling down and facing the wall. When Patrick finally fell asleep, his last vision was of David’s back, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath.

~*~

When the Lincoln pulled up in front of the hospital, David was outside waiting for it. He’d spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, noticing every time Patrick shifted in his fitful sleep, and then was woken for good at six in the morning when a new nurse came on shift and stopped in to check Patrick’s vitals and replace his IV bag. Patrick, meanwhile, was in more pain than when he’d awoken the first time, and he was in a mood to match. Alexis finally called to say she was ten minutes away, so David kissed Patrick’s cheek and told him he’d be back later and escaped.

He felt grimy, still in yesterday’s clothes, aware of his own body odor in a way that he absolutely despised. He walked over quickly to the car, wrenching the door open and collapsing into the seat.

“How’s Patrick?”

“Awake and coherent and cranky,” David said. “I told the nurse he needed to up his morphine, but they don’t listen to me.” He tilted his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

“You’re so sweet to stay by his bedside all night, David.”

He whipped his head around, looking for a sign that his sister was making fun of him, but her face was impassive as she concentrated on driving.

“Well, I couldn’t just let him wake up alone in the hospital. Can you imagine?”

“Yes, it happened to me in Singapore,” she said. “Also in Portugal, I think it was? Anyway. I’m glad he’s okay.”

“His arm is being held together with bandages and pieces of plastic and he’s in a lot of pain, but sure. He’s right as rain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have left then,” Alexis said.

David gestured emphatically down at his clothes. “If I can’t get out of these clothes and into a shower soon, then I might literally have a panic attack.” He turned and looked out the window at the passing fields. “Besides, his parents will be here in about an hour, his mom said.”

“Meeting the parents, David!” Alexis said, and he turned in time to see her execute an exaggerated series of blinks that seemed dangerous to do behind the wheel of a car. “I guess you do want to be freshly showered for that.”

He huffed. “I have to open the store this morning. I’ll meet them later.”

“David, no,” Alexis gasped, “you should go back to the hospital. Stevie and I can cover the store for a few hours. I talked to her about it when I got back last night.”

“I can go back tonight after work. His parents will be there with him,” David said, his stomach in knots, exhaustion weighing heavy on his limbs.

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, David.”

Sighing, David rocked his head back to knock against the headrest several times. “Patrick’s not out to his parents. They don’t know we’re together.”

Alexis bared her teeth like that Chrissy Teigen meme. “Oh, David. Yikes.”

“I know. So being at the hospital means that I have to pretend to just be his business partner, and I don’t know if I have the emotional fortitude to do that right now when he almost died yesterday.” He turned and stared out the window again. “Can we not talk about it anymore?”

Alexis didn’t say anything, but she reached over and patted his shoulder in what he guessed was supposed to be sympathy. They drove the rest of the way back to Schitt’s Creek in silence.

By the time David was showered and dressed and had his hair in order, he felt almost human, and he was resigned to not seeing Patrick again until the evening. He stepped out into his and Alexis’s room only to see Alexis and Stevie standing there between the beds. They turned to him and folded their arms, determined looks on their faces.

He pulled up short, indignant. “What?”

“We’re going to look after the store for you,” Stevie said flatly. “You are going back to the hospital.”

“Patrick needs you, David,” Alexis said.

“Patrick doesn’t need me lurking around, making his parents wonder why his business partner is being so emotional,” David said, turning to the mirror and probing gently at the skin under his eyes. His lack of sleep was painfully obvious on his face.

“I’m sure he’ll tell his parents once he’s gotten his bearings. But in the meantime, he needs to know you’re standing by him,” Stevie said.

“That is a lot of sincere emotion coming out of your mouth, Stevie. Did you hit your head?”

“Fuck off,” Stevie said.

“You could also go by Patrick’s apartment and pick up some of his stuff,” Alexis said. “If he’s going to be stuck in the hospital, he’s going to need some comfy pajamas, and some changes of underwear. And a book or something.”

Okay, even David had to admit that was a good idea. He blew out a breath and crossed his arms, mirroring Stevie. “Are you sure you can handle the store?”

“Ugh, David, we’ve done it before,” Alexis said, stomping her foot. “Now go!” she said, shooing him out the door.

“Wait, I need you to do something else for me,” he said. “Can you contact the police and find out where his car was taken? I need to see if any of the things in it are salvageable.”

Stevie nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”

He made a quick stop at the apartment and packed a duffel bag for Patrick: pajamas, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, underwear, a book from Patrick’s nightstand, and his toiletries from the bathroom. He packed Patrick’s phone charger, although he wasn’t sure if his phone had survived the crash. He started to put in Patrick’s favorite hoodie, but then he remembered that Patrick might not be able to get anything long-sleeved over his arm. Instead he grabbed the afghan from the back of the sofa, figuring that would have to do if Patrick was chilly in his hospital room.

The nurse at the front desk of Patrick’s floor recognized him, waving him through. It occurred to him that after yesterday, one of the nurses could inadvertently out Patrick to his parents.

David’s first impression of Patrick’s parents was of blue sweaters. I guess that’s where Patrick gets it, David thought as he hesitated in the doorway to Patrick’s room. The Brewers were standing by his bedside, his mother touching the top of his head affectionately. It was a perfect family tableau that he was loath to interrupt, but he couldn’t exactly linger in the hall all morning.

“Hey,” he said, stepping hesitantly into the room. “I’m David Rose,” he said by way of introducing himself. His eyes drank Patrick in, cataloging again the small cuts on his face. His instincts told him to go over to Patrick, to touch him, but he couldn’t do that now. Instead he stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed like an alien who didn’t know how to exist in the presence of humans.

“David! I’m Clint Brewer,” Patrick’s father said, holding a hand out for David to shake. David shifted his bag over to the other arm and suffered the overly firm handshake Clint gave him.

“And I’m Marcy. David, thank you for calling us last night.”

“Of course.” He turned to Patrick. “I went by your apartment and packed some…” He panicked. Was knowing where Patrick kept his things a tell? I mean, it wasn’t a big apartment; he probably could have figured it out even if he wasn’t over there all the time. “Some stuff for you.”

Patrick gave him a fond look. “Thanks.”

David fixated on the least intimate thing in the bag. “I grabbed your phone charger, but then I wasn’t sure if you even have your phone.”

“Yeah, I have no idea where it is. Still in the car, probably, and who knows where that is.”

“Stevie is looking into it,” David said.

“Thank goodness Patrick has you, David,” Marcy said, holding her hands out for the bag, so David surrendered it to her.

David met Patrick’s eyes, and then quickly looked away. “I’m just trying to be a nice person, Mrs. Brewer.”

Patrick snorted, suppressing a laugh.

A doctor David hadn’t seen before breezed into the room and picked up Patrick’s chart. “How are we feeling today, Mr. Brewer?” he said as his eyes scanned over the chart.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Patrick muttered.

The doctor moved over toward Patrick’s injured side, forcing David to step out of the way. He watched with morbid fascination, unable to avert his eyes, as the doctor examined Patrick’s arm, then his side where presumably his broken ribs were. David caught a glimpse of terribly bruised skin under Patrick’s hospital gown, and he flinched. Pain was evident on Patrick’s face.

“No sign of infection; that’s what we are concerned with most with this kind of injury, so that’s a great sign,” the doctor said. He then checked Patrick’s pupils and asked him a few questions, making some notes before clicking his pen and putting it away. “Did they explain the surgery to you yesterday, Mr. Brewer?”

Patrick nodded. “Sure. That it had to be done quickly to prevent infection.”

“Right. We did what’s called an open reduction and internal fixation in this case. Metal rods were inserted which will allow your bone to fully heal.”

“Metal rods?” David asked, and then worried about how worried he sounded. Business partners shouldn’t sound so worried, he thought.

“How about that, you’ll get to set off the machine every time you fly,” Clint said, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s routine,” the surgeon said, putting Patrick’s chart back on its hook. “If you continue to show no sign of infection tomorrow and the wound is healing well, we’ll go ahead and put a cast on it so that you’ll be able to move more freely.”

“Am I going to regain full use of my arm? I play baseball and—”

“And guitar,” David interjected, his stomach queasy at the idea that Patrick might never be able to play again.

The surgeon smiled. “Well, you’ll definitely be on the disabled list for the rest of the season, but there’s no reason that with a little bit of rehab you won’t be able to do everything you’re used to doing after a few months.” He gave Patrick a corny thumbs-up gesture. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “How much longer before I can go home?”

“Well, that’s for the attending physician to decide, but I’d say tomorrow is a distinct possibility.”

“Thank you so much,” Marcy said as the surgeon gave them a wave and rushed out of the room as quickly as he’d rushed in.

David wasn’t sure what to do. There was no reason for him to stay now that he’d delivered Patrick’s belongings, and if he did stay, Patrick’s parents would probably wonder why.

“Is the store closed?” Patrick asked him. He had dark circles under bloodshot eyes, David noticed. He could probably use some more sleep.

“No, Alexis and Stevie are there,” David said.

“That’s your sister, and…” Clint asked.

“And my best friend.”

“Well, it’s very nice of them to help out,” Marcy said.

“Yeah.” David fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. “So I should go…”

“Do you have a hotel booked here in Elmdale?” Patrick asked his father.

“Not yet; we came straight here. I guess we need to find a place before we collapse,” Clint replied.

“Actually, I had an idea,” Marcy said, “if you don’t mind, sweetheart.”

“What?” Patrick asked.

“One thing you’re going to need when you get out of the hospital is food that’s easy to heat up. I was thinking we could stay at your apartment and I could use the kitchen to make you some meals and fill up your freezer before you get home.”

“Mom, you don’t have to do that—”

“Patrick, I want to. There isn’t a lot we can do to help, but I can at least do that.”

Patrick looked at David, and all David could do was shrug. It sounded like a good idea, actually, but he could also think of a few reasons why Patrick wouldn’t necessarily want his parents spending time unsupervised in his apartment.

“I can take them to your place, and… straighten things up.” David said, looking at Patrick pointedly to make sure he understood his meaning.

“Oh, we don’t care how messy it is,” Marcy said. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

“No, that’s a good idea,” Patrick said.

“It’s no trouble,” David added. “It’s on my way back to work. You can follow me in your car.”

“Thanks, David,” Clint said, clapping him on the back.

“Is there anything else we can do for you this morning, sweetheart?” Marcy was still at Patrick’s side, stroking his hair. David felt a stab of jealousy that he couldn’t stroke Patrick’s hair right now. Or kiss him.

“No, I’m good. I’m just going to get some more sleep, I think,” Patrick said.

“I… um… brought the afghan from your apartment.” David gestured toward the duffel. He wanted to spread it over Patrick’s legs, to tuck him in securely, but instead he stood to the side and watched Patrick’s mother doing it. Then he had to settle for a little wave as the three of them left Patrick’s hospital room.

“I’m just going to run to the restroom before we go,” David said, already pulling out his phone before he’d cleared the door to the men’s room.

911, he texted to Stevie. Need you to go to Patrick’s apartment and remove any evidence of our relationship IMMEDIATELY. There’s a spare key in the top drawer of the desk in the back of the store.

Stevie: why?

David: I’m bringing the Brewers over there. We’ll be there in 40 minutes.

Stevie: check. what should i be on the lookout for?

David: Photos, mainly. And there’s a shelf with some of my clothes on it.

He groaned to himself and then added, Make sure we didn’t leave lube out anywhere. Like the bedside table or on the floor next to the bed.

Stevie: gross. if I have to pick up a used condom, you’re going to pay.

David: What kind of animal do you think I am??? Although maybe also empty the trash. Thanks, I owe you.

She didn’t respond to that, but he’d have to assume she’d get the job done.

Stevie dispatched on her errand of subterfuge, he returned to find the Brewers in the lobby. “I’ll be driving an enormous black boat of a car; you can’t miss it,” David said to them as they walked out into the sunshine.

Once they were on the road, David’s attention bounced from the road to his speedometer to his rearview, making sure the Brewers were still behind him. By the time they got to Patrick’s apartment building, he was a tight ball of tension.

He had a text from Stevie waiting for him when he picked his phone up and looked at it. mission accomplished. who needs that many kinds of lube? im mentally scarred and also very curious.

“This seems like a nice neighborhood,” Marcy said, looking around.

David thought about the recycling bin he’d seen a couple of times outside the building that was full to overflowing with liquor bottles, and about the couple downstairs who had screaming fights on Saturday nights, but didn’t think either of those were anecdotes he should tell, particularly because they would indicate how much time David had spent in Patrick’s apartment already. Instead he just agreed noncommittally as he led them up the stairs.

It was only as he stuck his key in the lock that he realized that having Patrick’s spare key was one thing, but having it on his key ring with his keys to the store and his room key at the motel was quite another. He winced as he opened the door, hoping they hadn’t noticed.

“So this is Patrick’s place,” he said unnecessarily, his eyes straying to the mantel and then to the desk. Stevie had done her job — the photos of him were gone. His eyes raked over the shelving next to the bed and zeroed in on the shelf where he’d had a couple of sweaters and a pair of jeans. It was empty.

“It’s not very big, is it?” Clint laughed. “But Patrick never has been someone who kept a lot of things.”

David wanted to agree vehemently — the only reason the apartment didn’t look much more spartan was David’s influence — but he bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “So here’s the key,” he said, unclipping it from his keyring and handing it over. So much for not drawing attention to his key ring, he thought. “There’s a grocery store, Brebner’s, that’s not far away. And you can get fresh produce at our store,” he added, which made Marcy’s eyes light up. “I should change the sheets for you,” he said, turning to the bed.

“We can do that, David. You don’t have to trouble yourself.”

“Nope! It’s no trouble,” he said, and he knew he sounded manic, but there was no way on God’s green Earth he was going to let Patrick’s mother touch the sheets that were currently on Patrick’s bed. “I help my friend Stevie change sheets at the motel sometimes,” he said as he quickly stripped the bed. “I’m very good at it.”

“Oh, Patrick mentioned the open mic nights,” Clint said, pointing at the framed poster on the wall. “Did you know he used to play at an open mic night in high school?”

David finished stuffing the dirty sheets into the hamper and grabbed a clean set from the shelf. “Mm hmm, he mentioned that.”

“I’m glad he’s picked it back up. I think he’d stopped playing guitar for a while before things ended with—” Marcy stopped herself, like it just occurred to her that she maybe shouldn’t be gossiping about her son’s past love life with his business partner.

“Rachel?” David supplied as he stretched the fitted sheet out over the mattress. Marcy came over and grabbed the other side, looking relieved.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew about that,” she said, putting her corners of the sheet on as David did the same on the other side.

He nodded, remembering the worst week of the last year (until this one). “I do.” Then felt like he needed to explain knowing it. “All those hours of working together, you end up telling each other things.” Although not, apparently, that he isn’t out to his parents, David’s brain supplied.

“Thanks for all your help today, David,” Clint said. “We really do appreciate it.”

David stifled a wince and nodded, trying to approximate a smile.

~*~

“Marcy, you don’t have to start cooking right this minute,” Clint said once they had the groceries unpacked. “You’ve barely slept in the last 36 hours.”

“I want to at least get a lasagna put together,” she said, organizing the ingredients for her meat sauce on the counter and then opening cabinets, looking for an appropriate saute pan.

“Well,” Clint said with a sigh, “give me the garlic and onion and I’ll prep them for you.”

Marcy fiddled with the knobs on Patrick’s stove until she had the correct burner heating up. “His store certainly was beautiful,” she said, thinking back to their brief visit that afternoon. “I never imagined that Patrick could put something like that together.”

“Well, he did tell us that he mainly handled the financial side of things, so I suppose the look of the place is down to David.”

“I guess that’s true.” She unwrapped the package of ground beef, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“He’s going to be okay, honey,” Clint said. “Don’t worry.”

She laughed. “Don’t tell a mother not to worry, Clint Brewer.”

She put the ground beef into the hot pan and began breaking it up with a spatula.

“I’ll tell you another thing,” Clint said. “I think David might have a crush on our son.”

Marcy frowned at him. “You know, it’s not okay to assume someone is gay just because they’re… you know. Effeminate.”

“It’s not that.” Off his wife’s skeptical look, he conceded, “Okay, it’s not just that. It’s the way he looks at Patrick. You didn’t see the way David looked at our son?”

Marcy blinked, trying to remember. She’d been so focused on Patrick, she’d barely looked at David while they were in the hospital room with him. “I guess I didn’t.”

“Well, I think there are some unrequited feelings there,” Clint said.

She mulled that over while she continued to put her meat sauce together. It wouldn’t be good for their business relationship if what Clint said was true. She wondered if Patrick knew, and if so if it made their relationship awkward. David seemed like a respectful person; surely he wouldn’t do anything to make Patrick uncomfortable at work.

Marcy was still worrying about it when she was brushing her teeth in the bathroom that night, beyond exhausted and ready to collapse into bed. She wasn’t sure what impulse made her reach out and open Patrick’s medicine cabinet.

“Hasn’t Patrick been saying he wasn’t seeing anyone?” she asked Clint as she got into bed next to him.

He was already half-asleep. “Yeah.”

“Well, he’s got a mostly empty box of condoms in his medicine cabinet,” she said.

“Marcy, you shouldn’t snoop.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You didn’t mean to open his medicine cabinet?” he yawned.

“It’s a big box.”

“Marcy.”

“Okay, sorry.” She curled up on her side.

“Maybe he hasn’t had any relationships serious enough to tell us about,” Clint reasoned.

She didn’t want to have to think about her son that way, having casual, meaningless sex instead of a real relationship. That wasn’t what she wanted for him. It was why she’d encouraged him to patch things up with Rachel in the past. And while she now believed Patrick when he said things were really over between them, she still hoped he would find someone else who would love him the way he deserved to be loved. All night as she slept, her hopes and worries for her son monopolized her dreams.

Chapter 3

#schitt's creek #schitt's creek fic #schitt's creek ff #david x patrick #david x patrick ff #david x patrick fic #my fic

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scaredofthebasement-blog · 6 years ago

Text

When Love Walks In - Chpt 1

Chapter One - The Accident

(Hi there. This is my first fanfiction and writing of any kind really. I’ve been inspired by those writers who have gone before me. Thank you for your incredible efforts, talent and bravery. This will be a multi-chapter love story and work of pure fiction using Auston Matthews as the inspiration for the main character of the same name and Dr Quinn Tolpa as a character I created myself. I’ve purposely refrained from describing the appearance of the female lead character, Dr Quinn, as I want you to imagine her as you see her in your mind. Also, please keep in mind that I am in no way knowledgable about the medical profession and have based any medical references on my own minor research. So please forgive any inaccuracies. Potential triggers: Life-threatening hockey accident involving the throat. Coma. Surgery. Ventilator. Some swear words. I will mark when Sex/Smut Scenes are coming up. I hope you enjoy the ride. It’s going to be a good one and worth getting past the setup chapters.) 3389 words

Chapter One - The Accident

It is late in the third period of a tied Game 7 of the 2024/25 Stanley Cup finals between the Toronto Maple Leafs, and the New Jersey Devils when 27-year-old Auston Matthews of the Leafs, takes a puck, from the Devils’ defence, squarely to his throat.

The Toronto home crowd falls eerily silent and holds a collective, horrified breath. You can tell that the Leaf players on the ice are not aware that the puck hit Auston directly in the throat. As the whistle blows, the Leafs’ trainers and medical staff rush to help Auston, who is thrashing in pain on the ice. Everyone now has a chance to look up at the replay on the JumboTron. The mouths of Auston’s teammates and coaches drop in unison along with the crowd, followed by audible gasps of, “My God!”

As soon as the trainers can get to Auston, he manages to stand up but then immediately collapses into unconsciousness. The capacity crowd’s screams echo throughout the arena at the drama of it all. As everyone watches, four of Auston’s teammates rush to pick up their friend and get him to the Leafs’ medical room as quickly as possible.

What is sure at this point, is that Auston’s airway has been cut off from the impact of the shot to his Larynx. He is unconscious and not breathing as he lays on the treatment table in the dressing room. An emergency Tracheotomy is performed on-site by the team’s medical doctor, to get Auston breathing again.

Auston is still unconscious, but breathing with the help of the Thrach, oxygen supply and EMS, as he is rushed by ambulance to Mount Sinai Hospital for life-saving surgery.

Auston’s parents, Brian and Ema and his two sisters, Alexandria (older) and Breyana (younger), manage to get down to the Leafs’ dressing room within minutes of the accident and are ushered straightaway to a police car which escorts them to join up with Auston at the hospital. Upon their arrival, Auston’s parents are signing releases and authorizations on behalf of their son, for the hospital medical staff.

A still unconscious Auston arrives at the Emergency Department of Mount Sinai Hospital, with Leafs’ medical staff in tow, to a team of surgeons and medical staff awaiting his arrival. They immediately usher Auston, via stretcher, into an exam room where what remains of his hockey equipment is cut off. They first ensure that Auston’s airway is maintained. The staff take Auston’s vitals along with scans and a full body assessment. Since it is immediately clear that Auston is suffering from a crushed Larynx and likely vocal cord damage, the doctors on duty, without hesitation, summon Dr Quinn Tolpa.

Dr Quinn, as she prefers to be called, lives in a high rise condo located within 10 minutes of the hospital. It’s around 10 pm, and she has just returned home from a late Pilate’s class and subsequent shower. As she thinks to go turn on the TV to see if the City is going to erupt any time soon by the Leafs winning the Stanley Cup for the first time in over 50 years, her pager goes off. The message reads, Paging Dr Quinn Tolpa, Medical Emergency, Laryngeal Trauma, etc., Theatre 3, M.S.H, time 10:03. She replies, texting her ETA and hurries to change her clothes, feeling relieved that she already showered at the gym. She rushes to her car in the parking garage and begins to wonder about road conditions. If the Leafs have already won the Cup, then she will be in trouble as the traffic will be insane. As she drives out of the garage, she sees it is quiet on the streets, almost eerily quiet.

In little time, Dr Quinn arrives on-site and starts getting into her scrubs in the room attached to Theatre 3. The other doctors and medical staff greet her and thank her for coming so quickly.

“We have ourselves a VIP of sorts in there, Dr Quinn, so no pressure”, an attending doctor jokes nervously to ease the tension.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, what?” Quinn replies, confused as she starts to prep.

Realizing there is no time to get into who the patient is, the attending physician replies, “Not important, Dr Quinn. NHL hockey player is all.” He begins briefing her on what transpired and his assessment.

Dr Quinn has just finished scrubbing up when the doctor completes his briefing. She has a few questions for the doctor and medical staff about Auston’s vitals and how he is responding to treatments already given, which they answer to her satisfaction.

She takes a look at Auston’s scan results as well as the results from his standard tests and then moves over to where he lays on the operating table. She quickly runs her own physical evaluation. All indications are that Auston’s Larynx has been severely crushed and will need intricate repair before the bleeding stops. She will address his airway, breathing and collapsed lung to get him stabilized.

The attending doctor notes, “We understand he was about 4 feet from the player who fired the puck.”

Dr Quinn is shocked by the image that races across her mind. “Four feet away! Dear Lord!” She draws in a deep breath and exhales.

All the medical support staff have eyes on Dr Quinn as they assume their positions. Taking command of the room, she rallies, “Okay, everyone, let’s save this young man’s life.”

After 2 hours of her expert, delicate and intricate surgery, Auston is in stable condition. It is time for her to speak with his family. But before Dr Quinn can find them, the other doctor pulls her aside to explain who, precisely, this patient is that she just finished operating on.

“Auston Matthews?” She repeats as a question. She has heard the name before but had never paid much attention as she had been focused intensely on her career over the last number of years. But, having been born and raised in the City of Toronto, she, of course, knows who the Leafs are and how important they are to the City. She also knows that the Leafs were playing in the final game of the Stanley Cup playoffs because, unless you live under a rock, no one in the City could be unaware of that fact.

Dr Quinn is a bit embarrassed to be a Torontonian at this moment; not knowing much about the City’s esteemed hockey superstar who she has just helped. She has to remind herself that during the past nine years of her life, she did not have the luxury of dividing her time and energy to much outside of her education and career. Becoming a Medical Doctor, surgeon and then rising through the ranks at breakneck speed to become Canada’s youngest specialist in the field of Otolaryngology-Head and Neck Surgery as well as an internationally recognised leader in the field of vocal cord reconstruction had been her focus and a huge one at that.

Dr Quinn walks towards the ‘family quiet room’ where she’s told Auston’s family are waiting. She taps on the door, and it is opened by a tall, broad-shouldered man who Dr Quinn assumes to be Auston’s father. There are three women in the room whom she believes to be Auston’s mother and sisters, as well as a few men wearing Leafs’ jackets whom she guesses are from the Leafs’ organization. There is no escaping that they are all torn apart by Auston’s accident. Their wet, swollen eyes and red faces reflect their intense pain and fear. Dr Quinn’s heart sinks to see them all in such distress. She wants desperately to reassure them.

“Hello, my name is Dr Quinn Tolpa, please call me Dr Quinn. I just performed surgery on Auston”, she announces as she reaches her hand out to shake hands with and learn the names of the loved ones of her newest patient.

“He’s in stable condition right now, and staff are currently transferring him to the Intensive Care Unit on the 4th floor. The 2-hour surgery included completing a Tracheostomy and hooking him up to a Ventilator. A cuffed tube was inserted and inflated to make sure that the only air in his throat is coming from the Ventilator, which will allow Auston’s throat and Larynx to heal without interference. I repaired Auston’s Larynx. I also drained blood from his lungs as it had caused one of his lungs to collapse.”

There is a burst of relief, followed by a lot of ‘thanks to God’. They hug each other and sob in relief.

Dr Quinn continues, “I understand how scary this all must be for you. Please know that Auston is in the best possible place given his type of injury and that we will do everything within our power to help Auston make as full a recovery as possible. I can tell you that the surgery was successful in repairing his damaged Larynx and in doing so, we removed the obstruction from his airway and stopped the bleeding. While Auston is in a stable state right now, that is not of his own doing. We have him on a Ventilator and have placed him in a medically induced Coma, which is giving him a chance to heal his Larynx and vocal cords as well as to stave off any brain damage. We can’t rule out brain damage or a concussion since he stopped receiving oxygen for a time at the arena and he hit his head on the ice after he passed out. He is going to stay in the induced Coma for at least five days, and at such time we will be able to assess his progress and alleviate any further issues he may present.”

“I know I’m overloading you with information right now but want you to know where things stand at the moment and what to expect in the next little while where Auston’s concerned. Since I will be Auston’s attending medical specialist, please know that you can consult with me on his condition at any time. I am perfectly happy to repeat any of this information back to you, so don’t hesitate to ask me any questions you may have. Here is my card with my contact information. Day or night, please know that I am here for you all.” Dr Quinn reassures them as she hands each of them her card.

Dr Quinn continues, “Okay, so specifically, we diagnosed Auston with Laryngeal Trauma, which means a crushed Larynx, which I understand was caused by a puck hitting his throat at high speed and close range. The priority was to secure his airway, which was done by the Leafs’ medical staff at the arena by performing a crude Tracheotomy. By accounts, it appears that this procedure was done within the time limits to avoid brain damage, but we will not know for certain until Auston regains consciousness. When Auston arrived here, we ran scans, X-rays, tests and assessments to determine the extent of the damage to his Larynx. His Larynx was so badly crushed it was by far the most challenging surgical repair of fractured and internal lacerations I have ever had to make, but I’m pleased with how well it went.”

“Also, in 5 days, I expect to perform what is called a Microlaryngoscopy and Bronchoscopy, in order to re-assess the healing process and attend to any issues that may present themselves by that time. If all goes well then, Auston should be cleared to be woken from his Coma. At that time, we will have him on complete voice rest until he can breathe on his own and his airway heals. Also, we should be able to evaluate any brain damage, concussion symptoms, how well or not his vocal cords are mending and whether he has any diminished breathing abilities or difficulties swallowing”, she explains.

Now she has to tell them what they need to know but will scare the hell out of them. “Since vocal cords are next to the Larynx and Auston’s are severely crushed, there is a chance that they will not be able to join together as they heal, which will cause Auston to have trouble speaking. But, I want you to know that I have been heading a team that has been pioneering research in the area of vocal cord rejuvenation and there is a new technique that we have developed that is providing a chance where there was none previously. If it comes down to that, I want you to know there is some hope. Results of applying this new technique have proven to be highly successful in trials. It is ground-breaking, and I want you to know about it as it has been my primary objective to find a way to bring hope to patients who previously had none in such cases. Oh, and last thing, Auston’s collapsed lung should recover in a couple of days and is common when there is bleeding from trauma to the Larynx. We will, of course, monitor Auston for everything”, Dr Quinn draws in a deep breath and waits a moment for a response.

“Can we see him now?” They plead in unison.

Relieved that they seem to have accepted what she just told them, she answers, “Yes, I’ll take you up in a moment. You can stay in the room with Auston, day and night. You can sleep in the reclining chairs in the room. Unfortunately, there are only two reclining chairs that will fit in the space, but they are more comfy and supportive than you might expect. I believe it is of great importance that family be able to stay with their loved ones overnight and get as good a sleep as possible. Families provide love and support, which is essential in speeding up the healing process. Being close to the patient also gives families some measure of control in an often uncontrollable situation. We have pillows and blankets, so please ask the nurse.”

“Doctor? When my son is in Coma, can he hear me?” Auston’s mother asks hopefully in her broken English.

“Mrs Matthews, I am sorry that he will not be able to understand what you say since a medically induced coma is a deep state of unconsciousness, leaving the sounds with no consciousness to reach. However, please do not let that deter you from talking, singing or reading to Auston. There have been claims that other senses are at work that pick up on vibrations, energy etc. and may subconsciously bring peace and comfort to your boy. It can also be comforting to you as well”, Dr Quinn explains with compassion that the family can feel.

“If you would like to follow me, I can take you upstairs to Intensive Care now.” Dr Quinn leads the group to the elevator and up to the 4th floor. Everyone is silent as they all try to process the information they have just received.

“Please stay in the waiting room for one moment while I confirm that things are ready”, She asks the group as she heads into the Intensive Care Unit.

Auston’s family is too worked up to sit down, so they stand there while the team staff members take a seat as they plan to give the family privacy to visit Auston and make their update calls to Leafs’ management.

“Hi, Angels? How’s it going with our patient, Mr Matthews?” Dr Quinn asks the two attending nurses, Nicole and Kelly.

“He’s all set up Dr Quinn,” Nicole informs.

“Doctor, are you aware that this is Auston Matthews? You know, the superstar hockey player that plays for the Leafs?” Kelly asks.

“Yeah, that’s what they tell me. Auston was playing in the Stanley Cup final game and got a puck to the throat”, Dr Quinn shivers as she reacts to her own words. “Poor guy, eh? Hey, do you know if the Leafs ended up winning?” She asks.

“No, we haven’t heard anything. It’s been pretty busy in here tonight”, both nurses chime in.

Dr Quinn adds, “Well, I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. I don’t know what to hope for because if the team won, then Auston missed out and if the team lost, then he’ll be devastated and so will the City. What a no-win situation. In any event, I’m going to get Auston’s family now. They are lovely people. Afterwards, I will get the attending doctor up to speed and fill out some paperwork. Any questions before I go?”

“No, we read the file and know what to do. Should be fine Dr Quinn”, the nurses confirm with confidence.

“Okay, good. I’ll go get the family”, Dr Quinn announces.

“Thanks, Doctor”, the nurses replied.

“Thank you, Angels!” Quinn adds, as she always does, to show her appreciation for all they do. “Ha, so I guess you’re Auston’s Angels now ladies”, she jokes to lighten the mood, and they chuckle.

Dr Quinn returns to Auston’s waiting family and announces that the room and Auston are ready for them.

“I just want to give you a heads up that Auston is hooked up to some large machines to help him breathe, monitor his vitals, give him his fluids and administer his medications. Please don’t be alarmed as this is all normal procedure in such cases”, Dr Quinn informs them.

“Thank you, Dr Quinn, from the bottom of our hearts for everything you have done and will do for our boy”, Auston’s father says as his voice drips with emotion. The rest of the family mumble the same, sniffling as they each take turns hugging Quinn tight, trying to convey their appreciation.

“Please call us by our first names, Dr Quinn. We are family now”, Ema insists.

“Sure. I’m happy to be able to help. Please follow me”, Dr Quinn instructs as she leads them towards Auston’s room.

The family pass in front of Dr Quinn to get to Auston’s bed. Quiet gasps and sobs from the group mingle with the pulse and hiss of the breathing machine keeping Auston alive. Ema hugs and kisses her son, crying she tells him in Spanish that she doesn’t know what she’ll do if he doesn’t pull through. Brian, standing behind Ema with his hand on her back has tears pouring down his devastated, hand covered face. Alex and Bre approach Auston from the other side of the bed, youngest wrapped in the arm of the oldest. Standing next to their brother, they take hold of his hand and wipe tears from their red cheeks. As they gasp for air, they tell Auston they love him, know he will triumph over this like he does everything and that he is the best brother ever.

Dr Quinn tries to remain stoic. After making sure everyone is okay and settled, she excuses herself from the room and heads over to the Intensive Care station to speak to the attending doctor, finish up some paperwork and make some calls. Then she hears it.

“They lost!” one of the nurses announces loudly.

Dr Quinn rushes over to the nurse standing about 5 feet from her, to explain the situation and ask her to please keep the news to herself.

Although the news crushes Dr Quinn, she also has a strong feeling wash over her that it will all be okay in the end. She has no idea why she feels this way, but it calms her entire being.

Dr Quinn informs Auston’s family that she is going home to get some sleep as she has worked 13 hours in the last 24 hour period. She introduces them to the attending Doctor, Dr Higgins and reassures them that she is merely a phone call away if they need to speak to her before her 9 am return.

Dr Quinn returns to her condo. She knows this upcoming week will be a trying one for her, Auston’s family and the City of Toronto. Tired, Dr Quinn rests in the knowledge that her hard work and studies might be able to turn this tragic situation into a positive outcome. She resolves that she is determined to do that for Auston, his family and the City of Toronto. She will be the Superstar that everyone needs right now. This is her chance to do what she has been training for her whole life. This is her Cup moment, so to speak.

#Auston Matthews #Auston Matthews Fanfiction #Auston Matthews Imagine #NHL fanfiction #NHL imagine #Love Story

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writingformadderton · 5 years ago

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River

Word Count: 2834

Warnings: self harm, mention of blood, slapping, mention of a panic attack

Summary: Normally people are happy during Christmas time, but not Richard and Taron. They both are on their own at Christmas for the first time in a while. Everything they see reminds them of the time they had together, the good and bad times. When they bump into each other by accident, both of them get thrown back in time and things get emotional.

Additional tags: self harm, mention of blood, crying, slapping, fluff, angst, hurt, christmas, therapy, fighting, mention of a panic attack

You wanted pain, angst, and sadness, well here it is. We hope you like this darker fic as well :) This fic is based on the song River by Joni Mitchell

Part 2

Taron is actually in a good mood today as he parks the car in front of the grocery store. Christmas is almost here, his favorite holiday. He pulls up the hood of his sweater and gets inside quickly, ignoring the cold completely. The snow has been falling elegantly for a few days now, coating everything in pure white beauty. He gets inside and grabs a basket; the Christmas lights warm his heart.

Richard steps out of the car and shivers, forcing his jacket closer to his body him. The snow is falling heavily, and everything is icy and wet. He steps into the store and sees the Christmas lights. It’s almost here. He thinks back to Taron, who always got excited at this time of year. He smiles, almost allowing himself to fall into a memory. But he catches himself and his smile disappears. Rich sighs and tries to push the thought away. “Don’t think about him.” He tells himself and grabs a basket.

Taron pulls at the sleeves of his jumper a bit, hiding the scars on his wrist and grabs a bottle of milk. Next to him, there is a couple holding hands and joking around. T smiles sadly and watches them. She stands on her toes and he lifts her up to share a small, but intimate kiss. Taron bites his lip and looks away, trying to force his mind to stay focused on the groceries. But all he can think about is standing on his toes, Richard lifting him up and kiss him with his soft lips. He misses when the holidays were full of fun and love like that.

Richard swallows hard when he sees this couple in front of him. He huffs quietly and rubs his face. What the hell was wrong today? Everywhere he goes, everything reminds him of when he was with Taron, the love and passion they shared. The holidays are gonna hurt this year. He starts walking faster and tries not to look at the couple while walking past them. All of his past memories threatening to flood his mind.

Taron looks at the floor and starts walking. He needs to get away from here. But his hurried nature caused him to bump into someone, the force almost making them both fall over. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” He speaks and then looks up at the stranger. But he stares into a pair of deep blue eyes he knew all too well and swallows hard. They belonged to the man he planned to spend the rest of his life with. “Richard…”

Rich stands in complete shock and looks into the blueish green puppy eyes that once meant everything to him. “…Taron.”

Taron takes a deep breath and rubs his neck. Come on, say something. His mouth opens, but the words are trapped in his throat. He looks at Richard and thinks back to the good days and all the beautiful moments they had. They were so naive.

“Taron, stop!” Richard giggles and tries to stop him from jumping on their king bed. It started snowing outside and now Taron was giddy like a schoolgirl who got asked to prom. Christmas time was his favorite.

“No!” he chuckles and watches his boyfriend getting onto the bed as well.

Richard grabs him by the waist and pulls him close. “You’re only gonna hurt yourself.” he whispers and kisses him softly.

T pulls him down onto the mattress and kisses him passionately. “You’re adorable.” he breathes out and wraps his legs around Richard to keep him close. His fingers run through Richards curls, playing with his signature grey streak.

“Not as adorable as you are.” Rich whispers and looks down at him, his soft blue eyes shining with joy.

“I can’t imagine my future without you anymore. You’ve shown me what it means to be loved. With you, I’m a better person.” Taron tells him and softly strokes over his cheek, staring deeply into those beautiful blue eyes. He could get lost in them for days.

Richard smiles softly and shakes his head. “You are amazing, love.”

“Can you promise me something, Richie?” he asks and kisses him softly. Richard nods and looks at him curiously. Taron’s voice lowers and his whole face softens. He becomes vulnerable within a split second. “Please tell me that nothing will ever tear us apart.” He whispers.

Rich tangles his fingers in Taron’s fluffy hair and sinks into a deep kiss. “I promise.”

T sighs relieved and stares up at the ceiling to look at the Christmas lights hanging. He closes his eyes, happiness filling his body. He kisses his beautiful boyfriend sweetly.

Richard feels his palms getting sweaty and his mind races. Seeing Taron right here in front of him, after all this time, feels like somebody hit him in the face. All of the things he’s seen today that reminded him of the very man in front of him now. He should’ve known. He thinks back to their last Christmas together a year ago. He feels a sadness take over his body as the moment plays back in his brain.

“Taron, stop!” Richard says and holds his hands up, trying to calm him down.

“No!” Taron says and holds the razor in his hand tighter. He walks backwards, away from Richard, and bumps into the cold wall behind him.

“You’re only gonna hurt yourself.” Richard speaks with worry in his voice. He walks towards him slowly and reaches one hand out for it. Taron shakes his head and fights back his anger, yet tears still sting his eyes. “You’re bleeding on the floor! Stop this now and give it to me.”

Taron looks at the new cuts on his wrists and swallows hard when he looks down at the floor, a trail of blood leading to the bathroom. “Stop trying to fix me.” he chokes out and throws the razor into the sink. He silently accepts defeat, but is still on edge. “You’re bloody annoying and keep on telling me what to do and what not to do. Just go.” he spits out, venom coating his tone.

Richard stands there, tears fill his eyes and he bites his lip. “Taron-.”

“Richard, please.” Taron says and sinks down onto the bathroom floor shaking. Tears stream down his face and he feels anger and sadness boiling up in him. As much as his own words hurt the love of his life, they burn his throat as they left his lips.

Rich walks towards him and crouches down in front of him. “T, let me help.” he hesitantly places his hand on Taron’s knee and tries to comfort him.

Taron shakes his head and pushes him away. “Go.”

Richard looks at him observantly and realizes that Taron is serious. “If I walk through this door now, I’m not coming back.”

Taron groans in frustration. His nerves are shot and his impulses ready to go. “Stop talking for fucks sake!” he shouts and slaps Richard, hard. “Leave me alone. It’s over.”

Richard feels his cheek burning, but he ignores it instead. What hurts most is his shattered heart and the tears burning his eyes. He stands up without saying anything and leaves the apartment.

Richard never came back and Taron didn’t try to get him back. Rich didn’t know which hurt worse, just that he was in constant pain. He struggled majorly with dealing with it all, trying to heal himself. “How are you?” he asks, voice shaking slightly.

“I’m alright.” Taron says and tries to keep eye contact. “How’s about you? You look pretty good. Healthier.”

Richard nods slowly and bites back a laugh. Healthier. As if he was the one that struggled with himself and didn’t want to let anybody help. “I’m good. Therapy helped.” he says and bites his lower lip immediately, feeling regret in his bones. Why the hell did he confess this to Taron? He didn’t need to know. But he was once his everything, it felt natural to talk about his life.

“Therapy, huh? Well, I’m glad you’re better now.” Taron says and nods slowly, pressing his lips together. Hearing that Rich decided to get himself some help is refreshing, but stings Taron slightly knowing he was the cause.

Richard watches him observantly and sees the fresh cuts on his wrists. Rich feels his heartbeat increasing and takes a deep breath to calm himself. “Still doing it.” he speaks just above a whisper. Pictures of Taron cutting his arms open shuffle through his head. All the evenings he broke down crying after doing it, hidden in the bathroom. All the times he stopped him from doing it, wrapping him up in blankets, stopping the bleeding, and getting him away from the cold bathroom floor. He took care of Taron every time and even though it hurt to see him in this state, he did what was best for his boyfriend.

At first Taron doesn’t understand what he means, then he follows his look and sees the scars. “Well, those are your fault.” He says, a blank expression on his features as he keeps his eyes on him.

Richard looks at him, remaining silent and just stands completely still. Hearing this out of his ex-boyfriend’s mouth hurts. How dare he blame him for this? He pushed him away. He presses his lips together and feels his eyes filling with tears.

Taron looks at him and sees the pain in Richard’s eyes. The last time he saw it was the last time he saw Richard in general; after he hit him straight in the face and didn’t even regret it in the moment. Shame rises to the surface. He hurt his love again.

Rich blows the air out of his mouth and folds his arms in front of his chest, as if to protect himself from any more pain. “My fault.” The Scottish man nods slowly and raises his eyebrows. “Funny of you to say that when it was me who tried to stop you from doing it.” Taron shrugs his shoulders, not knowing what to say but not wanting to say anything at all. “It wasn’t me that broke up with you, Taron. Don’t blame me for that.” He chokes out and it feels like a weight lifted off his chest. He finally put it into words.

“Right, it was me, because this with us wasn’t good anymore.” Taron says. “For both of us.” He tries to clean up his statement.

“You know what isn’t good? That you didn’t realize that in the beginning and didn’t try to change something.” He speaks out and watches Taron carefully. His spirit is slowly breaking as this conversation continues. “Five years, Taron.”

Taron frowns and folds his arms in front of his chest. “Excuse me?”

“I cared for you, every damn day for five years. You hurt me over and over again, but I still stayed. I risked my fucking job by not taking any projects that would include working somewhere where I can’t take care of you. I promised you something and I knew I would keep it as long as possible.” Richard shakes his head in disbelief and rubs his face. “If I knew that you would just kick me out one day, I wouldn’t have stayed. What you did to me with that-.” Rich bites his lip as he feels his voice getting shakier and can barely see Taron through the cloudy tears. “You know how hard it was for me to open up to someone and you broke my trust with that stunt you pulled last Christmas.”

Taron swallows and holds back his own tears. He can’t stand to see Rich hurt again, not by his own doing. Against his own pride, he takes a step towards Richard and grabs his hand. “Richard, I did that because I realized my behavior was no good for you. And you…” Taron breathes and squeezes his hand. “Your pure soul trying to help me… it only fed it. I know I hurt you, but I had to do it. For both our sake.”

“After slapping me in the face you suddenly realized something’s wrong?” Richard laughs weakly and shakes his head. He pulls his hand back as if he burned himself. “After five years? That’s fucking ridiculous and you still didn’t change anything.”

Taron takes a step back and shakes his head. “I can’t. I don’t want to.”

“Yeah, figured that out as well.” Richard grabs his basket and prepares to walk away from him. If he stayed any longer, he’ll break down in the middle of the store. That was the last thing he needed Taron to see.

Taron grabs his arm, but lets go of it immediately afterwards. “I’m sorry, Rich. I know I hurt you.” He tries to talk to him, keep him around longer. He knows that once Richard leaves this store, he’ll be gone forever. He can’t risk that again.

“You didn’t just hurt me, Taron, you wrecked me.” Richard whispers and feels a single tear rolling down his cheek. He curses quietly at himself and wipes it away, pressing his lips together.

Taron bites his lip and stares into the sad blue eyes of his former lover. “I’m sorry, Richard. Please give me a chance to make it good again.”

Richard looks at him in shock. “What?”

“I miss you.” T admits and his voice sounds vulnerable. It was an impulsive move and he’ll regret it no matter what the answer is. But all he needed in this moment was his boyfriend back.

I miss you too, he thinks. “I…Taron you know we’re gonna fall for each other again and if you still hurt yourself, we’re gonna fall back in the old pattern.” Richard’s voice is shaking heavily now and he feels himself getting dizzy. This wasn’t how he planned this day to go.

“Please give me a chance, Richie.” T says and bites his lip when he the nickname leaves his lips. He gave Richard the name when they were together. “I’m gonna change.” The sentence burned his throat, he knew he couldn’t right now. And that’s what Richard deserves.

Rich takes a sharp breath. “Come to me when you’ve actually changed.” he says as he feels a tear rolling down his cheek. “I can’t do this right now.” He rambles and walks past Taron without saying goodbye. All that he needs is some fresh air, feeling suffocated in the store. As soon as he stands outside, he sucks in the cold air and rushes to his car. He sinks down onto his seat and buries his face in his shaking and sweaty hands. “Okay, easy.” He tells himself and fights the upcoming panic attack.

Taron stands still in the store and slowly walks to the entrance. His grocery items are the farthest things from his mind in this time. He pulls up the hood of his sweater again and walks outside. Tears are streaming down his face and he barely makes it to his car before breaking down sobbing.

A little while later, Taron sees his reflection in his bathroom mirror and shakes his head. “Don’t do it.” he says and his grip around the razor gets tighter. T turns around panting heavily and sees the spot where he sat and slapped Richard a year ago. He whines, frustrated, and throws the razor in the sink. “You fucking idiot!”

Richard plays with his hands nervously as he sits in the waiting room Susan sent him to. After a short while, he hears Thomas saying goodbye to his current patient. He talks to Susan and comes into the waiting room with a big smile on his face. “Richard, haven’t seen you in a while!”

Rich looks up and nods slowly. “Good to see you.”

Thomas walks up to him and watches him observantly. “You don’t look too good.”

Richard shakes his head and tries to control his shaking voice. “You have some time to talk? If you don’t, it’s okay. I know I should have called before, I….”

“Richard, your last appointment was four months ago because you were making positive progress. It’s okay to stop by when you need me. What happened?” His therapist looks at him concerned and leads him into his room. “I actually have a two-hour window until the next appointment. You came at the perfect time.”

Rich falls down into the seat and rubs his face, trying to hold back the tears. “I…something happened today. Something I was so afraid of.” His voice cracks while a single tear rolls down his face.

“You saw him again.” Thomas says slowly and Rich just nods, unable to say anything.

“I messed it up.” Rich chokes out and can’t hold back his tears anymore. He starts sobbing heavy and Thomas tells him to take his time.

Taron stares at the ceiling as he sits on the floor of his bedroom and lets his tears roll down his face. “I messed it up.”

@taruhnegerton @cheshirechan @dreamingwolfthings @onceuponadetectivedemigod @primaba11erina @honkycrowley @guns-n-marvel @shereighties

#trigger warning #taron egerton #taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton fic #taron egerton fluff #Richard Madden #richard madden fic #richard madden fanfiction #taron x richard #self harm #madderton #madderton fic #madderton fanfiction #angst #therapy #Mention of blood #river #joni mitchell #christmas

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justjessame · 4 years ago

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A Reluctant Hero Chapter 12

JD left after accepting the job that came in as soon as he turned his phone back on, but not before yanking me to him and kissing me thoroughly. A tiny nip to my bottom lip, the dark hungry look still in his eyes, promising me he’d see me soon, he was gone. I shook my head and swallowed down the rush of lust that he’d created with a single fucking kiss, and tried to decide if food or work would be my first course of action.

Kelsey found me in the kitchen, having seen her dad leaving she decided to come see if I was still capable of speech, or movement, I thought as I caught her smirking. “What?” I asked, pulling out the ingredients for French toast. “Hungry?”

“Looks like Dad had you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” she offered, her smirk growing into a full blown smile. “Seriously, you have a little-” she gestured to her own neck and I felt my eyes widen. He hadn’t.

I turned my head and tossed my hair back as I studied my neck in the reflection of the microwave glass door, and sure enough, a bite mark. Shit. I groaned and then glared when she laughed. “Not funny, Kelsey.” I pulled my hair back down, but then sighed as I looked at the ingredients in front of me. Hair hanging meant a greater chance of eating said hair by accident, fuck. I sighed and pulled it back and twisted it into a knot as I pulled open the junk drawer and grabbed a hair tie. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that he-” I was muttering, trying to flip through ALL the times we came together and remember the feeling of him BITING me, but nothing came. Nothing other than the flush caused by how good every time he touched me felt. Or the images of his body, naked and glistening with sweat as it hovered over mine. Fuck.

“You just went red, pale, and then let out a gasp,” she offered from the stool she was studying me from. “You want me to leave you alone to take care of whatever caused all that?”

I shot her another look and picked up the first egg. Cracking it with more force than necessary, I ignored her. Eggs, cinnamon, a hint of cream, vanilla, then thick slices of bread before adding each to the lightly buttered pan. “Grab the powdered sugar, syrup, and I think there’s some whipped cream in the fridge-”

“You didn’t use that with-” I groaned out loud at the very idea that my best friend kept mentioning the sex she was insinuating I’d had with her own father. “Joking, Ani, God get a grip.”

“Let’s never, ever, ever discuss YOUR dad and me-”

“Screwing like rabbits?” She offered, which earned her another sharp look. “Fine, but I’m your closest friend, so if not me, then who?”

JD called a few hours after Kelsey had tortured me to her heart’s content. He was elbows deep in a case, but he wanted to hear my voice. After reminding me of all the ways he liked to hear my voice, he sighed and said he had to go. My answering sigh was met with a low chuckle and he promised me that he was just as eager to see and hear me in person as soon as possible.

I had gone back to my desk, listening to the voicemails from the calls I’d missed while we were ‘occupied’, I rolled my eyes at Roger’s insistence that he wanted to speak to me again. Hearing my dad sound irritated that Pandi was down, and that I’d closed the loopholes for him to backdoor his way into the AI’s system. I knew I’d have to call him back, but work called to me.

Getting lost in the story I’d been working on, I ignored the reminder that Roger had shown up at my house AGAIN while JD and I were locked in our own bubble. I took heart in knowing that he hadn’t been able to breach my security, but it was annoying regardless. Pandi broke through as I fell into a world of my own creation, telling me that once again, Roger was on my doorstep.

Asking for the intercom, I kept typing as I spoke. “If you don’t remove your lying, cheating ass from my property, Roger, I will be forced to electrify the door, the porch, and the fucking pathway. While seeing you flail around as current flows through your sorry ass would amuse me, I hear the paperwork for such shit is enormous and a pain in the ass to fill out, so kindly fuck off.”

“Ani, come on, you know that you can’t throw away what we had.” He was pleading, while trying to make it sound seductive and alluring. I snorted. “Do you really think that JD Richter, hero at large, is gonna be happy with you after screwing a hybrid astronaut?” Nice, first try to remind me of how ‘good’ we had it, then insult me. “I mean, have you SEEN Molly Woods?” Even better, show that you’d fuck her, you more moron.

“Roger, what we had was at best temporary insanity for me, at worst it showed how fucking desperate I was for sex with something not battery powered.” Take that, you tasteless prick. “As for JD and his past? I have seen Molly Woods, and he and I have talked about her.” Again, what did he think, I just randomly hump hot men? “He seemed pretty fucking happy after we spent almost 24 hours locked in MY house, which again, I want you to walk away from. This is your last warning, Roger. Leave now, never darken my fucking door again, or ZAP.” I hadn’t stopped writing, multitasking wasn’t only something JD excelled in.

“Fine, but don’t call me when your little rebound implodes.” I truly snorted so hard I had to stop typing. Shit, honestly? “I mean it, I’m moving on-”

“With the coed?” I offered, through giggles that the snort had turned into. “Great, let me know where you register. I won’t buy you a wedding gift, but fuck if I won’t laugh at the teething toys she picks out for playtime.” With that parting shot, I told Pandi to turn off the intercom, but watched the camera to make sure he flounced off, and hoped that he’d go asshole over head again so I could keep the good times rolling. Sadly he didn’t fall down, he shot the camera a glare and then walked calmly to his car. I sighed and wondered if he would stay fucking gone this time.

I answered my dad’s call as I was making breakfast the next morning. I could hear his frustration in just the ringing of the phone, but the heaviness of it in his tone caused another eye roll.

“Dad,” I cut him off before he could gain steam at how irresponsible it was to ignore the world, meaning him clearly, for whatever idiotic reason I could have had. “I wanted, no I needed, time alone.” With JD, and his naked body, and fuck, where was I? “I don’t know what the big deal is, we used to ‘unplug’ every weekend when we went camping.”

“Yes, but then I had you in my sight and I could keep you-” I heard him huff an exaggerated sigh. “Anilea, you have to understand that you’re my little girl. No matter how old you get, no matter how independent you are, you’re still my daughter.”

“I understand that,” I sat down with my full breakfast and put him on speakerphone. “But you have to get that I AM an adult, Dad. Putting surveillance software on my AI, or GPS trackers on my car, or any of the other ‘protective’ measures you want to take is stifling. Trust that you raised me to be careful, please?”

“Roger-” he started, and I groaned. “You have to admit, Ani, he’s not the first in a long line of assholes that took advantage of you. He lived in your house, ate food you bought and prepared, paid no bills, and I’d bet money that you even bought him things he mentioned he liked.” So? I like to give people gifts, and what better gifts than things I knew they wanted? “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be generous. Kelsey is a case in point, she’s good people.” He’d met Kelsey during one of his visits to the house and took to her immediately. “But men? You have a bad track record. Think of Jason-”

“I’d rather never think of Jason, Dad.” The fling, if you could call it that, that had made me blush when JD asked for more information about my past indiscretions. “Besides, that didn’t go that-”

“He had my name forged on the marriage license, Ani.” I shut my eyes at the memory of Jason Sallinger. A lab tech that worked under my dad, but was nearer his age than mine. Attractive, and predatory, I hadn’t known at sixteen men like him existed. At least not in my world. “If I hadn’t realized what was happening, I can’t even think of what would have happened.” We’d learned, as the police investigated Jason, that I wasn’t his first attempt at the con. And at least one of his past paramours was missing and had never been heard of after they eloped.

“You know that I’m more careful, Dad.” Now, I thought, I didn’t let anyone really know how deep my pockets were. How fast the wealth was that I’d earned through my own creativity, and through my inheritance from Mom. “Roger has no idea how much I’m worth.”

Dad sighed again. “Your house alone paints a picture, Ani. Your two vehicles, the trips you take that aren’t promotion related. And the books? For fuck’s sake, sweetie, you’re on every talk show every time another one is released. He knew enough. It’s why he can’t let go, or at least-”

“He showed up while the system was locked down.” Dad’s end went completely silent. “And he showed up a few hours after it went back up. I told him I planned on shocking him, literally, if he shows up again.”

“Ani, let me send the man I use to-” He took a deep breath and I could almost see him preparing to admit something he knew I’d find irritating. “Help keep you safe. He can check to be sure that Roger doesn’t have his own shit in place to watch you.”

I didn’t consider that Roger would do anything like that, but in a flash I realized that he might. Maybe not before I caught him, but now? Now he seemed desperate to keep me. I reluctantly agreed to his offer. Adding that I’d want this man to remove anything he found, which Dad said was the entire point, of course.

He promised to come with the man, hopefully later in the day, and I told him I’d make us an early dinner.

“Get the Scrabble board out,” he demanded, and I smiled. “It’s been too long since I trounced you at wordplay.”

“Good luck, old man,” I challenged, and hung up grinning from the return to normalcy.

Dad was true to his word, and with Kelsey beside me, we watched the two men, the stranger holding a device of some sort in his hand go inch by inch around the exterior of my house. Then, even though I protested that there wasn’t any way that Roger had planted anything in my house, they did a repeat performance to the interior. I was shocked when they found a few tiny gadgets inside to add to the small group they’d uncovered outside.

“This,” Dad told me as he held up one of them, “is MY GPS tracker from your car.” Nodding to show my understanding, he went on. “It’s going back on, Ani, because there were two others in the same car.” Wait, TWO? “One is no doubt Rogers, but the other one? Either he’s idiotic enough to double up, or someone else put it there.”

“I’d think it was him,” the other man offered. “There were two of everything we found. Close enough to make me think that he was using two simply to make sure he had a backup in case one failed.” He shook his head at the stupidity. “He’s not a rocket scientist, is he?”

“He teaches poetry,” Kelsey offered, bringing Dad and his friend lemonade. “So, no, not a rocket scientist, and he also has the most pedantic ideas about Longfellow.” I shook my own head at her irritation with Roger’s opinions on poetry.

The other devices were for sound, which means that he had probably heard JD and I from the first visit he made to my house and most definitely the sounds of our lovemaking. Good, I thought, suck on that. I invited the security man, whose name he reminded me was Kelvin to dinner, but he declined.

“My wife made reservations for tonight.” I smiled and walked him to the door. “I put your dad’s tracker back on your car. Both of them are being tracked, and I’d advise you to keep them on. This ex of yours, he doesn’t sound all that stable, but even if he is it’s safer.” I agreed and thanked him for his time. “Don’t mention it. Just stay safe.”

“I’ll try,” I started to shut the door, but he stopped me.

“JD is a good guy,” my eyes widened and he grinned at me. “Your dad filled me in. I know him, and he’s a good one. If you’re with him, you’re safe.” Then he said goodbye and I finally closed the door.

Dad had invited Kelsey to dinner, like she needed an invite, and the three of us ate and then gathered around the Scrabble board I’d set up on the opposite end of the dining room table. I was laughing as the two of them argued about the validity of a word when Pandi informed us that we had a guest. Dad looked at me with shrewdness as I told it to let him in, and then as I sat at a table with my dad and Kelsey, JD walked in to meet my father for the first time.

#JD Richter x OFC #mention of smut #Extant #After the Series

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helpinghanikan · 6 years ago

Text

Powers that be

Avengers (and Matt Murdock) x Reader

Sum: power can come as many forms. And mostly they are terrifying.

AN: Thor one happened before Ragnarok

Steve Rogers: Strength

“Don’t move!” He uses a softer version of his “Captain” voice.

You never made it to the sink to get that drink of water. Still in that half-awake, slightly drugged, state where you weren’t one hundred percent sure what was going on. Whatever it was that the medic gave you, it was very strong.

It helped, though. Being in a coma was preferable over sitting double over in pain.

Steve kneeled next to you with a broom and dustpan. Sweeping up the pieces of glass that weren’t currently stuck in your hand. You completely missed him kneeling in front of you, staring at the red coming from the glass. Add a necklace to your hand and you could have been a jewelry. Instead you’re just a very high individual without pants.

In your drugged state a lot of stuff was missed. You didn’t notice being carried through the hall like a bride. The bare minimum being done for you to sleep comfortably by your man (pants, bra). When he slipped out of your grip and replaced himself with your biggest pillow, or when he looked over his arms. Touching over hand shaped bruises that weren’t there before the aggressive cuddle session.

It’s a wonder whether you’ll remember the glass shattering like absolutely nothing.

----------------------------

Tony Stark: Extremis virus

This was supposed to be a safe house. After one of the Stark’s vaults was raided, with many dangerous thing gone, it seemed best to cut the loose strands. Pepper went for an extended visit with her parents on some distant trip. Happy got his well-deserved vacation and you took the long route to the summer house.

A burner cell was settled, like a weight, in your purse. Your hand clutched it while walking to the front step.

To your attackers credit, at least he was smart enough to wait outside the house. The moment your driver side door was shut the hand slapped over your mouth. It was so fast, so violent, it’s amazing that your nose didn’t break.

What did break was your skin from the needle. In the dark dreams the needle was so long it cut through your neck and burst through the other side. In those same nightmares to come your attacker was a foot taller and a lot meaner. Your nose would be broken in those same dreams.

He’s gone before the entire thing is pumped into your throat. It wasn’t a typical syringe you had been stabbed with. This thing was thick and heavy, like a .22 was pressed against your neck. When he let go the needle dragged down, your future nightmare coming true before it was ripped out by your own free-will.

Everything happened too fast. Starting on your feet and then your knees. Looking at a teeny-tiny red puddle creating under your neck. The wound felt to already be festering and it was getting hot. It was getting way too fucking hot.

The burner was a flip phone that shaky fingers made it hard to open. With only one number in it, all you had to do was press the green button.

“Hi, Sweetie, miss me already-.”

“It’s fucking hot, Tony. Tony, please, it’s hot.” It’s boiling from your neck and racing through veins.

“Hey, hey, what’s up? Where are you? What’s wrong?” Tony was a man who liked to be in the know. Likely, where ever he was, he had pulled up your flight plan and car destination.

“Stabbed, someone stabbed me. Tony, they’re here. They stabbed me with it.” Miraculously you hadn’t gone into shock yet, giving every small detail you could in the few seconds it took to be attacked.

Your hand grabs the needle/gun from the ground next to you. More to be sure it isn’t lost or doesn’t roll away then to make any sense of it. While holding it in your hand the chemical had broken through the veins. Your skin starting hazy orange, by the time you stop staring it had already gone into spray tan on the inside level.

“Help is heading your way. Calm thoughts, power calm thoughts.” Tony says on the other end.

“Anthony, not now…it hurts.” Arms by your head, talking into the phone on the ground.

“Not a joke this time, They’re almost there. I’m almost there.”

----------------------------

Thor: Prophecy

Possession is a danger that very few think about. Guns and magic, that which are visible, will turn the stomach more then a simple possibility. It was why no one blinked at the supper table.

Asgardian meals varied from one degree to the other. Either it was an official affair; somber talking and serious topics. Or it was a mini celebration with loud stories and the servants drinking near as much as the guests. In the heart of that sea of warriors was you. Arm around your man, lifting a mug for him to drink from.

Around the ankles of the guests, below the music and talking, an invisible arm slides through the air. It billows skirts and climbs the table legs to find it’s target.

With all the movement no one blames you for not noticing your shifting pant leg. There was nothing to feel as it traveled up your leg. Because of this the room is entirely silent when your back over arches.

“Brother to traitor to brother,” It’s not your voice but it’s coming out of your mouth. “warrior with poisoned mouth. Monster and man in one. Man of power, king to none. Four heroes to win but must fail to be done.”

Any expected glowing there was stayed entirely to your mouth and eyes. White in color like a star trapped inside your head.

There was never any doubt that Thor would catch you when you fall. You won’t remember most of it, though. The thick arm that goes around your back, Thor yelling for a healer. And you certainly won’t remember the not-your-words being in haste on a napkin with grease.

----------------------

Bucky Barnes: Flight

The accident left the tops of your feet and calves a dark shade of yellow. No matter how hard you scrubbed the color remained. It didn’t hurt, the splash of chemicals only tingled for a few minutes. Tony had grabbed you before it would go any farther.

Bedtime comes, and that color is still there. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Bucky asks for what has to be the hundredths time before falling asleep.

Bucky Boy is a military man, he can sleep anywhere. He snores, to start with, a heavy natural sound he could never make in the years before. It was annoying at first, then it was a lullaby. One that changed the deeper you fell into sleep.

For the briefest of seconds his chest was your pillow and strong arms your blankets. They started to slip away in the same moment. In that same place of sleeping where you know you’re sleeping but not fully awake enough to do waking things. Your blanket and pillow are gone before you’re half-way to the ceiling.

It wasn’t fast, it was slow, like sinking into water. Baggy shirt and pants weighted toward the floor around your face. To anyone who might have been looking on this was something straight out of science fiction. Poor, perfectly normal, woman taken from her bed and lovers arms by an evil force from outside this world.

You don’t completely wake until your back hits the ceiling.

“Fuck fuck fucking-James!” He’s below you, sleeping on his back and still snoring.

Both hands press the ceiling around your head. Toes scrapping the tiles to find some kind of hold instead of this foreign force.

Bucky wakes up, but a more appropriate way to say is that he shot up. The word “James” is a potent one. Last time it was used by you was when you slipped from the shower. The tear went through your leg, running from ankle to knee, blood everywhere like an animal had been slaughtered. A few stitches and a small scar later and everything is good now.

Every night before bed Bucky’s hair would be bound back in a bun. An agreement in exchange for you to take the position of big spoon. After a long sleep the bun had started to get free. Thick strands of hair he brushes out of his face, running down the back of his neck and over his shoulders.

“James!” You have to scream for the third time for him to look up.

“What are you doing?” He says towards the ceiling.

“Please get me down.” In another situation you’d make a snide comment. “Taking a nap, wanna come up and join me?” Instead it was just terrifying. Close to tears at being so high up without any sort of safety.

He quickly hops onto the bed, arms reaching upward. Even on his tip toes he wouldn’t reach the ceiling. “You have to grab my hands, just reach out for them.” He says.

It’s hard to let your arms hang down. As though your arms pressed against the ceiling were the one thing keeping you from hitting the floor. Your dominate arm shoots forward, like a test. When you didn’t fall your other arm joined the first. A few inches gap remained that Bucky was still reaching towards.

“Babes, lean forward. I won’t let you fall. I have you.” He says.

Leaning forward seemed to be the straw that broke the camels back. Before your fingers even touched gravity came back on. Falling too fast to even scream. Landing on Bucky was the equivalent of landing on a pile of bricks.

His stance on the bed was already unsteady with the mattress. Your sudden weight on him took both of you down.

“We need to talk to Bruce about this. Those chemicals did something to you.” He grabs one of your calves. Good at strategies but not smart enough to avoid touching possible infected skin.

----------------------

Natasha Romanoff: Telepathy

It started with a whisper in the middle of the night. One spoke just behind your head. At first you would shoot up, search the voice out. Then you’d bury your face into red hair and hope the perfect locks would drown it away.

Eventually the whispers weren’t contained to your dreams, didn’t stay below your ears, and got louder during the day.

Now what’s she doing?

You know that voice, you’ve heard that voice so many times. Sam, Sam who is staring at you from over a bowl of cereal. Milk dripping from his spoon as your hands press firmly against your temples.

It’s a similar situation now, months later. The outdoor seating of a coffee house with the whispering words building on top of each other. Your tower of babble was building just above your hairline. Pressing down on thoughts of overpriced coffee and whether or not the date across the table really cared about the story or was just pretending to so they’d get free shit.

In that mess was a speaking voice. One that was real and louder then others. One that had a hand attached to it. Reaching through the words and taking hold of your own hand. That voice is silent long enough for a kiss on the palm.

“Is it okay here?” She asks.

“Yeah,” You say, smiling through the crowded room. “Everyone here is just so boring.”

Nat rests her chin on the palm of her other arm, elbow down on the table. “Are my thoughts boring?” She asks with a smile.

It was harder then it seemed to focus on a single thought in the see. Finding that familiar voice and making it clear-.

Her teeth show as though she could tell when you pinned her thoughts down. Based on the face you made it was likely she could.

----------------------

T’challa: Influence

“Please, stop!” You scream.

Okoye’s hand slaps over your face so hard your nose almost broke.

Men and women shouting in English and their mother language suddenly silent. Mouths hanging open, bodies a quarter of the way out of their seats. In the center was your king, arm outstretched, almost out of his own seat. He had probably seen you’re mouth open but was too far away to stop you.

The only ones to still be moving was one quarter of Dora Milaje. The few members who volunteered to wear ear plugs. One being Okoye herself, trusting her women to watch over the delegates while she focused entirely on you.

“Fix it,” she says, her love for you only going so far.

“Move, go ahead and move.” Her hand moves and you speak. Hand going back to its position over your mouth.

The delegates were much calmer after that. No more shouting at each other about the state of your new ‘gift’. Words like, ‘outsider’ and ‘serious danger’ were still thrown around. They just didn’t look straight in your direction as much.

T’challa, on the other hand, stared right at you. No hatred, like the others, but with concern. Hand over his mouth, a reflection of Okoye’s over yours. A twin vow of silence.

----------------------

Pietro Maximoff: Spike

It’s best described as a Charley-horse that hits you in the middle of the night. Still stuck in the arms of sleep when the underside of your forearms started to hurt.

From Pietro’s perspective you had started having a nightmare. Waking slowly to your little groans, kicking feet and scrapping against the sheets to get some sort of leverage against whatever you were trying to fight against.

For a few seconds you were actually pretty cute. Until the extra bones burst out and into the bed.

It was like a muscle you just recently learned how to use. Like a baby kicking the hell out of their mother after their legs developed. The spikes, sharper then a knife, were probably growing your entire life. Fit snugly between the bones in your arm. There wasn’t even any blood.

Just a thick slash Where Pietro used to be.

-------------------------

Peter Parker: Force field

He won’t stop singing, he won’t stop fucking singing.

You’ve asked, you were polite, you glared, and the motherfucker is still singing off key. A slowed down rap song Satan himself wrote. Starting a few minutes into the class, singing louder when the teacher asked him to stop, and kept going after it was revealed your teacher was a coward.

There wasn’t a student in the class that wasn’t annoyed by this kid. From MJ flipping off the back of his head a seat to your right, to Flash staring to the ceiling looking for an answer from God.

Peter sat in a seat a row behind you. Sometimes pressing a pen into your back to look at him. He’d then pretend to mimic the singing. But much better. The joy he’d bring you only lasted a few seconds before that kid would hit a high note or get louder.

You were in the prime spot for his little performance. Staring at the back of his head, staring at that greasy and watching his head move with the music.

There was a lot of space between his ears. His teeny-tiny brain was probably bouncing around in that head space.

In one of those massive gaps you could practically see something building. A bubble of death starting tinier then a grain of sand. Becoming larger and larger, growing into a bean and then into a grape.

Hand to his forehead and the singing stops. But it was too late.

His jaw moves, whether to sing or talk, and the entire room was red.

You were in the frontline of the splash zone. Hair pressed to your forehead, copper in the mouth.

With your vision obscured it was impossible to say who screamed first. It was a male who had started it. Desks scrapping and dragging against the floor as the students all try to run at the same time.

Hair and blood moved from your eyes with a shaky hand. The grain of salt had grown to be bigger then a bowling ball. Where the singer’s head had once been was now a see-through orb with red and matter sliding down the sides.

Peter was pulled from the room with the rest of the classmates. Sitting with MJ throwing up against the lockers with several other students leaning forward.

Peter running back in to get you would have been more heroic had he not slipped flat on his back.

---------------------------

Stephen Strange: Out of body

Stare too long into the rock’s eye and it will give you a gift.

A simple rock behind thick glass, so ordinary you could find one in your backyard. Only thing that made it look even mildly special was the white gem in it’s center. Even then a kid could have glued a fake diamond it.

For a brief second the diamond turned purple.

Then you hit the floor.

Very few in the world will have the privilege of watching themselves pass out. Cringing at the sound your head made when hitting the floor. Later you’d wonder why literally no one in twelve-foot radius around you even tried to save you.

Your gift given was something others took actual years to learn. Watching Steven lay in bed while actually somewhere in the air was one thing. The man was at least kind enough to lay in a position like he was sleeping at night, instead of sitting crossed legged at the end of the bed. Watching him ‘sleep’ was different then actual sleep; there was no twitching or change in breath like a normal person would going through their dreams. He was just laying there, the only thing moving was his chest for hours at a time.

Your body laid like that on the floor of the Sanctum. If it weren’t for your rising chest, you might as well be death.

Instead of looking to your breathing chest your hands gripped your head. Starting to scream, without ever making a noise.

------------------------

Matt Murdock: Blood

It’s important to look at thing from the other perspectives:

In your own eyes there had never been anything more natural. The same way your fingers move in the smallest ways, the man was doing the same. His arms and legs jerked in several directions, he was your doll on a string. Being ripped apart by your vague gestures.

Matt, on the other hand, was going into overdrive. The man, the attacker, was screaming. Heart going faster then it shoulder, and it sounded like a river was rushing through his arms and legs.

Your attacker had come at you both with one mission on his mind. A mission that was cut short by the twitching of your fingers. The attack happened in a few shots: the first, your arm in Matt’s, focused on the walk. Second and your attacker stepped out, before he was the attacker. Third, Matt’s grabbed the front of your shirt, pulling you behind him. Fourth, and your attacker starts screaming.

“What-What’s happening?!” He’s sobbing now.

It had started with rats. Those little fuckers on the subway that you learned to play with on the rides back and forth. Making your own little ballet with them. Now, all that seemed to be practice. The real dance came from this man. His feet going to pointe, arms in the air, begging to stop.

Matt says your name again. Coming back into the picture by grabbing your wrists. Your attacker drops to the ground somewhere behind Matt. Your focus on your man, whose grip had started to hurt.

-----------------------

Carol Danvers

It’s hard to pinpoint what exactly caused this. Looking down to hands that are not there, grabbing your forearms and feeling solid but seeing nothing. Even looking at your reflection in the toaster and seeing nothing but a floating T-shirt and pants.

“Goose? Babe?” Carol calls walking towards the kitchen.

Your shattered mug still lay in shambles over the kitchen floor. Goose, who couldn’t be bothered with this, stares on from the living room chair. Merely stretching his paws when Carol comes in. Ready to receive pets and praise for being himself.

“Hey,” She says, delivering on those pets. “You knock that over?”

“Carol,” You say, her head whipping towards your voice from the broken mug.

“Whose there?” She asks the empty air.

“Carol, I’m right here,” You reach out and hold her shoulder.

More mugs are shaken but only one more is cracked when she slams you against the pantry. In her defense, anyone who is touched by what they assume to be a ghost would react in the same way.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s me!” You yell.

Blood from the broken decorative cover and splintered wood covered your finger prints. Infecting over everything you touch. Including Carol’s arm that pins you to the broken materials.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” She stops pressing on your neck. But doesn’t let you go, holding your arms instead. Making sure you don’t vanish into the open air.

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