#she was gruff but was trying her hardest with bad information

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

It Was You (Part One)

A/N: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?

A holiday (Christmas centric) Jensen x Female!Reader Best Friends to Lovers series for @spnchristmasbingo. Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Header created by me with images from Google. Chapter word count: 3371

Series Warnings: break up; angst-ish at times (if you squint), but mostly all the fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

The slight chill of a Vancouver December morning roused you from a peaceful sleep, making you snuggle further into the down blanket and comfort of your plush bedding. It was two weeks until Christmas and the weather was supposed to be a balmy high of 32 degrees today, so you had planned to stay in, do some shopping online, and stay by your cozy fireplace with every holiday movie you could find. Willing yourself to get five more minutes of shut eye seemed like a helpless feat as the wintry cold seeped into your apartment. You opened your eyes to the gentle prisms of light floating in through the adjacent window, the sunrise indicating it was time to get up for the day.

Sitting up to perch on the side of your bed and grabbing your wide-rimmed glasses from the nightstand, you slid your chilled toes into the warm slippers waiting and shrugged on your fuzziest sweater. It may be time for that fire sooner than you thought.

Padding into your kitchen to get a much-needed caffeine fix after last night’s dinner and drinks with the rest of the cast and crew, you took your favorite mug from the cabinet and loaded the coffee maker, making an extra cup or two for you and any visitors you might have a bit later.

Jensen’s apartment was down the hall, and if you knew him, he’d still be sleeping, but he’d probably wander over at some point this morning. Cradling the mug in your hands warmed them slightly and sent a shiver down your spine. Even your warmest pajamas and the heat from the thermostat did little against the Canadian winds. Laughing slightly to yourself, you’d thought you’d be used to it after six years of winters here.

You wandered towards the windows of your living room to pull back the long curtains. It was a favorite spot to have your coffee and gaze at the sights of Vancouver. Settling on the window seat, you felt a warmth spread through you as you noticed it had snowed in the night, and from the looks of it, it was a depth of fresh, soft powder – a type that you rarely saw growing up in Texas. People were bundled up tightly as they walked the streets, but a few people, adults and kids alike, were already out playing in the thick blanket of snow.

As your coffee began to warm you through, you couldn’t help the giddy feeling of joy that rose at the sight – it made the holiday season and the spirit of it even more intense than just viewing the lights of downtown and the large decorations everywhere. For some reason, snow just sealed it all up in a nice little bow.

Sure enough, about halfway into your second cup of coffee, you heard a key in your door and Jensen shuffled in, still wearing his pj’s with tousled hair, but he had thrown on a thick sweater too.

“Good morning.” You called, still seated at the large window.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” He replied with a quick wave as he tossed his keys on the counter and waltzed into your kitchen in search of his mug, his voice still thick and gruff with sleep.

He mixed his cream and sugar and took a long sip, letting out a contented sigh after the steaming liquid entered his body. He was notoriously grumpy without his coffee, but he always met you with a sweet greeting when he came over. Walking around your kitchen island and into your open living room, he slumped into the recliner across from you and pulled the leaver to release the footing, allowing him to lean back with his feet up. He adjusted himself to get comfortable, careful to not spill the mug in his hand.

“What time did you get in last night?” you asked, taking another sip from your own cup.

He covered his eyes with his free hand, still obviously tired. “About 2:30. You know how Jared gets when we break for hiatus, he never wants the party to end. He was still talking to me as I was shutting my door.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Jared was the most social person you’d ever met and knowing that he wouldn’t be back to Canada and on set for a month, he would always soak up every little bit of time he had with the cast and crew. Even though Jensen was griping about it now, you knew he also didn’t mind. He���d probably be missing everyone, especially Jared, about four days into the break. You didn’t get home until about 1 a.m., and that was only because you were beginning to doze off in your cocktail.

“Tell Cliff thanks again for driving me home last night. I just couldn’t cut it.”

“Yeah, I know… Lightweight.” Jensen teased.

“Hey, you didn’t have a 5 a.m. set call yesterday like some of us.”

Jensen huffed a small laugh from his seat, still resting his hand across his closed eyes. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and his green Henley stretched across his biceps as he rested his coffee on his thigh. A slight 5 o’clock shadow and the bedhead he was sporting all combined into a handsome image. He may be your best friend, but you could still appreciate the looks the man was blessed with.

Seemingly close to falling back asleep, you called to him in a hushed voice, “Jay. If you want to go back to sleep just put your coffee mug on the table, okay?”

“Hmmmph. No, I’m up.” He fibbed, as evident from the way he blinked widely once he opened his eyes again. Forcing himself to stand, otherwise he would really fall back asleep instead of just resting his eyes, he walked towards you with his cup, dragging his feet slightly as his legs sluggishly pulled him across the room. His head was down and his shoulders were wilted, but he was trying to get his body moving.

When he reached you, you felt his chest bump your shoulder before he rested his cheek on the crown of your head, his arm dangling by his side as he slumped. He took a deep breath before rubbing his hand across your back and standing, smiling as you peered up at him with a grin.

Licking his lips, he finally peered out to the streets below and his eyes went wide, “Y/n!” he practically shouted.

You flinched, “What? What’d I do?”

“You didn’t tell me it snowed!”

Giving a huff and a giggle, you couldn’t help but be sarcastic, “I’m sorry, was I supposed to while you were falling asleep in my chair?! Besides… it’s Canada. It’s not like snow is very rare here.”

“Y/n! That’s, like, snow! The kind we used to wish for when we were kids!”

“I know, I thought that too.”

“Well, c’mon!” he said, setting his cup down on the ledge. “We gotta go!”

“What? Go where?”

Jensen was already halfway through your living room and heading for the front door but paused to turn and point a finger in your direction, “You, me, snowman. Now.”

“Jay,” You whined. “It’s cold and its early. You sure you don’t want to just watch Netflix?”

“Y/n!” he said once again, looking as excited as a 12-year-old on a snow day from school. “Snowman! Please?” he begged, waving his arms frantically as he gestured outside.

“Okay, okay. Fine. No need to use your puppy eyes on me. I’ll meet you outside in 15 minutes.”

With that, a huge grin broke out on his face and he took off down the hall, leaving you to go in search of your heaviest ski jacket.

Jensen knocked on your door soon after you shrugged into the puffy coat, dressed in thick snow pants, his own jacket, and a black beanie and gloves with a small bag in his hand. Straitening your scarf before locking your door, he barely gave you a moment to put on your knitted pom beanie before he was pulling you by your hand towards the elevator of your building and pushing you out of the revolving doors into the frigid air. Heading to the side where a large park sat adjacent to your complex, he looked around before tugging you along to a spot with a large open space. He nodded to himself, as if to say he’d found the perfect place for his snowman-building escapade. As your boots crunched beneath you, you each began gathering handfuls of snow to make a large base, then packed and sculpted two more spheres. Though you initially protested, you had to admit that it was fun, and the coldness against your cheeks wasn’t bad after a bit, particularly after seeing how happy Jensen was when his finished product towered over yours. He’d managed to gather the majority of the snow within about a six-foot radius of where his snowman stood before piling it high.

“Hey, hey… look at that. An accurate height difference!” He touted, teasing you.

“Oh, hush you. It’s not my fault that you were given the extended version of the human body.” You glared at him playfully.

He laughed as he bent to rummage in the bag he’d brought, producing two carrots. He wiggled them in his hands before handing one to you. He was just about to place it in a very telling place when you grabbed a handful of snow and threw it in his direction.

“Jensen!” You berated. “That’s not where the carrot goes! There’s kids out here!”

He stood up slowly, turning to you with a serious smirk, “Did you seriously just throw a snowball at me?”

Wiping your hand on your pantleg quickly, you gave him a mischievous grin, “Who, me? I’d never.”

“Oh, its on!” he declared as he bent to scoop up the little bit of remaining snow in his reach, that which he hadn’t used for his snowman.

Ducking behind your own, he threw and missed, sending the snow flying passed you. A quick grab from around you produced another snowball that you chucked from behind your shield, hitting him square in the chest. The fight lasted for a good while, the two of you trying your hardest to target the other as many times as possible and receiving some laughs and glances from passersby as they walked along the sidewalk. Finally, Jensen gave up and took off towards you, chasing you in circles before he tackled you into the plush ice, pinning you beneath him as he tried to bury you both.

“Jay! Oh my God, stop! Its freezing!” you yelled through your laughter.

“Truce?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in a challenge.

He was still on top of you, his nose and cheeks a bit flushed from the wintry air. He still had that devilish smirk on his face, but his green eyes were soft and something beneath them made your heart flutter slightly in your chest. He scanned your face quickly before glancing towards your lips, but you were quick to snatch another fistful of snow to smash onto his head. Scrambling out from underneath him, you ran as he said something about you being a cheater before he jumped to his feet.

After the war ended and a truce was finally declared, you both put the finishing touches on your snowmen after you found sticks for the arms and coerced Jensen to put the carrot in the right spot. He stood back proudly, admiring your handiwork.

“Hey.” He gestured to you, “C’mere.”

A bit warry that he was going to tackle you again, you came to his side as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and turned on the camera. Pulling you into him, he said, “Gotta have evidence of our masterpieces.” He reached around your waist and tugged you in close, framing both of you and your snowmen in the background. The cold air made the tip of your nose and the apples of your cheeks change in color, and there was still some snow in your hair from when Jensen wrestled you, but both of you smiled widely. Feeling the scruff of his short beard against your temple and his arms wrapped around you made you think about the way his eyes danced across your face moments ago, but the thought was quickly dismissed as he stepped away from you slightly after he made sure the picture wasn’t too blurry.

“Oh, crap. Is that what time it is?” he said, alarmed, looking at his phone screen. “I have to meet Stacy in an hour.”

Stacy was his publicist and agent, but he usually didn’t meet with her during the hiatus. “You’re meeting Stacy today? What’s up?” you asked, a bit confused.

“She wants to talk to me about this movie. Some sort of romantic drama she thought I may be good for.”

“Oh,” you replied, “that’s great! You didn’t tell me! Would you have to cut back filming the show?” While you were a bit surprised, you were genuinely happy for him.

“Stacy knows Supernatural comes first, so I hope not.”

“Well, let’s get inside so you can warm up and change. I was going to make my mom’s chili and cornbread for dinner tonight, if you want to join me after your meeting.”

The excitement on his face was palpable as his eyes lit up the moment you said it, “You know how much I love your mom’s chili. We’re just meeting for coffee near her office, so I’ll bring the beer.”

As you were walking back into the building, your phone rang. It was Stephen, your boyfriend of three months.

“Stephen, hey.” You said as you entered the elevator, not missing the slight eyeroll that Jensen gave.

“Hey, honey. How are you? I didn’t want to call too early, just in case you were still sleeping after last night.”

“I’m good, thanks. Actually, just got done building a snowman with Jensen.”

A short silence followed, until Stephen spoke up again. “Oh, that’s nice.” He said, his voice noticeably clipped. “Well, I’m going to take my lunch break soon. Would you like to meet up? I can come to your side of town.”

“Uh, sure. I’ll meet you at that café on 3rd in about a half an hour?”

“Sounds great. See you there.”

Shoving your phone back in your pocket, you ignore Jensen’s stare as the elevator climbed to your floor.

“So���” he pressed. “Stephen?”

“Yeah, Stephen. We’re going to meet up for lunch while you have your meeting.”

“Hmph.” He huffed.

“Jay, we’ve known each other our whole lives and to this day you’ve never liked a single guy I’ve ever dated. What’s wrong with Stephen?”

“I don’t know. He’s just kind of… meh.”

He wasn’t lying, if you were being truthful. Stephen was meh. He was cute and had nice eyes and dimples, but he didn’t make you laugh. He was a bit dull and your sense of humor didn’t mesh with his well. Still, you thought that it might get a bit better once you got to know each other and began to understand one another more. Your relationship was still very casual, but maybe it could go further? You weren’t really sure, honestly.

“What about you and Laura?” you asked, quickly changing the subject.

“I told you… that was nothing.” He quipped as you reached your door. “We went on like three dates.”

“Yeah, the last one being just this past week.”

“Yeah, and it just didn’t go well.”

You let out a small sigh. Discussing your dating lives wasn’t really something the two of you loved to do with each other. Maybe when you were teenagers, yeah. You’d asked each other for advice and gossiped a bit about the people in your high school, but as you grew into adults it just became a subject you both steered away from besides the occasional, hey I’ve got a date conversation. Neither of you had ever really found a person that the other approved of, each finding a reason to be picky every time.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I’m just deflecting.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I was pushing.” He said sincerely with a small smile. “Well, you enjoy lunch. My meeting’s at 1:30 across town, so I should be back by 4 at the latest. Pick out a movie for us, okay?”

“Sounds great. I will.” With that, he kissed you quickly on the side of your head and went into his apartment as you ducked into yours. You freshened up quickly and changed, grabbing a different peacoat, hat, and scarf as your others were still wet.

It was a short walk to the café, and they had good sandwiches. You were surprisingly hungry, so you were glad to see Stephen waiting outside for you. He gripped your hand tightly and gave you a quick kiss in greeting before leading you into the restaurant. You were seated and ordered quickly, knowing that he would have to return to work soon.

“So, how has your day been?” You asked as you shrugged off your coat, hanging it on the chair behind you.

“It’s been… good.” He muttered.

“Uh oh,” You said, getting his attention as he looked away from you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really. I was just surprised to hear that you were with Jensen today. You had mentioned you were going to stay home.”

Stephen smiled, almost in an attempt to let you know that he was trying to be lighthearted about it, but you could tell it bothered him.

“Yeah, when he saw it snowed last night, he just really wanted to make a snowman.” You laughed, trying to steer away from the subject. Stephan wasn’t overstepping, but he also wasn’t going to prevent you from spending time with Jensen. The two of you had been inseparable since, well, practically since birth. Your parents had been the best of friends, so you were pretty much raised together.

“Have you, um…” Stephen began, hesitantly. “I know you’ve been friends forever, but have you ever had feelings for him?”

His blue eyes shown with a slight jealousy as you felt a slight pang to your heart.

“No, of course not.” You managed to say with a steady voice and a smile as you picked up your napkin to place in your lap.

It was a lie, one that you’d been telling for years. At one point in your life, you were in love with Jensen. But, the past was in the past. If Jensen didn’t even know, why should Stephen?

Stephen seemed satisfied with your response for the most part, and the two of you had a pleasant lunch. When you stepped away to use the restroom, your phone chimed. Stephen tried not to even look towards your side of the table where your phone sat, but when he saw Jensen’s name, he read the text quickly before the screen dimmed.

Hey, sweetheart. Finishing up here soon and then I’ll be heading home. Do you need me to grab anything from the store?

Stephen knew the two of you were a package deal, and thought he could honestly be alright with it, but between working together and spending practically all of your time together, he was starting to wonder where he fit in in your life. He busied himself by checking his Instagram as he thought about what he should do and found that Jensen had tagged you in a photo from this morning. The caption was simple, just a few words about the filming hiatus and the first snow of the season, but the two of you were so close. Stephen found himself wishing that you could reserve a smile like that for him, but he had yet to see it.

It hurt, but he knew he couldn’t play second fiddle to Jensen. He cared about you, but perhaps it was better to bow out now.

“Hey, sorry about that.” You said brightly as you got back to the table, smiling. It still didn’t reach your eyes, though.

Stephen leaned forward on his elbows with a sigh, “Y/n, I think we should talk.”

To be continued...

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Jensen Only

@mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​

[weasleydream]

A story of love, pain and shitty parents - part 3

It’s here, finally, the third part of this series!

I’m sorry it’s been such a long time.

 I don’t know if you’ve waited for it or not, but I’m glad it’s eventually written and published. Now that the very serious things have begun, it’s more difficult for me to write it and I think the next part will be the worst... But that’s not for rigt now, so I hope you enjoy and as usual, likes, reblogs and feedbacks are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist 

Part 2

I knew for a fact the air in the house was as freezing in winter as it was burning in summer. The 12, Grimmauld Place was definitely a living hell no matter what the season was, and this was without taking in consideration the boggarts which, according to Sirius, were probably still a dozen to be hiding in there. Each time I thought about it - about him - I felt like the wall I had built around these traumatic memories was destroyed a bit more, like my defenses were inexorably fading and one day, they would totally disappear and let me at his mercy. 

But there were moments when I found my life sweeter than it had ever been. It always was during futile instants, when Fred grabbed my hand under the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall or when he kissed me goodnight at the bottom of the girls’ stairs in the common room. It was also when I was huddled against his warm torso under a pile of blankets in our own room in Square Grimmauld. 

Light was filling the room as the sun was slowly rising in the sky. Fred was a heavy sleeper and these few rays weren’t enough to wake him up, but it didn’t take a lot for me to open my eyes. I shifted, Fred’s arm being passed under my waist and creating an uncomfortable sensation. Suddenly, something crushed my legs and George appeared, a broad smile on his face. 

“Hello there, lovebirds!”

A loud groan echoed next to me and George dodged the pillow Fred had thrown without even opening an eye. 

“You’re getting better, Freddie.”

“Only because you wake us up like this since the beginning of the holidays.” he muttered, not without a hint of a smile on the lips. 

“Well, you know the song-”

“Mum’s orders. I know.”

George chuckled and finally moved from the bed. 

“Oh, I’ve almost forgotten!” He looked back at us, and the playful expression had disappeared from his face, replaced by a slightly worried one. “There’ll be a meeting, a pretty important one as it seems. You have to be there, Y/N.”

“When?” I inquired. 

“Now.”

And he closed the door quietly before leaving.

“Why do I have to be here for the meeting? Usually, they don’t let us in…”

“I don’t know,” Fred said before yawning, “but it can wait. Come here.”

He opened his arms and I laid on him, my head hidden in the crook of his neck. The soft fabric of his shirt against my cheek and his arms wrapped around me, I could have fallen asleep in no time if Molly hadn’t barged in the room, begging me to join them as Mad-Eye was getting angry. 

"It was about time." Mumbled Mad-Eye as I pushed the door of the living-room where the meeting was organized. 

Fred and George were following me, both reluctant to let me alone even for a second. Molly stirred, probably not wanting her sons to be here even though she knew nothing could force them to leave, not even her.

"I won't go round in circles." Began Mad-Eye with a gruff voice. "We need to send someone in your father's manor to find as many informations as we can. You said plenty of Death Eaters come to see your father, and if we are lucky you'll find something interesting."

I was so taken aback that I didn't say anything. The fear that had become familiar with the time was flooding again in my veins, letting me freeze on the spot and suffocate under the meaning of the words I had just heard. I would have to go back… there. To go back in this house which was synonym of pain, of torture and constant terror. I felt myself falling and I would have ended on the floor if Fred hadn't caught me. 

As soon as he had made sure I would stay on my feet, he joined George in his protestations. 

"She can't go back there!" George was more than angry: he was shouting loudly without letting anyone say anything. "You know what happened in this bloody house! You know what this monster has done to her!"

"And yet you want her to go back there?" Intervened Fred, a vein pulsating in his neck. "Send us. George and I will take care of this, but there's no way Y/N is coming."

Still unable to say anything, too caught up in the horror brought by the memories that were now rushing in my mind, I looked at Fred and George arguing with the members of the Order without really seeing them, their confused words refusing to stay in my head long enough for me to understand. They were fighting for me, for my sake, yet I couldn't react. 

"She is the only one who won't get lost." Lupin was trying to convince the twins. "We don't know if her father will be here and-"

"And you still want to send her?" Fred was now infuriated. 

"Fred…" I whispered. 

"Are you crazy?" Screamed George. "We won't let you use her like that!"

"Boys, I- I can do this.”

Suddenly, everyone stopped arguing and I felt all eyes falling on me. With hesitant steps, Fred walked toward me and lifted my chin with such a delicate touch that it felt like he wasn’t even touching me. He was just in front of me, giving his back to the rest of the people present in the room, creating a protective barrier between them and us. 

 “Love, you don’t have to do this.” he murmured. 

He seemed to be incredibly worried, his eyes usually so bright darkening more than I had ever seen them. I didn’t know if the vein palpitating in his neck, which showed how fast his heartbeat was, was due to his anger or his fear but in anyways it was overwhelming. 

“I won’t let you. George won’t let you. Not after-” he stopped suddenly, but he didn’t need to say it. I knew what he wanted to say. “We will go love. For us it’s nothing, not if it means you are safe here.”

“You don’t have to do this for me Fred. I- I have to face him one day or another, right?”

But my voice broke just after my last word under the weight of a contained sob. An almost palpable pain emanated from Fred, and he tightened me just a bit too much against his torso. 

“This is really brave of you, Y/N.” murmured Lupin, probably to somehow comfort me. 

“Shut up.” mumbled George with a strangely muffled voice before storming out, closely followed by Fred who had now his arm firmly wrapped around my shoulders. 

I barely heard Mad-Eye adding I would have to leave the next morning, and the door slammed closed between us and the rest of the Order. Fred brought me to our room and gestured silently to George, who had been waiting upstairs, to follow us. As soon as the latter closed the door, my boyfriend began pacing while George was sitting next to me and absent-mindedly stroking my back. 

“There’s no way you’re going there alone.” finally muttered Fred after a series of incomprehensible swears. “I won’t let you. It- this is too dangerous.”

“We’ll come with you.” added George. “Whether you like it or not.”

I was feeling so guilty, because I knew too well this mission could either end well or turn extremely bad. There was no in-between. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to them. If he touched even one hair of their heads… But I was also ashamed to notice I couldn’t help but be relieved. Relieved because I knew that whatever was waiting for me in the manor, Fred and George would be there. I wouldn’t be alone. 

Molly happened to know that her sons would never consider the thought of letting me go alone, and she seemed to find it especially hard to hide both her worries and her pride. The next morning, she engulfed the three of us in one of her best motherly hugs and let us go with teary eyes. I would have loved to hug her too, to tell her not to worry and that we would be gone for less than an hour, but I simply couldn’t. I couldn’t because deep down, I knew something would happen, it was inevitable. Simple fear was something I was beginning to miss as it had been so much time that I had past this stage… 

Fred grabbed my right hand, George the left, and we apparated in front of the manor. 

It seemed more rundown than ever. There was not an ounce of life in the once beautiful garden, and there was not an ounce of warmth coming from the dirty walls. Barely containing a shiver, I took the first step. Surprisingly, it was the hardest one, the others steps feeling like automatisms. Fred and George were right behind me and together, we walked toward the door. In the almost deafening silence, everything seemed so much scarier, yet the manor had never looked so defenceless. If there had ever been a soul in there, this collection of old bricks seemed to be an empty shell, a shell threatening to crumble to dust at any moment. I could almost have wondered why I was so afraid, because it certainly looked like no one lived in there anymore. 

“There’s no movement in front of the windows.” 

Fred’s voice almost made me jump; for a second, I had forgotten that not everything here was dead. 

“The main dining-room seems empty.” I extended an arm and pointed the finger at a window of the first floor, even though I wasn’t sure the boys were looking. “Usually he- He used to stay in front of the window.”

“Are you sure?” asked George, keeping his voice low too to avoid warning whoever could be there. 

Just thinking of what could happen if I was wrong was enough for my throat to form big knots so I nodded. We had now reached the door. The cold wood was a few centimeters only from my hand, and after a shaky breath I pushed it open. 

Everything was the exact same as what I saw in my memories. In my nightmares. Despite the sun that was already up in the sky, the corridor was dark and awfully silent. I felt a body coming close to mine and a split second later, Fred murmured in my ear. 

“We’ll accompany you to your room, then George and I will go look for informations. You stay in there and gather your belongings, okay?”

I nodded weakly and waited for him to take the lead before remembering that he didn’t know the house. I headed to the stairs, still feeling like my body was working with automatisms. One step after another, the frontier between my terror and the numbness slowly invading me faded. I didn’t know what I was feeling, I was simply unable to put words on this mix of emotions which became more imprecise when I stepped in my room. 

“Wake up Y/N, happy birthday dear!”

Memories of Mary came in my mind for the first time since forever. I didn’t even realize Fred and George were gone; all I could do was to pace in the little space between the bed and the wardrobe, a hand occasionally grabbing my mother’s necklace which was still around my neck. I missed her. I missed my mother, I missed Mary, I missed everything that had made my life worth living and that had been taken from me. But that wasn’t even the worst pain, far from that. The worst was that I had the terrible feeling that it wasn’t over. That whoever had my life in charge had in mind that I hadn’t suffered enough. 

I eventually found the strength to tear myself away from my thoughts and grabbed an old bag in the wardrobe, filling it with as much clothes as I could find. Several times, I caught myself lending an ear but everything was desperately quiet. I was worried sick because I didn’t know what was happening but I couldn’t bring myself to leave my room. It felt like the only safe place here. 

Something like a faint boom echoed somewhere in the manor. I grabbed my wand, which had been on my bed, and finally decided to open the door. The corridor was desert, even the portraits being gone. The empty frames were aligned on the wall. The last of them, at the other end of the corridor, didn’t contain a painting but a mirror. And in that mirror, I saw them arriving before I even heard the shouts. 

I knew the two men that were now running toward me as they were two Death Eaters. However, I found myself paralyzed, unable to move or to scream. They were coming closer and closer. The first lifted his wand. The second screamed something. They had run through half of the corridor. A first spell almost hit my head. Another barely missed my shoulder. They were a few meters away. 

“Y/N!”

A red light hit one of the men straight in the back. His falling body revealed George running toward me too. Quickly, probably pushed by the adrenaline, George got rid of the second within a second and arrived in front of me almost immediately. 

“Your bag Y/N, we’re leaving now!”

Only at this instant did I realize he was holding something like a book. 

“Where’s Fred?” I whimpered. 

“Waiting for us.”

I knew by the tone of his voice that George was hiding something from me, but the numbness I had known what felt like hours ago had disappeared, leaving me shaking like a leaf and unable to even keep my wand in my hand. George grabbed it, took my hand and half dragged me behind him. After the last seconds, everything seemed too calm, as if they were giving us a break before attacking again with a renewed vigour. We arrived downstairs but Fred was still nowhere to be seen. I was beginning to be seriously worried and had to mutter it under my breath to convince me that he couldn’t be dead. 

“George would have told me… He’s alive. He’s alive and everything is alright.”

George stopped and I bumped into his back. He looked around us frantically before brutally rushing to the door of a cupboard. He opened the door and leant above the floor. An arm appeared and wrapped itself around his shoulders. Totally taken aback, I watched in shock as George was helping Fred get up. His leg was bleeding quite badly, and he had few scratches on his face too. 

“Don’t worry love, I’m okay.” he winked at me and smiled. 

If I had been in a normal state, I would have replicated something on how he could be joking and acting so nonchalant when he couldn’t walk on his own. If I had been in a normal state, I would also have noticed his smile wasn’t genuine. 

“What- what-”

“We’ll tell you everything Y/N, but right now we don’t have the time.”

George urged me to open the way as he did his best to support Fred’s weight and walk the fastest possible. However, I quickly stopped to let the boys walk in front of me as the only way for me to ease a bit of my terror was to make sure they were still here. 

We were now in the main corridor, at the end of which was the front door. I was already relieved to leave this place but something caught my eyes and I abruptly stopped. It was a portrait. Not animated, like the ones in Hogwarts, but more similar to the muggles’ paintings. It was my mother’s wish, Mary had told me she had a soft spot for what she called “the simple things such as muggles life”. I observed it for what I was sure was the last time. I looked at her in the eyes, these Y/E/C that I had inherited from her. Her black curls, her green dress. Once more, I thought of what I would give to see her just once. Everything. I would give everything. 

“Y/N?”

Fred and George were outside, George holding the door open. I nodded and began to run to them. They had now turned around and George was helping his twin in the stairs of the perron. With the adrenaline, I didn’t notice something that would have alarmed me. For a split second, something held me back at the neck, but it let go of me almost immediately and I kept running, never noticing my necklace was gone. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“Y/N?” Molly opened the door of my room and sat on my bed, just next to me. “He’s okay, dear. I’ve bandaged his wounds, nothing too serious, really. He wants to see you.”

I nodded and followed her in the living-room, where Fred was comfortably installed on the couch. George wasn’t here, probably telling Mad-Eye everything that had happened, but Ginny was in front of him.

“Fred, you know that when blood is spilling out of your body you are not okay, right?” she said.

“You should listen to your sister, Freddie.”

Fred looked up and smiled brightly at me. 

“Here you are!” he exclaimed. “You know, I thought you would have stayed next to me while I was on my bed of pain. I don’t know, maybe holding my hand, begging me to stay alive?”

“If it wasn’t for Molly, I would have stayed with you, trust me.”

“I know.”

Fred’s gaze softened and he patted the couch next to him. Ginny understood the implicit message and left, smiling at me before closing the door quietly. Now, it was just the both of us, and it took all my will for me not to jump on Fred. Instead, I adopted a calmer way to join him and engulf him in my arms, hiding my face in the crook of his neck and clenching his shirt in my fists. 

“It’s okay, love, really. It’s over now.”

Then he whispered in my ear, in a tender way that made my heart skip a bit. I love you. His hands were both on my back, tracing soothing patterns and sometimes running up toward my hair before coming back to the small of my back. When I finally found the strength to open my mouth without bursting into tears, I gently cupped Fred’s cheeks and slowly moved my thumbs. He half closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. 

“What happened?”

Fred closed his eyes completely and sighed loudly. He leaned a small kiss in the palm of my hand before looking up at me with these dark eyes I hated to see because they meant that he was afraid. 

“I don’t know if-”

“Please.” 

If there was one second I had thought it wasn’t something that important, this second was a long lost memory as my mind was racing, trying to figure out why he would refuse to tell me who had done that to him. Unless… Fred shifted uncomfortably before sighing once more and absent-mindedly pushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of my eyes. 

“It was- Y/N, your father was here.”

I said nothing, only looking at Fred as if he had spoken another language, one that I couldn’t understand. He also seemed to think I hadn’t understood as he put his hands on my shoulders. 

“Y/N, love?”

He was obviously worried and, when I didn’t reply, he called for Molly who arrived half a second later. Together, they tried to make me react in a way or another, but I was oblivious to all their efforts. I was lost in a sea of thoughts all more confusing than the others, and for a moment I couldn’t process anything that was in my head. Then something emerged, a burning sensation, it was like hot bubbles running in my veins. It was anger, a pure anger that was slowly consuming me. 

“He hurt you… Fred, he hurt you.” My voice was quiet, but it wasn’t because I was afraid. Oh no, at the moment I was madder than I had ever been, and Molly and Fred understood it too as they exchanged a worried glance. “I swear I’ll take my revenge. He’s done too much to me.”

And done too much to me he had, but this was the straw that had broken the camel’s back. He couldn’t attack my family, my true family, my best friend and my boyfriend without regretting it. 

I will have your skin, that’s a promise.

To be continued...

Tag: @pregnant-piggy​

[avictimofthejazz]

Difficult Person Test Results Ranked 1 (Hardest) to 14 (Easiest)

After completing the Difficult Person Test for all fourteen of my muses and ranking them, I have complied it into one master list. Here’s a chance to meet my entire crazy crew. (under a read-more because it got long. It links back to my 1980s muse blog because it has six muses so it carries the most muse-weight)

1)      Hans Westergaard—54.29% (Frozen) @thereismoretomylifethenice​

Amazingly enough, trying to solve your problems by murdering people might make you ‘somewhat difficult’ to get along with. Therefore, Hans earns the top spot on this somewhat dubious list.

2)      BA Baracus—41.43% (The A-Team) @avictimofthejazz​

Whelp, he’s not dubbed “Bad Attitude” Baracus for flattery’s sake but once BA decides someone’s his friend he basically turns into a giant teddy bear and, despite grumbling, generally the only people who have to fear him are any fools stupid enough to mess with the people he cares for.

3)      Templeton ‘Face Man’ Peck—40% (The A-Team) @avictimofthejazz​

A con-artist with a penchant for nicking things, and an inclination toward rampant commitment and trust issues being hard to get along with? Naaaaaw. But, like BA, once Face decides someone is his friend, he’ll march straight into hell to help them with only minor complaining.

4)      Gavin Troy—38.57% (Midsomer Murders) @anoseforrottenapples​

Troy’s blunt, often to the point of political incorrectness and often gets peoples backs up because of that. Underneath that however is a sincerity and honestly that will either take him far in his career….or get him killed when he makes the wrong kind of enemies.  

5)      Inez Recillos—37.14% (The Magnificent Seven television series) @iwillmakemystandhere​

Slam one guy’s head into a bar and you get a higher score on this test then strictly needed…Inez runs her saloon with an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove but when she decides who her friends are, she’s loyal and loving. She is, however, a Prank Queen so take that into consideration—you want her on your side if it comes to a prank war.

6)      Michael Knight—36.43% (Knight Rider) @avictimofthejazz​

Michael’s easy-going and laid-back…until he’s not. While Michael would rather make friends then enemies, once a person crosses that line he becomes a force to be reckoned with and has earned a well-deserved reputation among the criminal classes as a result.

7)      Mary Travis—32.86% (The Magnificent Seven television series) @themostpowerfuleditor​

Mary is a lady, pure and simple but while she would rather fight her wars with words then with weapons, she has no qualms about pulling out her rifle and dealing with problems the direct way. A modern woman who’s priorities include working, voting and drinking (not that she does much of the latter but it’s the principle of the statement), Mary is generally easy to get along with but a force to be reckoned with when she’s got a reason to be.  

8)      Vin Tanner—30% (The Magnificent Seven television series) @innocentmanwithabounty​

On the surface, Vin is a mild, quiet, even-humored man who takes life as it comes to him…but still waters run deep. Voted (by me) as the most dangerous person in this line-up, Vin deals with trouble efficiently and ruthlessly but will always give people one chance to walk away before the fight starts and he hopes they take it.

9)      Maggie Sullivan—28.57% (The A-Team) @avictimofthejazz​

A military trauma surgeon turned General Practioner, Maggie is kind and sympathetic but takes no nonsense off anyone (least of all a certain Colonel Smith). While tough and capable, her main desire is to keep people alive and sometimes that requires a firm hand so she’s not afraid to lay the law down when she needs too.  

10)   Murphy Michaels—28.57% (Remington Steele) @avictimofthejazz​

Murphy Michaels is generally an easy-going man…until Remington Steele opens his mouth and Murphy’s stress levels start rising. When left to his own devices, he’s a diligent and steady Private Investigator who’s not afraid to take a few hits in the name of the job and generally finds himself trying to be a voice of reason in often-bizarre situations.

11)   Kristoff Bjorgman—28.57% (Frozen) @thereismoretomylifethenice​

Steady and reliable like a mountain, Kristoff would prefer to go through life alone except for his Troll family and a handful of trusted friends. Though outwardly stand-offish, under his gruff and pungent exterior, Kristoff is a warm-hearted man who would much rather make friends then enemies and just needs a little love and care to bring out his best sides.

12)   Elsa of Arendelle—25% (Frozen) @thereismoretomylifethenice​

Though her powers may be ice-based, Elsa herself is a warm and caring woman who only wants what’s best for Arendelle and for her family. While willing to isolate herself to keep her country and family safe from her powers, she eventually learns that the control she needs lies in the love that she has for everyone around her.

13)   Jane Marple—15.71% (Miss Marple Mysteries) @anoseforrottenapples​

A gentle, mild old lady with a penchant for gardening, tea, knitting and gossip, Jane comes across like a beloved and sympathetic grandmother. This makes it very easy for her to worm information out of people and gently advice police Inspectors on their cases, thus ensuring guilty parties can’t get away with their dastardly deeds.

14)   Kelly Stevens—10% (The A-Team) @avictimofthejazz​

Kelly is an angel, pure and simple. A veterinarian who loves animals, she also never balks at helping people in need…even if they are mentally unstable pilots who’ve been kidnapped from the VA hospital by ruthless bounty hunters and need help contacting their friends, a team of former Green Beret commandos turned mercenaries on the run from the military. The simple fact that she helps Murdock despite all this insanity and then visits him at the VA, believes in him and brings him pizza earns Kelly her place as the Nicest Muse I Write.

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝transfer student with shapeshifting quirk.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Class 1-A ]

「Class 1A is getting a transfer student from America with a shapeshifting quirk.」

You weren't sure how long you had been fidgeting. It was a long ride from America to Japan and not to mention, you haven't even had a chance to unpack your things thanks to the delay. As soon as you arrived at the airport, you had to change into your uniform and head to UA instantly. Lucky for you, sleeping in the plane and the car ride gave you a bit of energy. A teacher from UA had personally came to fetch you early in the morning and one of them certainly looked like he didn't sign up for this. UA was accepting transfer students and your father who happened to be a hero was stationed in JapanThe hunger gnawing at your stomach didn't go unnoticed.

"Hey, kid." the gruff voice of your soon to be homeroom teacher snapped you out of your daze. Aizawa Shota, the man who was guiding you to the campus, handed you a chocolate bar together with an identification card. You accepted both items and muttered a Thank You. You carefully gripped the card, pinching it between your thumb and pointer finger while holding the chocolate bar your other hand. The rectangular-shaped object contained various things with a picture of your face as the centerpiece.

"Don't get too nervous. These kids are noisy and a huge headache to deal with but they're nice." Aizawa ruffled your hair as if to calm your nerves a bit. And it actually did.

"Yes, sensei." was all you said before obediently following him into the building.

Having transfer students from other countries or even from within the country would be what people call a typical scenario from a slice of life or shoujo manga. Then again, no one can foresee the future which means that no one knows what lies ahead. It seemed like a normal day at UA, that's what Midoriya Izuku thought as he arrived class, hearing the usual 'Good morning' from Iida and Uraraka who were standing by the door. Aizawa had stepped in shortly after Midoriya arrived. And upon entering the classroom with the students he was assigned to, he was greeted with the usual chatter and chaos. Kaminari, Sero, Ashido, and Kirishima surrounded Bakugou's table, talking about something that did nothing but irritate the ash blonde.

Midoriya was talking to Todoroki at the back of the class. On the other hand, Uraraka was seen with the girls, discussing about something. The Underground Hero's gaze traveled to Iida who was trying his hardest to contain all the noises by shouting and making wild, chopping hand gestures. As soon as the bell rang, most students started to scatter while Iida ushered the persistent ones back to their seats before sitting down himself. Aizawa came in on time with the usual tired look on his face. Thank God there were still students who remained silent like Shoji, Koda, and Tokoyami, he didn't want the class turning into a market.

Aizawa's headache subsided as the commotion came to an abrupt halt, he slowly made his way to the front while the students situated themselves in their seats. He tossed the file he had been carrying onto the table and began flipping over the pages. He stifled a yawn as he raised his head, gazing tiredly at his students.

"We have a new student joining us from America. They have mastered their quirks and managed to" he said in his usual bored tone. On cue, you slid open the door and stepped into the class. Much to your surprise, it was completely silent and all you heard was the sound of your shoes tapping against the floor, everyone had their eyes on you which did nothing but make you more nervous than ever. Your lips quivered a bit as your fiddled with the end of your skirt, telling yourself to stay calm.

"This is [Last Name] [First Name] who will be joining the class from today onwards. Her Japanese isn't that fluent yet so I want every one of you to be patient with her as she is still learning." the teacher said. 'Thank you so much for saying something that will make me appear like an idiot.' you mumbled to yourself. It wasn't like you were completely hopeless, you were still able to read, write and speak but when it comes to kanji, it's a bit difficult. 

You were surprised by how nice the students in Class 1-A was. Maybe it was a bit uncomfortable with everyone crowding your table and asking you questions but you assumed that it was probably students from other countries were rare. You took a while getting used with calling everyone by their last names but preferred them to refer you by your first name. Some of the more friendly students like Uraraka, Ashido, Kaminari and Kirishima were easy to get along with. It wasn't like the rest were hard to get along with. Sitting behind Yaoyorozu gave you the opportunity to learn more, she was patient and offered you her notes. 

"[First Name], over here!" Uraraka waved at you, a sigh of relief passed your lips. At the very least, you didn't have to eat lunch all alone like some sort of loser. As it was the first day at school, you still felt awkward around your new classmates, they've been together for quite a while now and probably formed their own group of friends already. Uraraka welcomed you with a smile, Asui slid her tray to give you some space, Iida was greeting you in an overly formal manner and Todoroki mumbled a 'Hello' to you. 

"Oh, Deku-kun! Over here!" the brown-haired female waved at the green-haired male who was glancing around, searching for a seat. His eyes lit up at the sight of his friends waiting for him.

"Deku? As in blockhead?" you tilted your head in confusion at the choice of nickname. Was it to tease him or something? Midoriya didn't seem like he was bothered by that nickname or was he too kind to even stand up for himself.

"That's Midoriya-chan's hero name, too." Asui informed which added more confusion instead of clearing your thoughts. Was he trying to be funny or something? Even so, when choosing a hero name, it should be something more meaningful and cool, not an insult to yourself.

Perhaps in Japan things were different. Still, you can't understand the principle behind that. But when you said it in your head, it sounded cute when Uraraka calls Midoriya like that. Imagining the crowd cheering for him in your head, started to think that it wasn't that all bad.

"S-Sorry, Kacchan!"

"Watch it, Deku!"

That voice held malice and annoyance, making it sound like it was an insult. You shifted your attention towards your friend. Midoriya flinched, taking a step to the side to give way. Your gaze traveled to the boy who yelled at Midoriya. He had ash blonde hair, ruby-red eyes and if you ignore the angry scowl on his face, you would've thought he was handsome. If you recalled correctly his name was Bakugou Katsuki. You watched as he lightly bumped into Midoriya, almost making him drop his tray of food.

"He's at it again." Asui mumbled.

"This happens often?" you asked 

"Don't worry about it, [First Name]. Bakugou-kun just doesn't like Midoriya because he views him as his rival or something like that. They're childhood friends and have a bond that none of us really understand―" Uraraka tried to explain while she ate her lunch but Todoroki cut her off, raising his finger at the direction where Midoriya and Bakugou were.

"She's not listening."

"Hey, Bakugou. Apologize to Midoriya."

"[First Name]!?" Uraraka squeaked. She didn't think you had the guts to talk to Bakugou with such confidence. The brown-haired couldn't imagine herself in your shoes, being face to face with the angry ash blonde. But there you stood, looking so determined as you defended Midoriya who seemed a bit worried about what's gonna happen.

"It's fine, [F-First Name]-san! It was my fault for not paying attention to where I was going in the first place." the green-haired male muttered nervously. You turned around, now standing face to face with Midoriya.

"Even so, this guy over here," you jerked your thumb, pointing at the boy behind you.

"Shouldn't just blow up over something so trivial. Accidents happen and you deserve an apology." you said calmly.

"So, apologize."

"Like hell I'm going to do that!" Bakugou snapped angrily at you as he took a step forward.

"You think you're hot shit huh, transfer student. You can't even properly write in Japanese nor read kanji. Just because you think you mastered your quirk, you think you're better than me." Bakugou snarled. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Wha!? You think its easy learning a language!?" you huffed at him, unhappy at the fact he was emphasizing on the fact you haven't mastered the Japanese language.

"That's enough, you two! Fighting in the cafeteria is prohibited as you will disturb the other students who come here to enjoy their meal. As your class president, I want to advise you two to behave and not to embarrass yourselves in public!" Iida cut in before it got to serious. You sighed, backing down when you realized everyone was murmuring amongst themselves.

For sure, Bakugou Katsuki was someone that is difficult to get along with and it'd be best if you didn't get involved with him too much.

"For today's training, I want you to spar against one another. Quirks are allowed and the rest who aren't a part of the battle will be surrounding the field of the battle. At some cases, there will be civilians near the battlegrounds so you have to be careful." Aizawa explained, eyes trained on the file he was holding onto a file, going through the notes that he had been taking during every training session. You began to space out, wondering who you would be facing.

"[Last Name] and Bakugou," Aizawa's voice sounded as monotone as ever and his facial expression remained the same. You tensed up a bit, eyes shifting towards your sparring partner who was fully dressed in his hero gear.

"Hah?! I have to fight this transfer student? She looks so frail that I might send her flying to the stratosphere." Bakugou jerked his thumb over towards you, showing pure irritation and dissatisfaction.

"What? Are you making fun of me?" you narrowed your eyes at Bakugou.

"If you're going to fight then do it during the sparring. Get your butts to the field now." Aizawa glared at the two of you. Lowering your head and giving your teacher a nod before making your way to the field. Bakugou grumbled something under his breath before walking in the opposite direction.

As soon you got into your position, you did a few warm-ups, stretching your arms and legs. Once, Aizawa gave the signal to start, you readied yourself for combat. You've had your fair share of experienced when it came to combat but this was nothing like your usual hand-to-hand combat. Just as you expected, Bakugou did the first move, using his explosions to propel himself towards you. When he moved his hand in front, it began to light up, alerting you of the incoming explosion. The blast blinded the spectators and the force of it caused them to shield their eyes from the ash and smoke. 

"Bakugou really doesn't know how to hold back." Kaminari muttered, watching the ash-blonde take a step back, waiting for some sort of reaction from you. He might be cocky but he was smart enough to tell that such an attack wouldn't defeat you.

Once the smoke cleared, everyone was mildly shocked at the fact that you were nowhere to be seen. Bakugou grew a bit more cautious, glancing around to locate your whereabouts. But where could you have gone. He has no knowledge of what your quirk was. Did you go invisible? Maybe slipped underground? He thought of all the possibilities but he stopped when he noticed the shadow being cast over him. An explosion broke out and Bakugou rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding your attack. The crash was loud and left an average-sized crater on the ground. There was smoke and rocks flying but he was still able to see your silhouette. 

"Are those wings?!" Ashido's eyes lit up, pointing at the new extensions coming out from your back.

"Look at her legs! What are those?" Kaminari interjected.

"Amazing, I've never seen a quirk like this. Morphing, transformation or shapeshifting? At first glance, [First Name]-san's quirk seems to give her the ability to change her limbs into those of an animal's. The wings gave her the ability to fly and those legs resembling a rabbit's? No, a kangaroo's! That explains the strength she displayed earlier." Midoriya mumbled out loud mostly to himself.

"Midoriya is doing his thing again....."Jirou mumbled.

"Tch, look at you. All smug and shit." Bakugou grinned maliciously, palms lighting up. Your wings disappeared and legs returned back to its normal form. Now you stood in the field, pants ripped up to your mid-thighs.

"Hmph, says you who with the flashy quirk." you shot back.

"Oooh, whatever her quirk she has. I'm liking it."  Mineta smirked, eyes glued to your exposed legs.

"Mineta, shut up." Hagakure slapped the class pervert before shifting her attention back to the field.

Now that you were both aware of each other's quirks, you could fight on equal terms. You slid your left food back and put your weight onto your right, lowering your stance and ready to strike. Bakugou chose to observe your movements instead of striking before you can. Your legs morphed, together with your arms. They became bulkier and grew some fur and they were pure white with black lines here and there. Using your transformed feet, you launched yourself towards Bakugou.

"She's fast!"

Bakugou, surprised by your agility, could only raise his arms to brace himself. You raised your fist and threw a punch that managed to knock him a few feet away. He quickly recovered, grabbing your arms and centering his weight on one foot. With a loud yell, he slammed you against the ground. You gasped, having the air knocked out of your lungs. Bakugou got on top of you and raised his arm, aiming at your face. A grunt escaped your lips as you moved your feet, kicking at Bakugou's stomach with a force strong enough to send him flying. The ash-blonde shifted in mid-air, making sure he would land properly. He skidded to a stop and took a moment to study your change.

"A tiger?"

"Certainly, it grants her strength and agility that a normal human wouldn't have. It is a perfect match against her opponent who throws quick attacks. But Bakugou-san is just getting started." Yaoyorozu said.

Changing into a tiger had to be one of your favorite transformations, it gives you an enhanced sense of smell, agility, and strength. To put it in simpler words, it's a well-rounded choice that boosts up all your stats. Both you and Bakugou went at for quite a while, throwing punches and kicks at one another. Neither of you showed signs of giving up but exhaustion was visible on your faces. Using your remaining energy, you launched forward, throwing a few punches that Bakugou was able to avoid. He ducked down, retracting his right arm, ready to throw one explosion that might conclude the match.

The large explosion blinded you momentarily, making you wince and stumble backwards. 

"Die!" he exclaimed, throwing his fist at you. The attack was painful but you clenched your teeth and bear the pain. You grabbed his wrist and dragged him towards you.

"Shut up!" you shot back, butting your head against his and kicking him with your heel, making him crash to the ground.

The two of you fell onto the ground with a thud. But the first one to recover was you and Aizawa soon announced that the sparring was over. A few decided to congratulate you for defeating one of the strongest in the class. Bakugou really put up a great fight and you would've lost if you had let your guard down for even a second.

"Ah, I knocked him out! Shit! Am I gonna get expelled for violence against students?" you glanced at your friends, eyes filled with worry and panic. Kaminari let out a laugh and patted your back, telling you that everything was fine.

"Nah! Everything's fine! You won't get expelled over something like this. Look at how relaxed Aizawa-sensei is." he said, looking at Aizawa who was yawning as he took notes.

"I think I killed Bakugou though!" you said, pointing at the unconscious blonde. Kirishima and Sero were there, poking at Bakugou, trying to wake him up.

"He'll be up soon. Trust me. Something like that isn't enough to beat the all-mighty Bakugou." Ashido beamed at you.

"I'll fucking kill you, transfer student!!!" Bakugou hollered.

"There he is. Told you."

Total: 2844 words Published: 01.09.2019

Thank you for requesting! *｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و*｡  Everyone has different perceptions on what shapeshifting is and this is how we think about it. This is the first request where we didn’t include a pairing. We didn’t know what kind of shapeshifting and decided on this. We both hoped you enjoyed this scenario! Drop by again some time, anon! ― author Hibiki/Lou

Thank you for requesting! Truth to be told, I was completely confused when this request came. When you talk about shapeshifting, it would be like being able to change appearances or something like that. But the two of us were thinking about animal transformations and all that. So, hopefully, this scenario is acceptable. Thank you for requesting!― author Natsuki

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[moodycastiel-writes]

feathers

pairing: dean x angel!reader

warnings: fluff, lil bit of gore n torture, some swearing

summary: you get hurt while on the run from heaven and confide in castiel to help. he brings you to the winchesters and their bunker to rest and heal [takes place during season eight-ish of supernatural]

word count: 5.1k

author’s note: this might become a mini-series or something, by the end of writing this i loved it a little too much, but we’ll see (: (oh, also, [y/e/c means your eye color!)

A scream tears its way through your throat as the demon slashes the blade down your abdomen. You tried to fight back, to back away, to do anything to stop your pain, but the enochian shackles around your wrists bound you from doing anything, including healing. Blood poured from your new wound as the demon wiped the blade and placed it back on the silver tray, and he turned back to you.

“I’m going to ask you this one more time, where is the demon tablet?”

“Go. To. Hell,” you spit back, your drooping eyes looking to make contact with the demon’s black ones. A sneer found its way to his face as he picked the blade back up slashed your cheek. You held back a whimper as more blood trickled down your already carved up face.

“If you just tell me what I want to know,” the demon sighed, walking around to face your backside, the blade drawing a line down your spine, “all of this could be over.”

You remained silent, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent any more noises from coming out, tired of giving the demon the satisfaction of your screams. You heard the demon let out a ‘tsk’ and he leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. You shivered at the feeling.

“You know,” he whispered, “I heard rumors about angels. If you apply enough pressure and pain to a certain spot on their backs, you can get those pretty little wings to appear.” The blade danced across the skin of your back, bringing goosebumps to the surface of your vessel’s skin.

Panic shot through you at the thought of the demon finding your pressure point, your achilles heel, but you tried your hardest to keep a poker face. “Is that so?” you whispered, keeping your face blank.

The demon hummed in response, and thrust the blade directly into your skin, just below your left shoulder blade, and your head shot back as your scream pierced through the night, the windows of the warehouse shattering at the volume of the scream.

Before you could prevent it, your wings unfolded from your body, golden feathers lighting up the shadows the darkness of the night caused. The demon chuckled in triumph at the sight of your wings, walking around to face you again. Panic cursed through your veins as the demons eyes flickered black, a smirk drawn onto its face.

“We’re going to have a fun time.”

—

Halfway across the country, Castiel sat at one of the many tables in the library of the bunker, talking to Sam and Dean about the trials. Now free from Naomi's control, he was trying to get back into his old way of life, before Purgatory and the hallucinations of Lucifer caused him to go crazy.

As Dean begrudgingly began answering one of Castiel’s many questions about human life, a sharp ringing rippled through Castiel’s ears, causing him to clutch his head in pain, letting out a strangled noise. Immediately, Sam and Dean were on their feet, worry flooding through the brothers at the sight of their friend.

“Cas, buddy, what’s wrong?” Dean asked, worry laced through every word. “Talk to me, man.”

The ringing stopped, and Castiel looked to his friends in despair. “I have to go.”

Before ‘wait’ could pass through the lips of the either of the brothers, Castiel had already disappeared with the sound of his wings fluttering, only to appear moments later with a body curled up in his arms.

“What the hell?” Sam asked, instinctively reaching out to help Castiel lay the girl down on the table they were just sitting at.

“Cas, who is this?” he asked the angel, a worried looked on his face.

“[Y/N]. She’s an angel. She’s been gone from Heaven long before Gabriel. I heard the sound of her pain and found her like this,” he explained.

“What happened to her?” Dean asked, his hand resting on the gun he kept in the waistband of his jeans.

“Demons,” Castiel responded curtly. “They hurt her, bad. And I’m afraid what you can see right now isn’t the worst of it.”

“How could it get any worse?” Sam asked, his eyes grazing over the open wounds and caked blood littering your body. He watched the blood seep from your open wounds and onto the mahogany table under your still body, your stomach rising and falling in short, uneven breaths.

Castiel gave the younger brother an indistinguishable look before placing a hand to your forehead, a golden light shining through the bunker for a moment before disappearing. When the light vanished completely, the brothers looked down to you, their eyes widening in astonishment. Your once grand and beautiful golden wings were shredded and torn, blood dripping from each feather, a long gash running through the center of each wing.

“The demon that held her was looking for information on the demon tablet,” Castiel explained to the brothers. “[Y/N] was there when the tablets were created. If any angel had information on them, it would be her.”

“So he tortured her for information. Do you know if she gave him any?” Dean asked, sneaking a glance in your direction, not wanting to get caught staring at your body.

“She didn’t. I heard the sound her wings gave off when he started ripping them apart. It’s a self defense mechanism each angel has,” he explained, placing a hand back to your forehead to let your wings fold back into your body. “Wings are sacred among angels, it’s where most of our grace is. She’ll need to be protected while she heals from the inside before she can return back to the outside world.”

Dean caught on fast to the underlying tone of his friend’s voice. “By protection, you mean keep her here?” he asked.

“Please,” Castiel sighed, “[Y/N] is a good angel, she always has been. Just let her stay here until she gets better.”

“Yeah, Cas, that’s fine,” Sam declared, not giving his brother a choice in the matter. He ignored the pointed look Dean gave him and continued. “We should bring her to one of the spare rooms and clean her up a bit before she wakes.”

Castiel nodded his head. “I’ll help you.”

—

The first thing you felt when you began to stir was an unimaginable pain shooting all over your body. You felt a warm, soft surface below your body, and something even softer under your head. You blinked your eyes open, having trouble adjusting to the brightness of the room. Looking around, you panicked, not recognizing the four walls around you.

You heard footsteps approaching the cracked door and you stood as quickly as you could, grabbing the nearest object, which so happened to be a thick, hardcover book, to prepare yourself in case you were under attack. You hid against the maroon wall, right next to the door and tried to ignored the sharp pain that shot through your body.

A hand placed itself on the outside of the door and slowly pushed open, and when a figure came into your line of sight, you brought the book down to the intruders head. He ducked down at the contact and clutched his head in pain, letting out a low groan.

“Man, what the fuck was that for?” he whined, rubbing the spot where you hit him.

You paused, breathing heavy. “I’m… not under attack?” you questioned.

“No, you idiot, we’re trying to help you.”

You dropped the book to the ground and clutched your side in pain, blood beginning to seep from a wound that decided to reopen due to your frantic movements.

“Oh, well, sorry,” you breathed out, leaning your body against the wall. The person stood up straight as two more people came barreling through the door.

“[Y/N],” one of them spoke, relieved to see you up and about.

It took you a second to recognize who it was, but once you did you couldn’t help the smile that ran over your face. “Castiel, hello.”

“I’m surprised you recognized me,” he admitted. You wince, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the open wound on your side or the underlying meaning of his words. Before you could apologize for your absence in your brother’s life, you were cut off by a gruff voice.

“Uh, I hate to cut this reunion short, but maybe you should sit down,” the man that you hit in the head with the book suggested.

“Right,” you huffed, making your way back over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. “Brother, I must ask, where am I? And who are these people?”

Castiel smiled at you. “You’re at the safest place on Earth right now, and these boys are Sam and Dean Winchester. They’re going to watch after you while you heal.”

You looked to the brothers, the taller one, Sam, had a soft smile on his face, welcoming you into his home. The shorter one, Dean, the one you whacked with the book, however, didn’t share the same welcoming look as his brother.

“That’s not necessary,” you argued, going to stand back up, but Sam was immediately at your side, pushing you back to the bed.

“It is, [Y/N]. We saw how bad the damage was… Your wings,” he trailed off, and you lowered your gaze to the ground.

“How bad is it?” you whispered, eyes glued to the hardwood floor.

“It’s bad,” Dean said gruffly. “And until you get better, you’re stuck here.”

“Don’t worry,” Castiel assured, “you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

—

‘No time’ had turned out to be longer than you or either of the Winchesters expected. Days turned to weeks which turned to months, and you still weren’t one hundred percent better. All your physical wounds were healed, but your wings refused to get better.

You had yet to bring them out, too afraid, and even ashamed, of what they looked like to look at them and view the damage yourself. The pain you felt in them was getting to the point where it was unbearable, and the Winchesters knew that, too. It seemed to cause the brothers to walk on eggshells around you, unable to begin to imagine the pain you were in at every moment of your days. They let you be for most of your time at the bunker, trying to make your stay as comfortable as possible as you found yourself settling into a new routine.

You crept out of your room, listening intently to see if you were alone in the bunker, or if the other occupants were still there. Most of your angelic powers had returned to you in your time of recuperation, the ability to sense other living souls being one of them. You were able to quickly come to the conclusion that Sam was out of the bunker, probably off on a supply run, leaving you alone in the confined space with Dean.

Oh, Dean. How could you describe the elder Winchester? You happened to bond instantly with Sam, and you think it’s due to the fact that you were able to sympathize with him. Dean, however, was cold. Unattached. He refused to show you the same affection that his brother showed you, and you couldn’t figure out why. You had lived among humans for thousands of years, you knew humans; why they acted the way they acted, but yet, you could not read Dean. He was… different from any other human you had ever met, and it frustrated you. You could read Sam, to you, he was an open book. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and his soul practically screamed at you, but not Dean. Dean always gave you the cold shoulder. Sam tried to explain to you that’s just how Dean was. He was cold to strangers, and that’s exactly what you were; a stranger.

You tried to get Dean to warm up to you by doing things most humans liked. (You had been on Earth for thousands of years, you knew humans inside and out.) You figured out what Dean liked and tried to bond with him with his interests, but nothing ever worked. Dean remained cold towards you, and all your efforts to get him to open up to you failed.

You sighed to yourself as you quietly closed your bedroom door behind you and padded down to the nearest bathroom, which so happened to be the bathroom adjacent to Dean’s bedroom. You knew he was in his room, but the soft hum of music playing over his speakers gave you a sense of comfort, knowing he won’t hear you wandering about and pay you no mind. You slipped into the bathroom and shut the door tightly behind you, making sure to flick the lock shut.

You took a deep breath and turned to the vanity, your eyes glued to the tiled floor, afraid to look into your reflection. You let out your breath and braced yourself on the edge of the sink, and slowly, your gaze inched up until you were staring into the mirror.

Your eyes met themselves in the bathroom mirror, your knuckles turning white from your grip against the porcelain sink as you stared deep into your vessel’s being. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you finally willed your wings to fold out, taking up most of the bathroom. When your eyes opened again, you almost threw up at the sight that greeted you. Thankfully, any open wound was now closed up, but they left behind hideous scars, killing any feathers in their destructive path. You watched with tears in your eyes as three blood-stained feathers broke from your wings and slowly drifted to the white tile floor below your feel. You choked back a sob at the sight of your once glorious wings, now broken and damaged beyond repair.

You didn’t hear Dean knocking on the door, a worried expression on his face after hearing estrangeled noises coming from the bathroom adjacent from his bedroom. His fists banged louder on the door, and you barely had time to register what was happening before the door was kicked open, a gun held tightly in Dean’s hands, in case the situation he was barging into required one. You paid him no mind as he immediately lowered his gun and concealed it once he registered what was happening.

You finally broke away from your reflection in the mirror and looked into Dean’s eyes, an awkwardness settling over the two of you. You quickly wiped your face of any tears and folding your wings back in, clearing your throat, an awkwardness rising in the room.

“Sorry to have bothered you,” you mumbled, making way to push past Dean, but a light grip on your upper arm stopped you in your tracks. You looked straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with the man.

“[Y/N], stop,” he whispered gently, afraid that speaking to loud or harshly will cause you to flee, as if you were a rabbit. “I know you’re in pain, be it physically or mentally. Let me help. How can I help?”

You shook your head, arm still held softly in Dean’s grip. “You can’t. I can’t,” you responded, your voice cracking at the end of your sentence. “I can’t heal myself. My wings. They’re…” your voice trailed off, eyes screwing shut tightly.

“Let me look at them, let me see if I can do anything,” Dean pressed, still speaking gentle.

You ripped your arm from his grip, holding it tight to your side. “You can’t,” you sneered. “There’s nothing you can do. Just leave me alone.”

You fled from the bathroom, leaving Dean standing there, his arm still held in the position it had been where it was previously grabbing you. He heard your door shut with a slam, flinching at the echoing noise.

You winced as the door shut, barricading you from the man on the outside. You slid down the door, unable to stop the tears that pooled over your eyes, falling freely down your face. Instinctively, your ratted wings unfolded from your back, gently wrapping around your body, shielding you from the outside world.

—

“You’re saying she just snapped at you?”

Dean groaned into his hands for the fifteenth time in the past minute. “Yes, Cas, she snapped at me!”

“And you did nothing to provoke her?” he asked, an accusing tone in his voice. Dean shot the angel an annoyed look.

“No, Cas. All I asked her was how I could help her get better, and she snapped and locked herself in her room,” he explained.

Castiel sighed, sinking into the chair parallel to Dean. “I don’t know how to help her, either,” the angel admitted, a forlorn look overtaking his features. “She’s been gone for so long, I barely even remember a time where she was in Heaven.”

“Maybe we can’t help her,” Dean sighed, looking to his friend. “I know you want to— I know you feel like you have to do something, but sometimes, things are just too broken to fix.”

“Would you give up on Sam?” Castiel asked. He knew the answer before the question even crossed his mind. “I can’t give up on her. She’s a good angel, and she would do it for me.”

“Would she?” Dean argued. “You just said that you couldn’t even remember her. I’m sure she hasn’t thought of you, or Heaven, in hundreds, hell, even thousands, of years.”

Castiel wanted to fight back, he wanted to argue and stick up for his sister, but he knew Dean was right. If the roles were reversed, and she heard his distress call, would she come?

Dean stood up from his chair and walked around to the back of Castiel. He gently patted his shoulder in reassurance before leaving the library, and Castiel, alone with his thoughts.

—

Another week had passed since your outburst at Dean, and you had not left your room since that night. You knew that you should not have snapped at him, that he was only trying to help, but you felt so weak and helpless. You needed to apologize to him, whether he wanted to hear it or not.

So that’s why you stood outside of Dean’s bedroom door at three o’clock in the morning, hand hovering over his doorknob, shaking slightly. Rip off the bandaid, [Y/N]. Stop being a baby and apologize.

“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself, and opened the door to Dean’s room, shutting the door loudly behind you. Dean jumped up in surprise at the sudden loudness in his room, letting out a noise of shock at the intrusion. As he was about to reach for his gun under his pillow, he saw it was only you, and his racing heartbeat began to settle.

“[Y/N]...” he trailed off, “what can I do for you at,” he glanced at the clock on his nightstand, “three o’clock in the morning?” He rubbed his face, wiping the tiredness away from his eyes as he sat up, back resting against the headboard.

“I’m sorry,” you spoke, voice velvety and calm. “It was wrong of me to lash out at you like that. You— and Sam— have been very kind to let me stay here these past few months while my vessel heals, and I had no right to yell at you that way I did the other night.” You began rambling, nervously playing with your hands. “You have every right to kick me out of the bunker if you want, I probably deserve it I—”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean cut you off, getting out of bed to stand across from you, close enough where he can grab your hands to get them to stop moving. “Who said anything about you leaving?”

“You did,” you said softly, “the other day when you were talking to Castiel. You said I can’t be fixed.”

Dean frowned. You weren’t supposed to hear that. Before he could defend himself, you were talking again.

“You’re right, maybe I am beyond fixing. Whatever the case may be, you and Sam, hell, even Castiel, you guys don’t need to take on the burden of having me in your home. I am a guest here, and I have no place to yell at you the way I did.”

“[Y/N]!” Dean exclaimed, his hands coming up to grip your shoulders, breaking you from your rant. “Please, just… listen to what I have to say before you start talking crazy like this,” he pleaded. You nodded your head, letting out a deep breath of air, and Dean dropped his hands from your shoulder. You frowned at the sudden loss of physical contact.

“You have every right to be upset, [Y/N]. You went through something that me or Sam will never experience in our lives. I can’t tell you how you should and should not feel because I don’t know what it feels like you have that part of you ripped and torn up the way that demon tortured you.”

You nodded your head, eyes falling to the ground, trained on your sock-clad feet.

“Still, all you wanted to do was help. I shouldn't have yelled at you for being nice.”

Dean just smiled at you— the sight of you looking bashful, eyes trained to the ground with a small blush glowing across your face. “Maybe…” he whispered, “maybe I can help you out now, if you want.”

You looked back up to the man, your blush growing deeper. “Are you sure?”

Dean nodded his head. “Positive.”

You let out a breath you didn’t you you inhaled, and slowly, your wings unfolded, a dim golden light glowing softly in the darkness of Dean’s bedroom. You heard him suck in a deep breath at the sight of your wings.

“How come they’re not getting better?” he asked, walking around you to stare at the back of them.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “They’ve never been damaged like this before. I’ve never been foolish enough to let anything, much less a goddamn demon, get the best of me like this.” Your blood began to boil at your incompetence, but a gentle touch to your left wing made the anger melt away. You sighed at the sudden feeling of contact to the wing, shocked at your own reaction.

“You know, it’s funny, hearing an Angel saying the Lord’s name in vain,” Dean chuckled as his hand ran down your wing, right to where your skin turns to feathers. You were too caught up in the euphoric feeling of his calloused hands massaging your wings to snark back a response.

“Hey, I think I know what the problem is!” Dean exclaimed suddenly. Before he gave you a chance to react, you felt a sharp pain where his hands once were. You gasped in shock, the action too sudden for you to make any other noise. Once the initial shock faded away, all the pain you felt in your wings these past months melted away instantly. When Dean came back into your line of focus, you saw a small black blade in his hand, blood staining the handle.

Instantly, the dead feathers began falling from your wings, new ones growing in their place. The jagged scars disappeared completely, and the dried blood left on each of your feathers vanished. The golden light in the room grew brighter, and your wings stretched out further, curling slightly towards the man standing in front of you.

Without thinking, you lunged forward, arms wrapping tightly around Dean. You didn’t care when you felt Dean stiffen under your embrace, too caught up in the fact that you were finally healed to pay any mind to the awkwardness that will follow once you two broke apart.

Just as you were about to pull away, Dean’s arms came up to wrap around your frame, and you sighed in content. Your wings curled inward, shielding you and Dean from the outside world.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your cheek resting against Dean’s chest.

Dean said nothing in response, but gave you another quick squeeze before letting go of your body, you doing the same.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to dilute the tension in the air, and you just smiled at him, your wings folding back into your body. “So, now that you’re healed, I guess this is goodbye.”

You smiled softly at the man in front of you, and for the first time in months, you are finally able to read him. He yearns affection, and once he receives it, he never wants to let it go. Neglected as a child, everyone he loves dead (or has died and has been brought back at some point), he doesn’t get the affection he craves.

“Well, I was thinking on waiting until morning to leave, if that’s alright with you?”

Dean tried not to show it, but a slither of a smile peaked through his poker face. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat, willing his voice to get lower. “Yeah, that’s okay with me. I’ll uh, I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Actually,” you whispered, inching closer to him, “it’s such a long way back to my room, and I’m really tired.” Wrong, your room was right down the hall, and you don’t sleep. “Maybe, I could just crash here?”

Dean scoffed, seeing right through your tale, but stepped out of your way, his bed coming into your line of sight. You smiled sweetly up at him and made your way under his covers, getting all comfortable, before turning back to Dean, who looked as pale as a ghost.

“Well, you comin’ or what?” you asked, batting your eyelashes.

Dean only gruffed in response, but slid into his bed next to you, lying flat on his back.

“C’mon Dean, you act like this to every girl lying in your bed?” you teased, turing on your side to face him. He scoffed at you, but remained motionless otherwise.

“Only when there’s an angel that’s older than time itself inhabiting that girl’s body,” he bit back. You rolled your eyes at him and held back a reply. Instead, in one swift motion, Dean was underneath you as you straddled his abdomen, hands resting firmly against his chest.

“Wanna try that again?” you retorted, a smirk evident on your face. Dean’s eyes grew as wide as the moon once he processed what you had just done.

“[Y/N],” he gulped, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What,” you smirked, staring directly into his eyes. In a boost of cockiness, you let your grace flow through your body and shine through your eyes, your once [Y/E/C] eyes now shining a luminous gold, the same color as your wings.

“Easy there, tiger,” Dean said, finally regaining his confidence, his hands coming up to caress the smooth skin of your thighs. Your eyes returned to their original color and your cocky smirk faded into a gentle smile. You slid off of Dean and returned to your position on the bed next to him, and Dean turned his body to face you.

“[Y/N]—” you cut him off before he could finish what he was saying, as you knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Shh, sleep Dean. We’ll talk in the morning,” you promised him, snuggling up tightly in his embrace. Dean’s arms wrapped tightly around you, as if he was afraid of you disappearing right between his fingers. When he finally drifted off into a deep sleep, you placed a hand to his forehead, making sure his dreams tonight were nothing but good memories. Your eyes fluttered shut and you lulled into a slumber yourself, the soft snores coming from Dean music to your ears.

—

“[Y/N], it was good seeing you again,” Castiel smiled, pulling you into a hug. You hugged him back twice as hard before pulling away from him.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Sam said has he pulled you into a hug next, squeezing you tightly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you responded as you pulled away from him. You frowned at his appearance, noticing how sick he looked. The trials were taking a toll on not only his body, but his mind and soul as well. You place a hand to his forehead, a dull light illuminating from your palm as a warmth ran though his body.

“That ought to fix you right up.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, unable to express his gratitude.

“Be careful,” was all you responded with. “These trials, they’re going to change you Sam, in ways even I can’t even begin to imagine.”

Sam nodded his head at you and turned to Castiel, beckoning the angel to follow him out of the room, leaving you alone with Dean.

“Like Sam said,” he said curtly, “don’t be a stranger.”

You frowned at Dean, making no move to hug him like you did Castiel and Sam. “Dean,” you said, an underlying tone in your voice, begging him to look at you. When he refused, you called his name again, more urgently this time.

“Do you have to leave?”

You smiled sadly at him. “I’m an angel, Dean. I’ve been around longer than humans were even a thought in God’s mind. I can’t stay here, I just can’t.”

“I know,” he responded, trying to keep his voice level. “Just, drop in once in a while, would ya?”

“For you? Always.”

He pulled you into a tight hug and you recropricated tenfold, burying your head into his chest. When the two of you finally separated, you stood up on your toes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. When you pulled away, a warm feeling coursed through your body and your heart fluttered in your chest.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

With a flutter of your wings, you were gone. Where you once stood and provided warmth, a cool breeze ran through the room and an unsettling chill ran down Dean’s spine.

[moonbeambucky]

The Price of Gold (Part 17)

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 4654 Warnings: angst, mention of cancer, mention of real life gymnastics sex abuse scandal

Summary: As a sports journalist you’ve traveled the world interviewing famous athletes. You’ve loved your job up until you find out your next article is on the last person in the world you ever wanted to talk to, Lance Tucker.

A/N: This was probably the hardest chapter I had to write but I love it so much and I hope you do too! This doesn’t follow The Bronze canon though some film details are mixed with real world events. Written for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction Dragon’s 3k Follower Creative Content Challenge. My prompt was “I can’t be in love with you!” gif source (x)

PART 16 | THE PRICE OF GOLD MASTERLIST

On the grand opening day for Tucker Gymnastics Lance looked like absolute shit. He spent the night in the ER again with his mother and Nadia, all for the doctors to tell him the same thing as before, his mother was dying.

Lance cupped Dorothy’s hands in his own, watching her hooked up to machines again. This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t call. Why didn’t you listen to him? Nadia said she received a phone call that made her really confused. There was screaming from the other end of the line and it was upsetting Dorothy but all she kept repeating was “Y/N.” She became so upset she started to panic, her mind couldn’t handle whatever was happening and Nadia couldn’t calm her down. Her blood pressure was through the roof and so she went to the hospital.

He contemplated everything, wondering if you were playing games with him from the start. Maybe he deserved it. Lance knew he fucked up in the past but he was young and stupid. He was also madly in love with you and every day he tried to explain, to apologize. Even if you didn’t forgive him he just wanted to see your face one last time to know it was really over. Instead you ignored him and the open wound that was his heart hurt more and more until it was infected. He partied to forget you, he became the asshole that would have driven you away if you even attempted to contact him. He convinced himself that he didn’t need anyone but it was a lie. He always needed you.

But now Lance doesn’t know what to think because you hurt his mother. He ignored your calls and texts, turning his phone off because he couldn’t stand to look at your face each time the photo of you cuddling together on his couch popped up. Once he thought you were beautiful but now he only sees a monster. How could you do this to him?

Lance left the hospital to run home quickly, disgusted that he stood in the same shower you shared only twenty-four hours ago. He changed and sped over to the center, hoping the bags under his eyes weren’t too deep, hoping he could claim he was up all night preparing for this day.

He was in a daze as the day went by. He should have been happy, this was his dream; his center was USAG accredited, there was an overwhelming sign up from excited children and their parents but Lance wanted to scream. He was too exhausted to deal with everything, wanting to go home and sleep for the next month instead of being there. Looking around all he saw were memories of you and he hated it. You turned his dream into a nightmare.

By the end of the following week Lance was exhausted after visiting his mom after a long day at the center. She had been back home for a few days, with new medication to ease her discomforts. She refused treatment knowing there was no point to it; she’d rather not face the side effects again especially after the cancer had spread.

Lance plopped on the couch slinging his arm over his tired eyes, even the soft glow of the flickering TV was too bright for him. His head was pounding and he wanted to sleep. The sound of his phone going off disturbed the small moment of peace he found. Now that the center was open his phone was always going off with notifications, emails regarding new students and scheduling, Twitter replies, and continued texts that go unreturned from women he didn’t care to involve himself with.

Lance instinctively opened the inbox for the email created for the center to find there was nothing new there, it was his personal email that had a new message and his stomach twisted into knots when he saw it was from you.

Sitting up now he stared at his phone, debating if he should even open your message. You never read any of the apology notes he left for you so he thought about doing the same but something pulled at his heart and he decided to click the box, bracing himself for whatever words were on the opposite side.

Dear Lance,

I want to apologize for many things but the most importantly for the phone call your mom received. An ambitious former coworker searched for her number and used my name to try to gain information. This shouldn’t have happened and I take full responsibility for everything. I love your mother very dearly and I would never jeopardize her health or privacy, ever.

I’m also sorry for accusing you of something that didn’t happen. I felt like my trust was broken, like I was that vulnerable teenager again who didn’t want an explanation. I ran away then just like I ran away now and I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit of mine that I’ve come to realize since my trip to Spring Hill.

Speaking of, it comes as no surprise to us both that I was reluctant to go on that trip but I’m very happy that I did. Despite how things ended I want you to know that I’m truly happy we resolved our issues from the past. I’m really sorry it took so long.

Writing has always helped clear my head. When thoughts are swirling around my mind like a hurricane it’s comforting to get them out in this way. Since I’ve been back in New York I’ve taken the time to write down all of my thoughts about our experience together. Even though you aren’t approving the article I wanted you to read it, keep it for yourself and know just how much you’ve always meant to me.

I wish you the very best success with your gymnastics center and your life. You deserve great things Lance Tucker, you always have.

-Y/N

A lump was caught in Lance’s throat with tears burning his eyes as he reread your email. He felt horrible, saying those things to you when you were innocent. He knew you would never hurt his mom and now he hated himself for yelling at you.

Lance went into the kitchen to grab something to drink, leaning over the cool countertop of the island and opening the PDF attachment within the email.

IN DEPTH with Lance Tucker By Y/N Y/L/N

Sacrifice. Sacrifice is a word that’s tossed around the sports industry a lot with the focus on the athlete and the things they’ve sacrificed to get to where they are today. Sacrifices are never easy. Most athletes have strict diet and workout regimens to adhere to, others have sacrificed their time, losing hours that could be spent with friends and family in favor of practicing, training or performing halfway across the world. When you’ve achieved your goal of becoming that athlete it makes the sacrifices a little easier. They were part of the journey to the top but what about the sacrifices put you on the path in the first place?

Lance Tucker was a household name when he made it to the top by winning a Silver Medal in the 2004 Rome Olympics and the Gold in 2008 Beijing Olympics for the US Men’s Gymnastics Team, but the name you should know is Dorothy Tucker. If it wasn’t for the sacrifices of Dorothy, Lance’s mother, Lance would not have become the athlete we know today.

For the first time in my sports journalism career I haven’t had to do research on the person I would be going to interview. In 1991 I moved to Spring Hill, Florida and the first friend I ever made was the boy across the street, Lance Tucker. He and his mother Dorothy welcomed my family to the neighborhood and we all became very close.

Lance’s father Mitch was an intimidating man, loud and gruff, angry at the world for the cards he had been dealt. He was the type of man that dreamed of a better life but let his own insecurities hold him back. He settled in for a blue collar job, living every day with regrets that were pacified when he reached the bottom of the bottle.

Mitch insisted on being the sole provider for the Tucker family, something I learned later on that Dorothy heavily protested but after various screaming matches she ended up settling into her role as housewife. He worked long hours so Dorothy and Lance had become accustomed to being alone together. Dorothy sat through episodes of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with her son excitedly jumping off the couch to reenact the fight scenes. She laughed as Lance’s little body spun around from the force of the punches he threw to the air as he pretended to fight The Foot Clan but he showed grace when he mimicked the turtles, doing cartwheels and somersaults around the living room.

On trips to the park Lance would climb the monkey bars and Dorothy noticed his agility, seeing him demonstrate more coordination and balance than his peers. She scanned through her VHS tape of the 1988 Olympics for the gymnastics portion she swears she recorded. Upon finding it, Dorothy asked Lance watch it with her and this was the day his life changed. The four year old was mesmerized with the sport and was especially excited to see a young man with his namesake, now retired Olympian Lance Ringnald, practically flying in the air as he swung over and under, flipping his body around the high bar. From that day forward Lance wanted to become a gymnast too.

Mitch was against the idea from the start but Dorothy fought for her son, sacrificing her sanity as Mitch continually yelled; his booming voice shaking the foundation of their home, all because of some old fashioned ideas about what it means to be a man.

Mitch Tucker grew up idolizing Mickey Mantle, an extraordinary baseball player whose life outside of the field was equally as exhilarating, indulging in the Manhattan nightlife offerings of endless booze and women. In Mitch’s mind Mantle was a real man he could look up to and while he never played any professional sports he certainly tried to emulate the lifestyle of his hero.

When his young son took an interest in gymnastics it was safe to say that Mitch panicked, worrying that it would make Lance soft and feminine. It was close minded thinking ingrained in him from a long line of other close minded thinkers.

Fighting with Dorothy over Lance’s hobby became a natural part of their relationship and while he didn’t appreciate her standing up to him in some twisted sense of pride he liked the devotion she had towards Lance.

Reluctantly, Mitch began to take Lance to competitions and despite his son’s talent, earning top scores and gold medals from an early age he would consistently demean Lance and his achievements, telling him he should quit and join a real sport instead.

When Lance was ten his parents separated. Mitch’s drinking and infidelity (something both Lance and I were unaware of as children) had reached an all time high but it was the way he spoke about Lance that angered Dorothy the most; Mitch was disappointed in him.

On the surface Lance was an award winning, talented gymnast who was dedicated to his training. He balanced schoolwork and house chores and still made time to see his friends. He was a smart and kind young man and he adored his mother. When you put everything together you can easily see what Mitch was disappointed in, Lance was nothing like him.

I won’t say that Dorothy sacrificed her marriage because she always deserved someone who treated her with love and respect, nevertheless with divorce on the horizon Dorothy was in need of a job. She worked hard, as a letter carrier during the week and got a second job on some nights and the weekend in a dentist’s office to ensure she could pay for Lance’s increased gymnastics training and it paid off in his achievements. Lance continued to compete and the walls of his room were decorated in medals and trophies from various competitions.

There’s a natural sense of pride in winning especially when you’ve worked as hard as Lance Tucker did. In middle school he began training exclusively with Coach Jaclyn Burrows who occupied most of his time after school and on weekends. Despite his exhaustion Lance never failed to hand in his homework and even if his body was sore and achy he never once complained. Although there was the time during my twelfth birthday party where he came very close.

It was held at a roller skating rink and Lance begged Coach Burrows to come in a few hours earlier in order to get out in time so he didn’t miss all of my party. When I saw Lance had arrived I skated over to him, jumping with excitement as he laced up his skates but the minute Lance got onto the floor his overworked legs were like jelly and they gave out on him. I helped him up as he gripped on to me and I skated us both to the benches. He apologized, asking if I would be upset if he didn’t skate. Of course I would never ask him to do that but had I said yes I know Lance would have forced himself to do it, gripping the rail against the wall for support with a smile on his face just so I would be happy.

Lance laid on the bench, resting his head on his mother’s leg as he watched me skate by, eventually closing his tired eyes and falling asleep because he was exhausted. Dorothy woke him up in time for cake although Lance couldn’t have any. He had an upcoming competition and he restricted himself, sticking to a regimented diet of lean meats and vegetables. For a thirteen year old that is sacrifice! Lance stared at the forbidden dessert decorated with flickering candles as he and I posed for a picture, smiling widely as we hugged.

By the time Lance was in his first year of high school he was completely overworked. He was training to compete for the Junior Olympic National Championships while trying to balance the heavy workload of his classes. He hardly had time to do anything, trying to read books for English class on the bus to Coach Burrow’s gymnastics center, training until it was dark, rushing through dinner and staying up late to start his homework. He was burning out easily and Dorothy hadn’t truly seen the effects until she received a call from the Principal’s office. Lance was sleep deprived and his body was too sore to move, so when the Physical Education teacher yelled at him for “being lazy” and not participating Lance snapped at the man, yelling and crying out of frustration (a terribly embarrassing scene for Lance in front of his classmates).

Dorothy wanted Lance to complete high school but she understood there was no way he could do it with the amount of training he required, so she pulled him out in favor of hiring someone to homeschool him. It was another expense she really couldn’t afford but she made sacrifices, dropping the expensive cable TV and only buying new clothes for Lance when he absolutely needed them. Unfortunately the boy was growing into a man whose body was growing as well, becoming taller and stronger but Dorothy never complained. She mended her own wardrobe as needed so Lance could get new clothes, it was a privilege for her to sacrifice things in favor of her son.

Lance homeschooled for a few hours six days a week and he trained for seven, dedicating as much time as he could. Nationals were an important step in his Olympic journey and my family and I were there to support him. Lance was neck and neck with Michael McNamara, each of them rotating between first and second place after each event. It wasn’t until Lance completed his routine on the high bar, expertly performing moves I still don’t know the names for that sent him to the top.

He twisted around the bar, varying his grip and changing direction. I watched with amazement at the way he skillfully controlled his body around the steel frame. Finally he swung around the bar gaining enough momentum to spring upwards, his body rotating a few times before he stuck a strong landing, reaching his arms up with achievement. The perfect execution of his routine earned him the Gold Medal with Dorothy running up to him, tears of joy streaking down her face as they celebrated a big win. Lance and I lost touch before he the 2004 Olympics but I watched as he took home the Silver medal. I was proud of him though Dorothy was the true celebrant that day; this was the culmination of the sacrifices she made.

A lot can happen in four years. In the four years between the Olympics Lance had turned from a boy on the brink of adulthood to a man at twenty-one, standing taller, stronger and more determined than ever. He pushed himself to train harder, wanting another shot at the gold.

Lance moved to Houston, Texas to train full time with Kevin Mazeika of the Houston Gymnastics Academy. Mazeika who has served on the National Team Coaching staff since 1988 spoke about Lance before Beijing stating “I’ve never met anyone as focused as Lance Tucker. He eats, sleeps and breathes gymnastics. He wants to be the best and I’ll tell ya [sic] with the way he’s training he just might be.”

Lance put himself through a grueling diet to ensure his body was at its peak physical condition. He pushed himself to the limit as he worked on his routines. He became a machine, training until ever imperfection was eradicated. He needed to be perfect.

Lance was obsessed, needing to win the gold to feel validation from the unnecessary demands he put on himself. He only visited home during the holidays and quickly returned to Houston to train. As Lance bent forward to receive his gold medal he was a changed man. He reached the top of the mountain and instead of being thankful for the journey and the sacrifices made he was boasting. To commemorate his win Lance got his infamous ribbon tattoo, an impulsive decision he looks back on today and regrets.

Lance was at the top of his career after his Olympic win, becoming the youngest National Team Coordinator in US Gymnastics history, purposely taking a position with the women’s team because his self-admitted ego would not allow him to train the men’s team and become overshadowed by anyone.

Lance had a successful career living in Los Angeles when he wasn’t travelling for USA Gymnastics and then his world came to a complete halt when the scandals broke.

Psychologists have argued about the various reasons why we like scandals. They’re a form of entertainment, a real life soap opera that plays out before our eyes, they give us distraction from our own lives, sometimes making us feel good if we can compare ourselves to the persons involved and think we’re better than them because of this.

In the early 1990’s sports scandals became surprisingly common beginning with the attack on Nancy Kerrigan followed by the O.J. Simpson murder trial. The scandals were ubiquitous between the endless cycle of news programs and media coverage.

On the day of the Simpson verdict everyone was waiting with bated breath, with workplaces standing still, listening to the radio to hear whether the former football player was deemed guilty or innocent. The actual verdict was irrelevant since the story was so sensationalized it had become detached from the facts. Instead of being concerned about the horrific murder of Nicole Brown-Simpson and Ron Goldman, the country was in hysterics over Johnnie Cochran’s infamous glove line. It seems like people will always enjoy the entertainment that scandals bring as long as they aren’t affected by them personally.

When Lance Tucker was at the center of various scandals his life was forever changed. A student accused him of fathering her child, another accused him of rape, and while every accusation was proven to be untrue Lance was let go by USA Gymnastics, a direct result of the case with former National Team Doctor Larry Nassar. USAG was under fire for not protecting the athletes as their employees who worked in and around Nassar at the Karolyi Ranch failed to report or tried to cover up the incidences.

Lance believed he was wrongfully let go as he was innocent and began to prepare an appeal until he received devastating news about his mother. Dorothy had cancer and with that knowledge Lance shed the hard exterior he created, his arrogance cracking on the ground like shattered glass.

Lance returned to Spring Hill, taking up permanent residence to be closer to Dorothy and assist her with treatment. Lance sacrificed his career, having neither the time nor desire to make an appeal to USA Gymnastics, staying in the shadows instead to care for his mother, the woman who sacrificed so much during her life for him.

Eventually Lance needed a source of income as the money he previously earned through endorsements was dwindling quickly thanks to the expensive healthcare system. He refinanced his home to start a business, Tucker Gymnastics in the heart of his hometown.

While Dorothy battled cancer Lance found the strength to fight as well, finally appealing the committee’s decision with a motion to be reinstated. Lance’s decision to do so was not for himself but for his mother, wanting to make up for his past behavior when fame and arrogance became more important in his life. He sought to bring honor back to the Tucker name so that Dorothy would know how appreciative Lance was for all the sacrifices she made for him, though Dorothy didn’t need any of that. She loves her son wholeheartedly and she would do it all over again to ensure his happiness, knowing his love in return is all she ever needed.

Tucker Gymnastics is in its infancy but under the care and direction of Lance Tucker I have no doubt the gymnastics center will flourish. Lance has lived a lifetime of ups and downs both personal and professional. He’s an excellent teacher and coach, and future gymnasts will have an opportunity to learn great things from him.

However the greatest gift Lance can give to his future students is the knowledge of firsthand experience. Lance wants them to learn about the path to the top of the mountain and the sacrifices they will make along the way. He wants to provide guidance for when they’re at the top and how to safely get back down and avoid the mistakes he’s made.

The price of gold is high and Lance Tucker wants to ensure his students know the sacrifice it takes to pay it.◼️

Lance had been crying as he read the article, wiping his tears on his sleeve. He was overcome with emotion as you fondly recalled your memories of his childhood, painted his life honestly and above all unexpectedly praising his mother in a way no one else had done before.

It was beautiful. He sniffled, ripping a paper towel off the roll and blowing his nose with it. His heart ached as it beat against his chest wondering how he ever could have questioned you in regards to the phone call. His throat became dry so he quickly finished his sports drink, wiping the tears from his face once more.

Lance didn’t know what to do with himself now. He felt terrible and wanted to apologize. He wanted to speak with you, to fly to New York and hold you in his arms again. To tell you how much you meant to him, to tell you that he loves you.

He ruined things between you though. He was embarrassed with himself, he yelled at you for the first time in his life and he hated it. He yelled at you like his father yelled at his mother, raising his voice loud enough to talk over you, shouting from the pit of his stomach. He was cruel, just like his father, the comparison disgusts him. He didn’t deserve you.

Lance took a shower to clear his mind and after tossing and turning for hours he finally grabbed his phone from the nightstand, opening your message and briefly replying “Print it.”

The beeping of your alarm awoke you from the peaceful sleep you finally managed to fall into. The moment your eyes opened you went to your phone. You hated how eager you were to see if Lance responded but you had to. Seeing his reply made your heart race but as you read his message it stopped entirely.

Lance’s short reply brought tears to your eyes. At least Susan will be happy he’s going forward with the article but there was no mention of your apology even though you explained the truth. Maybe he still thinks you’re lying or maybe he doesn’t care. The fact that his response was all business made you painfully aware of the fact that whatever you and Lance had in the past is where it should have stayed.

Months passed and you were now in the middle of a new assignment that had you packed in a stadium in Nashville, Tennessee, with thousands of people celebrating as others criticized a controversial call made by the referee. It was a decision that led to the Pittsburgh Penguins winning the Stanley Cup finals. Though he is captain, Sidney Crosby is as soft spoken as they come. He exudes a calm demeanor one wouldn’t expect when you think of hockey players, especially not a back-to-back championship winner.

The Penguins were celebrating their win tonight and though Sidney was happy for his team he was looking forward to going home to Nova Scotia to spend time with his family. He’s a fairly private person, not feeling the need to be on social media. His Foundation serves as his online presence but only to promote the work it does supporting children. Though his Olympic wins are something he regards with fondness, his true pride was opening a hockey school in his hometown of Halifax.

There was so much of Sidney that reminded you of Lance and you couldn’t help but think about him. He was always on your mind and though you wanted to reach out in the past in the hopes of reconciling again you didn’t. Lance didn’t want you.

Adjacent to the arena was the hotel everyone was staying in, celebrating their win with a spread of food and champagne. Nashville was famous for its delicious barbecue but right now your mind and taste buds were being blown away by hot chicken. Your nose was running, your fingers were coated with a delicious glaze that you sucked into your mouth. Still, you needed a napkin.

You stood up in search for more, because the singular one you initially took was not enough, passing loud and slightly tipsy players who were enjoying their win. Feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket you rushed to clean your hands, answering your mom’s call just in time.

It was hard to hear so you told her to hang on as you squeezed past a group of very large hockey players. You found yourself in a less noisy hallway and finally greeted her properly.

“Hi mom, what’s up?” you shouted, sticking your finger in your other ear to block out the background noise.

Your mother exhaled a heavy breath into the phone, her voice shaking with sorrow as she said, “Dorothy Tucker passed away.”

PART 18

[stunudo]

Along This Long and Winding Path

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Spencer Reid x the BAU team

Setting: Season 14

A/N: This is day two of my 1k Follower Grab Bag of Fics. But when I saw the formula for this day I knew it was going to be an angsty mess. Reid with Team Unity/ Wheels Up in the future. This is one way I could see the cliffhanger of season 13 being resolved, you all will probably hate me. Also, this somehow turned into a case fic. xoxo Stu

Spencer Reid had a barrel of a gun pointed at his head, his gun pointed back. If he shot her, Penelope could die, if he didn’t he would be taken prisoner into the very cult that had kidnapped his friend and fellow genius. Though the decision appeared to be containing two options, his mind began factoring all the variables, giving seemingly endless possibilities. Penelope’s voice was muffled behind the car window, “Shoot her Reid!”

Penelope Garcia, a peace loving and nurturing analyst was asking him to shoot someone. She had saved him all those years ago in a Texas hospital room, he wouldn’t let her be in danger now. Protocol be damned. He holstered his sidearm and surrendered. Suddenly the dream faded away and he woke up to face a new day.

Chief Emily Prentiss had been sitting silently at her desk for an indeterminate amount of time. There were cases piling up and there were reports due out, but her mind and her attentions kept floating off. Her sense of duty had be quelled these past few months leaving room for distraction that only masked guilt. There was a knock at the door, JJ’s cool blue eyes tried to hide her empathy.

“Kevin sent us a text to meet in the round table room,” JJ stayed in the doorway. “You ready?”

“Of course, sorry about that,” Emily closed the folder that was open on her desk, one she hadn’t even realized she had opened and stood to follow JJ to the conference room.

Kevin Lynch stood awkwardly in front of the group of profilers until JJ and Emily were seated amongst them.

“Alright, it’s a bad one,” he started, his joker grin lost on his swallowing features. “We’ve got seven sets of human remains found in the woods outside of Boise. There has been flooding in the area and that is why they were discovered. Local sheriff’s office puts the most recent body at six months, which is still tentative given the state they were in.”

“So we need to determine if there is still a threat and profile from there,” Emily added, glancing at the evidence photos on her tablet.

David Rossi was in the market for some real estate in the Bay Area, looking forward to spending more time with Kai and Joy now that he was retired. His wives and his retirements came in threes, apparently. He unconsciously checked his phone as the realtor showed him through the third overpriced yet charming  house of the day. He couldn’t turn off his agent senses, but he also didn’t want to interrupt a case. He shut off the phone to stop himself from scratching the itch.

“Mr. Rossi, can you believe this kitchen?!” The realtor gushed.

Spencer Reid made his way to the day room, having slept through breakfast. He didn’t mind, he could have a cup of coffee from the nurses station, but all the sugar in the place couldn’t make it satisfactory. He found Thomas at the card table, just like every other day and silently sat down.

“Didn’t think you’d make it out today,” the man’s gruff voice disproportionate to his small frame.

Spencer’s voice was soft and slow to reply, “Some days are worse than others. Did you still want to play?”

“Why not, let them wait on us for group for once,” Thomas grinned his crooked teeth and began setting up the chess pieces.

The roads were nearly impassable and yet the BAU got to the crime scene before noon. Simmons and Alvez wore backpacks while JJ and Emily had utility belts on. Tara thought they all looked ridiculous and was instead taking pictures with her phone to send to Kevin. The bodies had been left in the position they had been found until their arrival. The mud making any close inspection nearly impossible.

“How long until we can get them to the coroners’, Agent Prentiss?”

“We don’t need much longer, given the state of the area we would be more harm than good at this point,” she explained.

“JJ, come look at this,” Alvez was crouched down over the body of a young woman.

“Those look like defensive wounds,” JJ was confused.

“She was clawing at herself like that?” Luke suggested.

“The unsub may have been using a burning agent or some kind of hallucinogen,” Tara leaned over to look at the most in tact body. Emily and Matt both shared a look when the last word was said.

Group was the hardest part of his day, but also the one he looked forward to the most. It wasn’t therapy, but it was conducted like it. It gave the staff an excuse to get everyone together before lunch was served and also brought the long term residents some socialization. The quickly rehabilitated patients were the most talkative during the sessions, but Spencer made it a point to seek out those who were less keen to share.

The introverts that didn’t seek the recognition or the attention of the group were his people, but that didn’t stop him from focusing in on one extrovert’s contributions day after day.

“How is everyone today?” She grinned her lopsided grin from her chair. “I know the weather is all over the place right now, but the courtyard is starting to see some fresh growth. You guys should really check it out.” Penelope saw some hands raise and she pointed with her right hand to pick on the next person to share.

Spencer and Thomas had entered the cafeteria, Thomas’s walker was sliding on tennis balls with faces drawn on them. His bright eyes watched Penelope as she giggled at the story someone had shared.

“Prentiss, the id on this victim flagged in Vicap,” Simmons handed Emily his tablet with Kevin’s email.

“Carol Murray. She was an unsub?”

“A victim, from Tallahassee.” Simmons pointed to the information on the screen.

“That’s a long way to move a body,” Prentiss added.

“According to the file, we worked the case,” Simmons.

“Jayge, do you remember a case in Florida, apparently there was a string of shootings for organ donors?”

“Yeah, what’s it have to do with these bodies in Idaho?” JJ’s face was in disbelief.

“One of the bodies was a victim you and Morgan saved on the case.”

“So, we going to talk today, or are you going to keep watching me during Group?” Penelope had wheeled over to him during lunch.

“Garcia,” Spencer whispered, giving her a dejected look.

“Oh, don’t Garcia me, Reid,” Penelope’s voice was nearly back to normal, her speech pathologist was thrilled with her progress. What Spencer hadn’t warned her therapist was how much natural practice she had talking.

“I know what you’re going to say, but I am not ready to hear it,” Spencer pushed his instant mashed potatoes around his tray.

“When will you be ready? When I am back to work? When I can strut around in platforms again?” Penelope clutched his forearm. “Hey, look at me Boy Wonder.”

Spencer sniffled and patted her manicured hand on his arm.

“Those things might not happen--”

“Penelope, you are making great progress--” She put her finger on his interrupting mouth.

“They might not happen, so just in case. I forgive you. You, Spencer Reid, who did precisely as I asked and shot that traitor on the spot.”

“Penelope, I can’t accept that, not yet.”

“Well, tough, because I am going to tell you every chance I get.” She grinned at him, shaking her head with attitude.

Emily stood in the conference room at the local police station, she stretched her neck before addressing the team.

“They’re sure?” she asked Alvez who had just returned from the coroners’ office.

“There was no trace of anything in their systems, but some of these bodies are beyond evidence collection.” Alvez explained.

“If this is who we think it was, there wouldn’t be traces. The question is, why here? Wouldn’t he want us to know he was targeting the victims we saved?” Simmons asked.

“We need to call Spence, this can’t just be a coincidence.” JJ crossed her arms in her folding chair.

“Reid has refused to consult in the past, what makes you think he would help now?” Simmons asked in a low tone, he was hopefully curious.

“You tell him or Penelope it’s Scratch and they will be here or the bat cave.” JJ was staring down Emily’s ‘we shouldn’t be having this conversation face’.

Emily’s head snapped back and it hung there staring at the stained drop ceiling tiles. “I do not want Garcia on this, not yet.” Emily gave in.

Spencer’s afternoons were full; he saw some patients twice a week and others only once. The road to his personal recovery started with getting his therapist’s license. He wanted to be able to approach his trauma and doubts from every angle, it led him to helping others accept and process their physical injuries and restrictions. Garcia called him her caretaker, when she wasn’t flirting with the orderlies.

She was one of a handful of patients he didn’t see, ensuring he wasn’t blurring any lines between who were his patients and who were his friends. She wouldn’t have cooperated if he had tried to make an appointment with her in the first place. He was taking notes over the last ten minutes of the hour for his final patient of the day, when the landline phone rang on his desk. He had forgotten he had a direct line at the facility.

“Dr. Reid?” He answered.

“Spence?” JJ’s voice, of course they had her call him this time.

“JJ, how did Henry’s potato battery go?” He was ignoring the professional urgency in her voice.

“Uh, fine, he wants to try other food next. But, that’s not why I called.” Spencer’s mouth ticked, he thought for two seconds before biting his lips and exhaling.

“What’s the case?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“As long as it is not a cult, I may be willing to help you out.”

“We think we found one of Scratch’s contingencies.”

“Where should I meet you?”

Penelope grew alarmed when Spencer didn’t say goodbye for the day, he always slipped her a Dum-Dum or a new trinket going into the weekend. He claimed it was for her muscle control, but she knew it was because he loved her. Which meant that his disappearing act was only because he had been taken away by someone or something else he loved.

Diana and the team battled inside her mind for the bigger dangers, she quickly wheeled back to her room and got her tablet out to Skype Kevin at Headquarters. His look of shock and dismay at her timing told Penelope she was on the right track.

“Penelope, hi, so nice to see your face,” Kevin gave his fakest smile ever.

“So, Kevin, remembering that I have, in fact, seen you naked. How long is it going to take to convince you to send me whatever my babies are working on?”

“Penelope, you are on medical leave, I am legally not allowed to share work with you or jail, all of us, jail.”

“Yeah, but think of all the juicy details I could share about you on the interwebs,” Penelope cooed.

“You’re hacking in remotely? How are you even doing this?! Not to mention that facility doesn’t have the speed for this?!”

JJ and Alvez met Spencer at the airport, Luke drove while JJ went over their findings. Spencer felt oddly comfortable in the standard issued SUV, despite not having been in the field for months.

“So your two theories are this was Scratch working a different angle or an unsub who was specifically targeting the BAU?”

“Pretty much.” Luke turned into the hotel’s parking lot.

“Have all of the victims been identified?”

“All but two, dental records on missing persons are taking a while,” JJ shrugged, clearly Kevin was a not Penelope.

“And those bodies that were identified all had ties to the team?”

“Uh, yes, though some of them are three degrees from Kevin Bacon, if you know what I’m saying.” Alvez added, sliding from the driver’s seat.

Spencer’s face constricted in to confusion, “The victims are tied to an actor?”

“No, Spence, it’s a pop culture game, ignore Luke.” JJ clucked, it was good to have his innocent side resurface after so long. They headed into the hotel for the night.

In the morning, there was word that the park rangers in the next county found a body near a cabin. Simmons and JJ went to check it out for connections. Meanwhile, Alvez, Lewis and Prentiss went over the victimology for the bodies from the mass grave with Spencer. Emily felt him doubting them and she couldn’t help but hold out hope he was right.

“Besides Carol Murray’s scratches, are there any other indicator of the use of fear or self harm?”

“Bernice De La Pena had defensive wounds, but nothing as extensive as Carol Murray’s.” Tara answered as Emily handed over photographs of the arms on the other woman.

Alvez’s phone rang, “Uh-oh, you too?! Let me put you on speaker.”

“Hey guys,” Rossi’s voice called out into the meeting space.

“Rossi?” Spencer’s voice hitched in surprise.

“Is that the kid, I knew something was up. What you got Emily?”

“Possible Scratch side attack, we’re probably jumping to the wrong conclusions, but we couldn’t be too careful.”

“That must be why Garcia left me those ominous messages. Anything you need from me?”

“Rossi, do the names Bernice De La Pena, Courtney Sanders and Stephanie Marx mean anything to you?” Tara recited from the list of identified victims.

“Not off the top of my head, should they?”

“One of the victims was a previous save for us, Carol Murray, but we aren’t seeing direct connections.” Emily continued.

“That’s why you brought in Reid?”

“One of many reasons,” Emily smirked at Spencer, he looked away. She held the phone, “We should get back at it, but we’ll keep you posted.”

“See ya, Rossi,” Luke took his phone back. “So, what are you seeing Reid?”

The body that JJ and Simmons were sent to inspect had clearly died of an animal attack, but the sheriff insisted they check out the cabin too. With little progress where the team was holed up, they decided to entertain the locals with a walk through. It was a simple, yet well decorated vacation home, it had running water, generator procured electricity, and a wood burning furnace. Matt glanced at JJ and they followed the deputy around back to the cellar.

Inside they knew they had made the right decision, there was no other word for it’s purpose than torture room. There were photographs of various women and animals pinned in different positions. JJ swallowed hard as she spotted Carol Murray’s face in unimaginable pain. Matt was already on his phone to Prentiss.

Emily closed her eyes, “Oh, thank God.”

Alvez and Spencer waited until she was done with the call before realizing their worst fears were unfulfilled. Mr. Scratch was not behind these murders.

“Spencer, I’m really sorry that we dragged you all the way out here,” Emily explained as she started gathering her things to head to the cabin and continue the investigation. “Luke will take you to the airport from here.”

“The case isn’t solved, Emily. If it’s alright with you, I would like to finish the profile. Especially since the unsub remains at large.” Spencer replied, he didn’t need to be rescued or sent away. Luke grinned, but tried to hide it as Emily’s face melted into secretively pleased.

“It’s good to have you back, SSA Reid,” Chief Prentiss nodded.

“It’s still Doctor, Emily,” Spencer smirked as he secured his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“You’re damn right it is,” Tara’s nose scrunched up and she patted him on the back.

The elevator inside FBI Headquarters still smelled the same, Spencer noticed as he was wedged beside his former teammates. They had registered him as a consultant with special clearance if he ever changed his mind about leaving the job. So with his special pass around his neck he stepped out into the familiar bullpen. It looked the same, even his desk remained untouched in his absence, the fact caused him mixed emotions.

Kevin came storming from the tech office in a near fit, “Chief Prentiss, hi, uh, I just want it, on the record, that there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t restrain her, she’s already partially paralyzed.”

Slowly Penelope made her appearance, “Oh boo-who, Tech Boy here couldn’t keep me from making sure my team was alright. Emily is not going to slap you with a sanction, Kevin.”

“But I could slap you with one,” Emily threatened.

“Moi?”

“Yeah, violating medical leave and hacking government servers,” Emily suggested, playing tough.

Everyone let the scene play out, though they were all bursting with laughter. JJ looked away while Luke and Simmons swallowed it and stood tall. Tara was as ever, unflinching. Spencer’s face was confused, “How did you even get released from the Rehab Facility?!”

“Oh, sweet, pure, Reid. Mama has her ways,” Penelope sighed. “Besides, there are medical transport vehicles available on Uber and Lyft. I got a ride in no time. Now, whose driving, because Rossi is waiting on us with the kettle on.”

Spencer wished he had the unstoppable optimism of Penelope, but when he looked around the room at the faces of the BAU team he felt nearly hopeful. His decision to walk away from this group of unwavering loyal and dedicated people was not one of selfishness. He regretted it and was certain of it in equal measure. His choices had caused his friends almost insurmountable pain over the past few years, had cost Stephen Walker his life and Penelope her ability to walk. His decision to teach and volunteer at Penelope’s Rehabilitation Facility had been the first choice he was proud of in a very long time. However much an act of penance it was.

The food was phenomenal, as always and the conversation was kept light. Rossi had some great stories about Kai and trying to find a place to live in the most ridiculous real estate market in the country. Penelope was beaming with her freedom and friend time. Tara and Luke were bantering as always, apparently the last blind date he had set her up with was a nightmare.

Emily approached him as JJ and Matt ducked out to head back to their families. “You know, you could work part time, like Tara.”

“Emily, I would have to be reinstated and I don’t think I am ready to have my gun back on my hip, just yet.”

“So what you’re saying is maybe?” There was a devilish glint to her eye.

“What? No, stop putting words in my mouth.” He smirked, she had him on the ropes and he knew it.

‘We don’t always have a choice in what happens to us, but you know what sometimes we do. And right now, I’m just asking you to make the choice to stay.” Emily said back verbatim.

“Fight for us, fight for the team.” Spencer continued, his voice a whisper as he recalled those words pouring from his own heart.

“It’s what we do.” Emily finished. “I know you’re not ready. You won’t even let Penelope forgive you. But, don’t give up on us, just yet. We haven’t given up on you.”

Spencer sighed, his tears burning as she looked back at him with the years of cases and personal loss behind them. “Okay.”

@dontshootmespence @illegalcerebral @literallyprentissstwin @cherry-loves-fanfic @mentallydatingspencerreid

[lolainblue]

Presque Vu -- Chapter 30

A/N Well here we go again. Thank you for every one that is still on board. I don’t know if the tag list is up to date or not, so if you want to be tagged but aren’t, or if you’re tagged but don’t want to be, please let me know. 

    ********************************************

   When Raina got into work on Wednesday morning the studio was strangely silent and empty. She brought up the main lights as she passed toward her workstation, swallowing dryly as she scanned the eerily vacant space around her. Before she could get settled in, Val appeared at her side, his brow furrowed.

   “Come back to my office and have a seat, Raina. I'm afraid I have some news,” he requested. He didn't wait to see if she complied, simply turning around and retreating to his office. Raina dried her palms on her skirt before following him.

   Once she had had a seat across from his desk Val slowly puffed his cheeks and let the air gradually pass through his parsed lips. “You know, the media industry has been going through a lot of changes,” he began. “Traditional media, print publications, have been the hardest hit. We have been trying to reimagine ourselves here and keep up with the times but I'm afraid it just hasn't been enough.”

   Raina shifted in her seat, again wiping her sweating palms against the cool fabric of her skirt. This can't be happening the voice in her head thundered but she was certain she knew where all this was going. She tried to keep her breathing slow and even, determined not to let the panic bubbling in her stomach overtake her. The rest of Val's speech roared past her ears like the wash from a jet engine. The publishing company that owned their magazine along with several others was restructuring departments for better efficiency. The art department the studio fell under was being merged with the others and 75 percent of the overall staff from the three were being let go. There was no more job for her here. Her internship for the final portion of her MFA was gone. Her job, her education, pulled out from under her in one swift blow.

   “Dammit, Raina, I am so sorry,” Val reached out and placed his hand over hers. He was easily the most distant person Raina had ever worked with and the gesture startled her. “I want you to know I fought hard to keep you. You're the best damn assistant I've had in 20 years in this business.”

   “What?” Raina looked at Val in puzzlement. He had always been so gruff with her. She had felt as if she were constantly struggling to please him and consistently disappointing him. It had never occurred to her that her efforts were even noticed, let alone appreciated. “I thought that...”

   Val shook his head. “I know. I'm not the easiest boss to have. But you never let it bother you and you were always unfailingly professional and competent, no matter what I threw at you. You always seemed to understand exactly what I wanted. I hate like hell that it is ending this way.” He took his hand back and started shuffling through the folders on his desk “There's a small severance package but...' he cleared his throat as he continued to rifle through the stack, finding one and handing it to her. “There's also a list of some available job opportunities in there that you might be interested in. I'm sorry I don't know if they will meet your internship requirements for your school program,  you'll have to check with them on that. There's also a list of some contacts of mine, people in the industry who might be able to assist you if you find yourself struggling. Just tell them I referred you and they'll help you out if they can. I also included the most glowing letter of recommendation I could come up with. I hope it helps. My personal information is in there too, you can call me if you need me to give someone an extra nudge.”

   “Wow Val, that's very generous.” Raina was completely blown away by his gesture, and as she clutched the little brown binder in her lap she could feel tears welling up behind her eyes that weren't due to the sudden job loss.

   “It's the least I could do after they pulled the rug out from under you like this. Oh and there's something else.” Val reached around to the other side of his desk and pulled out a large deep blue leather portfolio which he handed to Raina. “I want you to have this. I started it when you first started with us. It's all your work, well the best of it anyway. I had intended to fill it until you graduated, to give it to you as a memento of your time here and to show how much you had progressed. I am sorry I won't be able to finish it for you but it does give you something to present to prospective employers.”

   Raina smoothed her hand over the expensive leather before opening it up, flipping through the oversized pages to see shots she had set up and taken over the course of the year she had worked there. She could really see how much she had grown under Val's tutelage. It was true he had been a difficult boss but he had been an amazing teacher, and she was bereaved to be losing him, more than the job itself. “This is amazing and so thoughtful. Thank you.”

   Val nodded and stood up, their exchange clearly over. “Do you need any help in gathering your things and getting them to your car? I know you keep a few things here in the office. I have some boxes for you....”

   “No, thank you. I can manage to pack it all up myself,” Raina responded, walking back to her desk. She was still in a bit of a daze as she looked around, trying to think of what to pack.

   Val appeared momentarily with a few boxes which he sat down with a mysterious smile. Raina took the lid off the first one to begin loading her things into it and found it was full of equipment, lenses and filters and one of the older cameras they didn't use very often. “Uhm, Val? There's a camera and things in this one.”

   “No there isn't,” Val called back from across the room.

   “Yeah, it's one of the old Nikons.”

   “No. There's nothing in there,” Val said again more firmly while smiling at her. The lightbulb went on in Raina's head and she couldn't hold back the grin that erupted on her face. The camera was far nicer than any she owned, and the lenses themselves were worth a small fortune. She wasn't sure how he was going to explain their disappearance, probably would write them off in the confusion of combining the various departments, but she was deeply grateful for the gift. As horrible as this morning was, Val's behavior was certainly softening the blow.

   Once she was sure she had gathered everything Val walked her out to her car, carrying a third box of god only knew what and tucking it into the back seat with the others once she had loaded them up. She handed him her ID badge before climbing into the driver's seat. “Thank you for the opportunity. Thank you for being such a good teacher,” she said as he leaned in her window.

   “Don't let this derail you. It's one small setback and it's nothing to do with you or your talent or abilities. It's just bad luck. I know you're going to go on to great things if you want to.” He gave the car door a couple of raps and then turned to go back inside.

   Raina watched him disappear back into the building before her gaze fell back to the steering wheel in front of her. It was just after 10 a.m. on a weekday. She had no idea what to do with herself. The thought of starting her job search immediately sounded way to overwhelming. She scanned the parking lot, wondering why she hadn't registered when she came in how empty it was today. With a sudden clutch of panic, she looked around for Cassie's car, but the powder blue Fiat was nowhere to be seen. She quickly fished her phone out of her bag.

   “Raina?” Cassie picked up on the first ring. “Oh my god I've been hanging by the phone waiting for you to call. They wouldn't tell me who was staying and who was being let go....”

   “Me.” Raina thought her voice sounded strangely flat and she figured she was still in a bit of a shock. “I was let go.”

   “Fuck, Raina, I'm so sorry. They're keeping me...”

   “Of course they're going to keep the pregnant lady. They look like real bastards if they don't.”

   “But honestly I didn't even care. I probably could have used the time off. I was so worried about you. What is this going to do to your MFA program? Can you find somewhere else?”

   “I don't know. It's kind of late. I suppose if worse comes to worse I can work for a year and pick it back up later.”

   “No, that's terrible! There has to be something!”

   “I don't....” It all rushed in on her then, the enormity to which she was screwed. She didn't make much at the magazine and her savings were meager. She hadn't checked the folder but she was sure her severance package was not particularly generous and there was no way she was going to be able to pay L.A. rent on an unemployment stipend, no matter how modest that little apartment of hers was. She was going to have to find something quickly. She could feel the panic building again, her throat starting to close as her fingers went numb and heart raced, and she had to close her eyes and breathe through to the next moment.

   “Raina? Raina!” She could hear Cassie calling to her through the phone, her voice distant. Raina focused on the sound of it until she began to feel in control again.

   “I'm here. I'm trying not to freak out but I'm here,” Raina confirmed, her hands shaking.

   “Well stop being there and come over here right now. It's beer and pizza night anyway. We can start with the beer early. Well, you can start with the beer. I think I'm having apple juice.”

   “I don't know, Cass. It's only ten in the morning and I think maybe I should save my money since I don't know how long this is going to last...”

   “Oh don't be ridiculous. You're going to find a new job like that. You're amazing. Besides, no one said you had to spend any money. My treat. Pizza and ice cream and sympathy, free of charge. And all the booze you want too if you choose to go that route. Just get your skinny ass over here.”

   Part of Raina wanted to go home and hide under her quilt and watch Netflix. Here was a giant crisis just lying in her way, spilled across the road like an upended gravel truck. It was the perfect excuse to tuck tail and run. But she could hear Val telling her she was bound for great things. She could hear Shannon's voice in her head, telling her to stop quitting. And here was Cassie, a real and true friend, who wasn't looking to take advantage of the situation. A friend who, instead of thinking of herself had immediately worried about Raina's situation, who was standing by with open arms. She was stronger than her fear, she told herself. She wasn't going to fall apart again. The people in her life now weren't the ones that she had chosen then. It was time to find out if she had made better choices this time around.

   “I'll be there in an hour. I need to stop by my place and drop some things off first and change.”

   “Okay, but you had better mean it. Don't you disappear on me,” Cassie admonished.

   “I won't. I promise.”

*********************************

 Raina was cross-legged on Cassie's living room floor, halfway through her bottle of wine and laughing hysterically while Cassie described her latest attempt at accommodating her growing belly and function normally when her phone rang. A quick glance at the screen told her it was Shannon.

   “Hey handsome,” she giggled into the receiver as she picked it up.

   “Well someone is in a good mood,” he responded.

   “Oh no. I'm just fighting back panic and hysteria,” Raina told him as her voice steadied.

   “Uhm... I'm not sure how to respond to that. What's happening?” Shannon asked.

   “Oh, the magazine just laid off three-quarters of its staff. Including me. And that was my internship for my last two semesters for my degree so I'm not just broke, I'm completely screwed. But hey, I've got a bottle of wine and Cassie can't tie her shoes without falling over so it's handled.”

   “Uhm... again I'm not sure how to respond to that. I'm really sorry about your job though. I was just calling to see if you still wanted to get together this evening for the pizza thing. We've been working but Jared didn't want you to be alone for the first time you've ever invited us into your life, so he's kicking me out of here to come see you.”

   “Aww, my boyfriends are so sweet!” I giggled into the phone. “I'll text you the address.”

   “Your friends, they know that...”

   “This is all between us. They're cool. Just get your gorgeous ass over here,” I told him. Cassie started laughing again and topped off my wine glass.

   “All right, Rainy girl. I'll be over in an hour or so. Are you drinking? Don't get sloppy drunk before I even get to see you, you hear me?”

   “Yes, sir,” Raina responded. “Oh no wait, that's Jared.”

   “It's me if that'll get you to listen any better. I'll see you soon.”

*******************************************  

   When Shannon finally arrived it was closer to two hours later, but when Raina greeted him at the door he had a pastry box in one hand and a huge mixed bouquet in the other.

   “What on earth?” Raina exclaimed as he handed her the flowers.

   “Those are from Jared. We're sorry you lost your job.” He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as she pulled the card out of the bouquet.

   So sorry. Call if you need me. XOXO ~J

   Raina clutched the card to her chest and led Shannon through the house to where Cassie was waiting. “You remember Cassidy, right?”

   Shannon smiled. “How could I forget? How have you been?”

   “Fat,” Cassie said with a smirk. “But not for too much longer. Great flowers Raina. What's that?” She asked as she pointed at the box Shannon was holding.

   “Oh. The flowers are from Jared but this is from me. It's one of those pies we got on our second date, the one you loved so much.”

   Raina gasped in delight. “The whiskey pecan one from that Chophouse?” Shannon nodded. Raina squealed and took the box from him. “Cassie, get a couple of forks, You're going to love this.”

   Cassie laughed and took the flowers from her. “I'll put these in some water first so they don't die before you can take them home.”

   Once Cassie had disappeared into the kitchen Shannon slipped his arms around Raina, pulling her close against him before pressing his lips to her forehead. She could feel herself relaxing, a deep sigh winding it's way out from her chest as his scent surrounded her.

   “How are you holding up?” he asked gently. Raina shrugged. “It's going to be okay. Don't quit on me.”

   Raina couldn't help but roll her eyes. “You know I had a bit of a panic when it started to set in what was actually happening and I could hear you in my head saying that same exact thing.”

   “Good. That means I”m getting through that thick skull of yours.”

   “Maybe,” she conceded. “I'm not going to pretend like I'm not scared as hell right now. It feels a little bit like I'm back to where I was before I came out here. Like I haven't made any progress at all. But I am kind of realizing I have.”

   Shannon kissed her forehead again. “You can do this. I know you can. But I wish you'd open up and tell me what your story is. I feel like I could be so much more supportive if I knew where you were coming from.”

   Maybe it was the bottle of wine she had finished off earlier but this time when Shannon asked about her past, she didn't feel the trepidation she usually did. There was no flutter of her heart, or flip of her stomach, or strangely sweaty palms. Maybe she was finally ready. “Okay.”

   Shannon blinked at her. “Okay? Really? Just like that?”

   She gave his chest a gentle shove. “Don't make me rethink this. Sit down with me over that pie and I'll tell you the whole thing.”

   He kissed her again on the cheek and Raina turned her head, catching his mouth and opening it softly,, feeling her mind settle at the familiarity of him. She felt safe here, in his arms, in Cassie's living room. Safer than she had in years. And for once she wasn't thinking about how it could all be taken from her. She was finally in the moment.

    @msroxyblog @nikkitasevoli@maliciousalishious@meghan12151977 @fyeahproudglambert @pheenixpeterson

[appalachianwiine]

Swim - Chapter 4 - Glass Houses

There was an earthquake There was an avalanche of change We were so afraid We cried ourselves a hurricane

There were floods Tidal waves over us So we folded our hands and prayed Like a domino These wildfires grow and grow Until a brand new world takes shape

-”Earth” by Sleeping At Last

“Carol!” Ezekiel’s booming voice cuts across the cafeteria, causing her and Daryl to both jump. 

“Ezekiel.” Carol forces a smile across her face and stands to hug him, his broad arms pulling her into a tight hug. Her heart is beating heavily in her chest. “How’s Henry?” 

“Good, he’s meeting with the tutor for a half hour before his infusion today.” Ezekiel kisses her cheek and extends a hand down to Daryl. “You and your daughter came in last night didn’t you?” 

“Yeah.” Daryl says, his gruff voice muttering out a few more words Carol doesn’t pick up. 

“I -I’m going to the bathroom you two uh - get acquainted.” She doesn’t wait to pay attention to the response given to her, she hurries across the cafeteria and into the ladies room. She goes immediately to the sink, splashing some cool water on her face and looking up into the mirror. 

‘Bruises. ...i thought maybe someone was hurtin’ her’ 

It sends a shiver down her spine. Had it really only been 4 years since she’d had those same thoughts? 

Closing her eyes her mind drifts back to that day, in the little house in southern Georgia. 

She leaned close to the mirror, carefully covering the latest of Ed’s marks with concealer. Sophia wasn’t up yet, she was always careful to keep the bruises covered in front of Sophia. She’s just putting the cap on the concealer and putting it back in her purse when she hears the tiny knock at the door, reaching over she opens it. 

“Mornin’ baby girl.” She smiles. “Need the potty?”

“No.” Sophia mutters sleepily. “I’m hungry and couldn’t find you.”

“Go get dressed and I’ll make you some breakfast.” Carol offers, kissing her daughter’s soft blonde hair. 

“You didn’t lay out my uniform last night.” Sophia whimpered. “You and daddy were fighting.” 

“Oh.” Carol breathes. She’d hoped Sophia hadn’t heard that, and she hoped now she didn’t know about the beating Carol had received last night. “Okay, lets go get your uniform then huh?” 

Carol takes Sophia’s hand and leads her into the laundry room. “You take that night gown off and put it on the hamper, it needs to be washed.” Carol digs through the dryer, finding the dark green top and khaki skirt after a moment. She grabs them and turns to Sophia. 

Sophia’s back is to her as she puts the night gown into the laundry hamper and across her side is a large purple bruise. Carol lets out a shriek and drops the uniform, pulling Sophia to her. 

“Mommy?!” Sophia yelps, turning back to her. “Mommy what?”

“Sophia.” Carol’s voice shakes and she has to fight to keep from crying. “Sophia how did you get that bruise?” 

“I -” Sophia frowns, her blue eyes watching Carol. Carol’s eyes scan Sophia’s torso, and arms, nothing, but her legs, her legs have several similar welts. 

Dear god. She’d left her with Ed a few days ago to go visit her mother in the nursing home. It was flu season, Sophia couldn’t come with her. It was Just for a couple of hours but he hadn’t been happy about it. She’d been positive he would never lay a hand on his own child. She’d been wrong, she’d been so very wrong. 

“You’re not going to school today.” Carol decides. “Go get - get your backpack and get a few toys and books okay.” 

“Wh-where are we going?” Sophia whimpers. 

“We’re leaving.” She says firmly, giving Sophia a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I let this happen.” 

She and Sophia had driven nearly 2 hours to get to the women’s shelter in Atlanta. A friend had given her the card once, Carol had insisted she didn’t need it, but kept it anyway. She’d wished she’d left sooner, hadn’t let him touch Sophia. But it turned out, he hadn’t. The bruises didn’t go away, and she started complaining about her legs hurting, then the fevers, and finally an answer. 

Leukemia. High-risk. 

She sucks in a shaking breath, and splashes more water over her face. Looking in the mirror she realizes how tired she looks. Her long hair falling limply around her shoulders. She definitely wasn’t the picture of hope for a new cancer parent - and telling him Sophia had died probably didn’t help either - but she had a policy. Be realistic. Be supportive. Don’t lie. 

Carol turns off the tap and leaves the bathroom, forcing the pain and the anger back down as she approached the table. 

“What I miss?” she says, sitting down in a chair next to Ezekiel and reaching for her coffee cup. 

“Not much.” Daryl says. “Uh Henry and Lyda are the same age.” 

“And I think Henry will like a friend.” Ezekiel says. “With his immune system the way it is we don’t get out much, and given we’ve only been in Atlanta three months, he hasn’t had much opportunity for friends.” 

“Three months?” Daryl frowns. 

“We moved down here after the diagnosis.” Ezekiel explains, he’s clutching his own cup of coffee.  “Because of it really, when I found out Henry’s cancer was high risk with a high rate of relapse I decided to, well roll the dice seems rather cold. But Dr. Porter is running a clinical trial for high risk Neuroblastoma. I wanted Henry in it and that meant moving here.”  

“Damn.” Daryl mutters. “Where y’all from?” 

“DC area. A town called Woodbridge, but I worked at the National Zoo.” Ezekiel explains. 

“Zoo keeper.” Daryl frowns. “Cool.” 

“Sorry.” Ezekiel smiles sheepishly. “Carol is often reminding me I can ramble a bit.” 

“It’s just ‘cause you do.” Carol forces a chuckle. “So um - Daryl is uh- is there anything you want to know?” 

“Uh,” Daryl shifts in his seat, still clutching the coffee cup. “Not - I can’t really  think of much. But uh - thanks. For - for all this We - it’s really overwhelming.” 

“Yeah.” Carol nods. “It is, trust me we understand.” 

“Your son,” Daryl says, looking over at Ezekiel. “Is - is he doing well. Is it - is it working?” 

“He’s doing as well as can be expected.” Ezekiel nods. “He’s been better the last week, but he’s due to start a new round today so I’m sure that will change. He has good days and bad days mostly. Sundays are usually good, Mass makes him feel better he says.” 

Daryl looks like he doesn’t really know how to respond to that, and Carol can’t say she blamed him. Ezekiel’s unwavering faith in God was something she couldn’t relate to, she’d turned her back on faith when Sophia was taken from her. How any God could put them through the hell that was almost a decade of their lives and then take her daughter she couldn’t understand. 

“He is lonely though, I think that’s the hardest part for him.” Ezekiel continues. “We don’t see other children much, we get groceries delivered, we don’t go to the pool, even the playground I try to avoid. And when we do go he has to wear a mask and sunscreen and a hat - chemo makes them burn very easily and I don’t want to risk anything.”  

“Damn.” Daryl mutters “She ain’ gonna like tha’.

“Henry doesn’t either.” Ezekiel sighs. “We see other cancer families occasionally, Thursdays during the support group one of the therapy dogs comes by for them to play with, and if he’s feeling well enough he’ll go to the playroom and sometimes there’s another child there. But that’s it.” 

“And uh - is his treatment working?” Daryl asks. 

“So far yes.” Ezekiel nods, on his wrist his watch beeps. “Ah that’ll be Henry's lesson over. I should get going, it was nice meeting you daryl, if your Lydia is feeling up to it please stop by today, they can have a snack together.” 

“Sure.” Daryl mutters. 

“And Daryl?” Ezekiel says, his tone suddenly serious. “You may be a single parent but you are not alone. Not anymore. We have your back.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Daryl watches Ezekiel go to the counter to order hot chocolate for his son, he’s not sure what to make of the man. He seemed entirely too happy to be the parent of a child this sick. Entirely too well rested. Entirely too… everything. 

“He always like that?” Daryl asks. 

“Happy? Sort of overwhelmingly so?” Carol asks

“Yeah.” 

“He’s not happy.” Carol shakes her head. “The truth is he’s terrified, he’s alone in a new city with his very sick son, working at a Zoo when he can - which isn’t often - and the medical bills pile up fast. But he does try to be positive. For Henry he says but - but the truth is you can’t face it in here.” 

“What’d ya mean?” Daryl frowns. “All I’ve done since las’ night's face it.” 

“Well,” She sighs. “It’s - it’s different then that. You can face it, you have to face it every day because your child has to and you don’t want them to be alone. But feeling it?” She shakes her head. “No. You don’t feel it. Not really. Not until it’s over.” 

“Ah.” Daryl mutters, he had been doing that. Holding it together so he doesn’t freak Lydia out. “I uh - I haven’t even told her yet. I mean she knows she’s sick but - but I just told her her blood was bad.” 

“You’ll probably want to tell her today.” Carol says. “Child life can help you, Dr. Rhee will have them send someone up, they have a doll she can keep, and really good specialists.” 

“Okay.” Daryl sighs, running his hand over his face. “I uh - I don’t know what i’m doing.” 

“None of us did.” Carol shrugs, draining the last of her coffee. “But you figure it out, and Ezekiel is right Daryl, you’re not alone. Not anymore. I’m gonna give you my phone number, you call any time you need and let me know before she’s discharged. You’re gonna need some things at home, alcohol hand sanitizer, wipes, sheets, and trust me you’re gonna be too overwhelmed to think about it.” 

“Yeah?” Daryl licks his lips, watching her scrawl her number on a napkin. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances at the number “That a 3 or an 8?”

“Eight.” Carol says. He finishes dialing the number, in her pocket her phone goes off. “Perfect.” He puts her contact information down. “And Daryl, anytime you need to talk, really I’m just a phone call away.” 

“Thanks.” Daryl nods. “I uh - I do have just one question, it’s kinda personal.” 

She tilts her head to the side. “Yeah?”

“Sophia - how did you uh - how did you know she had high risk leukemia?” 

“The bone marrow tests.” Carol says softly. “They came back about a week after the initial diagnosis.” 

“So we won’t know anything today?” Daryl sighs. 

“Nope.” Carol says. “It’s one of the more frustrating parts of all of this. The first couple of days move so fast, almost so fast you can’t think and then everything slows down. It’s kind of like being in a car with a bad driver. Speed up, jerk to a halt, speed up again, come to a halt again. And by the time the ride is over you’ve got whiplash and you’re pretty sick and not quite sure you’ll ever get back in the car with that person ever again - only the person is cancer and you don’t have a choice sometimes.” 

The analogy stings a little, he’s not sure what to say here, but he’s sure he likes her approach a lot more then the smiling and rainbows one Ezekiel seemed to take. At least this was understandable. In his pocket the little pager goes off. 

“Tha’s the doc.” Daryl says, sitting up. 

“I’ll walk you up to recovery.” Carol says. “I’ll be around a couple more hours though, I’m gonna stop in and see Henry. If you need anything.” 

“Thanks.” He mutters. 

--------------------------------------------------------

Both Dr. Rhee’s are waiting for him in a family room off of the recovery suites, they stand to greet him when he walks in. He shakes their hands in turn and takes a seat at the conference table across from them. 

“How is she?” Daryl asks. “She awake?” 

“Not yet.” The Surgeon - Glenn Rhee - says. “She’ll be waking up in about 20 minutes, we just wanted to sit down with you and go over some stuff.” 

“Okay.” daryl says, 

“The surgery went well,” Glenn starts. “The PICC line went in no problem, she has good veins. Now you’re going to want to keep it from getting wet and bound up out of the way when it’s not in use. You can use medical tape, it’s fairly easy. You’ll have to flush it twice a day at home but don’t worry about that right now. We’ll cover how to do that before she’s discharged.” 

“Okay.” He nods. “And uh - how about the bone marrow and the - the chemo did she do okay?” 

“She was out like a light the whole time I promise.” Maggie smiles. “She’ll be a little sore when she wakes up, and she might have a headache. That’s very common after a lumbar puncture we’ll keep on top of it.” 

“She got the chemo too?” Daryl asks. “Will that - I mean will her hair be gone or something.” 

“Not yet.” Maggie explains, pulling out a sheet of paper from the folder in her hands. “This is the chemo we gave her, and these are the possible side effects. The hair loss will come gradually, and will probably mostly happen when you’re at home. But we’re gonna get someone from Child Life to come help her understand all of that. Most side effects from this chemo are pretty mild, she won’t feel them right away. Around 30% do feel them immediately, usually nausea, vomiting, fever. Nothing to worry about but we’ll keep an eye on it. There are more serious side effects but those are very rare and since she’s in the hospital we’ll be keeping an eye on it. I can tell you about them if you want but right now, since she’s in the hospital, you don’t need to worry. This moves really fast, so I think it’s best if we just tell you what you need to know right now.”

“Yeah.” Daryl agrees, his head is already full to bursting with information from the meeting with Carol and Ezekiel, he definitely can’t take much more at the moment. “What about the bone marrow, when will we know about that?” 

“Well the lab that does bone marrow sampling ain’ open on Sundays, so the sample won’t start being processed until tomorrow, but we should have results by Thursday.” Maggie explains. 

“The lab ain’ open on Sundays?” He scowls. “My kids got cancer an’ they’re takin’ time off fer church?” 

“I know it’s frustrating.” Maggie says. “But Mr. Dixon I promise you, while you do have a very sick little girl, this is a marathon not a sprint.” Her voice is firm, but not unkind. “Results on Wednesday versus thursday won’t make a difference at the end.” 

“Well what do we do in the meantime?” Daryl asks. “We just let this thing get hold of her?”

“No.” Maggie reassures. “In the meantime we keep her platelets up, her fever free, and we start Chemotherapy.” 

“How can we start chemo if you don’ even know which type she’s got?” He snaps. 

“Because in the beginning, you treat most Leukemia the same.” Maggie explains. “We tailor the treatment to the child after we know which kind they have, but she can start chemo tonight, we have to get her blood work back first and I want her to have a little down time after the surgery, but if all goes well she’ll start chemo at around 9pm.” Maggie explains. 

“9pm.” dary mutters. “Her bedtime’s at 8.” 

“Hospitals aren’t great for bedtime.” Maggie smiles sympathetically. 

“And uh -” He swallows. “Carol told me t- to talk t’ ya ‘bout gettin’ some help for tellin’ her about the cancer. She doesn't know yet. I just said she was sick with bad blood but she’s 8, she’s gotta have a better explanation then that.” 

“Of course.” Maggie nods. “I’ll get in contact with Child Life and they can send someone up in a couple of hours. She’ll want to eat and probably nap some first, it’s been a big day. They can come up around 4 this afternoon though.” 

“Yeah sure.” Daryl nods. “I’m just - she can read.” It sounds rather dumb, but he shifts in his chair as he thinks through explaining this. “She’s gonna be able to read the - the door. The ‘center for cancer and blood disorders’. And she’s gonna ask and I - I don’ wanna lie t’ her. She’s got a lot of - of trauma in the past, she gets real upset if she thinks people ain’ bein straight with ‘er” 

“Okay.” Maggie nods slowly. “Well in that case, I can get Child Life to meet you in the room when she leaves the recovery suite.” 

“Thanks.'' Daryl nods. “We uh - I jus’ wanna make this as easy as possible.” 

“Of course Mr. Dixon.” Maggie smiles. “You spoke t’ Carol?” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “She uh - she’s good. Met the guy across the hall too.” 

“Good.” She nods. “You’ll need support during this.” 

“We have - I mean we have some support.” He nods. “My uh - my partner at the station, Lori, her ex and his wife.” It occurs to him that he really should call them, he’d had his phone silenced since last night and had hardly looked at it this morning. 

“Good.” Glenn says. “Now do you have any questions?’ 

“No, not that I need to know now. I just - I just want my girl back.” He sighs. 

“We’ll take you right over.” Maggie promises, standing up. “Follow me.” 

--------------------------------------------------

Lydia comes out of the anesthetic kicking and screaming, it takes them nearly a half hour to calm down, by which point Daryl is so shaken he’s sure he’s about to kick off. The only way Lydia will let them roll the bed anywhere is if she’s planted firmly in Daryl’s lap, popsicle in hand. She’s curled up with her head resting on his chest, eyes puffy from crying when they make it back to their room. Maggie is waiting for them, accompanied by a blonde girl carrying a toy box, this must be Child Life, he’d completely forgotten about them. Maybe he should’ve waited until this evening. 

“Hi Lydia!” The blonde says brightly. 

“Who are you?” Lydia mutters, clinging to Daryl with one hand. 

“I’m Beth,” The blonde holds out her hand. “And I bet you’re a little scared right now?”

Lydia nods. 

“Maybe confused?” Beth continues. 

“Yeah.” Lydia mutters. “I just want to go home. We were supposed to go to Carl’s.” 

“Is Carl your best friend?” Beth grins. 

“Yeah.” Lydia says. “He’s nice. Sometimes he shares his hat.” 

“Well that’s very nice of him.” Beth says. “Can I sit down?” 

“Yeah.” Lydia shifts so she can get a better look at Beth as she sits down on the edge of the bed. 

“Do you know why you couldn’t go over to Carl’s?” Beth asks, setting the box down between them. 

“Because I’m sick. I have bad blood.” Lydia says. 

“Well sort of.” Beth says. “We have a word for bad blood, we call it Leukemia.” 

“Leukemia?” Lydia wrinkles her nose. 

“Yeah,” Beth says. “And Leukemia is something called Cancer. Do you know what Cancer is?” 

“It makes the kids on TV hair fall out.” Lydia’s answer catches him by surprise. Where on earth would she have seen cancer on TV? “And then they ask for money for church.” 

“You mean the St. Judes commercial?” Daryl frowns. 

“Yeah. They need money for church.” Lydia looks back at him. 

“That’s not really what -” 

“It’s fine Mr. Dixon.” Beth intervenes. “We’re gettin’ a little off topic. So Lydia, you have Leukemia, and that’s a type of Cancer.” 

“Am I gonna lose my hair?” Lydia whimpers. 

“Yeah,” Beth says. “But,” she produces the plastic box, which he now sees holds a bald doll, a few colorful hats and wigs. “This Doll has leukemia too, and she lost all her hair, but she gets to wear lots of hats, and wigs, and scarves.” Beth points to each one in turn. 

“Can I wear hats?” Lydia looks back at Daryl. 

“‘Course you can.” He mutters, kissing the top of her head. 

“Here,” Beth opens the box. “This is yours, how about we try the hats on her?” 

“Okay!” Lydia says, scrambling off Daryl’s lap to sit next to Beth and the doll. 

“Hey Lyd,” Daryl says, swinging his feet off the bed. “I’ll be righ’ back okay?” 

“Okay.” Lydia doesn’t even turn to look at him, nor does she notice when he kisses her head again, she’s too preoccupied with the toy. 

He steps into the hall, and runs a hand through his hair. He can feel his heart pounding, hear the blood rushing in his ears. God he’s gonna be sick. Her hair is gonna fall out. Her hair is going to fall out and then she’s gonna look like one of those kids on TV. He rests his hands on his knees. One of those kids who you look sympathetically at their parents in the grocery store. One of those kids that people said they’d pray for. 

“You okay?” He looks up, Carol is standing in the doorway of room 323. 

“She uh - she’s gonna lose her hair.” He mutters, sliding down to sit on the floor. 

“Yeah.” Carol whispers, crossing her arms and coming to sit next to him. 

“She’s gonna look sick.” Daryl whispers. 

“Yeah.” Carol agrees. 

“People are gonna - they’re gonna look at her like people look at sick kids.” Daryl whispers. 

“Yeah.” Carol agrees. 

“God I used to look at sick kids like that.” He mutters. 

“You still will.” Carol says. “But in a different way. With more understanding. You’ll know that they’re having a good day because they’re in the grocery store. Or at the park. You’ll know how hard they’re fighting to be here. You’ll just, know.” 

“I don’t want to do this.” 

Carol reaches over and takes his hand, giving it a squeeze. “No one does.” 

“Daddy!” Lydia calls. “Come look! Come Look!” 

“Duty calls.” Daryl says. 

“Always does.” Carol lets go of his hand and offers a smile. “I’ll be here a few more hours, with Henry and Ezekiel. Bring her over if she feels better.” 

“I will.” Daryl promises, standing up and holding out a hand to help her up. 

Carol takes it and lets him pull her to his feet. “And don’t be afraid to reach out for help, now go, I think you have a few hours of Barbie ahead of you.”

[ocexnbreezx]

I Believe You // Self - Para

Character; Dakota Hastings. TW; Mentions of guns & abuse.

Breathless. One, two, three, four. She drifted, all the grace of a dove in her step as she flew across the floor. Five, six, seven, eight. His hands fixed on her hips with a rough clutch. The dance students were building pieces with their coexisting music students. Charlie boy was her partner. She could feel the pads of his fingers gouging into her skin, burning their mark as her pointed toes fell flush with the floor. Trying her hardest to keep coppery caramel hues on their lecturer. Guiding them through their performance and how it would work with his serenade. A sickly sweet smile illuminating his petals as she pressed into a tight line. Hair wound into a messy ponytail. She exhaled, breaking away from him for her solo dance. “And two, and three, and four,”  whispering to herself as she pirouettes, one turn shifted into five. Coming to a close with the melody, her chest collapsed. Exhaling as she rakes fingers through damn hair, cheeks a blotchy shade of maroon, catching her breath whilst the teacher praised them.

She uttered her thanks and gathered her belongings. Wondering if she could flee before he wrapped his fingers around bony flesh. Disappearing from the studio, she wasted no time in heading to the girls' showers. Shaky breaths escaping as the icy water pelted her skin. Washing away the exhaustion, fingers tracing the fresh bruises; she gulped. What had her relationship become? How was this love? Tears cascaded down her face, a hand clamping her lips in silent sobs.  Allowing herself to be sad in that moment of solace. She merely stood there. Taking it all in. Fingers brushing back dark, soaked locks, a towel wrapping around herself; turning the faucet off.

Fingers fumbled to find her phone, dialling a number she hadn’t in quite a while. “Dad?” She exhaled, the only way to escape your qualms. Was to face them. “I need to tell you something,” stumbling out her words as tears became to fall, salty streams gliding down already wet cheeks as she exposed her soul to her father. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she croaked. An arm encircling her curled up body, remaining on the bathroom floor.

                  –––––––– Six Hours Later –––––––– 

Her palms were sticky,  tugging down the hem of an oversized jumper as she hustled back on the couch, arms encasing around her legs; tugging them close to her rib cage. A singular stray tear drizzling down her cheek as she watched her father and principle talk.  Relaying the information of the disastrous relationship she had found herself held in for the last year. Picking up on the odd mention of how easily she had suppressed it. No one had ever suspected that the charming Charles Danforth would lay a fist on his sweetheart. Her bones tense as they joined her. Settling on the sofa opposite her. “Dakota,” his voice was smooth. Laced with melancholy, a sting to her heart. She didn’t want to feel commiserated. She ached to feel understood. To feel respected for all she had withstood. Because she had come out of it on the other side. Found a voice to cry out her pain. She was trying. Goddamn hard at that. “I’m so sorry that another student at Yale has mistreated you. So, so disrespectfully; so painfully,” she remained silent as he posed questions of why she felt she couldn’t tell anyone, how bad had it gotten? A gasp left his lips as she pulled up her jumper, a disarray of scars and bruises decorating her abdomen, swallowing down the ever growing frog in her throat.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, in means of his home visit, her father's arms encased around her. She had watched her father weep. The strongest man she had ever known. For not being able to protect her. For not being able to defend her. A sad quip about how he had never wanted daddy’s baby girl to fall in love. Not that she objected at this point. Her arms tugged him close as they sat there in silence. Stewing in one another’s company. A newness in their bond. A closeness they had never expected to gain from such tragedy. Dakota jumped at the buzz of their doorbell.  Following her father's footsteps with the sleeves of her jumper encasing her hands, jaw shaking when she saw him. Blonde floppy locks appearing, her lover leant against the door frame with a singular red rose in hand. She froze, hues settling on her father's tensing knuckles. Fighting every urge in him to beat the daylights out of the man before him.

A gasp echoed. It was the only noise among the safety click of her father's block. “I suggest you leave and don’t come back,”  there was an unearthly gruffness and in that she knew. It was a promise; not a threat. Unsure if it was dread or hatred in his eyes as he dropped the rose underfoot, scuttling away with clenched fists of his own as the door swung shut. Bear arms wrapping around her once more,  he carried her to the couch.

[thenctcults]

Love like No Other

Pairing: Doyoung x reader Genre: ghost!au, some angst, some fluff you know it Warnings: mentions of death, language Word count: 7,439

part 2 

A smile of satisfaction etched on your face, as the sole of your ankle boot stepped on yet more fallen leaves, the crunching sound sounding like music to your ears. Weird, yes, but it was a habit of yours ever since you were a child; thus, making fall your favorite season. In fact, that wasn’t the sole reason that you loved this season. You absolutely loved the fact that the weather was warm and cold enough for you to wear a simple sweater and a light coat on top - you absolutely hated wearing many layers of clothing - and because you loved the way the tree leaves changed colors. Some turned red, others orange and others yellow. Others, were a mix of all the aforementioned and it was truly a visual feast. 

You sighed as you walked down the sidewalk and basked in the fall sun, despite it being sunny, the air was a little chilly, making your hair fly in different directions. As much as you wanted to feel happy like your usual happy-go-lucky self, there was this feeling that kept eating away at you, it made you feel like it foreshadowed some sort of unfortunate event. You didn’t know the reason why, you just felt like something bad was going to happen today. 

Brushing any ill feelings away, you plastered a smile on your face and continued striding down the busy streets, stuffing your hands in the large pockets of your coat - not because it was too cold but because you didn’t know what to do with them, it was a nightmare for you when an outfit of yours didn’t have pockets. Your phone buzzed twice in your pocket, indicating that you had just got a new text. Quickly fishing your phone out of your right pocket and your phone flashed with your boyfriend’s contact on the screen, a real genuine smile on your face now. 

can we meet up after your lectures end? i need to talk to you x 

Your smile faltered a little as your eyes scanned over the text, the ill feeling settling in your chest once again, what could it possibly be that he wanted to talk to you about? As much as you tried to reassure yourself that it wasn’t anything worth worrying about, it didn’t seem to work out that well. 

With eyes still trained on your phone screen, you had failed to notice that the traffic light was still red and you, not bothering to look up from the phone, of course, stepped down from the sidewalk and onto the main road. An angry driver honked as he drove past you, the sound only able to tear your attention away from your phone.

 You halted in the middle of the road and saw a few more angry drivers skillfully dodge your figure. Snapping your head to the left and onto the oncoming cars, you saw a particular one coming right at you at a very high speed. The driver, having built a large momentum, could not dodge you without running over the pedestrians waiting on the side of the road. Your eyes were focused on the car that seemed to be only a few meters away from you. Someone’s scream ripped through your ears, as you watched the aghast face of the driver behind the windshield; your hands instinctively covered your head, trying to brace yourself from the impact, the sound of tires screeching loudly against the concrete was the last thing you remembered before you were knocked unconscious. 

Beep, beep, beep. 

Your ears perked up at the beeping sound of the machine monitoring your steady heartbeat. 

“When will she regain consciousness, doctor?” the concerned voice of your mother questioned, sounding gruff. 

“Unfortunately, I am afraid I do not know the answer to your question, but judging from her steadily improving condition, I am hoping she will have opened her eyes by the course of the next week.” a male voice responded, the tone rigid and professional. Footsteps echoed through the room, soon followed by the soft sound of a door closing. 

“Hey, honey,” the familiar husky voice of your father spoke, “it’s going to be okay, I promise. You heard what the doctor said, she’s doing good.” he attempted to reassure your distressed mother, who was biting back her sobs.

“I just want to listen to her voice, that’s all.” your mother spoke, her voice strained from trying to suppress her sobs all this time. 

“Me too.” your father responded softly, and padded over to the side of your bed, your mother following suit. 

You could feel both of their presences right beside you and your hand was itching to reach out and touch them, your eyes trying their hardest to flutter open, but doing it was a thousand times harder than just imagining it. A small soft hand encircled yours, giving it a soft squeeze; it was your mother’s. 

The beeping from the monitor increased as your heart beat faster; you longed for your parents’ touch, to feel their soft embrace again. 

“Do you think she can hear us?” your mother inquired, seemingly alarmed and very hopeful. 

“Sweetie, if you can hear me, please give me a sign, anything at all, please.” your mother begged, lifting your hand up and bringing it close you her lips, placing fervent kisses on your knuckles, squeezing it simultaneously. Silence fell over the room as both your parents awaited anxiously for any given sign that you were conscious. 

Mustering up all the strength you still had left, you managed to twitch your forefinger in your mother’s grip once. Silence. Your finger twitched again, this time accompanied by your middle finger, the twitching was now stronger and more obvious, finally attracting your mother’s attention. 

Both of your parents’ breaths hitched, your mother breaking into a loud sob, this time it was out of pure happiness, though. Your father’s voice boomed as he frantically called for the nurses, running out the room and into the hallway and informing the first nurse he saw passing by that you had awakened from your comatose state. After two minutes, he came rushing in, a doctor’s and a nurse following suit and making their way over to your beds in long strides, both beginning to examine your vitals once they reached you. 

Trying your hardest to open your eyes, your eyelids barely fluttered before they stilled again. After a few more tries, you finally managed to open your eyes ever so slightly, blurry figures filling your vision. You blinked a few times, trying to clear it and get accustomed to the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital room. 

You took in your surroundings, your eyes immediately falling on your parents looking tired as hell, dark purple circles under their eyes, a sign of not having slept enough those two weeks you were hospitalized. Your limbs felt numb and you tried to move them to shake off the tingling feeling, but you could barely move the toes of your left foot, only to shortly realize that your leg was lifted up, a huge cast covering it. Great, you thought to yourself. However, that was not just it, as you were soon after that informed that you had also fractured two of your ribs and your left collarbone. Meanwhile, the doctor told your parents that you would be possibly discharged from the hospital within two weeks. 

Groaning softly, you brooded over the fact that you would be spending almost a month in this forsaken hospital and caught up on the episodes of your favorite drama that you had missed while you were in a coma. 

“Go to sleep,” your mother chided, pushing your bed down, bringing you in a laying position, “just because you were unconscious all this time doesn’t mean you don’t need any sleep, hm?” she continued, her usual happy self reappearing, her words slightly joking yet caring. 

“Just let me finish this episode in five minutes and I will, I promise.” you pouted, your eyes widening slightly to appear more childlike and innocent. 

“Fine, just five minutes. No more, okay?” your mother said defeated, earning a small excited squeal from you. 

The next morning, you had woken up at around nine am because the nurses had come to check up on you. After that, you were left alone, your parents were both at work, your younger brother was at school and all of your friends and boyfriend at university. So you were startled, to say the least, when the door swung open and in walked your boyfriend. An instant smile splayed across your face at the sight of him; however, the act was not reciprocated. 

“Hey, baby.” he greeted nonchalantly, sounding disinterested. Much to your dismay, he didn’t even attempt to kiss you, hug you or even ask you how you’re recovering and the unsettling feeling you had before the accident resurfaced, making your chest heave. Your eyes followed him silently as you watch him drag a chair, placing it next to your bed and sitting on it, staring down at his fumbling thumbs. 

He won’t even reach out to hold my hand, you thought, bitter and disappointed. 

“How are you doing? Holding up well?” he asked and it almost seemed as if he was trying so hard to seem caring at all and it made you sink into the mattress of the hospital bed.

“Yeah, the doctor said I should be discharged soon. Although, I won’t be back on my usual routine straight away,” you replied, your voice solemn, your eyes looking at every little detail in the room but him. 

“So, um,” he cleared his throat and leaned forward in his seat, fumbling with the white bedsheet, “remember that thing I wanted to talk to you about?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well,” he paused, sucking in his lips, trying to find the right words to say, “I’m just going to get straight to the point.” he continued with a serious look on his face. 

“What is it, you’re scaring me.” you reached out and placed a soft hand above his, but he pulled away right after. 

“I think it’s best we broke up.” he responded curtly, his tone stone-hard. 

“You, what?” you breathed out in astonishment. Hot angry tears had already begun to well up in your eyes, rage taking over your whole body. 

“We should-”

“I fucking heard you the first time!” you bellowed, your lower lip trembling in anger, nostrils flared. 

“I know you’re sad, I’m sorry.” he gave you an insincere apology, as if that would comfort you. 

“I’m not sad, I’m fucking angry.” you snapped, tears streaming down your cheeks, to your chin and dripping down on the hospital gown, “I can’t believe you had the audacity to come visit me in the hospital just to break up with me? I almost died for God’s sake! That’s so low of you.” you were almost screaming by now and you were surprise that no one came rushing in to see what’s going on. 

“I couldn’t wait any longer.” he tried to reason, but to no avail. 

“You could’ve at least waited until I got out of the hospital.” you sneered, shaking your head in pure disbelief, “Get out of my sight.” you continued, this time your voice was eerily calm. Your now ex boyfriend didn’t need to be told twice and left the room without sparing you a single glance. 

The loud noise of the door slamming shut made you flinch and shortly after you broke out into loud sobs, your chest shaking from the intensity, making you wince in pain due to your fractured ribs, but you couldn’t contain the crying. Snot came out of your nose and frankly you looked like a hot mess, but you could care less; you were all by yourself in the room. 

Or so you thought. 

“He’s not worth your tears, you know.” a female voice spoke over your loud sobbing. 

“What?” you choked out, you hadn’t realized that one of the nurses had come in and witnessed you in this state. But it wasn’t a nurse. Your eyes fell on the figure of a young girl, who looked about your age. For some odd reason, she was wearing a t-shirt and shorts and it was already November. 

“Who are you, how did you get in here and mind telling me why you’re wearing summer clothes?” you questioned the intruder, eyeing them suspiciously. 

“I’m Ahyoung and I came through that wall.” she replied in a chirpy voice pointing behind her back. 

“You, what? How? No. What are you?”

“I’m a ghost, silly.” she giggled and plopped on the chair your ex boyfriend previously sat on. 

“You’re a, what? A ghost?” you asked incredulously and broke into a loud fit of laughter that made your ribs hurt. “You really know how to boost someone’s mood, thank you.” you informed the girl, clutching your sides. 

“Thanks, I’ve always been told that, but I’m serious about what I said.” she said, sounding somewhat stoic, a sad glint in her eyes. Chills run throughout your entire body and you suddenly felt the need to scoot away from her. 

“They must’ve given me something, I’m hallucinating.” you mumbled to yourself, eyes wide. 

“Ah, so this hasn’t happened to you before.” she mused, the realization of the situation sinking in. 

“Care to elaborate?” 

“You’ve never seen ghosts before?” she asked, curiosity evident in her voice. 

“Ghosts are not real.” you scoffed. 

“Sure thing, soon you’ll be wishing all ghosts you’ll encounter would be as nice and friendly as me.” that statement honestly scaring you. Turning your head to look at her, you stared at the now empty chair with your mouth agape. 

Turns out that Ahyoung was more than right. 

Ghosts were indeed true, and you indeed had met far more vengeful and angrier ghosts than her. Thankfully, those encounters were not a lot. It had been a over a year since your accident and only now you were just getting accustomed to your newfound ability. Most of the ghosts sensed that ability and chose to trail behind you trying to get your attention. Usually there were pretty harmless, just lonely ghosts craving for some attention. Only on rare occasions have you ever seen an evil ghost, and that was from a thirty meter radius. 

Getting used to them was the hardest thing ever; they seemed to be everywhere you went, mostly in public places. Thus, that resulted you in being annoyed most of the time. As much as you tried avoiding talking to them, especially in public, there were times when you couldn’t just handle it anymore. 

Luck had been on your side this past week, breaking your old score of ‘how long can I go without seeing a ghost’. That luck was short lived, though. 

You were in the college’s cafeteria, when you noticed someone’s keen eyes on you. Averting your gaze from the very delicious looking sandwich you had set your hungry eyes on, it met with a pair of lively upturned eyes staring right at you. They belonged to a boy around your age, with light blond hair. He gave you a slight smile and slowly made his way over to you. 

“Hi.” he greeted you, his voice soft and mellow. Seeing him up close, you realized that he easily towered over you. 

“Um, hello.” you greeted back, taken aback by his sudden approach. 

“Miss, who are you talking to?” the woman behind the counter asked you worriedly, casting a confused look at your direction. The boy beside you giggled mischievously as he had succeeded in making you look like a fool in public. 

“Can I get that turkey sandwich, please?” you asked in a shaky voice, choosing to completely ignore the question and get away from her as soon as possible. Once you got the sandwich you wanted, you opted to sit at a table in the farthest corner of the room away from prying eyes. The young ghost followed suit and sat in a chair facing you, and watched quietly as you ate. One of the things you hated most in this world was people staring at you while you ate, and he was doing that; much to your dismay, you couldn’t really do anything about that. 

Exhaling through your nostrils, you chewed angrily as the boy rested his face on his palms and watched you in fascination. His expression quickly changed from that to one of surprise, as he let out a small gasp. 

“I forgot to introduce myself, how rude of me.” he rolled his eyes, “I’m Doyoung.” he smiled at you and you only hummed lowly in response. 

“You know,” he continued, tracing random patterns on the wooden surface of the table with his fingers, picking at a few scratches with his nail every now and then, “it’s really hard, being a ghost. You can’t be seen and when you are, no one wants to talk to you.” he pouted, looking like a small kid who had just got scolded by his mother. “I feel lonely a lot.” he admitted, pursing his lips. 

Although you had heard that trope from many ghosts before, you didn’t know what it was about that certain one that made you feel a small pang in your heart, watching the way his smile fell and formed into a frown; he seemed to have been a very happy boy and full of life. Clearing your throat, you shook those thoughts away and resumed in eating your mediocre sandwich. 

Pressing on the home button of your phone, you glanced at the time and sighed. The last lecture was in three and a half hours and you had nowhere to go and no one to go with to kill time, so you soon found comfort in the college library. However, it would’ve been more peaceful and relaxing if Doyoung would stop following you around and constantly ask you a bunch of questions. 

“The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales,” Doyoung read the title of a book on your hands, eyebrows scrunched up, “what kind of book is that?” he sneered. Holding the book against your chest, you expertly made your way through the library looking for an empty table, not wanting to be around anyone’s presence. 

“Are you a psychology major?” he asked, voice laced with curiosity. “I’m an engineering major.” he stated, and you looked up from your book with an eyebrow raised at the fact that he had used present tense. Had this boy not realized that he was dead? Raising now both of your eyebrows and blinking once, you shook your head slightly to the side and let it slide. 

He’ll leave me alone after my next lecture ends, you thought. 

Boy, you were wrong. 

Doyoung skipped down the sidewalk as he followed you towards your apartment, humming jovial tunes and getting on your nerves. Never had you ever met a ghost that annoyed you so much. 

Unlocking the door to your apartment, you stepped inside and stopped dead in your tracks when you saw Doyoung already inside. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” 

“Ah, I’m sorry I came in uninvited. Your house is really nice, but cleaning it once in a while wouldn’t hurt, you know.” he quirked an eyebrow at you, his eyes falling on the mess in your living room, discarded plastic bowls of instant ramen and three dirty mugs on top of your coffee table, then falling on the huge pile of dishes lying on your sink. 

Rolling your eyes and biting the inside of your cheek, you brushed past him and went straight to your bedroom; you could not believe you were being reprimanded by a ghost. You stepped out in the living room and were greeted by the sight of Doyoung cleaning up your living room, muttering about how gross you were under his breath. 

“Can you do the dishes too? I kinda have a project to do.” you batted your eyelashes at him, but he only gave you an angry scowl in return. 

“I’m not your servant.” he snapped, shoving the trash into a plastic bag, then placing it next to the door frame of your front door. “Please, don’t forget to take the trash out next time you leave the house, hm?” he smiled sweetly at you, tilting his head to the side. 

“Yes, mom.” you rolled your eyes in frustration. The bliss of not having someone nag you all the time - that someone being your mother - was short lived as it hadn’t even been more than a few minutes since Doyoung came in and he was nagging you more than your own mother. Fluffing the cushions on your couch you sat down, your back resting on them and placed the laptop that lay atop your coffee table. 

“Okay, I’ve had enough.” you snapped, turning your head sharply to frown upon his hunched figure. “For how longer are you going to loom over my head?” 

“Isn’t that what a ghost is supposed to do?” he quipped, his brows furrowing. Huffing through your nose, you kept your mouth shut as you tried to bite back a retort. 

“Don’t fret, I’ll be out of your hair now anyway. I may be a ghost but I have things to do.” he continued, glancing you in an arrogant manner before storming off your apartment. 

“Is your daily life always this boring?” Doyoung grumbled as he followed you to the kitchen like a lost puppy, something he had been doing for about two weeks now. Yes, he spent most of his time pestering.

“Are you always this annoying?” you bit back, putting a bag of popcorn inside the microwave.

“Fight me.” the tall boy countered, his fists coming up in front of his face; prominent lines forming between his eyebrows as he scrunched them. However, all you could do was laugh at his failed attempt to look intimidating. From the short time span you had spent together, you had come to the conclusion that Doyoung couldn’t look intimidating to save his life, no pun intended; his cute features didn’t allow that. Of course, you hadn’t told him that you found him cute because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

“Under any other circumstances I would’ve, but I have to catch up on my favorite show.” you countered and resumed to watching your show after having retrieved the popcorn from the microwave. But it seemed as if you could not enjoy even that, since Doyoung kept asking you questions regarding the show. You also made a mental note to apologize to your parents for annoying them this much during movies with continuous questioning when you were younger, it truly required high levels of tolerance and patience. 

“It would be easier for you to keep up if you don’t ask all these questions and just paid attention instead.” you cut him off mid question. 

“But how can I when everything is so confusing? Why did her brother hire a hitman to kill her?” he asked exasperated, his eyes trained on your laptop screen. 

“Well I don’t fucking know either.” you whined, then muttered about how annoying he was for the hundredth time this day. 

“I heard that, you wanna fucking go?” 

“There you go again, with the unnecessary aggression.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. 

“I’ve dealt with 21 years of pent up aggression, I have to vent.” 

“Why don’t you vent on someone else?” you asked in exasperation, voice raised half an octave. 

“Because I like you!” he replied, equally loud and the pair of you fell into a somewhat awkward silence. 

“Uh,” you opened your mouth to talk but no words seemed to form, so you just uselessly shut it again. 

“You seem like a fun and nice person, as much as I like to call you boring. Plus you’re the only one that has kept up with me. I know you like it when I’m around, don’t even try to deny it.” he poked your arm, smiling lightly, just enough for his teeth to show a little bit. 

“What’s with the sudden affection?” you asked perplexed. That was so unusual of him, since he always had something to tease you about. 

“I am affectionate, I just show it in my own unique way.” he defended himself, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. 

“Mhm, whatever floats your boat.” you mumbled under your breath and rewound the episode to watch what you had missed during your talk with Doyoung. As much as you tried to concentrate on the episode, his words kept replaying in your head over and over again. 

The following days went on like they usually did, the pair of you bickering endlessly. The fact that you enjoyed his presence by now was undeniable; it was like you had gained a new friend. Now, you weren’t so sure if you could classify him as one, since he was a ghost, so that set certain limitations to your interactions or forming any further relationships. Yes, you could touch him and everything, but only when the pair of you were alone, you could not be seen hugging the air in public by any means. 

Today during lunch you found out the shocking fact that Doyoung was in fact not dead, but he had been in a coma since September due to an accident he had with his family. Out of all four family members, he was the one who got injured the most, thus he had been in the intensive care unit all this time. 

In all honesty, that little statement sparked up a flare of hope inside you, that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance of him waking up from his unconscious state. Not only because you hoped so, but for the sake of his family too. 

Doyoung rested against the door frame of your bedroom, observing your slouched form over your desk as you tried to wrap up an essay that was due tomorrow morning. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light was the small fluorescent lamp placed atop your desk, perfectly illuminating your tired features. A scowl etched on your face as your fingers furiously typed on the keyboard of your laptop, dark circles evident under your eyes. You halted all actions as a yawn escaped your parted lips, eyes screwing shut in the process. 

“Y/N,” Doyoung’s soft voice broke the silence. His usual teasing tone was long gone as this time his voiced was laced with something that resembled concern. “Please, go to sleep.” he took a few steps towards you, halting behind your leather chair, his big soft hands resting on your stiff shoulders, massaging them softly. 

“I’ll be done in five minutes, I promise.” you mumbled, face flushed at Doyoung’s display of intimacy. 

Ten minutes passed and you were now clad in your soft pajama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt, ready to go to bed. However, no matter how much you tossed and turned, you were not granted any sleep. 

“Do you perhaps need any help falling asleep?” Doyoung’s soft voice permeated the room, causing your head to snap towards the sound of his voice, but failing to make out his figure clearly amidst the darkness of the room. 

The right side of your bed dipped, as Doyoung climbed on the bed and laid beside you. His hard chest was pressed against your back, his right hand snaking around your waist to bring you closer to him, your cheeks tinted red at the feeling of his strong arm wrapped around you. 

“How could you be of any help to me?” 

“I could sing you to sleep.” he answered, but it came off as more of a question rather than a statement. 

“Doyoung,” you chuckled softly in your sleep deprived state, “I want to fall asleep, not pull an all nighter.” you deadpanned groggily. 

“For your information, I am in fact a very good singer. Now, all I want you to do is close your eyes.” he said, stroking your hair once, twice. Complying without any further complaints, your eyelids closed shut and your body relaxed in Doyoung’s hold. 

Soon after, his soft and mellow voice entered your ears and it was truly as if it was an angel singing you to sleep. His voice could not be described properly with words, it filled you with a floating wave of bright joy. Doyoung’s slender fingers threaded through your soft locks and a small smile crept up your lips, slowly drifting off to sleep. 

Not to exaggerate, but the previous night’s sleep had been the best one you had got in ages, all thanks to Doyoung. This morning, you had woken up next to Doyoung’s sleeping form and your heartbeat increased, palms growing sweaty and fighting uncontrollable urge to place a chaste kiss on his pink lips. Shaking your head in a condemnatory manner, you got off your bed and you trudged towards your bathroom. 

You didn’t know what had got into you - or him - lately, but he seemed to be acting differently. The teasing still persisted, but it was miniscule acts of affection that made you suspicious of his change in attitude. For example, he would often clean you up when food would smudge your cheek, his touch lingering on you for more seconds than it was needed, subtle touches here and there. You often found his hands placed on your shoulder, or his arm sneaked around your waist. 

Once you walked in your room, you were greeted with the pleasant sight of a sleepy and slightly dazed looking Doyoung waking up from his slumber, his blonde hair laid disheveled atop his head. 

“Ah, you look so cute.” you cooed, hand instinctively reaching up to his head, fixing the stray strands with a small content smile playing on your lips. 

“Uh, good morning to you too...” Doyoung trailed off, his eyes trying to look up at the hand that was still on top of his head. Having caught on on the situation yourself, you quickly retracted your hand and let it hang in the air awkwardly for a few seconds, before letting it fall limp against your side. 

“You look unusually happy this morning.” he noted then proceeded to get off the bed, his chest brushing against yours in the process and it made your mind go haywire, all different kinds of thoughts coursing through it. 

“Well, I did have a great sleep last night.” 

“You’re welcome.” Doyoung smirked smugly. 

“I don’t remember thanking you.” you countered, following him out the room. 

“You just did, indirectly.” Doyoung insisted, then paused for a moment his eyebrows scrunching in thought. “Did you email your assignment to your professor?”

“Fuck me.” 

That day it was all to thanks to Doyoung that you were able to get a B on your assignment that was worth your grade, that was thankfully sent in the very last minute. Therefore, it was deemed necessary that you should treat yourself for passing the class. 

“Ah, I want fried chicken too.” Doyoung pouted, seated next to you on the couch, staring intently at you as you scarfed down the savory junk food. 

“When you recover,” you spoke, your mouth full of chicken and paused to swallow, “we’ll eat all the fried chicken in the world, I promise.” 

“You say ‘when’ as if you’re so sure I’ll recover.” Doyoung’s voice was solemn and a frown etched on his face, his usual happy expression replaced by a grim one. 

“Hey,” you cooed, shuffling closer to him and lowering your head to meet his eyes that were trained down on his lap. “I’m sure of it. I just have this gut feeling that you’ll recover from your state.” you reassured him, giving his hand a soft squeeze and flashing him a hopeful smile. 

“Ah, you touched greasy chicken with this hand; that’s disgusting.” he grimaced, freeing his hand from your grip and wiping it on your arm. 

“I fucking hate you.” you grumbled and made a motion as if you were ready to throw the bucket full of chicken wings at him. Letting out a short breath, you shook your head disbelievingly, an inevitable smirk fighting its way on your lips. You glanced at Doyoung from your peripheral vision and almost scoffed. It amazed you how he changed the mood and subject so effortlessly, maneuvering from one thing to another, as if the state of his health was not that big of an issue. 

“Feeling’s mutual.” Doyoung shoved you and you almost dropped your precious chicken and tried so hard not to empty its contents on top of Doyoung’s head, but that would be a waste of food, so you decided against it. 

Seemed like you were back to square one. 

Your keys jingled against the door as you unlocked it and were now finally greeted by the comfort of your own apartment. Sadly, you were also greeted with a very gloomy looking Doyoung sitting on the couch. Letting the door shut behind you with a soft sound, you paced towards him and sat down next to him. 

“Doyoung, what’s wrong?” you asked concerned, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“You know how I always stop by at the hospital to see my family right?” he asked, his voice gruff, as if he had been sobbing loudly non stop before you came. You only gave him a small nod in response and prompted him to continue. 

“Well,” he began to speak, but had to pause to take in a shaky breath and remain calm. But you could see from the state he was in that it was almost impossible for him to do so, his eyes slowly brimming with tears he was trying to hold back. “I stopped by there today, too.” 

“It just so happened that at that time, the doctor was there too.” 

“And, what happened? Doyoung you’re scaring me.” you pressed, your voice barely a whisper. 

“He,” he choked out, a tear rolled down his cheek quickly but your hand was just as quick to wipe it way from his cheek. “he said that, my condition is not improving at all and that it ,in fact, slightly deteriorated since last week.” 

Your heart dropped down to your stomach and you literally felt as if your breath was knocked out of you, a sudden weight on your shoulders dragging you down. 

“He said that the chances of me waking up again are slim and if it happened it would be a miracle.” Doyoung cried softly, his breathing was ragged and shaky, his shoulders shaking with every inhale. “Y/N, I don’t want to die.” 

“No, don’t say that. You won’t die, I won’t let you to...” you tried to comfort him but to no avail, he was inconsolable. 

“You know what hurts me the most?” 

“What?”

“Seeing my parents cry. This is the first time I saw my dad cry like this, Y/N.” he cried into the crook of your neck, his chest raking with every sob. “They looked so devastated, I couldn’t stand seeing them like this, it broke my heart.” 

You remained silent as you let him weep and just stroked his head softly. In fact, even if you wanted to speak, you were at a loss of words, honestly. To say that you weren’t expecting something like this would be an understatement. Truthfully, these past couple of months Doyoung had spent by your side, you had grew very attached to his presence, and even if he died you would still be able to interact with him. However, his case was different. His case sparked up a small glint of hope inside of you that maybe, just maybe, at some point he would be able to stand by your side in flesh and bone, alive and well. But even now, you didn’t lose your hope. Not so easily. 

“I’m scared, Y/N. I’m so scared of leaving them behind like this.” he admitted to you and it was the first time he had allowed himself to be this vulnerable around you and it truly pained you to see him like this, as if he was just a small kid that had been left all alone in this world, but this time his situation was inverted since he was the one being afraid to leave everyone behind and in fact that must be even scarier. 

“Will they be okay? How much will it hurt? Or worse,” he paused, looking at you with wide teary eyes, yours mimicking his. “what if they forget about me?” he mumbled softly, the never ending streams of tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“Doyoung, no.” you said, your voice stern and serious. Turning your body fully towards him, you clasped his shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. 

“Do not ever think like this. Okay?” you asked, determination clear in your voice. “If you ever were to die, I assure you that you would never be forgotten. The loss of a loved one, let alone a child, is hard to forget. True, it would be very hard on your family, but you will be in their hearts forever.” you gave his shoulders a good squeeze and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, your lips lingering for a few more seconds than needed on his wet cheek. 

Doyoung swiftly turned his head and captured your lips with his soft one in a longing kiss. You could feel Doyoung’s strong emotions spilling into the kiss and it made you lightheaded and breathless at how much emotion he could convey with just one simple kiss. It was simple, yet sweet and loving. 

“Thank you.” Doyoung murmured softly, after having broken out of the kiss; his eyes now dry of tears. 

“What are we going to do after you recover?” 

“Hmm,” Doyoung pondered and shuffled on the bed, turning on his side so he could face you better. “well, for starters, I’ll take you on as many dates as i can.” he promised, earning an amused chuckle from you. 

“That’s more than enough for me.” you admitted. “But for now, I guess we’re stuck at home.” you grumbled. 

“Well, there’s many more things we can do indoors that we can’t in public.” Doyoung noted, his tone very suggestive and mischievous. 

“Like what?” you asked, curiosity getting the best of you, a pink hue tinting your cheekbones, causing you to hide your face in Doyoung’s broad chest before he noticed, since that would lead to endless teasing from his part. 

“We could have naps; lots of them.” Doyoung specified. “Like right now, close your eyes and sleep.” he ordered, closing his and hugging your body closer to his, if that was even possible. Complying happily, you let sleep take over you whole. 

Two hours later, you woke up feeling rejuvenated from a much needed nap. However, Doyoung was nowhere to be found, neither was he on the bed beside you, nor in the apartment. Since it was 5 pm, you assumed he would be at the hospital, paying his usual visit to his parents, who spent every day by Doyoung’s side, even if they were no longer allowed to. Nonetheless, your worry did not subside even after three more hours passed that Doyoung was still not back. He was never this late.

For one, it was impossible that he could’ve got into an accident, he was a ghost after all, so you really couldn’t think of what could’ve happened that he couldn’t come back. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days and days into weeks.

Six weeks.

Six weeks since Doyoung left without any notice and never returned. To say that you were heartbroken and felt betrayed would be an understatement. Even you long term boyfriend dumping you didn’t have this much of an effect to you, but as much as you tried to convince yourself that it was nothing, you were in fact in a rut. Each passing day was harder than the previous one, the void in your chest growing bigger and bigger. 

Before Doyoung had come into your life, you hadn’t realized how dull everything was and how he effortlessly brought color into your world; he had been right, your life was indeed boring. Sadly, the moment you had realized that, your main source of happiness was long gone. 

Summer had already made its appearance and you pretty much hated every second of it, the heat being way too unbearable for you. You had currently found comfort in a well air conditioned coffee shop, waiting for your friend who was unsurprisingly late again. Staring out the window, you observed people passing by, enjoying their summer strolls. Inevitably, your eyes focused on the couples, holding hands and smiling adoringly at each other. 

This could’ve been Doyoung and I, you thought bitterly as you frowned at a couple walking past right next to the glass window you were sat next to. Your train off thought was interrupted as the chair on the opposite side of the table scraped against the floor and someone sad down on it. Furrowing your brows, you were ready bark an angry dismiss at the stranger sitting down but your mouth closes shut once you noticed who was sitting in front of you. 

It was no other than Doyoung. 

Scoffing angrily, you looked anywhere but him, observing the other customers or pretending you were looking through the menu. Anything to avoid looking at his annoying smiling face. 

“It’s rude to ignore people you know.” Doyoung scolded you, earning an angry glare from you. Biting on your tongue, you refrained from snapping at him and cussing him out. 

“Are you ready to order?” You were so set on ignoring Doyoung that you hadn’t noticed the waitress had come to get your order. The weird thing, however, was that she was staring right at Doyoung, her face flushed as he smiled at her. 

“I’ll get an iced Americano.” he replied, handing her his menu with a very flirty smile and if you looked closely there was a hint of smugness behind it. “What about you?” he asked, turning to you and giving you his full undivided attention. 

“Uh, the same...” you stammered, eyes trained on the boy in front of you. 

“Coming right up!” the young waitress chirped and sauntered off, leaving the pair of you alone. 

“I thought you’d notice I was alive, I mean I am wearing different clothes, after all. You do know that ghosts are stuck with the clothes they die in, dummy. Tisk, tisk.” he shook his head in disapproval. And he was right, but in your shocked state you had failed to notice this major detail about him. 

“How, when?” you managed to ask. 

“It was a few days after the doctor said my parents I wouldn’t make it, yet here I am.” he gestured at himself, and shrugged as if it was no big deal. So that was why he disappeared without any notice, you thought as it finally clicked. “I spent sometime in the hospital, and now here I am. It was so hard to find you, without looking like a stalker, you know.” he joked, leaning back in his seat. 

“Ugh, I hate you.” you scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“No, you don’t.” he countered and he was in fact right, but you only rolled your eyes in response. Doyoung smiled, his eyes lighting up. 

“About those dates I promised, when do we start?”