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httpjeon · 4 years ago

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heajix ― jungkook (m.)

jungkook/reader | alien!au | angst, fluff, smut

wordcount: 13.1k

contents: violence, blood, stabbing, minor character death, murder, mentions of mass genocide, knotting, breeding kink/impreg kink, light size kink, dirty talk, blowjob, fingering, cunnilingus, begging, multiple orgasms, light cumflation, cum eating, cum sharing

― synopsis: you find yourself on palacios, home to the sehebon. unfortunately, it’s not by choice and you quickly realize how deadly the planet is.

note: heajix is pronounced hay-jicks

blog masterlist ― made of stardust masterlist

You'd been traveling, backpacking to be precise, through Fanet IV System — the newest system to be open for interplanetary travel. While you were traveling and exploring the newly available system and planets you began experiencing extreme technical difficulties. You wound up having to make an emergency landing on the planet of perpetual night called Palacios, home of the Heajix — an obscure, secretive race small in population.

Unfortunately, the least developed planet hadn't taken too kindly to their status of open-for-visits and had seemingly gone into a global lockdown of some sort since it began.

The second you stepped off your craft, you began to cough. The pollution in the air and smog that you could see had you scrambling for the mask you'd been given ahead of your visit.

You were in the heart of the capital city, Yathe, and it was nothing like you'd expected. Instead of a bustling metropolis like on all the other planets — it was nothing but abandoned buildings and graffiti covered walls. There seemed to be limited electricity supplied as street lamps flickered on and off, though most didn't work. The ones that were flickering helped you navigate your way around regardless.

The place was basically lawless, from what you knew, and the citizens did what they wanted to for the most part.

Pulling your backpack over your shoulders, you began to make your way through a nearby residential area. The houses, if you could call them that, were dilapidated and run-down; some had broken windows and others were completely destroyed. The Heajix's native tongue was plastered all over the ruined buildings and, while you weren't fluent, were talking shit about the other planets.

Using the flashlight on your phone, and aided by the illumination of the moon, you managed to find yourself in front of a house. It was small and wooden, no doubt old. When you walked inside, you realized it was just a simple one-room house with an attached bathroom as the only other room.

It was a gamble to assume it was unoccupied but, you really didn't have any other choices since you really couldn't spend the night out on the street. Your communications were down and there was no cell service.

You sighed and stepped inside, wincing at the visible dust floating around the room — thankful for your mask. When you turned to lock the door, you were dismayed to find there was only a broken locking mechanism. Groaning, you banged your head against the door.

"Why does my life suck? This planet might actually kill me!" You grumbled to yourself.

You dropped your backpack on the floor, unraveling the sleeping bag that was attached at the bottom and dropping it in a suitable sleeping place. There was a window right beside the front door, large enough for you to clearly see outside and allowing the moonlight to drift in.

You placed your bag in the corner near your sleeping bag and sat down. It was soft and cushioned, helping you to not feel the hard, rough floor beneath. There was a pillow sewn into the sleeping bag which you laid your head on.

The trip had been long and grueling, taking a week to complete so sleep quickly caught up to you. As your eyes fluttered closed, just before darkness completely overtook you, you swear you saw someone moving in the window.

Waking up to no sunlight was definitely jarring and you quickly realized that your circadian rhythm was going to flip out. Regardless, you looked at the time and it was just past 9 in the morning so you stood up and stretched, intending to take a shower. Grabbing your backpack, you dragged it over to the bathroom. Toting the thing made you realize how heavy it was — you'd packed so much into it for the trip. It hit the floor with a clunk and you were briefly concerned it would break the wood floor beneath.

There was a shower — a rusted spigot and a broken hot water nozzle. You groaned, realizing how shitty your morning was about to be. You reached in, turning the nozzle. The pipes clanged loudly and made a high pitched wailing noise before spurting out water. Your jaw dropped open and you let out a cry of despair at the yellowed water.

After finishing your horrifying shower, 20 minutes of holding in shrieks from the cold polluted water, you sat on the floor in the main area by the window. You did notice that the moon was a lot brighter than it had been and provided more visibility. Pulling out your file from your backpack, you hunched over the floor to take note of the crummy conditions the planet lived in along with their lack of fresh, clean water.

It was a hobby of sorts, traveling through newly opened solar systems and journaling your stay on the planets.

Checking your phone, you noticed it was nearing noon and your stomach began to growl. You slipped your shoes on and put the mask back on your face before stepping out; hiding your belongings in the bathroom to make it seem like the house was empty should anyone come by.

When you stepped outside, you felt a shiver travel up your spine at the ominous atmosphere. It was completely silent, not a single soul in sight and it set you on edge. Pulling the hood of your hoodie up, you kept your head down as you began to walk towards the area where your ship had been parked.

Truth be told, it was quite common on planets of weaker economies for the Capital Planet to provide the citizen with rations.

There were other planets you'd seen them on, and as you walked through the smoggy city you were pleased to find a run-down building marked with a giant red symbol of Vulia — capital of Fanet IV.

The glass doors were smashed open and you easily stepped inside. It was dark and dusty with minimal light helping to guide you. Finally giving in, you turned your cell phone's flashlight on and began to look around.

The place was massive and you were shocked to see that the shelves were still lined with food. It wasn't abundant but it was clear not many people had been picking from the rations.

You grabbed some things from the shelf, realizing you should have brought your backpack. Most of the food was marked in foreign text but you didn’t care. You just needed food or else you wouldn’t survive long enough, on the planet, to even figure out how to get home.

You put some in your pockets and carried others in your hands as you swiftly left the building. Looking around, you felt like someone was watching you but the streets were pedestrian-free. In fact it was eerily empty — it was reminiscent of a ghost town. Strange considering it was the capital city of the planet.

Not wanting to risk getting into trouble, you hurried on your way the your ‘home’. Regretfully, as you shut the door, you remembered the door didn’t properly lock. You weren’t particularly handy enough to really fix it by yourself, unfortunately.

You saved as much food as you could in order to avoid having to go back out and quickly found yourself bored. Looking at the clock, you realized it was only about 2pm. There was no way you could go outside to find something to do. Aside from the fact you knew close to nothing about the planet, you also didn't feel safe out and about.

So you sat there, watching the hours tick by. Your phone battery was depleting and there was no way to charge it — the planet wasn’t quite equipped with outlets and electricity. Once it was dead you were going to be so fucked — no flashlight and no way to tell the time.

It was still early when you decided to roll out your sleeping bag and lay down. You spent a while simply staring at the walls and ceiling daydreaming.

As you lay there in your own world, out of the corner of your eye, something shifted in the darkness of your window.

You sat up quickly, turning your head to look but found nothing to see.

"Now I'm starting to hallucinate," You grumbled, laying back down and turning your back to the window.

You sighed when you woke back up, glancing at your phone indicated it'd only been a couple hours. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, your gaze shifted to the window once again.

Your breath caught in your chest when you could make out the shape of a person standing there — silhouetted against the moon's light.

You couldn't see their face but you knew they could see you, you could feel their gaze burning into you, as they brought their hand to the glass and tapped three times. You didn't breathe, eyes wide with fear you watched as their head tilted to the side. They lifted their hand up again, no doubt intending to knock again when they froze.

You swear you could hear muffled voices but it was so faint it was nearly impossible to be sure that's what you heard. The person's head snapped to the side, body going stiff.

Much to your horror, a second figure made an appearance from a few feet behind them.

All was still for a second before the first figure bolted and took off running. The second person stood there for a second and you were scared they were going to harass you as well. However, the person turned and walked in the opposite direction the other one ran.

With your sleeping bag pulled up to your eyes, you knew you weren't going to be falling asleep again.

When the morning came, you began trying to fix the lock — the night before having made you terrified for your safety. It was a simple type of latch and it took you hours to figure out a way to get it to work — with the help of a bobby pin and a spare pen you had in your bag.

It wasn't the best but it gave you a sense of peace of mind.

You hoped you'd be able to sleep.

Staring at the window, you sighed — maybe you could find something to cover it up when you grew the courage to go out again. You really needed to, having run out of rations and on your last bottle of water that you had collected.

Your phone was almost completely dead after you had been using it to light your work on the lock. The bar was red indicating a sad 18% power left.

The time was a bit past 5PM and you decided to go while it was still technically daytime. Once outside, you wanted to cry with how much you hated it.

Curse you and you terrible luck.

You could only hope that the signals for help you'd sent out would miraculously find their way to someone who could help you. There was also the possibility of you finding someone in Yathe who could help you — whenever you gained the courage to venture around and find help for yourself.

Until then, you'd just suffer by yourself.

You did the rounds again, this time you stuffed much more into your backpack — which you’d remembered to take. Every little creak and gust of wind caused you to jump, the image of that person standing at your window was still haunting you.

You were going to be severely out of luck soon; with no phone, no way to contact Earth or a nearby planet to get to for safety, along with the apparent stalkers hiding in the dark. With worries weighing heavily on your mind, you found yourself drifting into your thoughts. Anxiety riddled your being and you cursed yourself for not having been prepared for an event like the one you were in.

The only thing that pulled you from your thoughts were the heavy footsteps not far behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end and your hands began to tremble. Taking a glance over your shoulder, you saw a broad-shouldered individual meandering around behind you. With their hood pulled over their head, you couldn't see their face but you were sure it was a man.

When he noticed you looking, he picked up his pace intending to catch up to you. You held a whimper of fear in, speeding up your own pace.

His footsteps sped up again and you felt tears of fear pricking at your eyes — your house was right up ahead. You could get inside and lock him out.

Just before you reached your house, the footsteps stopped altogether. When you glanced over your shoulder, you saw the man talking to another person.

He had a friend.

You were in such deep shit.

Practically bolting to your house, you locked the door shut and placed your backpack in front of it — it was heavy and it wouldn't do much. Nonetheless, it helped you feel safe. You slid to the floor underneath the window, out of view.

Despite your fear, your stomach began to grumble with hunger. You chanced a peek out of the window and found there was not another soul in sight.

Your hands were shaking so bad it made it difficult to bring your drink safely to your lips. It took you an hour, according to your phone, to eat some of your food as you had kept drifting off into space.

A loud bang made your eyes shoot open, having fallen asleep against the wall with your knees to your chest. Drowsy, you looked around for the source of what woke you up.

Another bang and you saw your poorly locked door move with the weight of someone slamming against it. You scrambled backwards away from the door, eyes wide as tears pricked at them in fear.

There was nothing you could do as the lock gave and the door flew open. A man stood there, shoulders heaving as he glared at you. You could see only his eyes as his face was masked with scarf.

"Please..." You whispered, backing yourself into a corner.

"I knew you were a human," He growled, voice gruff and raw. "You know you're not welcome here."

"I-I..." Your mind blanked with any defense you could have made.

Just as he took another step forward, a second larger figured barreled through the open doorway. He was covered by an oversized black hoodie and black face mask. The heavy black boots on his feet added more to his height. You saw your life flash before your eyes and you just knew you were doomed.

"You—" The new man moved forward in the blink of an eye and had the other man jacked up against the wall by the front of his shirt.

"What did I tell you?" The second man asked, voice muffled by the full-face white mask he wore.

"Look—" The first man began but stopped when the second tightened his grip. "Fuck fine, I'll go."

The second man said nothing, simply letting the other go for him to run out the door. He sighed, shoulders relaxing as he turned to you.

You were frozen where you sat, his dark eyes, through the dark shadow his long bangs casted, doing nothing to quell your fear.

"What's your name?" He suddenly asked.

"_-_____," You muttered, not taking your eyes off him as he began to walk around your house. His boots thunked against the wood floors as he investigated whatever he saw.

"Well ______," He turned to you and sighed. "My name's Jungkook."

He crouched in front of you, the chain hanging on his jeans jingling when it met the floor, pulling the bands around his ears off and removed his mask.

It felt like the air was promptly knocked out of you. Even in the dark you could make out beautiful features on his face; wide, sparkling doe eyes with long curly bangs that hung in them. He had pretty, delicate lips with a small freckle beneath and a sharp jawline.

He was young and really good looking.

"N-Nice to meet you, Jungkook..." You stuttered.

He cocked his head to the side, fully sitting on the floor in front of you with his legs spread and arms resting on his knees. His dark eyes analyzed you, scanning over your features and body.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice portraying no identifiable emotion.

"I-I just found this e-empty house and—"

"No, I mean why are you here...on Palacios," He nibbled on his bottom lip as he stared at you.

"I um...I was traveling and had to make an emergency landing on the nearest planet," You explained.

"Why are you still here?" Jungkook's eyebrows were furrowed.

"My...my communications are down and Palacios doesn't have cell reception," You explained. "I attempted to send out an emergency beacon when I landed but there's no telling if it went through. And I've been too scared to try and make the trek back to see."

"It's probably been looted and dismantled by now for spare parts," He said, making you groan in despair.

"Are there any like...Embassy officials I can talk to? Government officials that can help me?" With every question, you felt your heart beginning to race with anxiety once more.

Jungkook's shoulders shrugged as he shook his head. "Do you not know anything about this place?"

"Only what's been released through the media," You replied honestly. "That you guys went into a lockdown or something."

"We don't...like outsiders here," He whispered before looking away. "There's no one who can help you. We're governless and we have no officials."

"Well how do you have laws a-and—"

"Does it look like we have laws, _____?" He snapped, making you flinch. "Look around. This isn't Earth. We don't have the luxury of being law-abiding citizens. We do what we have to to survive."

"I-I'm sorry I didn't mean—"

"Let's go," He cut you off again, standing up.

"Where?" You whispered, staring up at him.

"I said let's go," He growled, reaching down and grabbing your elbow. You whined when he aggressively jerked you to your feet, ignoring the painful grip he had on you.

"Wait! My things!" You complained, trying to break out of his harsh grip.

Jungkook growled, snatching up your backpack and tossing it over his shoulder.

"My sleeping bag..."

"You don't need it," He grumbled, yanking you out of the broken doorway.

As you walked, you noticed he tugged his mask back on — hiding his face. To your surprise, he pulled you only a few houses down from the one you had been in. He pulled out a key ring from the belt loops on his jeans and slid a key in the lock.

The house was still fairy dilapidated but it had clearly been renovated and fixed up to suit his needs. He hastily slammed the door behind him and locked the three locks that were there — a knob lock, deadbolt, and a simple latch lock like the one in the place you’d been hiding in.

The house was a bit bigger than the one you'd been in — it had an actual bedroom. All except a single window towards the back of the house and a window you could see in the bedroom were boarded up. Jungkook dropped your belongings on the floor with a thud and dropped to sit on the tattered couch in the living area.

"Um..." You stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, watching as he removed his mask again and tossed it away. His eyes cut to you and he raised a brow in question. "Why am I here?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, closing his eyes as he laid his head on the back of the couch.

"I mean...at your house, why...am I in your house?"

He chuckled at your question and you bit your lip at the sight of his crooked smirk. "Well, you were nearly killed over there. Did you want to spend your night there?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Look," He sat up and sighed. "There was no way you could survive on your own in this place. Actual Heajix can barely survive. So, I'm doing you a favor and helping you out, okay? The least you could say is thank you."

"I...thank you." It came out more as a question and Jungkook scoffed.

"You can sleep here," He mumbled, getting to his feet and stalking past you to his room. As he passed you, a sweet smell, delicate scent wafted off of him and you couldn’t help but inhale. It was nice.

You felt around your pockets and realized you had left your phone behind. You whined as you sat down on the couch, not willing to ask Jungkook to go and retrieve it for you. Jungkook's door clicked shut and you were left alone and in silence. It was dark, the moonlight from the back window barely reaching where you were sitting.

You curled up, shivering at the cool draft and your lack of a blanket. Closing your eyes, you hoped for sleep to overtake you.

Soft footsteps moved around you and your eyes fluttered open. Jungkook stood in the kitchenette, shuffling with something on a plate. Sitting up, you winced at how sore your muscles were from curled up on the small space all night. Your neck felt stiff and hurt when you moved it a certain way.

"Um what time is it?" You asked, voice groggy from sleep.

"I don't know," He replied, not looking at you.

"What do you mean you don't know?" You asked.

He turned around, carrying a plate over to the coffee table and placing it down. He was wearing a loose white sweater and sweatpants, long curly hair messy and hanging in his eyes. "I mean...we don't exactly have a concept of time anymore. There aren't really functioning clocks so we all just...run on our own schedules."

"I see..." You watched him pick at some food on the plate and pop it in his mouth. It looked like some kind of diced meat. "What is this?"

"Food," He replied shortly, not offering any other information even as you glared at him. "Eat before you die of starvation."

You sighed but couldn't deny the hunger pains in your stomach. Albeit suspiciously, you took a piece of meat and popped it in your mouth. You hummed, finding nothing strange tasting about it — it tasted similar to ham.

The two of you finished it together and he leaned back on the couch with a groan, patting his stomach. You sat in silence, listening to the wind blowing outside.

"It's probably going to storm soon," He muttered suddenly, eyes drifting towards the window.

You hummed in response, picking at a thread around a hole in your jeans. You weren’t sure how to reply to him, truthfully his tough attitude and mannerisms intimidated you. The last thing you wanted to do was make him mad enough to kick you out and it seemed like he had a bit of a short fuse.

"Do you want a shower?" He suddenly asked, making you jump.

"Um...yeah I guess," You dreaded taking another shower in the filthy water but it’d give you a chance to be away from him and relax a bit.

Jungkook led you to the bathroom and you were surprised by how well maintained it was. He grabbed a towel from a shelf on the wall and tossed it to you. Then without uttering another word, he shut the door and left you alone.

You were pleased to see a hot water handle and eagerly turned it. Then, much to your surprise, the water came out perfectly clean and clear. Without wasting a second, you eagerly stripped and stepped under the warm shower.

It felt like you were in there for ages, having to use some soap Jungkook had to clean yourself. You hoped he didn't mind, though it smelled very good.

When you stepped out, you felt fresher and you were surprised to see new clothes on the countertop.

He had come in while you were shower.

Your face burned hot, hoping he hadn't looked. Throwing on the clothes, you hummed at how clean and nice you felt for the first time since being on the planet. When you walked out of the bathroom, Jungkook was sitting on the couch with his eyes closed and arms over his chest like he was napping.

"H-How did you have clean water?" You asked, taking a seat beside him.

You heard him inhale and felt his body tense. For a second you thought he was going to yell at you, but instead he opened his eyes to look at you. "I hooked all my piping to a private water reservoir that continuously purifies the water."

"That's...impressive," You whispered. "How'd you learn to do that?"

He shrugged. "Took a lot of testing, trial and error with the purification. But my parents were mechanical engineers in Zlathe."

"Zlathe?" You asked.

"It was another city a long time ago," He replied, running a hand through his hair revealing his forehead.

"...Was? What do you mean?" You sat up straighter and he sighed.

"Before everything fell, Zlathe was a neighboring city even bigger than Yathe," He explained.

"I don't understand," You muttered. "What do you mean everything fell?"

"You really are ignorant," He chuckled, though it held no mirth. You couldn’t find it in you to be offended because it was true; but no one outside knew anything about the planet.

"Well it's not my fault your planet is a secret," You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We were less developed than everyone...the other planets," His voice held nothing but spite as he spat out the words. "Palacios is the smallest and collectively they all decided, even as we rejected the idea, to create landfills here to dispose of their waste so their own planets didn't become a mess."

"So...that's what caused the pollution?" You asked.

He nodded. "The more toxic the air became, the more sick people became. Those who were able to leave did and those who couldn't were trapped. All of our government leaders left us without a word. Everything went to complete chaos."

"That's horrible! They just abandoned their citizens?" You gasped, eyes wide with shock.

"One by one the cities became desolate. Yathe is, from what we know, the only standing safe city. When the population became crammed into this last safezone those fucking Vorderans swept in and raided every nook and cranny they could. We went from 500,000 people to a mere maybe...20,000?"

"Vorderans?" You hummed. "The people of Vulia? Capital Planet for Fanet IV? Why did they do that?"

Jungkook scoffed. "Why would I tell you? So you can report it back to the Humans and they can take what's left of an already dying people? We're a doomed species — pushed to the brink of extinction over greed and classicism. Why do you think we kill any outside official that comes here, huh?"

"W-We just...everyone just said Heajix were very...private," You muttered, a little startled by his aggressive attitude.

"Yeah they would," He spat. "They don't want to have to explain the complete genocide and decimation of a planet they spearheaded."

"Did you say kill?" You suddenly whispered, brain catching up to what he’d previous confessed.

"Of course, any foreign person who comes to us...after we warned the Embassy to leave us alone...they sign their own death warrant," He said, absolutely no remorse in his voice.

"Is that why that guy broke in?" You asked, which he nodded at.

"Yeah, you were targeted by him even though it wasn't even discussed," When he heard you hum in confusion. "We may not have people in high positions telling us what to do but we do maintain some order. Any foreign person who comes here is watched and if they're deemed a threat we take them out. So far...every person has proved themselves to be so. But you...we hadn't caught you doing anything other than trying to survive and hide so we voted to leave you alone."

"So why did that guy—"

"He went off the deep end I guess, didn't trust you and wanted to take you out on his own terms to be safe. He'll be punished and dealt with appropriately," He said, pulling his sleeves of his sweatshirt up to show a wide expanse of tattoos written in a foreign text. "All criminals after punishment are made to have a tattoo on their skin detailing the nature and severity of the crime. It's kind of like a way to shame us for behaving that way. It’s a little piece of our culture we’ve maintained even after the fall."

You leaned closer, looking over the intricate text that was displayed. He had a handful from what you could tell.

"I take it you're not going to tell me what your crimes are?" You asked, unsurprised when he yanked his sleeve down harshly.

"What the hell happened to your arm?" He suddenly asked, changing the subject, eyes pinned to your arm.

When you looked down to follow his gaze, you were shocked to see a nasty purpling bruise around your elbow.

"I have no idea," You muttered. However, he grabbed your wrist and you gasped, attempting to yank yourself away. "That hurts, you know! Jeez, why are you so rough?"

"Rough?" He scoffed. "I'm barely even touching you!"

"Well, you've got a twisted concept of gentle," You muttered, rubbing your now sore wrist. "Oh."

"What?" He grumbled, pouting at having been chewed out by you.

"It's where you grabbed me yesterday," You muttered. "Jeez I knew you were rough but..."

"I wasn't that rough..." At the tone of his voice, you looked up and saw him frowning. He lightly ran his fingers over the bruise. "I didn't meant to hurt you."

"I..." You were shocked by how upset he seemed over it, showing actual concern. "It's okay...it'll heal. J-Just be more careful next time, okay?"

"I didn't realize how easy you are to hurt," He muttered, still staring at your bruise. "You're a delicate race, huh? I'll be more careful, I promise."

You smiled at him and nodded. His lips twitched upward in his own smile and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

The following day, Jungkook stood before you with a backpack on his shoulders. His mask was in place and he looked at you where you sat on his couch.

"When I leave, lock the door behind me," He ordered you, watching as you quickly nodded your head. "And don't open up until you're sure it's me, got it?"

"Got it," You replied, feeling anxious over the situation.

His boots stomped against the floor as he walked to the door, casting one strong glance at you over his shoulder before walking out and slamming it shut. You quickly raced over and slid the latch lock in place and twisted the deadbolt while he locked the knob. Left alone in the silence, you felt extremely uncomfortable.

You looked around, eyes falling on the door to Jungkook's bedroom. Debating for a moment, you decided he'd probably be gone long enough for you to have a peek.

Pushing the door open, you were pleased at how nice it smelled �� Jungkook's clean scent permeating from every inch.

As you stepped inside, you noticed a pile of old, worn books in one corner. He had a table beside his bed with a picture frame on it. Taking a seat on his mattress, you grabbed the frame and examined it. There was a picture of Jungkook, albeit a bit younger, standing with a man and woman on either side of him and behind him a taller man who looked similar to Jungkook.

You opened the drawer of his table, having to pull hard as it seemed to be off the track. It was empty inside aside from a paper you couldn't read and a bottle of lotion. Humming, you simply pushed the drawer back closed and looked around the room some more.

Deciding there was nothing else worth looking at, you stepped out of his room and shut the door. Boredom struck immediately and you dropped down onto the couch and curled up.

The least you could do is take a nap.

Your rest didn't last long because you were startled awake by violent knocks on the door. From outside, you could hear Jungkook calling your name. Jumping to your feet, you scrambled to unlock the door and let him in. He sounded so panicked that your hands were shaking by the time you slid the latch lock open.

Jungkook burst in the second the door was open and promptly fell to the ground with a groan. You shut the door and shakily locked it again before turning to him.

"J-Jungkook? What happened?" You crouched down and helped him pull his backpack off.

He winced, making a hissing noise the second he was made to move. You gasped, noticing the way that he was holding his side — red seeping through his fingers.

"Oh my god, what happened?!" You cried, hands hovering above him not knowing what to do.

"J-Just a stupid accident," He groaned, the back of his head hitting the floor harshly when he tossed it back. The impact didn’t seem to bother him. "Was chasin' some animal and I fell. Caught myself on some scrap metal on the way down."

"Holy crap, how bad is it?" You urged him to move his hand so you could see his wound.

The metal had torn a hole in his shirt and you could see a deep gash across his ribs. There was blood gushing from it and you were worried about the possibility of infection.

"It needs to be cleaned and probably stitched, Jungkook," You muttered, watching him put his hand back over it to slow the bleeding.

"I don't have t-to clean it or stitch it," His eyebrows were drawn together and his jaw was clenched in pain.

"I have a first aid kit in my backpack," You stood up quickly, ignoring his protests, dashing over to where your backpack was leaning against the wall.

Zipping it open, you began to fish through your belongings searching for the little white box. You pulled out a towel, deciding it might be good to help clean him up some. You made a soft sound when you finally spotted the kit, pulling it out and holding it up in triumph.

Sitting beside Jungkook again, you helped him remove his shirt. There were a few tattoos and scars scattered along his chest and abdomen but you didn't have time to ogle at his naked body. You pressed the spare towel against his wound and apologized as he hissed in pain. His hand was covered red in blood — some of it having dripped down his wrist to his elbow. You noticed that his mask was gone as well.

"Okay, I'm going to put some antiseptic on it alright?" You asked, pulling the towel off slightly. "It's going to burn like...really bad but—"

"Just do it," He groaned. "Nothing can top this pain right now."

You sighed and ripped open an alcohol wipe. The second it touched the wound, Jungkook's entire body jerked and he let out a sharp word in his mother tongue that you assumed was a cuss. In another situation, you would have laughed at the reaction. Next, you cleaned it with some hydrogen peroxide, making sure to flush the wound as best you could.

"Wh-Where did you learn to do this?" He asked, voice tight with pain.

"Well...I have just basic knowledge from things I've seen on like TV and..stuff like that. So I don't actually know if I'm doing it right or not," You whispered. "But the point is it's getting cleaned, right?"

"Shit, I guess you're right," He mumbled, eyes focused on the ceiling above him.

"I-It's still bleeding, it really will need stitches...it's so deep," You whispered, watching as blood continued to seep through.

"Can you do it?" He asked.

"I don't know...the only thing we can do is try, right?" You were lucky you had a full first aid kit, complete with a sterile needle and thread.

It was quite dark and you had to lean close to see the edges of the wound. You took it slow, apologizing to Jungkook whenever the needle pierced the torn skin. Little by little, the wound was closed until you managed to tie a tight knot to ensure the stitches wouldn't open back up.

Sitting back, you let out a sigh of relief. "I have some pain medicine," You said, taking out a few tablets of Ibuprofen from the first aid kit.

"Thanks," He popped them in his mouth, wincing as he had to swallow them dry.

Then was a big sigh, his body finally relaxed against the floor. He blinked slowly, as if he was struggling to stay awake. You assumed his adrenaline rush crashed and he was growing tired — no doubt exhausted from the adrenaline crash.

"This is insane," He mumbled suddenly, voice sounding slurred.

"What is?" You questioned.

"Before I would just think of getting myself home safe and that'd be the end of it," His lashes fluttered as he fought the sleep that threatened to overtake him. "But this time...all I could think was that I had to get back to you so you would be safe. Unbelievable."

You couldn't help but smile, though he missed it as his eyes finally closed. In a matter of moments, his breathing evened out and you knew he fell asleep.

Right on the floor.

Chuckling, you shook your head and wandered to his bedroom to pull the blanket off his bed — just a thin throw blanket and one of his pillows. You returned to him and carefully, doing your best not to wake him, placed the pillow beneath his head and the blanket over his body.

Your own exhaustion seemed to catch up to you and you curled up on the couch, your own eyes shutting as you stared at Jungkook's sleeping form.

When you woke up, it was on your own. You saw Jungkook was still asleep and sighed. Quickly pulling yourself up, you wandered over to him. Sitting down, you peeled the blanket off of him. You moved his arm off his chest so you could look at his wound but you let out a harsh gasp at what you saw. Jungkook's eyes immediately popped open and sharply turned to look at you.

"What is it?" He asked, body relaxing when he realized it was just you.

"Y-Your wound..." You leaned down to get a closer look, looking at your uneven stitching over the red skin.

"What about it?" He hummed, looking down to take a look at himself.

"It's healed up..." Beneath the stitches, the skin was still reddened but there was no sign of the open wound that was once there. Just a puffy looking scar was left in its wake.

"Oh good," He sat up and stretched his arms — his joints popping at the action, making him groan. "Hand me my backpack, yeah?"

"What do you mean good?! Yesterday you were bleeding out on the floor a-and now you're acting like it's just okay?!" You cried, throwing your hands up in frustration.

He stared at you for a moment, looking confused before sighing. He rolled over and grabbed his backpack, pulling it into his lap and digging through.

"Eat something and then we'll talk, okay?" He pulled out a bar of something and when you opened it, it resembled a granola bar but was much softer.

When you took a bite, you were surprised that it tasted like meat. But it wasn't bad. Jungkook pulled out his own and quietly began eating. It was silent between the two of you, as you simply ate. Before long, you were finished and Jungkook simply threw the wrappers into his backpack.

"Now will you tell me?" You muttered, raising a brow when he sighed.

He stood up and moved over to the couch, leaving you kneeling beside his makeshift bed. He sat down and looked at you expectantly, making you rise to your feet and stumble over to sit beside him.

"I guess there's no reason to hide it," You scanned over him as he spoke, taking the opportunity to look over his body again. He was fit, no doubt, with faint abs and lovely, veiny forearms.

"So you have super healing abilities?" You asked quietly.

"We...our species produces a chemical naturally that can heal virtually anything," He explained. "It's in any fluid we excrete; even sweat. And it's in our blood, obviously."

"That's amazing..." You whispered, eyes drifting back to his wound. "Why did you let me take care of it if you knew it was going to heal up?"

"I...Because the other planets use us for it," He muttered, fists clenching. "Do you remember what I told you? About the Vorderans?" You nodded and he continued, "They...collected us for the chemical. They produce the highest quality super medicine in the solar system. And it's because they slaughtered thousands of us to get it."

"So...you didn't trust me to tell me?" You asked, though there was no tone to indicate you were trying to guilt him.

"No," He sighed. "But since you did take care of me...I figured I could at least give it a try, right?"

"Thank you, Jungkook," You smiled. "I'm really happy you're okay, you know. I was really worried. Without you, I'd be doomed here."

"That's very true," He smirked, relaxing into the couch. "You're absolutely helpless!"

"Hey!" You pouted. "You could teach me, you know?"

"Teach you how to survive out there?" He asked, nodding his head towards the door. You nodded and he shook his head. "You're too much of a target. I wouldn't be able to handle looking after you and trying to scavenge."

"I guess that's true," You muttered. "I just don't want to be a burden. You went out of your way to help me and I've done nothing in return for the fact you keep helping me."

He wore a frown as he looked at you. "You're not a burden. In fact, I actually appreciate having you around."

"You do?" You asked, your heart stuttering in your chest as he looked at you with sparkling eyes.

"Yeah," He smiled. "I hadn't realized how lonely I was. But with you here now, I feel a lot...happier. Lighter. It feels nice to not be alone."

"I...I'm happy I can make you feel that way, Jungkook," You whispered, meeting his eyes.

The two of you sat like that in silence. You felt a soft brush of Jungkook's fingers on your hand and he easily laced his fingers through yours.

You felt content; happy even.

You were curled up on the couch, unable to sleep through the howling sound of the wind outside. Rain was pouring down and the thunder was so loud your ears were ringing. Clouds blocked out the moon, blanketing you in complete and total darkness.

It was cold, Jungkook still hadn't given you a blanket and you were beginning to think he forgot. The storm had brought the temperature down drastically, leaving your teeth chattering in effect.

The storm was unlike anything you'd experienced on Earth. It was actually a bit scary.

You sat up, finally unable to take it anymore. There was no reason for you to suffer like you were.

You tiptoed over to Jungkook's bedroom and suddenly hesitated. You didn't want to wake him up for a silly blanket, you'd feel bad. Your shoulders sagged and you turned back to sit back down on the couch.

Somehow, you managed to doze off, curled up in a ball in an attempt to keep warm.

You were awoken very soon after by the weight of something warm being laid upon you. Eyes fluttering open, you met Jungkook's eyes. His brows were furrowed and when he saw you were awake, knelt down beside the couch.

"You're freezing, why didn't you ask me for a blanket?" He whispered, mindlessly tucking the blanket around you.

"I-I didn't want to wake you," You mumbled, voice wobbly from shivering.

"Don't worry about that," He grumbled. "I'd rather you wake me up than fucking freeze to death during a storm."

"I'm sorry," You whispered, eyes fluttering again as you finally warmed up. It felt so cozy beneath the blanket and it smelled just like Jungkook. "Thank you, Jungkook."

"Don't worry about it," He whispered, brushing some stray hair off your face as your eyes closed once again.

"It's my duty to take care of you now," He uttered once he was sure you were asleep.

The first time you noticed something was wrong was when you began to get dizzy randomly — usually accompanying a roaring headache. You ignored it, however, choosing to nap off the headache and continue your days on like usual.

Jungkook began going out for scavenging more and more — bringing home killed rodents and other animals. Sometimes he would come home with some rations or a snack from when the world was a functioning metropolis.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked one morning while the two of you ate some breakfast you prepared.

"Huh?" You looked up from your plate at him.

He was gazing at you, brows furrowed as usual but his head was cocked to the side. "You just look really dazed. And you're barely touching your food."

"Ah, I just..." You cleared your throat. "I lost my appetite, I guess."

"Well, I'm going to go out again today," He said, eating the last of what was on his plate. "I'll be back tonight as usual, alright?"

"Yeah, be careful okay?" You whispered, watching as he hesitated staring at you.

He lifted his hand and placed it softly on your head, smiling.

"I'll see you soon."

Left alone, you ate as much of the food as you could before you had to toss it. You found yourself laying on the couch once again, feeling sluggish and lazy. Deciding a nice nap was in order, you let your eyes flutter shut.

When you woke back up, it felt like you were hit by a bus. You groaned, your head pounding making you whine. Sitting up proved to be a bad move as you felt your stomach turn. Immediately you let yourself flop back down.

Of course you'd get sick on a dystopian planet with no access to medicine.

The hours ticked by and there was no sign of Jungkook. You'd gotten accustomed to his schedule and the general time frame you both ran in so you knew he was well overdue for his return.

You became antsy, pacing around and taking naps when you could. The cold you'd acquired seemed to only get worse as you were plagued with an unfortunate fever. Hiding under your blanket didn't help and being out from the blanket didn't help either. You whined, knowing you didn't have any medicine to help break your fever.

Feeling crappy and concerned about Jungkook made tears sting your eyes; you were always a cry baby when sick.

The door opening finally is what woke you up. Jungkook grumbled, slamming the door.

"Why the hell wasn't the door properly locked?" He snapped, dropping his bag on the floor with a bang.

"Hey...that's loud," You whined, flinching at the way your head began to pound.

"Answer me—hey...what's the matter?" He asked, losing his anger for concern.

"I'm sick," You complained, watching as he kneeled down.

"Sick?" He mumbled, looking over your face — noticing your glassy eyes.

"I have a fever," You explained with a sigh.

He hummed, bringing his hand up to press his palm against your forehead. He hissed, pulling back and sighing.

"I was so scared you weren't coming back, you were gone so long," You whispered, shakily sitting up.

Jungkook's hands hovered in the air, ready to help or catch you if you fell. "I'm sorry, I went a little further than I usually do. But I was only gone overnight. It wasn't that long."

"It felt like days," You whined, tears stinging your eyes.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, cupping your cheek and brushing some hair away from your eye. "I didn't mean to upset you so much."

"It's okay, I'm just...a crybaby," You muttered, cheeks flushing at the fond smile that crossed Jungkook's face — a cute bunny-like smile.

"I...can help you feel better, if you'd let me," He asked, moving to sit beside you on the couch. "My species can cure illnesses, remember?"

"How will you do that?" You asked, voice a little slurred.

"Well..." In the moon's illumination, you could see his ears burning red. "I...I can kiss you?"

Your mind blanked at those words, blinking several times to take in what he said. You recalled what he said about his saliva, or any fluid, possessing the chemical to cure illnesses. Still, despite the fact it was for medicinal purposes, your stomach fluttered with butterflies and your heart stuttered in your chest the idea of kissing him.

"I-I don't mind..." You uttered, subconsciously licking your lips.

He cupped your cheek, leaning down and ever so softly brushed his lips against yours. When you sighed happily at the contact, he surged forward and pulled you into a much deeper kiss. Your lips moved in unison and you couldn't help but reach up to wrap your arms around his neck.

Shuddering, you held in a whimper when his tongue met your lips. You eagerly opened your mouth, shuddering as the taste of him lingered upon your tongue. Your fingers clutched at his hair as you continued to deepen the kiss.

After several long, lovely seconds of the kiss — he finally pulled away. There was a small strand of saliva still connecting the two of you. He brushed his thumb across your lips, breaking the strand.

The two of you sighed, falling silent but he kept his hand on your cheek.

"You should rest now, you'll feel better soon," He whispered, standing up and stepping away.

You missed his touch immediately, and watched him until he disappeared behind his bedroom door.

You curled up under the blanket, fingers pressed to your lips as the feeling of him kissing you lingered. The way your heart began to race made you sigh heavily; what an effect he had on you.

The next day, you were feeling much better and were back to eating properly. You could tell Jungkook was happy; he was positively beaming and smiling at you every chance he got.

It was cute.

The two of you were playing a card game; using some cards you'd had in your bag for when you were bored on the trip through Fanet IV. You were teaching him Earth games and how to play.

You were just about to beat him for the 5th time at Go Fish when there was a heavy knock on the door. Both of you jumped and Jungkook was on his feet in a second.

His whole body was tense and his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. He carefully moved in front of you, shielding your body from the door subconsciously.

"Wh-What is it?" You asked, keeping your voice low.

"No one should come here," He whispered back. "Go hide in the bedroom, alright?"

"But Jungkook—"

"Just do it!" He snapped, giving a gentle push to your back to urge you into the open doorway.

You spared him a longing glance before he pulled the door shut with a soft click.

You took a seat on his bed, listening through the thin walls as Jungkook's heavy footsteps moved towards the door. There was a loud click as he unlocked the deadbolt.

There was a quick beat of silence before a slam so loud that you had to cover your mouth to keep from shrieking.

"Fuck! What the fuck are you doing here?!" You heard Jungkook shout.

"Followed you home," Came a gruff, almost bored-sounding reply. "You weren't very smart. Didn't even notice you were being tailed."

"Fuck," You heard Jungkook swear.

"Now, I hope you make this easy for me and just come along nicely," The stranger asked. “Maybe if you tell me where more are hiding, I'll go easy on you.”

Jungkook didn't offer a reply but you could hear heavy boots approaching the bedroom door. You kept your hands over your mouth to keep from making a peep as you slid off the bed and huddled yourself into a dark corner.

The stranger suddenly shrieked and there was a heavy thud of someone falling to the floor. Jungkook let out a string of curses before there was a crash, grunting and scuffling filling your ears.

What was going on?

From where you hid, you could see a little box beneath Jungkook's bed. As quietly as you could, you pulled it out and opened it up.

It was an array of several different knives. Eyes flicking over to the door, you hatched an idea to hopefully help.

If Jungkook didn't win, the man was going to take him away. The mere thought of that happening sent a spark of terror through you.

Picking up the biggest knife that was in the box, you tiptoed over to the door. You could still hear the two of them fighting, the sound covering up the soft click of the door opening. Peeking through the crack, you were shocked to see the table smashed completely. The man was pinning Jungkook down by his throat. Jungkook was struggling, obviously unable to get air. The stranger laughed mockingly down at him.

Your hands and knees were trembling as you quickly crept out.

"You barely even put up a fight," The stranger spat at Jungkook. "You Heajix never were able to take us on though, isn't that right? That's why we were able to kill so many of you! Such incredible strength yet still unable to protect yourselves. Pathetic.”

You couldn't even register his words as you finally stood behind him. Jungkook's eyes were fluttering and he was dangerously close to passing out.

Steeling yourself, you raised the knife overhead and brought it down as hard as you could. The man shrieked so loud that your ears were ringing. The knife was stuck in his back, buried more than halfway through. Part of you felt proud for putting the power behind the attack.

Jungkook let out a desperate gasp, finally getting the oxygen he desperately needed. While you were distracted looking at Jungkook, the strange man spun around and grabbed you by your throat.

"I knew there was someone else here," The man snarled, squeezing your neck as hard as he could.

You couldn't even make a sound of pain as your feet were lifted off the ground. Your vision was swimming but you could make you Jungkook getting to his feet. The man, you noticed, had strange glowing eyes — as if a light were coming from behind them and illuminating the whites.

In the blink of an eye, Jungkook ripped the knife from your assailants back — making him drop you in shock. You hit the ground hard, knocking what little air you had left in you right out.

Jungkook was on the man before he could even blink, stabbing him several times until he was on his knees. Jungkook paused, chest and shoulders heaving as he glared down at the man.

Then, you watched with wide eyes as Jungkook lifted his leg and kicked the man so hard his body physically flew back. The man was limp, blood dripping from his mouth and nose — eyes open and unseeing.

"Holy shit..." You whispered from where you were still laying on the floor.

"Are you alright?" Jungkook asked, helping you sit up with a gentleness that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. His hands were coated in the intruders blood but you didn't mind.

Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you knocked him down on his butt. You hugged him tight, sighing when you felt him wrap his own arms around you.

"I-I didn't know what to do," You whispered. "He was saying he was going to take you away. I saw you were about to pass out and I knew he would take you. I'm sorry I got involved."

"Hey, it's okay," Jungkook pulled back and smiled. "You saved me! Maybe you aren't as helpless as I thought."

You smiled, shaking your head. Then, without thinking, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. He froze for a fraction of a second but quickly cupped the back of your head and returned the kiss.

When you parted, you asked, "So what do we do with him?"

"The Vorderans are going to come looking for him when they notice he's not reported back to them," Jungkook mumbled, looking over his shoulder at the body. "I'll take him out somewhere and dump him off where they won't be able to link it to me."

"You're going to leave right after that?" You asked, your shoulders slumping.

"I shouldn't be gone long, _____," He smiled, brushing his thumb over your pouted lips.

"But what if there are more of them? What if they take you away and I don't even know!"

As if sensing the panic in your voice, he cupped your cheeks and brought your gaze to him.

"That won't happen," He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead — sending your heart into painful palpitations. "It'll be easier to hide out there and easier to lose them if they do find me. I promise, I'll come back and everything will be okay."

"I'm just...scared, Jungkook," You admitted, feeling your eyes burn.

"I know," He sighed, pressing another kiss to your forehead. Your cheeks immediately felt like they were on fire. "But I would never leave you like that."

You clung onto him as long as he allowed you before he decided it was best to get going. He told you to hide in his room until he got back and to just rest.

"Don't open the door," He warned, though he already knew he didn't have to worry about that.

Left alone, you didn't know what to do with yourself. You'd watched Jungkook lift the body like it was nothing — which only reminded you of what the Vorderan has said; Heajix just had incredible physical strength.

You had a much better concept of time since you weren't sick and you were sure 2 days had passed since you'd last seen Jungkook. You could barely sleep, anxiety plaguing every second that he was gone.

You'd taken to sleeping in his bed, taking comfort in his scent surrounding you. Thankfully, Jungkook had managed to stock up on food so you were able to properly eat in his absence. Though it was more a mechanical task to pass the time than it was for actually sustaining you.

It hadn't occurred to you how much he had changed until you were laying in his bed one night. You thought back to the rough, cold exterior he had when you first met him. And now you were blessed with his smile and comforting caresses.

He made your heart ache in the best way and you wanted to hold him and have him kiss you over and over again. He was so sweet and did his best to take care of you.

You'd really been lucky that he was around when he was that night.

The fact he hadn't returned didn't help quell the fears of more Vorderans being around just waiting for someone to come around. For a Heajix to take away.

You didn't think you would hate an alien planet over the sake of another alien race but you knew the Heajix had been treated unfairly. It was cruel and the fact it was just allowed to happen and no one cared really made you angry.

If you ever got back to Earth you were going to do something to help.

You were lost thinking about the things you could do to help when the front door clicked open.

A spark of fear went down your spine as you sat straight up in the bed. Through the door and walls, you could hear heavy footsteps moving around.

They moved to the door and paused. You held your breath, pulling the covers up to your chin as you watched the door creak open.

A black head of fluffy hair popped in and smiled when he saw you sitting there.

"I was wondering where you—!" He was cut off by you flying off the bed and throwing yourself into his arms.

"You're home!" You gasped, burying your face in his neck. You didn't bother fighting the tears that tumbled down your cheeks.

"Yeah..." You could hear the smile in his voice as he wrapped his arms around you, fisting the back of your shirt tightly as if you would slip away. "I'm home."

"I was so worried and..." Your cheeks burned before you muttered, "I missed you."

Reaching up, he cupped both your cheeks in his hands, making you look up at him. You leaned into the feeling of his touch on your skin as he wiped your tears away ever so carefully. He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours.

"I missed you too," He smiled, pecking your lips again. "But I'm back just like I promised I would be. I told you I'd never leave you, right?"

"You're right," You whispered, moving forward to kiss him again. He eagerly reciprocated and you whined into his lips.

He gripped your hips, rough and harsh. You winced, pulling your lips away slightly only for him to chase them — muttering a soft apology before relaxing his grip.

Neither of you wasted time moving to the bed. With your back pressed against the mattress and his wide shoulders above you, you couldn’t help the shiver running down your spine.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him down for another kiss.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” He breathed against your lips.

“Please,” You whispered, reaching down to tug at the hem of his dirty shirt.

“So pretty when you beg,” He growled, sitting up on his knees to pull the shirt off.

Immediately, your hands were roaming across his chest — grazing over scars and tattoos.

He groaned when your fingers brushed over his pebbled nipples. Leaning down, he nipped against the sensitive skin of your neck. As you sighed in pleasure, he began to push your own shirt up until he was able to toss it away.

Sitting up, he let out a curse at the sight of your bare breasts. One large hand cupped one, thumb rolling the nipple harshly until you whimpered. His lips moved down your neck to take the other nipple into his hot mouth, tongue flicking the bud. Your hands wound into his hand, back arching to get more of the delicious feeling.

“Jungkook, please…” You whined, arching your hips upwards. “I-I want you so much.”

“Yeah?” He groaned against your breast, moving to take your other perked nipple into his mouth. “Who would have figured I’d already have you begging?”

“I missed you so much, Jungkook,” You whined, sniffling softly as the emotions came rushing back. “I need you to touch me, please.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” He whispered, leaning back up to peck your lips.

In one swift move, your pants were tugged down your legs until you were left in just your panties. He hummed cupping your heat through the fabric, easily finding your clit and pressing against it. You sighed, head rolling back as you ground your hips down into his touch. Unable to take it, you reached down and tugged your panties off. He allowed you, watching as you kicked them away and spread your legs for him.

“Fuck,” He groaned, dropping onto his stomach between your legs. “So pretty and wet.”

Your legs trembled as he slid two fingers between your folds, spreading them to expose your leaking entrance. He groaned, low in his chest before quickly diving in to catch some of your arousal on his tongue. You sighed, eyes fluttering close as he swirled his tongue over your clit.

“Ah, Jungkook!” You cried, gripping his hair.

“Fuck,” He growled, pulling back slightly. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“G-Gentle,” You whined, gripping his hair tighter. “It’s sensitive.”

He didn’t respond, simply chuckled before diving back in. He took your clit into his mouth and sucked until your back arched. Soon, he introduced his fingers — easily sliding two in. There was a slight burn but it lasted only a second.

“You can take 3, right?” He chuckled, rolling his tongue over your clit. “You’re gonna need that many to even think of trying to take my knot.”

“Kn-Knot?” You gasped, unable to wrap your head fully around his words as he pumped the two digits in and out.

Your hips bucked when he hit your g-spot. Your eyes rolled as he continued to abuse the spot while playing with your clit in any way he could.

“I’m gonna cum soon, Kook,” You whined, unaware the pet name had slipped through your lips.

He growled, viciously pounding his fingers upwards and suckling your clit into his mouth. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, a tight coil of pleasure winding in your stomach. Opening your eyes, you looked down to see his bangs matted to his forehead with sweat. His eyes were closed and his brows were furrowed in concentration. He looked like he was in utopia himself.

What broke the cord, however, was when he eased the third finger into you. You gasped, back arching as you cried out his name — cumming around the digits. He didn’t stop, fucking your spasming hole and sucking on your twitching clit throughout your entire high until you were whining and pushing him away.

He separated his mouth from you with a lewd pop and slid his fingers out. You felt empty, clenching around nothing as he popped his cum soaked fingers in his mouth. His eyes rolled back at your taste and he chased what was left on his lips until there was nothing left of your cum.

He stood at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning his jeans and letting them slide to the floor until he could step out of them. He wasn’t wearing any underwear and you nearly drooled at the sight of his hard cock— weeping at the flushed, red tip with a soft swell at the base of his cock.

You scooted forward on your knees, wrapping your hand around his shaft and leaning forward to slide your tongue of the slit. He sighed, head falling back on his shoulders as you took the thick head on your mouth and sucked. The taste of his precum was delectable — salty-sweet with a bitter tang.

“You’ll make me cum too fast with your pretty lips on me like that, baby,” He whispered, gripping your hair to pull you away.

You whined at the loss but let him urge you onto your back. Your feet hanging off the end of the bed and Jungkook standing at the end with a fist wrapped around his cock made you lick your lips. He looked so powerful standing over you like he was.

“Scoot back,” He ordered, crawling onto the bed after you.

With your head in the pillows, you spread your legs for him. Knees on either side of his waist, you both looked down to watch as he slid the head of his cock between your wet folds — coating himself in your juices. A split second of hesitation as he positioned his tip at your entrance felt like an eternity.

“Are you sure you want to…?” He asked softly, mindlessly slapped your clit with the head of himself.

“Please,” You gasped, wrapping your hand in his hair to tug him down.

Your mouths simultaneously fell open as he pressed inside, the fat head spreading your walls open. The sound was wet as he sunk inside, dirty and obscene. Your eyes rolled back as he finally bottomed out — the base of him almost as thick as his head.

He dropped down onto his elbows beside your head, pulling you in for another kiss as he began to thrust in and out of your clenching walls.

Every time he sunk inside, he grazed your g-spot making you moan.

“So fucking tight,” He growled. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to take my knot, babygirl.”

“K-Kook—”

“Fuck!” He snarled, cock twitching at the sound of the nickname, slamming his cock into you harshly, making you whined. “Keep calling me that.”

“Kook!” You cried, scrambling to claw at his muscled back.

“I’m gonna knock you up, beautiful,” He breathed, chuckling when he felt you clench around him. “Oh? You like the sound of that? Tell me.”

“Pl-Please kn-knock me up, Kook,” You begged, voice breathy as you fought back sobs of pleasure.

“Yeah, sound so pretty begging for my cum,” He chuckled, reached down to find your swollen clit. “How about you cum for me first?”

Your mouth fell open as everything became even more intense. He didn’t stop the rapid circles on your clit until you were crying out his name and arching. You gushed around him, walls spasming uncontrollably as he fucked you through the high.

As you came down, everything became more intense and sensitive. Every time he sunk inside, the base of his cock would catch at your entrance and stretch you just a tad more. You clung to him, eyes closed as he fucked his knot into your sensitive walls.

“I’m gonna cum,” He warned, suddenly pausing balls deep — his knot popped into your walls, swollen big enough that he couldn't pull back out.

You could feel his cock as it pulsed inside of you — a hot rush of cum immediately following. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he moaned and trembled above you. The knot at the base of his cock throbbed — urging more and more cum out of his cock.

He chuckled darkly, looking down at your swelling tummy — having been stuffed full of his cum that couldn’t escape around his knot.

Your cunt clenched around him and you whined. You felt so full but it felt so good.

Jungkook's nimble fingers found your clit and began to circle the hardened bud in brutal circles. With a dark smirk on his lips, he met your gaze where your eyes were wide and your mouth was open in a silent moan.

"That's it...give it to me, baby," He ordered, grinding his hips against you — his knot and cock stirring your sensitive walls up. “Cum on my knot for me, like a good girl.”

Your head fell back against the pillow as your back arched. The both of you moaned in unison at your orgasm, the tight squeeze and gush from your orgasm set him off again. Tightening his grip on your hips made you whine but the pain blended into the pleasure as Jungkook's knot throbbed as more cum poured into your already well-filled cunt. Slowly, his body relaxed and he heaved a sigh before beginning to change your positions.

His knot tugged at your walls, making you both hiss. You laid side by side, your head resting on his arm.

As you both caught your breath, you felt his knot slowly shrink until he was able to pull out completely. You whimpered at the gush of cum that followed — oozing out of your stretched entrance and staining the bed beneath you.

He groaned, dropping back onto his stomach between your legs. Feeling embarrassed, you moved to close your legs but his strong hands caught you and forced them back open. You covered your face with your hands and whined as he suddenly slid his tongue across your cum-soaked folds.

Absolutely obscene sounds of him moaning and licking you clean filled the space. Your hips jerked in oversensitivity whenever he brushed over your clit.

Sliding his tongue into your entrance, he caught and swallowed down everything he could reach. Him eating his own cum out of you had your walls clenching again and he chuckled before pulling away.

Pulling your hands away from your heated cheeks, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You whined, circling your arms around his neck as he fed his cum into your mouth for you to swallow.

You moaned at the taste of him, swallowing everything he gave you — continuing to kiss long after you swallowed it. The remnants of his cum lingered on your tongue and on his lips.

Pulling back, he leaned his forehead against yours and moved to lay on his side beside you once again. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled your body close to his.

The two of you dissolved into a comfortable silence; his fingers tracing random shapes along your skin and you taking in his sweet scent and enjoying the warmth of his arms around you.

You were sitting with Jungkook on the floor in front of the couch. Since the table was broken, the two of you were using the couch as a makeshift table. He had an array of papers and old book across the surface and had been spending the last two days teaching you to read the Heajix written alphabet. It was difficult and you frequently confused letters but Jungkook was patient — and gave you kisses whenever you got something right which was great incentive.

Unfortunately, the relaxing atmosphere was broken by a series of knocks on the front door. Jungkook was on his feet immediately, knife drawn and at the ready.

You stayed back, watching as he approached the door and slowly unlocked it. You watched as he took a deep breath and threw the door open.

"What—" Jungkook was at a loss. There was a man standing at the door with his hands up to show he was unarmed.

"My name is Hakyeon," He said, motioning to his badge. "I work for the Interplanetary Embassy on Earth. We received an Emergency beacon and we've been told the human was here."

"Holy shit! It actually got through?!" You cried, jumping to your feet and running over to the open door. "Why did it take you so damn long?"

Hakyeon looked confused, shaking his head. "We received it only 2 days ago...I was the nearest representative and was tasked with finding you."

"Weird..." You mumbled, shrugging your shoulders. "I guess I can go home now, right?"

"If that's what you wish still, yes," He replied, eyeing Jungkook by your side.

"Um," You cleared your throat. "Your ship will be nearby right?"

"Yes, I'll...wait for you there," Hakyeon said, taking the hint.

The door shut and Jungkook was silent.

"Jungkook—"

"I guess you're leaving, right?" He asked, keeping his eyes down. "There's no logical reason for me to ask you to stay here...it's dangerous and you should be somewhere safe."

"But Jungkook..." You reached forward to touch him but he backed away.

"If I'm honest, ______," He wandered away, leaving you to watch him. His voice was shaky, wobbling with the onslaught of tears. "I really don't want you to go and I know that's selfish! But I really don't think I can be alone again. Especially after finding someone I can actually love."

"Jungkook!" You snapped, making him look at you. You sighed speedily walking up to him and pressing your lips to his before he could back away. "I love you too."

"But—"

"Come with me," You whispered, clutching the front of his shirt in your hands. "Come back to Earth with me. We'll find someone there who will help. The Embassy would be more than willing to assist in the cleanup and protection of Palacios and Heajix. You can speak for everyone here who is struggling to survive and those you haven't."

"You want me to come with you?" He breathed, covering your hands with his. Tears still fell from his eyes but in a matter of seconds, he was smiling and pulling you against him in a hug so tight it knocked the air out of you.

"Of course I do, stupid!" You laughed, hugging him back as tight as you could. "Why would I leave you when you refused to leave me, huh?"

"...I love you," He whispered, giving you another kiss.

"Let's get our things together," You said before the two of you separated.

Jungkook packed his bag with anything important, sentimental or not. You noticed he packed his picture away with a sad smile.

Once the two of you were ready, you took his hand and walked out the door. He paused and looked behind him, at the house he'd been living in for the longest time. The boarded up windows and the water reservoir he'd spent ages perfecting.

You squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to you. He smiled, taking the first step away.

You felt yourself relax against the seat once the two of you were on the craft. Jungkook was gripping your hand tight — it was hurting a bit but you didn't say anything. His gaze was locked on the window, watching as his home planet disappeared from view.

The surface was covered in a green, gaseous layer of pollution and smog that he seemed almost surprised to see. The pollution of the planet was most evident one outside of the planet's atmosphere.

"I'm happy you're here, Jungkook," You whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"I am too," He replied, resting his head against yours as he watched the stars and planets pass by until Palacios was out of view.

#btssmutclub #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jeongguk smut #jeongguk scenarios #jeongguk imagines #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #bts x reader #bangtan x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jeongguk fanfic #bangtan fanfic

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tomtenadia · 3 years ago

Text

Remember Us - 8

Weekend surprise!

-----

Rowan had another tough week.

His headaches had been almost constant and some days worse than others. He had bouts of dizziness and on a couple of occasions he had felt disoriented and confused again. He had been terrified. All of a sudden he had no idea where he was, who he was and it just sent him back him in the hellhole of the first days he had woken up.

Aelin had took him to the hospital and his doctor had ran some test and explained that what he was experiencing were some common symptoms with a head injury. The spells of disorientation should disappear soon but he had said that headaches might linger a bit longer. He had prescribed some painkillers but Rowan had decided to take them only when the headache was unbearable. The first time he took them he was knocked off for an entire day and did not like the idea.

That morning he was home alone. Aelin was at work, Thomas at his nursery and Evalin had taken Freyja with her while running some errands.

He was sitting on the sofa with a book in his hand. He had asked Aelin to show him the book where Thomas’ namesake was. He had joked saying that he was keen to meet his competition.

Things between him and Aelin had improved. He still had his fears, he was still scared of not being enough for her but she had been a constant presence at his side and never pushed. They had shared some nice moments and in bed at night he had started sleeping with her in his arms and his hand on her belly.

Slowly he realised that the feeling he had for her had been real. His attachment to her was growing day by day. More memories flooded back and in the past few days their friends made an appearance as well and he had talked with Aelin about those moments and now he could put names to faces. They had discussed the possibility of meeting them in person, but Rowan was not sure how he felt about it yet. A part of him wanted to, was curious, but the other felt terror at the idea.

He sighed and went back to the book and read the same page for the millionth time. He had discovered that he was also struggling to concentrate, another annoying side effect. Exhausted, he placed the book on the coffee table. He was about to go back to bed but someone rang the buzzer of their house. He was not expecting anyone. So he stood, grabbed his walking stick and reached the door. Once he opened it he found a tall dark-haired man with a baby carrier at his chest and a baby in it. Lorcan. The man was Lorcan. His partner at work. Aelin had filled him in.

“Hi,”

“I am Lorcan,” said the man.

“I know.”

“Sorry, I was taking Allison for a walk and I got to this area and decided to pop in for a visit.” He explained “I can go if you don’t feel like having visitors.”

Rowan shook his head “I guess I need to start to interact with the outside world.”

“Fancy some fresh air?”

Rowan thought about it and nodded. He hadn’t left the house since he came back from the hospital. “Let me change.”

He came back a few minutes later and left a note to Evalin, explaining that he had gone for a walk with Lorcan “you need to be my guide, I have no idea where to go and how to get back home.” He locked the door behind him and pocketed phone and keys.

“Don’t worry. I checked with Aelin and she said that it was okay if you felt like it and that fresh air might do you good.”

Rowan nodded and took a deep breath of fresh air. “Just don’t run, I am still very slow.”

“I was just going to the park down the road. Elide is at work today so I am on babysitting duty.” And caressed his little girl’s head.

The baby was fast asleep against Lorcan’s chest. “She looks lovely.”

“She is her mother’s daughter, she is basically an Elide in miniature.”

They walked in silence to the park and then sat down on a bench and Rowan sighed in relief. That had been the most he had walked and his leg complained. It was getting better and Dorian had recommended to keep using it as much possible to get used again to the weight on it. Also, he had muscle mass to rebuild and the man had given him exercises to do at home.

“Silly question, but how do you feel?”

Rowan sighed “definitely better than a few weeks ago. Memories are coming back and it’s not as scary anymore as it was before.”

“How is it going with Aelin?”

Rowan paused and looked at the park around him. That was a loaded question and he always had to sort out his feelings “We are growing closer, or actually is me. My feelings for her are slowly getting clearer.”

Lorcan chuckled “you two will go back being attached to the hips in no time.” And the comment surprised Rowan “as soon as you two decided to stop fighting you became this disgusting cheesy couple. You have been together forever,” he continued “and after what you have been through, this is a stroll in the park. I am not sure another couple would have survived it.”

Rowan looked away, the pain of those memories was always vivid. He had dreamt the night she had woken up in a pool of blood. He had wondered the same thing. How their marriage survived that level of loss.

“Elide would probably make fun of me for saying this but you are soulmates. Elide and I had to work hard, mostly because of me. Before her I was not the relationship type.” He told him, rocking gently from side to side to prevent his daughter from waking up “you and Aelin had a deep connection from the start, even when you called her a spoiled brat and she called you obnoxious bastard. There was something there, among all that fighting and you were the only ones who did not see until much later.” Lorcan kept talking and Rowan listened interested. He needed to know more about them and this was exactly what he needed. An outside perspective on his relationship with Aelin “that bond, that connection brought you back together after those dark weeks.��

“I felt it since the first time she stepped in my room after I woke up.” Then he looked at the man and decided to learn more about their relationship.

“How did we meet? You and I.”

“Uni.” Said Lorcan with half a smile “First year and first day. We sat at the back of the class. I showed up with no pen or paper for taking notes thinking it was not needed for our first day. But the professor dove straight in. So you gave your spare notepad and spare pen.”

Rowan laughed at the memory.

“We became friends instantly.” Allison stirred so Lorcan stood and paced in front of Rowan “Once we graduated we applied for jobs and we landed in two big law companies but after two years you left them and then a while later you came to me with a plan. I resigned the next day.”

“Do you regret leaving a high paying job?”

Lorcan shook his head “not in the least. It was driving us mad and killing our lives. We had no time for anything. Too many ungrateful bastards to deal with. Elide and I broke up for two months because of it. No, I have no regrets. What we do now is good. We actually help people.”

Rowan played with his wedding ring in a nervous gesture “what if I can’t get back to my old job?”

“You have probably heard this a lot, but take your time. Things are under control. When you feel ready you can ease back in, but there is no rush.”

Rowan sighed “I need something to do. When Aelin is not at home Evalin looks after Freyja to give me space.”

“You probably still have your law books. Get them out of storage and read and see if anything comes back. If not, they are handy if you are struggling to sleep.”

He laughed and in that instant Allison woke up.

“And she is awake.” He gave the girl her pacifier “come on I’ll take you home.”

***

Lorcan took him back home and Rowan was now back on the sofa trying to go back reading the book but only managed a few pages before the headache came back.

He groaned in frustration and then paced a bit around the house like a caged animal. He stopped at the window and looked at the tree in front of the house and he had an idea.

Slowly he reached the closet and found a few spare duvets and grabbed one of the colourful ones, then a couple of pillows and dragged them outside. He had to abandon his walking stick so the job had proved harder, but not as hard as the second part of his plan. He had to get the stuff in the treehouse. The weather was nice and he was going to prepare some adventure for the kids. He had no idea what, but he would think of something. Climbing the wooden stairs with the duvet in his arms had proven hard, but now at the top he dropped the blanket and took a deep breath then very carefully made his way down and grimaced at the pain in his leg. With a heavier limp he made his way back in the house and grabbed a backpack and started to add some toys, books. Then he found battery powered fairy lights in the closet and grabbed those as well. Finally he grabbed the pillows and left the house once more and went to the treehouse. Rowan climbed half the stairs and threw the backpack inside, then grabbed the pillows and finally got in the house and sat down ignoring the blinding pain in his leg. He had gone too far for one day.

Crawling around the place he started spreading the blankets to make it cosy and warm, then the pillows and eventually he attached the fairy lights around the walls. He switched them on for a moment and the effect was perfect. He laid out the books, the toys and eventually lay down to relax.

He had finally managed to read a bit more of the book and was now engrossed, Thomas was still the alleged bad guy but he had just discovered that he had confessed that the enemy had taken POW and begged his captor not to glass the base that still had their people on. He had started to like the man and could start to see why Aelin loved him.

He reemerged from the book when he heard some familiar voices. With caution he crawled to the edge and popped his head outside and saw Aelin with Thomas in hand and Freyja in her stroller pushed by Evalin.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted them.

Aelin lifted her head and gasped when she saw him inside the house.

“Dad!” Shouted Thomas, freeing himself from his mother’s grip and running to the wooden ladder.

“Careful,” Aelin was at his side and helped the boy climb.

“Fancy joining me?” Rowan extended his hand to Aelin and she smiled.

Evalin nodded at her daughter “go, I’ll take the stroller inside. Stay with your family.”

Aelin lifted Freyja in her arms and slowly climbed the ladder. Rowan waited for her at the top and grabbed the little girl and allowed Aelin to climb easier.

When she reached the top and peeked inside she gasped “did you do all this?”

Rowan gave her a grin and nodded “I was bored and I tried to do something so we could spend some special time as a family.” He winked at her and Aelin kissed him “I love you,” she whispered and he kissed her back. He could not utter those words yet but he wanted to show her how much he cared already.

Aelin lifted the blanket and squeezed underneath after she and Thomas had removed their shoes. Rowan sat at her side and brought her close to him. The kids sat in front of Rowan in between his legs. Thomas passed one of the books to his dad but Aelin took it. She knew Rowan was still struggling with reading for prolonged time “now, is everyone cozy?”

Thomas screamed all excited and leaned his head against his father’s chest and Rowan placed a hand on his head and Freyja snuggled closer as well.

Aelin pulled up the blanket to cover them and tucked under Rowan’s arm and opened the book

“In a distant and magical land there lived a princess. She was young but loved her kingdom very, very much…”

#rowaelin #rowaelinkids #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #domestic fluff #rowan x aelin

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murderslugs · 4 years ago

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Slasher Bf/Gf Scenarios/Imagines! || Meeting Them

Jason Voorhees (Friday The 13th)

You were out with friends, and it was getting awfully late. But still, there you were, with a flashlight and a backpack with a first-aid kit, some snacks, and water in it, just in case, walking through the abandoned camping trail with your friends. You guys had grown up in a town not too far away from the little old camp, and you’d heard all the stories that surrounded the place. For years you had just dismissed it, you all had passed it off as a local legend or rumor, but still there was a little spark of curiosity. Of course, this is what led you to where you reside now, exploring the camp in search of something peculiar, maybe a story to tell.

“Maybe we should go home...It’s late and I’m not feeling well..” your friend, Ruby, said wearily. It was true, you could see the illness in her dark, drooping eyelids. “Oh, bullshit! You’re fine, just drink some water and go throw up on a tree or something!” another friend yelled out. You just rolled your eyes. “Shut up! She doesn’t look too good, Otis! I think I should bring her back to the car to sit down.” You said with concern. To the dismay and groaning of the group, they let you and Ruby on your way back down the trail and to the car while they continued down the path.

As you made your way to the car, Ruby fell close behind in your steps. Your flashlight flickered continually, and then suddenly gave out; leaving you two in the dark, and the pale moon barely illuminating through the trees above you. “Shit,” you muttered to yourself, hitting the battery pack to the light repeatedly. “Stop, quiet,” Ruby whisper-shouted. That’s when you heard the rustling of the branches getting closer. Closer. Closer. “Maybe we shou…” You turn around, to see Ruby gone.

“Ruby? Ruby?!” You shouted out, to no response. You turned frantically, searching for any sign of her presence. A large man in a ski mask and an old, ruined jacket stood before you, silent. Before you could turn to run or get around him, you felt a sudden pressure on the side of your head, and then you saw black.

Michael Myers (Halloween)

It was Halloween night, and you were home from college for fall break. Your mom insisted that you took your younger sister trick-or-treating, even though you refuted that she was 12 years old, and could handle herself. So, you just took her block to block instead and sat on the corner of the street for her to walk down to the other end and get to all the houses. It was a small town, so there were never really concerns about kidnapping and such. It was just never a problem, you guess.

“Go, Riley. You’re a big kid, you can go down the street.” You groaned, tired of her constant whining. “But (y/nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn), It’s dark down there!! There’s not a street light at the end!!” she whined insistently. You sighed heavily and pulled your phone out of your pocket. “Here. You can use the flashlight on my phone, just don’t snoop through my info.” You told her, handing over the old smartphone, and pulling a pumpkin-shaped sucker from her trick-or-treat bag. “You owe me this.”

You unwrapped the cheap candy and popped it into your mouth, leaning on the house fence as your sister skipped down the sidewalk. The leaves rustled in the trees, and suddenly you heard footsteps behind you, and whipped around to see who it was. It was on the quieter side of town, and it was getting late. This meant that there shouldn’t be many people out, so there shouldn’t be someone behind you. But still, you came face-to-chest with a tall man in a dark blue jump-suit type outfit, and a white mask. You panicked, and thought quickly about how to fight back. Unfortunately, he seemed to be faster than you, and your mouth was covered as you were picked up and carried off into the darkness, legs kicking uselessly.

Carrie White (Carrie)

You were at the library when you saw a pale girl browsing through the young adult fantasy section. You observed her actions, as she readjusted her dress and collar. She carefully picked a book from the shelf and flipped it to the back to read the description. You saw a flash of the cover, and realized it was one of your favorite series, Chronicles of Narnia. You hesitated but stepped forward in a bit of excitement.

“That’s a good one, I, um, really recommend checking it out.” You told her with a smile, and she looked up, seemingly a bit taken aback. You realized this, and took a step back to give her space. “Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you...I’m (y/n).” You stuck out your hand, and she just looked down at it, book in hand. “Carrie...Sorry, mama never liked me talking to strangers…” “No, no, it’s okay, I underst-” “No, it’s okay...She’s been gone a while now.” She looked down.

You stood awkwardly, feeling a bit bad now. “You seem kind enough. I’ve got to go, but we can talk again another time. I come here every Sunday, around noon.” Carrie said quietly, smiling softly and turning, taking Narnia with her. You sat to yourself, a bit confused about the interaction. You shook your head and carried on. “Next Sunday it is,” You thought to yourself.

Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)

There was a new girl at school, as you had heard. How could you not have when everyone was talking about it? She had moved here recently after some sort of tragedy occured, or so you’d heard. It was rumored that she had to have surgery cause someone tried to kill her, she was all stabbed up and shit and nearly bled out. You can’t imagine how awful that would be, and you kept thinking about how she probably came here for a new start, and wouldn’t want people asking about it, but you knew it would happen anyways.

It was 3rd period, Anatomy, when a girl you’d never seen before walked into the classroom. This, of course, must have been the new girl. She was absolutely glowing, even from afar. Her hair was voluminous, rich, and dark, her skin was clear and shiny, her eyes were sharp and bright. It took your breath away trying to take in the sight. The girl’s heels clicked as she trailed to the back of the classroom, to where you were. She sat beside you, at the lab table.

You tried not to look at her, after all, you didn’t want to seem weird. You looked at the floor and over to her shoes. A few drips of a thick, crimson substance were on the floor beneath her, seemingly originating from her shoe. You wondered for a moment if she was hurt. Or, could she have hurt someone else..? It scared you a bit to think about the second option. God knows this school didn’t need another bully, or anything worse than it.

You were tranced, stuck in your own looming dark thoughts, when a velvet voice came to your ears. You snapped your glance up from the floor, to see the girl looking at you, specifically. To your dismay, blood rushed to your face out of embarrassment. “I’m Jennifer. Do you have a pen I can use?”

Billy Loomis (Scream)

You were in your brand new house, you had moved out and into the next town over from your parents. You wanted to be further away, but you knew that your mom would be upset, she was always so protective. She even said that she expected you to come visit her on the weekends. The relationship was a bit exhausting sometimes. But now, you were in your own house, and it was great. You could decorate it however you wanted, you could have whoever you wanted over, you could do basically whatever.

Though, for now, you decided to just make some off-brand pizza rolls and blare some music, maybe even dance around a little bit. Season Of The Witch by Donovan was playing on your stereo when suddenly your phone rang. You paused the music, and quickly answered. Normally, you would check the caller ID, but you were in a good mood and it completely slipped your mind. I mean, who cares if it's a scam caller? You can just hang up. To your surprise, it wasn’t a familiar voice, but didn’t seem to be a scam-caller. Maybe a wrong number?

“Do you like scary movies?” The other line said. You were suspicious, and for a second you considered that maybe it was a survey. It didn’t seem to be a harmful question, so you replied, “Yeah, duh. If you don't, you're pretty lame.” You turned the music back on, but turned the volume down. He asked a few follow-up questions, and you gave your honest answers. You just strolled around the kitchen, occasionally checking the timer on your food so that it doesn’t burn.

You had your phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder, and you had on oven mitts as you grabbed your pizza rolls from the oven. “What’s your name?” The caller suddenly asked. You paused for a second as you put the cooking sheet on the counter. “Why do you wanna know..” You asked cautiously. “Well, I wanna know the name of the cutie I’m looking at.” He said, and your heart damn near stopped. “Excuse me..?” You hung up and quickly ran to the doors, double-checking the locks and locking the windows and shutting the curtains. You grabbed a knife from the silverware drawer and locked yourself in your room, where you eventually fell asleep in the dark silence.

Thomas Hewitt (Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

You had just moved out to the country-side to start anew, planning to start a small farm and just live in peace on the quiet little land. Little did you know, you had neighbors across the field that weren’t exactly the type of neighbors that you could ask for a cup of sugar. You were hanging the new drapes for the windows after having taken the old ones down. They were old, dirty, ragged. Honestly, the old farmhouse was sort of let to rot for a while, and you knew it. It was cheap though, and you were up to the challenge. You decided that you would decorate it, clean it up, and make it like brand new, even with the little money that you had.

As you were hanging the drapes, you kept looking out into the distance of the rolling fields outside the window, littered with patches of wild flowers in the grass. You fantasized about making gardens, maybe even building a little stable for a horse or two. It was a lovely thought; there was a small village a little while away from the farm that you could ride a horse to if you wanted.

Though, some distance away in the field, you saw the figure of what looked to be a man wandering in the field. You weren’t too worried, as you had all the locks in place, it was the middle of the day, and he looked peaceful. So, you just forgot about it and went on fixing up your house, unpacking, and getting the rest of the things in place. Although you had been there about a week, you still understandably weren’t completely unpacked.

A few hours later, you were doing a bit of drawing on the couch and taking some time to relax. That’s when you heard a thud on your door. Just a single thud, that’s all. Still, you had reason to be concerned, as you were sort of in the middle of the country and it was starting to set into the evening. You quietly walked to your bedroom and grabbed a shotgun from the closet that you kept for protection, a tradition in your family. You carried it with you as you checked the door. You looked through the thin peephole, but saw nothing. You opened the door to find a paper stuck to the door by a rusty hatchet, buried deep into the oak. Your heart rate spiked as you tore the note from the door and read it. “Welcome to the neighborhood, pretty person” was spelled in crude handwriting.

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something-fanfiction-ie · 5 years ago

Text

24 Hours

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: You get buried alive and uhm... I think a curse word or two?

A/N: So, before you notice, yes this is largely based on season two episode nine of Bones, Aliens in the Spaceship. Also, yes this is a criminal minds imagine and yes I’ve hopelessly and irrevocably fallen in love with Matthew Gray Gubler. Please like, comment, reblog, and send me asks, I love that shit. Also, if you’ve never seen criminal minds, you should watch it. Even if only for Dr. Spencer Reid aka Matthew Gray Gubler. You’re welcome in advance.

___

“Hey Spenny, I’m going out to get some coffee. Do you want anything?” Your voice echoed around in Spencer’s head, the image of you waving at him from the door as you walked away imprinted into his mind. Would it be the last time he would ever see you?

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N) has been buried alive,” Hotchner stood in the front of the room with Spencer’s phone on speaker. The whole team sat around the table with varying degrees of horror displayed on their faces as the realization dawned on them, “Wire transfer five million dollars to the following Grand Cayman account.” Spencer buried his head in his hands, his fingers tangling into his hair.

Your eyes were on him as you waved over your shoulder, stepping through the door with just a glance and a smile. He kept playing it through his mind in slow motion. Now you were underground, running out of air and running out of time.

“Upon receipt of the wire transfer, I will provide you with Agent (Y/L/N)’s GPS coordinates. You have 24 hours. This will be my last communication.” The BAU jumped into action, people pulling the files from the previous abductions and swapping theories.

“Where in the hell are we going to get five million dollars? The FBI has a strict policy about not paying ransoms.” Morgan slammed a fist on the table, gritting his teeth as his mind raced.

“Her parents.” Spencer looked up, pulling himself out of his head. He needed to be actively helping. They had twenty four hours and sitting at the table with his head in his hands wouldn’t help anything.

Pushing away from the table, the young doctor stood up to look at Agent Hotchner.

“When her parents died they left everything to her. She’s never touched it, said it felt too much like blood money.” Hotchner nodded, looking across the room to Garcia who looked as shell shocked as Spencer felt. Not only had her dear friend been abducted and buried alive, but she had been telling secrets about her parents to Reid and not her?!

“Garcia I need you to find out who she banks with, JJ get them on the phone and see what you can do. If we can pay the ransom we will. If not, we’ll have to figure where she is.” Both women nodded, rushing back to Garcia’s office. The remaining agents started to map the location of every burial site.

“Well, at least we know she’s in Virginia.”

...

When you woke up, rolling into the leather backseat in you car, your brain felt like it was exploding. Your entire body ached, and for a minute, too focused on the pain, you didn’t realize where you were.

It hurt to sit up, to breathe, to look around, and when your brain connected every dot it hurt to think.

“I’ve been buried alive.” You said it aloud, staring at the rocks and dirt that pressed against every window. Thinking felt like walking through sludge, but why?

You’d been working on a case. Four victims in four months, all buried alive, all coming from wealthy backgrounds. Every victim varied in age, race, and sex. It appeared you were number five. There would be a call, maybe two hours after you’d been buried. It would be the only means of communication, there would be a high ransom.

None of this information could help you though. You were underground, what is around you, (Y/N)?

In your glove compartment was a small digital camera, a pen, and some napkins. In your center console was a bottle of water, a small tube of sunscreen, and some loose change. Your phone was on the floor but the battery had been taken out, and sitting in the backseat was a box with a book delicately placed inside.

A first edition copy of Sonnets from the Portuguese, the pages yellowed with age. To just anyone, it was an old book with some poems inside, but you knew that Spencer would understand the moment he opened the box. Elizabeth Barrett Browning had written the series of sonnets to her husband as they were courting. Inside was a poem you had confessed to Spencer was your absolute favorite.

“I’m kind of a cliche hopeless romantic,” you laughed, afraid to look at him for the fear that he would think you were just a silly girl. “But my favorite poem is How Do I Love Thee?”

“By Elizabeth Barrett Browning?” When you looked at him, his expression hadn’t changed from that of a simple curiosity. You relaxed a little, glad to reveal the intimate detail about yourself without backlash.

You had spent such a long time trying to bury the persona of a teenage hopeless romantic underneath the facade that you were only concerned for logic, knowledge, and psychology. You’d never understood why wanting to love and be loved made you any less intelligent.

“I’ve dedicated that poem to the man I hope to marry one day.” A small smile twitched at the edges of his lips as you looked down at your nails, picking at the dirt underneath them. Your face felt like it was on fire. Why had you told him that?

In an uncharacteristic display of affection, Spencer reached across the divide between your desks and put his hand over yours. He squeezed, his expression gentle when you met his gaze.

“He will be a lucky man.”

Tears pricked at the back of your eyes at the thought of Spencer. Would you ever see him again? Would you even be alive in twenty-four hours?

Panic seemed to take control, propelling forward. You screamed, crying hysterically as you pounded against the windows.

“Help me! I’m in here! Please!” You didn’t stop until your hands were bruised, not caring about the amount of oxygen it had taken from your already limited supply. After the panic came a numbness that spread through your body and mind. You weren’t sure how long you stayed staring into your hands, sitting cross-legged in the front seat, but when you finally came back to yourself you knew you had to truly fight.

Gathering everything you’d found in your car, you started to think of what you could do. A camera, a phone, a pen, a napkin, some change, a book, sunscreen, a bottle of water.

Think, (Y/N), think. What is around you?

“Dirt.” Then you gasped, scrambling back to the front of the car. Using the window crank, you let bits of the dirt fall inside before rolling the window back up and grabbing a handful.

Just by looking you could tell there was ash, a couple of sniffs told you there was nitrogen and sulfur. You spit into the dirt. Coal rich soil. But that was all of Virginia, that didn’t tell you anything.

Think, (Y/N), think.

A camera, a phone, a pen, a napkin, some change, a book, sunscreen, a bottle of water. A camera, a phone, a pen, a napkin, some change, a book, sunscreen, a bottle of water.

“That’s it!” Carefully, you shifted the dirt to the top of the center console. Mixing a dab of sunscreen into the dirt, you powered on the camera and grabbed the pen which, conveniently, had a laser on the end.

Just like that you knew where you were. You just had to find a way to tell the others.

...

“We can’t get the money from the bank, she has it completely closed off from anyone touching any of that money. They won’t even tell us how much she has.” JJ ran her fingers through her hair, turned in her chair to face the team that had gathered into Garcia’s office.

“It was a long shot anyways, you typically have to have your name on the bank account to be able to withdraw any money.” Hotchner looks to the rest of the agents clustered next to him, hoping that one of them would have something.

“Did we get anything from the geographic profile?” He made direct eye contact with Reid, watching as he stepped forward and nodded for Garcia to pull up a map. Red lines popped up at each of the four crime scenes, connecting to the location the victim lived. Salem to Lovingston. Stuart to Winchester. Boydton to Marion. Louisa to Yorktown.

“Each of the burial sites is two to four hours away from where the victims lived which would put (Y/N) in this general vicinity.” Using his finger, Reid circles an area on the map around Quantico. No one mentions the shaking of his hand.

“There’s nothing else to narrow down the search.” His voice cracks at the end and no one can meet his eyes. JJ flinches at the sound, tightening her hand around the edge of the desk. It isn’t until Hotch goes to send the team back to work that a chime breaks the silence in the room.

Reid scrambles for his phone, fishing it out of his pocket and flipping it open.

“Who is it from? The Gravedigger? What did he say?” Everyone crowds around him, trying to get a peak at the message.

“It’s from (Y/N).”

6 7 16 M1.4

“What the hell does that mean?” Penelope says.

...

You’re not sure how long its been, but you can feel the oxygen getting low. Your eyes feel heavy, like you’re tired, and if you move just a little too fast the world shifts and sways like you’re on a boat.

After hot wiring the phone to the car, you’d leaned against the horn and typed the shortest message you could as fast as possible. When the phone sparked and died, you weren’t even sure if the messsge had gone through. You could only hope.

For now, you’ve crawled into the back, opening the book to read through it. If you’re going to die, at least you can read your favorite poems one more time. With every sonnet comes a memory of Spencer.

“Actually,” Spencer begins, stepping forward to point out something no one had even thought of, gesturing between pictures and referencing something only he could see in his mind. You’d worked a couple of cases with the team at this point, getting to know each individual who sat at this table with you.

Spencer turned back to the group and there it was, for just a fraction of a second he looked at all the older people at the table like a little boy looking for acceptance and recognition. Looking for approval. Your heart flipped over itself and your crossed your arms, hoping this wasn’t the start of a silly crush.

You flip to the next sonnet, reading it in a whisper as another memory hits you.

“I’m scared, Spencer.” You met his eyes, heart hammering in your chest as JJ strapped a mic to your bra strap. You were going undercover in an attempt to lure out the unsub, and although you knew every single one of your team members would be ready to have your back at a moments notice, you couldn’t shake the fear.

“Why?” It wasn’t harsh the way he said it, looking at you from the desk he was sitting on as JJ stepped away and out of the room to give the two of you some privacy. You started to button up your shirt, trying to breathe away the shaking of your hands.

“I’m afraid something is going to go wrong. That I’ll say or do something that will tip him off and he’ll kill me.” Spencer stepped forward, not touching you but looking into your eyes as you smoothed your hands down your sides.

“I’ll be there before he has the chance. I’ll take that shot. But I don’t believe I’ll have to do that because I know you have the ability to do this without a hitch. You’ve got this.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to be okay. He wouldn’t let them send you in if you didn’t give him the okay. You could see that in the way he positioned himself between you and the door, ready to take the brunt of any frustration in order for you to feel safe.

“Okay. I trust you.”

And you did trust him. That’s why you were saving your last trick, waiting for him to put together the last of the puzzle piece he needed in order to save you. Spencer was going to find you, you had no doubt.

You just weren’t sure if you would survive the trick or not.

...

“Six, seven, sixteen, M, one point four.” Spencer stood staring at the board where they had copied the text, going over every possible meaning he could think of.

A book? No.

A math problem? No.

Coordinates? No.

Theories were being thrown across the room at rapid fire, everyone trying to think of the meaning to the cryptic message. They were all still huddled into Garcia’s office, so the voices echoed and bounced around the room.

“She’s been down there for fourteen hours, we’ve got nothing! She’s already running out of oxygen, I’m honestly starting to doubt it means anything.” Derek passed a hand over his face, patting at his cheeks as his eyes grew heavy.

“No. She’s highly intelligent and extremely resourceful, the message means something but wh-” Reid froze. In his mind he could see the periodic table.

“What is it, Reid?” Gideon looked at him, watching as his brain started to fly.

“Garcia pull up a map of Virginia.” She did as she was told, pulling up the map with one point in Quantico.

“Six on the periodic table is carbon, seven is nitrogen, sulfur is sixteen. She’s telling us the dirt she’s in.” Quick to catch on, Garcia zoomed the map onto coal rich soil in Virginia. It wasn’t enough.

“Coal can’t be distinguished by mineral composition, it’s all the same. However, macerals are unique in that they flouresce at different levels. In this case, 1.4, which is rare. It only occurs when there are high concentrations of inertinite.” The map zoomed, Penelope’s fingers flying across the keys as Spencer spoke.

“Got her.”

...

Settling your napkin letter atop the book, you nestled the lid to the gift box back on top. You tied the bow tight before tucking the whole thing into the waistband of your jeans. There was no guarantee it would make it, there was no guarantee you would make it, but you had waited long enough.

Grabbing both ends of the wires you’d stripped, you climbed into the back, hands shaking at the thought of what you were about to do.

“I’m scared.” You said. You heard Spencer, saw him leaning against a window seal in your mind. He looked at you from behind those glasses that always reminded you of a 60’s NASA engineer. His hair was pushed back, the ends curling around his ears in a way that made you itch to loop them around a finger.

Why?

“What if I never see you again?” Tears you hadn’t even known were in your eyes spilled over onto your cheeks, dripping onto the thighs of your pants. He changed now, taking on various Spencer’s from your past.

Spencer looking up from paperwork to listen to a question, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. His lips parted ever so slightly while a piece of his hair dangled out of place on his forehead.

Spencer leaned against the bar, waving down the bartender mid laugh. His tie is loose and his shirt is untucked, his hair is adorably disheveled and his eyes are crinkled around the edges.

Spencer asleep on the jet home, his cheek cradled in one hand, his elbow propped on the armrest. His long legs are stretched out, his other hand splayed on top of his chest which rose and fell with each breath.

Spencer standing in the elevator, the surprise of someone calling his name turning into a small smile when he recognizes you racing to the doors. He reaches out to press a button before using both hands to grab onto the strap of his bag. He looks down at you as you enter with a look in his eyes you’ve never been able to identify.

And the Spencer you’ve only ever dreamed about.

His eyes fluttering open after a long night spent proving his love, the sun filtering through the window and reflecting on him in such a way that it makes you wish you could paint. The sheets are bunched around his waist, his chest is bare, and his smile is so sleepy that it swells your heart to ten times it’s normal size.

We’ll see each other soon. You’ve got this.

“Okay,” you say it with conviction, forcing your hands to stop shaking, “I trust you.” And then without a moments hesitation, tears still running down your face, you touch the wires together.

The world explodes.

“There!” Spencer races for the place he saw the puff of dirt, nearly tripping over himself as he runs faster than he’s ever run before. Everyone follows, dropping to there knees with Spencer as he starts to push at the stone and sand at his feet.

“Please be here. Please be here.” He keeps saying, his heart climbing into his throat with every passing second he doesn’t find you. That is, until his fingers brush across an arm. He shoves down into the dirt, ignoring every instinct that tells him to stay clean. It’s you, it’s your arm. Then it’s your head, your shoulders and chest, your stomach, your legs, and then it’s you.

He pulls you on top of him, laying in the dirt with you pulled so close that you could meld into one person. You groan into his ear, pushing up just a little to get a better look at the man under you.

“I forgot your coffee.” He laughs, tears spilling onto the sides of his face as he wraps his arms back around you.

...

It’s late by the time you’ve been seen by what feels like every doctor and psychologist in the state. There’s bruises on your wrists and ankles you hadn’t noticed during your time underground and a cut on the back of your head where you’d been hit in order to be knocked unconscious. Not to mention the tiny cuts all over your arms and face from crawling through a shattered windshield and up through rocks and dirt.

You stood in the conference room, arms crossed as you leaned against the table and stared. Staring back at you was your own face, tacked to the evidence board with four other victims.

“I tried going to your apartment, but nobody answered the door.” Spencer is standing in the doorway of the conference room, holding a box in his hands. You look down at it before looking back at him. Try as you might, you can’t tell if he’s opened it or not, either you aren’t a good profiler or you were just really tired.

“You left this at the hospital. I figured it was important if you brought it up with you from the car.” Moving into the room, he holds the box out for you to take from him. The ribbon you tied around it is still tightly knotted, the ends shredded from being dragged above ground. There’s specks of dirt that you reach out to brush to the floor before looking back at Spencer.

“It’s yours.” You reply, scooting back to sit on the table, watching curiously as he looks back down. Pulling the box back to his chest, he slips the ribbon off in one fluid motion. The lid is next and you watch as he reaches in to pull out what you had believed to be your last words.

It isn’t much, and there’s a possibility you don’t feel the same way, but I’ve realized that I’m hopelessly and irrevocably in love with you. I trust you with my life and my heart. I’m only scared now of losing you. -(Y/I)

He doesn’t look up at you and he doesn’t set the napkin aside, only moves his hand so the note is out of his line of sight as he sees the book inside.

“‘I love thee with all the breath, smiles, tears of all my life.’” He says it almost in a whisper before setting the note back in the box, and the box on the table.

“How long have you been waiting to give this to me?” When he looks at you, finally, there is wonder in his eyes, amazement.

“I bought the book last month, but I’ve known how I felt about you for six months.” You pick at the edge of the table, swinging your legs ever so slightly. Spencer moves in front of you, blocking your view of the evidence board.

“I don’t believe in love at first sight. Robert Sternberg developed the theory that love is made of three components; intimacy, passion, and commitment. None of which can be present during a first meeting. But I think I knew that I would love you. I knew from the very first time you walked in those doors and you bumped into me.” He reaches his hand out, only hesitating for just a moment before he takes you cheek in his hand.

“Can I kiss you?” He leaned so close that if he were just a hair closer, you lips would brush together as he spoke. You’ve already closed your eyes, every nerve lit up like the Fourth of July in anticipation.

“Yes.” You barely get it out before his lips collide with yours, you can feel every emotion from the last twenty four hours being poured into this kiss; fear, anxiety, sadness, confusion, anger, relief, love, safety.

You reach out to loop your arms around his neck, the kiss deepening as he grabs your hips to slide you closer. When he finally breaks the kiss, his chest heaving and his cheeks flushed, it takes him a minute to open his eyes.

“Why aren’t you at home?”

“I’m scared.”

“Why?” You loop the hair that curls against his neck around your index finger, licking your lips before responding.

“Because I’m afraid this will all be a dream and I’ll wake up back in that car.” Your breath hitches in your throat, the panic grabbing at your heart and lungs and barely leaving you anytime to process the plethora of things that have happened to you in the last thirty minutes.

“Come sleep at my place, that way you wake up with me by your side.” He steps away from the table, reaching out a hand for you to take. It takes you no time at all to make your decision, grabbing his hand and sliding off the table.

“Okay, I trust you.”

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years ago

Text

Between Bars (Spencer Reid x OC)

Summary: Spencer is wrongfully arrested for murder and placed in Millburn Correctional Facility awaiting trial. While he attempts to survive until his friends can prove his innocence, his cellmate Oscar has an unexpected effect on Spencer during their time inside together.

AN: Thank you to @april-14-blog, @zhuzhubii, and @imagining-in-the-margins for your unwavering attention and support while writing this.

I’m writing another post-prison Spencer fic but idk when it’s coming out. I’m still caring for my dad and prepping for my nan’s funeral.

To the anon who asked for an Emily Prentiss x Trans!Male reader smut, it’s in the works I promise!!

Word count: 11k words

Content warning: Usual criminal minds violence, character death, spoilers for season 12, threats of violence, stabbing, PTSD, mentions of battery, mentions of panic attacks. Let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Masterlist // AO3 Link

“My last roommate got shanked.”

Spencer struggled for a second to keep his composure. The cell door slid shut with a loud buzzer and a clank of hollow metal.

His cellmate, in that identical grey jumpsuit, was tucked up on the bottom bunk with a book in one hand and a green crayon in the other. He was underlining something. Once he was done, his eye lifted off the page. They just as devoid of emotion as his opener was. That scared Spencer more, that this man had clearly spent a long time in here being dehumanised to the point where he held about the emotional range of a mannequin.

But at least he wasn’t violent. Yet.

Spencer approached the foot of his bed. His hands, one of them still sore from the cut on the palm, placed his belongings there. A tremble ran through them when his cellmate moved out of his line of sight; the sudden thought of being stabbed through the underside of his bunk kept him standing for now.

“I’m not gonna shank you.”

Spencer’s shoulders squared, “Ok.”

“Name’s Oscar.”

“Spencer Reid.”

“Welcome to hell, Spencer Reid.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

His chore was laundry. It was somewhere without sharp objects, which meant inmates brought their own. Spencer was doing his best to walk the balance between standing his ground and not making himself a target. But apparently there was no such line to follow and no help from his cellmate, sifting through his own cart of laundry on the other side of the room.

That was until the inmates began taunting Spencer over his belongings.

“Excuse me.”

The crowd immediately parted to make way for Oscar, whose unflinching gaze pushed them further back.

“Thank you,” he said in the same empty tone. His very deliberate stare landed on Spencer as he passed and collected a pile of towels from the table at the room’s centre. The group around them dispersed and remained so even as Oscar returned to his station.

Oscar’s hands weren’t shaking before then. Now, certainly, as he stuffed bedsheets into the giant machine, a tremble ran through his arms and stuck in his wrists.

Spencer didn’t comment, not even that evening as he climbed onto his bunk, his back pressed hard against the wall. His knees pulled close acted as a desk for his journal. His pen scribbled away long after lights out, putting down his thoughts, his innocence, trapping his worries onto the paper. It was too long until his next evaluation. His notebook was his only confidant now.

A creak beneath him stilled his hand, and he felt himself freeze as the shadow of Oscar rose up from his bunk. One of his hands was behind his back. Spencer’s feet dug into the mattress and forced him hard against the concrete. His eyes flinched shut as Oscar brought his hand out. But they opened as soon as they were closed and they were met with surprise.

In Oscar’s palm sat a red crayon.

“You’ll wanna swap to this,” He said with such a softness that Spencer spent the next ten seconds processing it. His incessant blinking did nothing to clear up what was happening.

Eventually he said an equally quiet voice, “Why?”

Oscar’s shoulders shrugged an inch, the tension he held in them inflexible, “Worst you can get from this is a bruise.”

Slowly, Spencer accepted the crayon with his left hand and rolled the pencil around in the right. “What should I do with this?”

“Hide it.” And Oscar disappeared from view.

Spencer ran his finger over the tip of the crayon before he dragged it across the paper. It would suffice for now. Maybe he could ask one of his friends to send some his way in their next letter. If they weren’t too busy trying to solve his case.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

JJ’s presence was the most welcomed part of Spencer’s life here. But he almost hated it.

Opposite him, always several inches between them as well as a divider, JJ holding up one of Henry’s drawings but unable to hand it over to him, it drove him insane. The constant reminders on the walls – and often barked by guards – not to touch coated their conversation. JJ didn’t ask about the bruises from his most recent beating. She answered Spencer’s queries, updating him on his case.

Spencer tried very hard not to sound so eager about getting out. His hopes were already dashed to pieces; the fragments were just holding on. He needed that hope to survive but if it grew too strong, it would destroy him.

For half a second, his attention was drawn out of the goodbye to see Oscar nearby. He was standing before another visitor’s table and a young woman who had the same nose as him on the other side.

He missed JJ’s hugs. He longed for one long after she had disappeared from view, shuffling along with the rest of them towards the refectory.

A commotion erupted up ahead. Spencer watched with masked reverence and the rest of the line as Oscar remained unflinching in the volume of the guard’s shouting. Even when he got right up in Oscar’s face, Oscar was stoic as spittle sprayed across his face. Moment after the guard walked away, Oscar wiped his face clean, a terrifyingly neutral expression held together.

Once lunch was done, Spencer re-joined with his new friend Luis in the laundry room, who was still not over Spencer’s injuries. There was something else that Spencer wanted to talk about.

“Do you know much about…” Spencer dropped his voice to barely a whisper, “Oscar?”

Luis looked at Oscar with the subtlety of an elephant seal then back to Spencer to deliver his answer, “He’s gone after people in the prison, but nothing ever gets tied to him.”

And Luis proved his point when Oscar pressed his hands against the stab wound in Luis’ neck, a futile attempt to save his life after Frazier and Duerson’s failed recruiting of Spencer. Oscar fled the scene without consequence, leaving Spencer in the pool of blood, and he never once tripped on his alibi or took off his armour. Not even when Spencer spoke at him about it before lights out.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

But Spencer found a chink in the armour.

Oscar’s sleeping problems were apparent throughout the night. If his offering of a crayon earlier hadn’t been enough evidence, the yawning and tossing about the bottom bunk. Spencer knew why Oscar was awake too. He wasn’t the type to stay awake to ensure his continued survival. Insomnia was a symptom that Spencer was starting to show too. He had been struggling to rest while he gathered the aforementioned evidence. For some reason, it brought him a slither of comfort, because it made Oscar more human.

Another was the letters he had in his pillow case – the most obvious place to hide something, therefore the least obvious? Reverse psychology aside, some nights featured the rustling of paper

Work in the laundry room continued as if there wasn’t a man murdered in it just days before. Oscar was reinforcing the contrast between yesterday and now with a faint hum. He was clearly a little more comfortable since it was just him and Spencer in the room.

Spencer’s mind pulled up Howl’s Moving Castle which he watched with Penelope. Oh, Penelope. With her bright colours and optimism. It was not a film he pictured Oscar to be a fan of. But he hardly knew him, and he wanted to.

“What song is that?”

Oscar shrugged. A huff forced itself out of his nose. “Don’t remember.”

“It sounds nice.”

He huffed again, clearly closing the conversation. Spencer counted in items he tossed into the machine, flinching still at the marks on the bedsheets. His eye avoided them but landed on the dark patch of concrete where Luis had bled out.

“Oscar, why did you defend me last week?” Spencer asked.

“I don’t know.” The irritable edge in his voice prevailed the more he spoke, “But you owe me so consider this: don’t be a mule for them.”

It was an almost anger that Spencer felt at this request. Surely Oscar would understand, of all people, after being in here that:

“They’ll kill me if I don’t.”

Oscar sighed and turned his back to Spencer, no longer humming. Spencer felt a twang in his gut pluck away at his rage. But he also felt satisfaction in the fact that he had gotten Oscar to crack again. Not in a malevolent way, he felt like he was getting Oscar to open up more and more.

“I’m doing what I need to survive,” Spencer added. For his sake, maybe, but he knew it was a little more reassurance for Oscar.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“I am innocent.”

“You’re gonna get killed if you keep saying that so loud.”

Spencer stopped speaking, but he kept moving about the floor space of the cell. The worst part was the walk up to the bars. But, with his notebook confiscated, he had no other outlet and he made sure that Oscar knew this as well.

“It keeps me grounded, reminds me of who I am.”

Oscar didn’t say anything about Spencer’s incessant pacing, simply turning a page in his new book, “That must be nice.”

With a deep breath of stale prison air, Spencer’s speed grew erratic until he very nearly kicked at the bars in frustration. He stopped himself just as the instruction reached the surgery scars on his knee. It stung as he jumped up into his bunk and squeezed his knees to his chest, his arms shaking with the pressure he put on them.

“How many years do you have to go?” He said quietly.

“Half a year until an appeal, six years if I serve the rest of my sentence. You?”

“My trial has been postponed. I was offered a plea deal. But-” Spencer stopped to swallow, a pitiful attempt against the absolute Sahara that was his mouth “- But I didn’t do it.”

His hand pushed the heel of his palm into his eye. The other screwed itself shut as his mind zeroed in on his actions. When Spencer’s hand lifted away, Oscar was standing up in front of him. His white shirt was on show, the top half of his jumpsuit rolled down with the arms tied around his waist. He was stretching his arms up, and his head was tilted a few inches to the left as he watched Spencer with a blank face.

No, not blank.

Open.

Then his stoicism clouded over and Oscar dropped his arms. “Nice rehearsal for the jury.”

Spencer’s irritation became inflamed, “That kind of attitude might get you a badge of honour here-”

“This kind of attitude,” Oscar interrupted, and immediately Spencer regretted his words, “Has helped me survive here. I suggest you stop running your mouth if you wanna do the same.”

The burst of anger fizzled out fast like a firework, and Spencer watched Oscar disappear out of sight with a dull thud on his mattress. But before he could, Spencer had noticed that Oscar’s hands were shaking again, just like he hadn’t seen since the fight in the laundry room – the first one.

Spencer’s hands gripping his shins, he worried that he had lost another… friend? Ally? He didn’t really know what to use as a description for their relationship but Spencer knew what he wanted. Least of all, he wanted Oscar to be upset with him.

“Oscar?”

Nothing. Spencer slipped off the bed and pressed his back against the wall, sinking down until he was on the ground. His eyes were on Oscar, who was staring without seeing Spencer opposite him. Nevertheless, Spencer stayed in his sight and asked a tentative question.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when you get out?”

Oscar blinked and his gaze shifted a millimetre to Spencer and his peace offering. Then Spencer saw it. A quiver of Oscar’s bottom lip, then it shifted and Spencer noticed that Oscar was biting the inside to stop his reaction taking over any more of himself.

When his mouth opened, it released a sigh before he spoke. “Hug my mom.”

Spencer nodded, the stuffiness of his throat returning as he fought to keep back tears, “Me too.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

It was an attempt to get Frazier and Duerson off Spencer’s back. Maybe to stop him from taking the drugs himself. The temptation was certainly lingering stronger, with the promise of a temporary respite.

But now the prison was locked down. Shaw, along with four other inmates, were isolated in the infirmary. These were far from innocent men but God that didn’t mean what he had done was right.

He’d done it to survive, but it was still all his fault.

“What’s up with you?”

The gate to their cell sliding shut behind Oscar. He stared at Spencer sat in the bottom bunk, his head in his hands. Footsteps echoed down the corridor before another buzzer and another gate opened then shut again. They were far from alone, the concrete providing an illusion that there wasn’t an endless tunnel with two men per cage.

“Spencer.”

He stood up, dropping the grip from his hair. His ears tuned into the noise from other prisoners. What he wouldn’t give for some silence right now.

“The poisonings were my fault.”

All air sucked from Spencer’s lungs as Oscar was suddenly upon him. He was smacked against the wall, Oscar’s hand over his mouth, his forearm pinning him into place. Spencer let out a cross between a gulp and a sob, caught into his throat as Oscar harshly shushed him. Spencer’s eyes looked around Oscar terrified, he struggled against him.

Oscar’s voice rasped with a spitting disgust, “You’re really fucking stupid!”

And he slammed his weight against Spencer again, his breathing heavy, his pupils dilated, “Don’t you fucking dare repeat that to anyone.”

Spencer’s head knocked against the resolute wall when Oscar shoved him once more, stepping back and creating distance between them. With the ache at the back of his skull, Spencer stared dazedly at his cellmate.

Oscar’s voice matched his haggard appearance when he said, “You’re a dead man, Spencer.”

The intimacy of his name striking right at his heart, Spencer worried that he would join Oscar in tears. But there was no time; a guard rattled his baton against the bars.

“What’s going on in there?” He bellowed into the cell.

Oscar clenched his jaw, “Nothing.”

Then he reclaimed his bunk and faced the wall.

“Into bed, inmate!”

Sparing a glance to the vulnerable position Oscar was laying in, unable to receive the look of gratitude, Spencer got into his bunk. The silence he wished for enveloped him and he longed for it to vanish.

He pressed his palm against his lips. It wasn’t the same as when Oscar did it.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

His second meeting with Dr. Tara Lewis revealed that Spencer had manufactured his own memory and that he had been coerced. But the BAU needed proof of his innocence, and Spencer resumed his waiting game in the yard.

Oscar was taking a new route around the edge of the wire fencing as opposed to spending his free time in the gym. His shoes scuffed in the dirt, no doubt rubbing a blister into his heel (based on his gait), and his step weaved around the groups to avoid interacting with anyone. Wordlessly, Spencer joined him. Oscar looked at him but didn’t speak.

Spencer’s session with Tara had brought forward a question he had considered asking before. Tara had spoken about his mother, how life was before prison. Spencer missed being known, knowing someone. The rawness of that need hung off his frame with his jumpsuit. Oscar was probably still pissed off with him. But God, Spencer needed to cease this withdrawal from human contact more than anything.

“What did you do, Oscar?” He asked under his breath, “To get into prison?”

“I knew a guy; he was the worst kind of person to get caught up with. He did some things to me. So I beat him up, and I cut his pecker off.”

It all sounded so very rehearsed, and Spencer wondered if Oscar had been planning what to say since they first met. The two men continued to walk in step until eventually Oscar broke the silence.

“Yours isn’t on my to-do list.” The left corner of his mouth twitched as he spoke

Spencer lifted his stare from Oscar’s mouth, hoping the heat around them would mask his blush, “Did he die?”

“No,” Oscar ironed his lips back into a straight line, “Unfortunately.”

“You don’t regret it.”

“No.”

“Thank you for not telling the guard what I did.”

“What did I say about repeating it?”

Spencer pressed his chin into his chest, forcing his mouth shut. It naturally deflected the glares that were aimed in his direction from other prisoners as he and Oscar sat down at an empty table.

“It seems I only give you grief.”

But Spencer’s pity was cut short by that touch of a smile on Oscar’s face returning, “Your company somewhat makes up for it.”

The distractions ended. Spencer was once again aware that there was very little he could do in this place. He restrained his yearning to hold Oscar’s hand across the table, to feel his tender palm again, until he was back in his bunk with an entire night to think about what it might be like in a situation where Oscar wasn’t threatening him into silence.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

It was going to be another sleepless night.

Spencer reached his arm out of his foetal position and over the edge of his bunk. Oscar was likely still awake; Spencer was hoping that Oscar would ask him about what was up, like he usually did. Like he already had after Spencer’s mother had visited with her new care assistant.

As he waited, Spencer sniffed back his tears. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry, even if tears were supposed to be good for the skin – God knows his skin needed it after all that Dial soap. The red eyes were already hard enough to hide without the addition of damp cheeks. Grief weighed down his eyelids, but fear kept opening them – just in case.

Then five calloused fingertips touched the back of his hand. Spencer gripped the air, his wrist bringing his hand an inch in. But as the fingertips spread across his skin, he allowed them to continue. Oscar’s mattress groaned below him and his fingers linked with Spencer’s. The thumb wrapped around to press into Spencer’s palm.

Spencer almost whined when Oscar snatched his hand away, but a split second later his stomach dropped at the sound of a clatter down the hall.

Minutes passed like hours before the bottom bunk let out a familiar creak of Oscar rising from it. He rested his forearms against Spencer’s mattress, right beside Spencer’s outstretched arm. Goosebumps rose and the hairs stood on end, coaxing Oscar closer.

With a quick glance at the bars, Oscar whispered, “Your friends will get you out. They’ll help your mom.”

Spencer sniffed, “What happened to being a dead man?”

“I don’t think you – or your friends - are going to let that happen.”

“What about you?”

“I guess I could fall under ‘ally’ for once.”

“What if I wanted you to be something else?” Spencer’s arm shifted and his hand brushed their knuckles against Oscar’s stubbly cheek.

Oscar hinted at tilting his head against him, and Spencer couldn’t help but press a little firmer as Oscar said, “You should sleep.”

“I can’t.”

Oscar’s finger stretching out to brush the crook of Spencer’s elbow, “Me neither.”

Nevertheless, Oscar let Spencer go and got back down into his bunk just moments later.

Both men pretended to sleep until the fantasy became real. The whole time, Spencer was thinking about how hearing faith in his team from someone who had never met them – or even displayed an ounce of hope within his entire relationship with him – meant so much.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Spencer had a new wall to force his back against. His left leg was not in a state to keep him taut against it, the throbbing ache a poor disturbance from his thoughts. Time, time, all he had was time to think and do nothing else.

About how his occupation in the government was leaked to what felt like the entire prison population.

How the note with the promise of invading solitary confinement lay screwed up by the door.

How Shaw had threatened him before bawling like a baby when the guards tackled him for stabbing Spencer.

How Oscar, with his jaw slack and eyes glassy, was outlined in Spencer’s blurring vision.

Oh, Oscar. Shoved back by inmates in the scuffle before he disappeared from view. He was only there because Shaw had made the first move. Spencer had seen Oscar reach into his pocket as he crept behind Shaw. No regard for his own safety. That was when Spencer grabbed Shaw’s hand and manipulated it into plunging his shiv into his leg and arm.

The night before, Oscar had been quiet, and Spencer figured that he had learnt that Spencer was an FBI agent. No chat before bed, Oscar just curled up under his blanket and read until lights out.

Spencer was patient. He waited long into the night before bringing out his toothbrush. There was no time for resting now; he scrapped the end of the brush against the edge of the bunk frame. Flakes of plastic snowed down onto the concrete floor, but he didn’t get out to sweep them beneath the beds just yet. That was a job for the morning – if it came.

Suddenly Oscar popped into his field of view.

“It’s better if you do it like this,” He said, taking Spencer’s hand in his and demonstrating the direction with which to carve his shiv, “And make sure you – never mind.”

“What?”

“Forget it. You’re a fed. They probably trained you with this shit.”

He took himself away and Spencer swallowed hard, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I’m not. Means you’re learning to protect yourself. I’m more grateful for that.”

Spencer’s hand still tingled from the way Oscar held it. The simplest of touches grounded him, and it was almost as if Oscar knew that. When they were called to lunch by the alarm, filing out of the laundry room, Oscar had gone out of his way to walk by Spencer and brush their hands together. Not a single break in his stride, the touch was brief but it breathed a sigh of courage into Spencer’s lungs and he went into the refectory calmer.

He bit the inside of his cheek, willing away the stinging of tears with his head leaning back against the wall.

His palms flattened against his legs as he heard the key turn in the door. His eyes watched it creak open, revealing a guard

“Get up.”

Wincing, Spencer moved off the pathetic excuse for a bed, “Where am I going?”

No answer.

Spencer shuffled through the hallway with dread weighing each step down. The last fragment of hope was waning, but he clung to it as he was shoved into an empty room. Even as the guard closed the door behind him and his ever-vigilant eye was stuck on the glass of the window, Spencer held that hope close as he waited for someone to come in. While not necessarily a believer, he called to anyone - who might hear a sinner’s prayer - that he could touch Oscar once more before he was killed.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

It had been a long time since Spencer had sat on this side of the table. On the job, visiting a suspect or informant in a case, but now his entire perspective had shifted.

He wondered if any of the guards recognised him now that he had a suit, a visitor’s badge, and a few extra pounds around his middle.

An instinct, he flinched at the buzzer. The memory had tormented him for weeks and hearing it fresh and raw against his eardrums was worse. Steps sloped into the room in a dull out-of-sync march. The prisoners found their allotted tables one by one, some with enthusiasm and others without.

Oscar dragged the chair across the floor before taking his place opposite Spencer.

“Hello.”

Spencer was completely torn between smiling at his presence – his voice – and keeping a composure so as not to draw attention from other prisoners. “Hello.”

Oscar wrapped his arms in each other, elbows pointed on the table, “Did you get to hug your mom?”

It was hard to forget the grip on Diana’s frail body, the relief seeping through Spencer’s body at her safe recovery.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good. I’m glad she’s ok.”

“She’s in a facility now, being taken care of full time. Did you get my letters?”

“I did, thank you. And did you get mine?”

“Yes. How is your new cellmate?”

“Some dipshit in for possession. Nothing to worry about.”

Oscar’s fingers tapped on the table, and Spencer could see them trembling still. He nodded; his mouth pressed into a line. He couldn’t think of what else to say despite his many rehearsals beforehand. It felt wrong to talk about being out of prison, like dangling a bit of bacon in front of a dog before popping it into one’s mouth.

So he went straight for the jugular, “I’m getting you out, Oscar.”

Oscar frowned, looking almost offended. “Don’t say that.”

But Spencer continued, “I’ve spoken with your lawyer, Zoe; she’s got all this stuff ready for your appeal.”

“Spencer.”

“Your family completely support what we’re doing. I’ve spoken to them over the phone.”

“They wanna meet with me and your lawyer, properly coordinate. We can do this!”

“Spencer, stop!”

Said person stopped relaying his grand plans for the future. Oscar had barely raised his voice but he caught the attention of the nearby guards, already reaching for their belts. Oscar’s nostrils flared as he exhaled, his eyes not even crossing the threshold that separated him from Spencer.

His voice caught in his throat, “Stop it now. Don’t give me hope.”

Spencer blinked. A second time, a third, then he frowned right back at Oscar bewildered.

“Why won’t you let me fight for you?”

He didn’t get an answer immediately, so he kept talking.

“You fought for me, Oscar. You kept me alive in here. Let me do the same, get you out. You can’t stay here!”

It started subtle. But Spencer saw Oscar shaking his head at his words. He refused Spencer any more eye contact, not even when Spencer begged Oscar to look at him so that they could talk more about the upcoming appeal.

The buzzer sounded again and Spencer began to panic as Oscar rose from his seat. No way was their time up already. An urge to reach across, grab Oscar’s hand, make him stay, shot through him. It only stopped because he didn’t want some desperate grab to be the last touch between them. He tried to call after him, but his voice stuck in his throat at the sight of a baton being used to force Oscar into the queue.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Spencer had walked the paths of the bullpen thrice now: once to get coffee, second to “get the right form”, and the last time he didn’t say why to his curious colleagues. Clearly none of those were the true reason but they left him alone. That was their problem. They never spoke to each other about what was wrong until it was too late.

The second his phone rang, he lunged for it. His slim fingers scrabbled to slide across the answer button and bring it up to his ear.

“Hello!” Instantaneously, his shoulders slumped and he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Sorry for shouting. Look, I’m waiting on an important call, can I ring you back?”

Before the caller had time to respond, Spencer slammed the phone face down and began his route again, leaving it on the desk so that he wasn’t constantly checking the screen.

“Have you ever seen him so attached to a piece of technology?” Luke grinned at JJ.

“Never.”

“This con must be something.”

The phone went off again when Spencer was getting another mug of coffee. Its ringtone was loud but not loud enough to reach the break room.

Simmons raised his voice ever so slightly, “Spencer! Phone!”

A ceramic clashed with a sideboard, and Spencer appeared, his hip clipping Luke’s desk on the way over. In his frenzy, he found the wherewithal to check the caller ID before he answered, “Tony?”

Spencer had already begun powerwalking out of the bullpen, but he stopped when he heard a cry from Eliza in the background.

His friends and co-workers watched his expression falter from focus to frustration.

“I’m sorry.” His voice failed him, clearing it, “I’m sorry, Tony, for you and your family. Can I call you back?”

This time, he waited for confirmation and he stayed on the phone for half a minute longer to reassure the Dunnagan family on the other end that he would not give up. Once the call dropped, the phone did too – against the desk. Spencer folded his arms in on himself. His fingers were bent into claws, digging into the creases of his elbows. Upon realising what they were doing, he covered his face as if to weep, but there were no tears.

“Spencer.” JJ touched his shoulder

“The appeal didn’t even have the chance to be unsuccessful,” He dragged his hands across his face into prayer, “Oscar cancelled the hearing this morning without telling us.”

He swallowed back the lump in his throat, “I don’t think I can be alone right now. Can I stay at yours and Will’s tonight?”

“Of course,” JJ’s hand smoothed out a wrinkle on his suit jacket.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Upon entering the attorney’s office, Spencer was embraced by Dakota. Eliza kissed both his cheeks, Tony shook his hand, and Zoe gestured for him to sit in the final empty chair.

Together, they discussed the plan for the appeal. It was to be fool proof. There was the added benefit of a recent sessions with a therapist; Spencer was still willing to go and talk about how Oscar had saved his life in prison. But Spencer was also fighting this disgusting urge to say that “none of that matters because an appeal panel won’t see him at all if Oscar keeps withdrawing”. He kept pushing it down to simmer in his stomach, away from his vocal chords.

He was almost glad when his phone began ringing, “Excuse me, it’s my boss.” Stepping out of the office, Spencer narrowly avoided another lawyer walking along the stripes of the carpet. “Hey Emily.”

“Hey. I know it’s one of your days off. I just wanted to see how you’re doing?”

“We’re just going over Oscar’s appeal.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Wow, he really walked into that one.

“I just keep thinking about how he sabotaged himself. I mean, doesn’t he want to get out? Why doesn’t he want to get out and be with me?!” Spencer swallowed back the lump in his throat, “And I know none of the team approve of him.”

“Spencer,” Emily had her parent voice on. An expert voice for someone who didn’t even have kids yet.

But Spencer just carried on in spite of it, “He’s a convicted batterer, not exactly the best option for a boyfriend and especially for an FBI agent, but do any of you know why he did it?”

His agitation was muzzled when Zoe poked her head around the door and Spencer softened his tone to apologise, to assure he would be back inside shortly. He waited until the door closed before he spoke again.

“Emily, Oscar is the only person who knows what I’m going through right now. He’s a good man, I truly believe that, or else he wouldn’t have helped me. And I need him to get out. I can’t stand knowing he’s in there for why he did what he did. Knowing he’s not getting the help he needs.”

It was then that Spencer realised, even as they were interrupted, that Emily had been waiting patiently for him to finish. She was now letting his words sit between the phone lines, likely mulling over what to say next. Spencer really fucking hated waiting.

Thankfully his patience did not need to wear itself thin, this one time:

“I do know why he did it. I had Garcia pull up his file when you went to visit him for the first time. Spencer, I’m glad this man has you on his side. Let me know how the meeting goes.”

“Thanks, Emily.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

As Oscar placed himself down opposite Spencer, he flinched in the plastic chair. Spencer fought his own wince at the sight of so much swelling, so many bruises, so many cuts, littering his face.

But he gave the tiniest of smiles in spite of the state of his face, “How did you know, Spencer?”

“Your mom told me. She’s a lovely woman.” Spencer flexed his fingers before linking them again, “I wish I had a proper gift to give you, but I was scared the guards would just confiscate it.”

“The card was more than enough.”

A bright blue card with balloons on it was tucked into Oscar’s pillowcase. Inside were as many notes on what he needed to say for the appeal as Spencer could fit around the “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” already printed into the card.

“I forwarded them and the rest onto your lawyer. She should go through it with you.”

Oscar’s smile tainted by hesitation as it crawled off his face, “I don’t know.”

Spencer could see him withdrawing, hiding in his jumpsuit. But even then, Oscar’s expression wore his melancholy like a veil. It blocked out any semblance of neutrality from when he had first met Spencer. The state his protection was in, he wouldn’t last long at all.

“Before prison, I was really sensitive to touch, germs. But now-” Spencer stopped, his voice so quiet he nearly couldn’t hear himself as he finished, “I can’t wait to touch you again.”

Oscar shivered. His eyes screwed shut as if to protect him from what was being said. But Spencer persisted.

“What would you like to do for your birthday? If you could do anything.”

“Picnic in the park,” said Oscar after some thought, “Uh, a real big Cuban sandwich, with roast pork, Swiss cheese, lettuce, pickles, and ham. And chocolate covered strawberries.”

“What, in the sandwich as well?”

“Yes.” Oscar rolled his eyes, misty and threatening to spill, and Spencer felt a rush of panic. More emotion was only good for him. Oscar, left behind in his cell, this could be disastrous. But he couldn’t get enough of it, and he selfishly persevered.

“When you get out, would you let me hold you?” The buzzer went off, but Spencer spoke over it as he stood, “Please, Oscar, consider this appeal.”

“Ok, Spencer.”

From his place at the table, Spencer watched Oscar try to cover his emotions, but there was still a glimmer of a tear retreating as he joined the queue of prisoners heading back to their cells.

Before he stepped out the prison, Spencer slipped his sunglasses back over his eyes to hide how red they were from the guards.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Stood in the shallow shade of Eliza’s range rover, Spencer switched the bouquet of sage flowers from one hand to the other. Dakota had suggested them; she said her brother liked the colour most. Spencer wiped his free hand down his trousers before checking the time. He’d done that four times already. He hoped no one was giving him odd looks from the other side of the fence.

Utter relief was not usually how he would describe hearing that buzzer. But for the first and last time, he did feel a sense of respite knowing he would likely never be coming back here for such a taxing visit.

Then he remembered what that sound actually meant. His back straightened right up; his hand brushed through his hair and checked his breath once more.

Tony led the way out of the prison. He was clearly trying to remain casual but the glee seeping out of his body was just palpable. He had an arm around Dakota, kissing his daughter’s head so vigorously that her half-up hair was messed up. Clearly Dakota didn’t care though. Her hand was behind her and she turned to see the person holding it.

It was Oscar, arm looped with Eliza who clung to him like a crutch. Their eyes matched each other, shining brown like horse chestnuts.

Spencer found that he could no longer look away from Oscar. A breeze rustled through his hair. His face was alive with tear tracks and a grin that ached on his rosy cheeks. An old suit, one clearly meant for court and court alone, slouched on his shoulders. But for that short moment where he breathed fresh air and leaned his head on his mother’s, there was no weight to him.

Then Oscar found Spencer, fidgeting with his tie and his grip slacking on the bouquet, and all the emotion he had repressed for five years in prison custody were exploding into a supernova.

Oscar forgot Eliza’s arm, dashing around his family to run for Spencer. Spencer found himself matching the pace and the destination. His feet carried him quick until he and Oscar collided. A fierce hug crushed them. Oscar’s hand was constantly adjusting its grip on the back of Spencer’s head, and Spencer’s free one fisted at Oscar’s suit jacket, trying to bury themselves in his ribcage. Neither missed Oscar’s shaking, his sobbing. Spencer curled into Oscar, wrestling with his instinct to pull away. Lindsey and Cat, they ruined so much for him already; they couldn’t take Oscar too.

When they heard the footsteps of the Dunnagan family stop nearby, the men drew apart – only about a foot or so. Oscar’s cheeks were wet behind his wide smile and Spencer saw that one of his front two teeth was a little crooked.

Spencer then presented his gift in the small space between them, “For you.”

Oscar gently clasped the bouquet on the white ribbon that wrapped around the stalks, “No one’s got me flowers before.”

Spencer then vowed to buy flowers as often as he could for Oscar, and especially sage. He looked so good with purple.

The ride to Danny’s Food Truck had Oscar sat in the little middle seat, his sister on one side, Spencer on the other, and he held both their hands. His bouquet was cradled in his lap. The wet ends of the stalks dripped twice onto his suit trousers, just before his bouncing knee.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Once again, Spencer had lost himself in his work. When he was interrupted just an hour before, Oscar was there. He had waved a hand into Spencer’s peripherals but Spencer still jumped at it. He hated that his skittish behaviour was still prevalent, returning just as Oscar had started appearing in his personal life. In his apartment.

“Sorry, Spencer,” Oscar had said in a gravelly voice, “I just wanted to ask if you were ok with Randy’s for dinner tonight.”

It was two hours before they were due to have dinner.

“Of course, it’s your turn.”

“How’s the work going?”

“It’s good,” and Spencer showed him the notes he’d written so far.

Oscar had taken them into his hands and read over them. Meanwhile Spencer watched his micro expressions. The huff of air through his nose, the corners of his mouth wriggling about as if to smile before flattening themselves out, all seemed positive as Oscar offered the papers back.

“Nice joke!”

“Right, joke…” Spencer accepted his notes back, “Where?”

“There,” Oscar leant over Spencer’s shoulder and tapped the second line of the first paragraph. Spencer noted that he smelt nice. So much better now the Dial soap was out of their care routine.

And it was now that Spencer found himself missing that smell. It was a nice distraction. Burying himself in his work was not a good distraction anymore.

He stood away from his desk and took his mug out to the kitchen sink. Despite trying not to look at the pieces of a vase half-wrapped in newspaper, Oscar’s wailing at the very start of their day together punctured its way into Spencer’s head. One particular thought posited that Spencer should keep one of those jagged pieces – just in case. Just in case of what?

Shaking his head, Spencer went and found the source of his chills: his living room windows were wide open, the curtains lifting gracefully in the breeze. Rain pattered against the world outside, some of its drops reaching the carpet. The smell of the rain was light in the room. It was almost drowned out by the sound.

He found Oscar passed out on the couch, his bare feet poking out from under the throw. His head was resting between his folded arms, one hand under the pillow. His headphones askew and playing “The Flower Garden (Extended Version)” by Joe Hisaishi.

Kneeling next to Oscar, Spencer touched his arm, “Do you want me to order for you?”

Oscar nodded, stretched out, then promptly fell back asleep. He would have trouble later tonight. But Spencer was glad that he finally found some respite. His seemingly endless apologies for breaking the bowl were over.

That was where the good news ended though. Spencer looked closer at Oscar’s hand, now unmasked. A medium piece from the broken vase rested in his loose grip. After some moments deliberating, Spencer eased it out and placed it with the rest of the vase. Then he went to his phone and dialled.

“Hey JJ. I hope it’s not too late, but,” Spencer tapped his nails against the plastic handset, “Would you mind coming over? Oscar is here, but I don’t know if he’s ready to help me through this.”

He smiled at the flowers he’d bought that day standing awkwardly in a jug before hanging up. He and Oscar really should move in together. Or at least he should invest in a sofa bed.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the front door, and Oscar was up on his feet. The sofa’s throw clung to him.

“I invited someone over,” Spencer said quickly, “Sorry I should have told you, but I didn’t want to wake you again. Do you want to wait in my room?”

Oscar stayed in place and shook his head, so Spencer went ahead to open his front door.

Two days apart was far too long. JJ embraced Spencer tight, rubbing his back as she rested her chin on his shoulder. She gave the best hugs. Maybe rivalled by Oscar, but Spencer would never tell her that.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“A coffee would be great,” JJ shrugged off her jacket

He pivoted in a half circle, “Oscar?”

“No, I’m good, thank you.”

Spencer wasn’t really sure what happened in his absence – besides his stomach turning itself over and over. When he returned with two mugs, the only information he could garner was that Oscar had dropped the throw back onto the sofa that stood between them and JJ had inched a little closer

“Here!”

Oscar twitched at Spencer’s loud entrance, visibly relaxing by the time JJ had her mug of coffee in her hands. He adjusted the throw until it was back to its original position then crept towards the door.

Spencer frowned, ruining the quiet exit as he said, “Where are you going?”

Oscar thumbed in his direction of travel. “Bathroom.”

“Oh,” Spencer felt his cheeks heat up, “Good luck.”

He saw Oscar rolling his eyes but there was a flash of a grin and a tiny wave to JJ before he disappeared from view. Spencer’s stomach steadied itself, busying itself with sloshing his coffee about instead. His grip around his mug adjusted as he turned to JJ.

“He’s not what I was expecting,” JJ said. There was nothing malicious in her tone. In fact, if there was anything, she seemed pleased that Oscar had subverted her anticipations.

Spencer nodded, his mouth turning up a little smile, “That’s what I thought too. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“It’s ok, anytime.”

They sat together on the sofa, leaving the armchair free just in case Oscar wanted to join them again.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Moving in together was supposed to solve everything.

Neither Spencer nor Oscar explicitly said or thought that. But when their triggers persisted and their behaviour shifted dramatically still, they couldn’t help but be a little disappointed.

Spencer had another nightmare last night and woke Oscar up at around half past three. They couldn’t cuddle each other, but their hands would brush and the two men would avoid looking at the matching scars on their thighs – and Oscar’s on his stomach, Spencer’s on his arm.

“Would you have killed Shaw, if I hadn’t done anything?”

“Yes.” “Does that scare you?”

In the dark, he could hear the fear in Oscar’s voice

“No, because I think I would have done the same.”

Carried on as if he hadn’t heard, still scared of himself, “I wouldn’t do something like that now.”

Oscar spent the rest of the night on the couch, so he wouldn’t touch Spencer in his sleep. Words of his therapist spun around his head: “Prison twists and warps people until they’re worse than they were before. We can’t speak now for what we would have done then.”

It was a quiet day as a result of the restless night. Quiet was nice sometimes; it was something new for them to experience together. Spencer and Oscar had breakfast together, washed and dressed, before they went down to the communal laundrette together. Washing and drying clothes was too big a task to do alone, even now, and Oscar needed his shirt to be clean for his job interview in a few days. The nightmare Spencer had faded into the background as he tried to focus on something else.

Without realising, he said aloud to Oscar, “I wanted to kiss you in the laundry room.”

Oscar stopped stretching his damp pyjama shirt out, and it was clear that he had joined Spencer in reminiscing about their job in prison.

“Which time?”

“Every time.”

Spencer watched as Oscar let out a quiet “heh”, a shy smile playing on his lips. But Oscar cut it off quick before either of them could enjoy it, and he reset his expression to blank. The silence that followed swallowed them both whole.

“Oscar,” Spencer moved next to Oscar and, in clear view, touched him on the arm, “It’s ok. You can laugh.”

“I know.”

“You can smile if you want to,”

“I can smile,” Oscar repeated, his words grounding him next to Spencer, his hands flattened atop the dryer as it rumbled into life. His lungs took in a few more breaths to spread a thin layer of calm over him and he looked back at Spencer, “I can also kiss you if I want to, if you want.”

Checking the laundrette door, Spencer’s hand moved from Oscar’s arm to Oscar’s cheek, guiding him home. Their lips met in messy perfection. Short and sweet, with a sigh shared between them, Spencer was pleased to see the smile returned to Oscar by the time they separated. As tense as Oscar felt in his arms, even with the smile soon fading, Spencer could feel the tiniest slack in his shoulders now.

With the most burdensome chore out of the way, the two men returned to the flat. Spencer helped Oscar compose another covering letter to ship off to another job opening before they called Oscar’s family for lunch.

Facetiming was always a trip when they were calling the Dunnagans. Tony had a similar understanding of “technology” as Spencer, so when he answered the call, it was a close up of a nostril or a frowning muted face that greeted Oscar and Spencer on the laptop screen. Eventually Eliza saved them from an eternal farce. She brought them into her kitchen, bringing Dakota and her partner Ellis in on the call when it was time to prep for lunch.

Dakota led the way with a recipe from her restaurant, “If any of you dare share this with anyone, I’ll knock you out.”

Her laugh only sang one note before she slapped her hand over it and looked down at her screen with a face full of guilt. Oscar laughed it off, maybe a little forced, then he swiped at the nearest conversation topic – the world’s hottest pepper.

“Maybe you could stick in in your next recipe. Do a competition where if you eat all the spicy stuff, you get your name on the wall and get half off or something.”

And the call continued for a little longer.

Spencer was just testing out the new spices acquired in their online shop – because according to Dakota there was nothing is worse than being able to actually taste the chicken – when the screen froze. A tiny widget popped up to inform the men that the signal was too poor to continue the call.

Oscar wiggled the mouse, “Oh, God, your connection’s gone again. You mind if I try and find us a better provider?”

“Go for it.”

They clinked their wine glasses together, sipping with questionable responses to it. Oscar dared another sip while Spencer was satisfied with just the one, deciding instead to check on the chicken.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

Oscar placed his wine down. “Are we boyfriends?”

In all their time together, Spencer realised they never once spoke about their relationship status. They just sort of… moved in together, shared a bed, held hands and kissed occasionally – without discussing what was going on.

He said with relative boldness, “I’d like to be.”

“I’d like to be too,” Oscar bit his lip, the smile distorting but still charming as ever. His arms swayed a little. “Can I hug you please?”

With a renewed sense of vigour, Spencer said, “Yes please.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Spencer’s mind needed a rest; perhaps returning to the geographic profile after some time apart would garner a new connection. This case was driving everyone nuts, not just him, and it was only the third day in. he plucked his mug and headed over to the coffee pot for a top-up.

Whilst pouring his third cup of the morning, Spencer took note of his phone’s weight in his trouser pocket. He decided to lessen it, his hand reaching in and dialling for Oscar.

The call clicked after three rings then a boisterous laugh erupted from the speaker.

“Sorry, Spencer! This little one keeps jumping up at me! She barely reaches my knees!” Oscar’s voice was playful. Little claws clicked on a hard floor followed by a tiny yet indignant yip that was echoed by several much deeper barks. Spencer assumed this little one was a ring leader at the dog kennel, the one Oscar was trying to sweet talk.

“That’s ok. You sound like you’re having a good time.”

“It’s brilliant! They let me take four dogs out on a walk at a time!”

The ache in Spencer’s left shoulder from sleeping in an odd position alleviated just a touch. “Yeah?”

“I think I might try to get my licence back, so I can maybe drive them out to the countryside.”

“That’s brilliant news.”

“How’s the case?”

“I’m just taking a break.” Spencer sipped his coffee, burning the back of his throat. As he flinched, he caught sight of Luke’s hand, waving him back over to the conference room. “Sorry, Oscar, I have to get back to the profile.”

“I really like how you say ‘Oscar’.”

“I’m just saying your name.”

“I know,” and Spencer could very clearly hear Oscar’s smile in his voice – even over the constant din from the dogs he was caring for.

“I like how you say my name. See you later?”

“Hopefully. Take care of yourself.”

What a delight to see Oscar, after a rush of evidence flooding in and the pieces slotting together in a now-obvious profile. That evening in fact, Spencer made it back to his apartment at the same time as Oscar. He was carrying a plastic bag to mirror Spencer’s satchel. He didn’t feel like cooking and knew that Spencer wouldn’t be in the mood either; it was a few microwaved meals from the local store in his bag.

They ate dinner in the sitting room on trays - as a treat – and they partook in a very one-sided conversation about Star Trek. Oscar didn’t seem to mind, and honestly Spencer liked the freedom that came with talking here. It was like a hint of who he was before was bleeding through. Every so often though, Oscar would remind him that his food was going to get cold. Spencer would take a moment to eat before the next interesting factoid was inspired from the episode on the TV.

At the start of the next episode, his plate empty, Spencer noticed that Oscar’s gaze was a little restless as he finished his dinner.

“Is something bothering you?” He asked, adjusting his position on the sofa.

Oscar shrugged as he put his cushioned lap tray onto the carpet, “Not bothering me. I’m just curious about something.”

Naturally, Spencer said, “Ask me.” Maybe it was the difference between Vulcans and Romulans again.

“When you stabbed yourself while looking at me, before you got out, was that a substitution for sex?”

Spencer blinked several times. He could feel pinstripes forming on his forehead. He cleared his throat, took a sip of his water, cleared his throat again.

“No, no. I… um.”

Then he stopped because he realised he didn’t quite have an answer yet. His mind was busy straying back to that moment: the flare of pain in his leg and arm, the roaring of inmates around his head, and Oscar - an island of frozen calm amidst the chaos of Spencer’s actions. Eventually, Spencer found a semblance of a reply and he delivered it.

“I was just looking around, and I found you. I think I was looking for comfort.”

Seemingly accepting of this, Oscar’s attention moved back to the TV. His hands occupied themselves with each other. However, Spencer was not quite ready to let the subject go; he’d been thinking about this a lot lately.

“I’m sorry we haven’t…”

Oscar picked up what he was putting down, “Don’t be sorry, Spencer. Don’t ever, ever be sorry for that. I didn’t ask to guilt you. It was in the lesson you taught last week. I listened to it on my break today.”

The image of his Dictaphone on the desk at college - and another of it hanging out of Oscar’s rucksack’s front pocket – recalled itself in Spencer’s head.

“I probably could have asked you a bit nicer,” Oscar altered his position on the couch to bring his knees up to his chest.

“Probably.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“Could you tell me more about the Romulans please?”

As Spencer restarted his speech, albeit with less enthusiasm than before, Oscar brought out his notepad from his backpack. His fingers pinched around the blue crayon as he scrawled Spencer’s facts, putting the differences into a roughly drawn table.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Seeing Oscar standing in the bullpen with a visitor’s badge was not what Spencer expected to see today. He certainly didn’t expect to see him sipping tea with Penelope and chatting away at Spencer’s empty desk. Oscar had clearly just arrived, still bundled up in his coat. The flowers Oscar had sent to the office that morning stood gorgeously arranged beside his oft-neglected computer desktop.

“Hi!” Spencer power-walked up to them, almost reaching a jog. Oscar met him halfway, but his pace decreased the closer he got to Spencer. It was the sound of the team drawing through the glass double doors that told Spencer what was going through his head.

He turned to his family, already gesturing behind him where Oscar stood, “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Oscar.”

Waving, Oscar had his other hand stuck deep in his pocket as he spoke, “Penelope gave me the rundown of your names. Nice to meet you.”

The team was rather tired from the case and obviously a little caught off guard by the fact that the felon Spencer had fallen for was just hanging around in their bullpen. But Spencer was relieved when they all greeted Oscar with a fairly warm manner, wished Spencer "happy birthday" again, before they shuffled off to their respective desks and offices. Penelope bid her farewell to Oscar with the promise of a movie night some time in the future. Then she hugged her Boy Wonder and returned to her batcave.

“Sorry,” Oscar said quietly, “I wanted to travel home with you. Kinda forgot that I would be running into your whole team.”

“I don’t mind. In fact, I wanted you to meet them.”

Spencer’s hand stayed in Oscar’s for the entire walk back to Oscar’s new car in the lot. While they parted momentarily en route, they found each other again when Oscar had to pull over during the drive home. The car that had swerved and cut in front of them became two red lights in the far distance, the sound of its engine and screeching tires muted by Oscar’s heavy breathing.

Oscar released the steering wheel and clung to Spencer’s hand, but Spencer could feel that Oscar was holding back, trying not to crush his fingers. He rubbed over Oscar’s knuckles.

“In, two, three, four,” Spencer counted, “Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

He repeated this five times and Oscar leant back in his seat.

“I was doing so well,” He said, his voice cracking in its quietness.

“You still are. We both are.” Spencer kissed the back of Oscar’s hand, “Come on, I’ll drive us the rest of the way.”

Two blocks later and they were about to enter their apartment.

Oscar stopped them though, just before Spencer’s key met the lock, “Could you wait out here? Just for a minute, please?”

Spencer complied, a countdown in his head clicking off the seconds as soon as his front door was closed to him. A smile crept onto his face as he heard Oscar clattering about the apartment. He wasn’t exactly being subtle; Spencer wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once Spencer was finally allowed in, he was greeted by a low-lit scene. Oscar was holding a match to the last candle at the table. He’d taken off his long coat to revealing a freshly ironed floral pattern. The stereo speakers were already humming Mozart. The crumpled takeaway paper bag by the pedal bin didn’t go unnoticed, but Spencer decided to focus instead on how the food was arranged on the plates - either side of a delightful floral arrangement.

“Oh Oscar, you already got me so much this morning,” Spencer said sheepishly, with the knowledge that he had avoided looking up the prices of his gifts so he could calculate just how much of Oscar’s third paycheque went into his birthday.

“I know, but I wanted your birthday to be perfect,” Oscar opened up one of the tubs, a wave of steam lifting gently with the lid, “It’s from the new Thai place down the road.”

Spencer hung up his satchel on his its hook, “I suppose I have been wanting to try their green curry for a while now.”

Once he had changed into something more comfortable (plus a hint of smartness), Spencer sat down with Oscar for dinner. Both men found that he was not immune to the romanticism of a candlelit dinner with his boyfriend, and Spencer more so. The effort behind it, the aroma of the lavender candle with the spiced food, the glow around his Oscar’s face as he went over the day behind them, it was all getting to him.

Of course, Oscar offered to clean up once they were done eating and talking – for now at least. Spencer still helped though. Any time with Oscar was time well spent. Even loading the dishwasher. Except now Oscar was staring at Spencer’s face, gaze fidgeting between his eyes and his mouth, and Spencer was worrying about it.

Christ, what was he meant to do to let Oscar know he wanted to kiss him without saying so? Pout?

“Are you ok?” Oscar’s brow creased.

Fuck.

“Yes,” Spencer said, quickly removing the pout from his lips, “I’m good.”

“Good.” Oscar swung their linked hands between them thrice. Then he let go of one to thumb across the corner of Spencer’s jaw and he closed the gap between them. Spencer felt Oscar’s recently applied lip balm on his chapped lips, those stupid lips that Spencer spent too much time thinking about. They felt so much better against Spencer’s and smiling with reckless abandon. So reckless, in fact, that the smile grew into a laugh, buzzing against Spencer and tickling him more than his facial hair.

Oscar pulled away, still giggling and apologising, “Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you.”

“I know you’re not. You’d never laugh at me.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

A chorus of “hello!” harmonised in the doorway as the Dunnagans’ entered Spencer and Oscar’s apartment. Laden with gifts and food offerings, Tony, Eliza, and Dakota kissed and hugged their way into the sitting room.

Oscar and Dakota were the ones in charge, everyone else on some kind of prep duty while they ordered them about in the politest manner. Spencer was trying to be a good prep boy but Eliza was just better and faster, so he stuck to cleaning as they went. Oscar kissed his cheek while passing by; Tony had hung up a sprig of mistletoe just over their heads. Ducking away to avoid kissing his potential father-in-law, Spencer chased the sound of his phone ringing. He even ducked under it as if lowering his torso would avoid the mistletoe above him.

All five swayed ever so slightly out of sync as they bellowed the classics and groaned over the pop renditions. Spencer’s new watch hugged his wrist and ticked away each pleasant second.

“No, don’t hide your hair!” Eliza ripped off the Santa hat Spencer’s head and pulled up flattened tufts of his hair until it resumed its usual messy state.

“There! Never get a haircut, you’re too handsome for that.” She patted his cheek before taking another swig of her red wine – the same shade as her Christmas jumper and Spencer’s cheeks. Spencer looked to Oscar, not to protest but to see if he had Oscar witnessed this.

Oscar merely shrugged, “I mean she’s not wrong.” He finished off peeling the sprouts, handing them over to Tony for chopping, “I have to admit, it was one of the things that drew me to you when we met.”

“Really?”

Another nod in response, Oscar drew nearer, closing the conversation to everyone but Spencer, “You and your Bambi eyes and your hair and your perfect mouth.”

Spencer suddenly found himself unable to look directly at Oscar, as if he were the sun. An outsider looking in might infer that it was the gaudy red of his horrendous Christmas jumper that made his cheeks seem so pink. They would be wrong.

Spencer burst out, “It was Rossi on the phone. He wants to know if you’re still coming tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m not backing out. If I start to, I need you behind me and pushing me through the door.” Oscar’s shoulders twitched with his laugh.

“I don’t know, feels like you could toss me over your shoulder if you wanted.”

“I could. Technically.”

Spencer’s cheeks went scarlet at the thought of Oscar carrying him down Rossi’s driveway in such a way. But before he could ask Oscar to slow the flow of compliments, Dakota called to them across the room: “Aw, Oscar, you’ve got your own stocking?”

“Yeah, Spencer bought it for me, early gift!” It hung proudly on the bookshelf beside Spencer’s.

The table had already been set for the family. Dakota brought her own crackers, informing them that the snap had been removed. Terrible paper crown and horrendous jokes were passed around the five people before they dished up their Christmas dinner. Comically small in his hands, Oscar cradled the box of the primary coloured crayons in his palm and frisbeed the ruler with the shapes cut out over to Eliza.

The pigs in blankets were a little burnt, the nut roast barely touched, and there was so much left over that they would be eating ham and turkey sandwiches for days to come.

Spencer was so full of food and joy that it would be impossible to be carried on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He settled instead for being held in Oscar’s lap as they squished into the armchair, the rest of the family on the couch to watch the garbage Christmas specials. Dozing on his shoulder with a close-lipped smile, Oscar looked content. His yellow paper crown was crushed near the front, slipping down his left temple.

Oh, Spencer was grateful for his dedicated memory. He could match and topple all those memories of them in prison with times like these forever – and he planned on doing just that.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x oc #my writing #r: male #wc: 10k+

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years ago

Text

Ghostbusters (The Eighties Blasts Collection, Part 7.)

Description: Jim Hopper died as a hero. But with that, one certain problem rises up - who will now lead the cops of Hawkins? Hopper thought of that - he decided to write a letter, naming his niece, nineteen-year-old student of Indianapolis police academy, Y/N Hopper as a sheriff deputy in a letter. But anybody in the town doesn’t have a clue that being a cop in Hawkins is way more dangerous than it might seem.

A/N: The story is finally starting to settle down and I am into that big time! Also, I almost freaked out myself during writing this part, inspired by The Upside Down and Stranger Things from Stranger Things Soundtrack for season one by Kyle Dixon and Michael Stein.

Warnings: THE MONSTER.

Word Count: 2.7 K

Tagging: @charmed-asylum @nemodoren

Master list: The Eighties Blast Collection

The car's engine got quiet when you stopped the machine in front of the old lady's house. It didn't stench when you smelled the air with closed eyes and breathed deeply. But you turned your head to Steve.

"Do you... Smell anything?" - You asked with a frown and Steve shook his head. Then he inhaled another air to his nose and shook his head again.

"No. I don't smell a thing. That means that there's nothing to investigate and we can go back to the downtown..." - He tried to sly his way into your head, but you only checked your loaded revolver and the battery on the tight leather belt. You swooped the black turtleneck sleeves down and adjusted your uniform a bit. You got this.

"Where are you going? It's just an old house, Y/N, really, it's nothing." - Steve asked as you put your raincoat and stepped out of the old Chevy truck. When he figured out that you're not coming back, he got our too and ran after you in his jacket, staying by your side.

"That is definitely not professional, Steven." - You said annoyedly and knocked on the door.

"You're only nineteen and you're a cop. Shut up about professionality, Jesus." - Steve rolled his eyes and looked around. It was a quiet neighborhood and the houses were far away from each other - this is what small-town intimacy meant.

Nobody could say what is going on unless you were loud or liked to express yourself in other ways. So it wasn't as unusual when nobody knew what is going on in your own yard. But something wasn't adding up then. Why would anybody called the cops if they didn't know what it's up? Somebody must've seen or heard something. It couldn't just be a... Stench. Could it?

"There's something that isn't adding up to me, Steve." - You mumbled and almost jumped away when the door opened all of a sudden. But you kept your feet cold and your face serious. You were an authority after all. Steve had an answer on his tongue but decided to say anything in the end.

It was an old lady in a red jumper, with black-ish hair and glasses. And your blood froze down when you saw her. She was pale like a dead man, her eyes were weirdly stuck out and insanely blue just as her lips and teeth were in a tense, stuck smile. She looked like her face has a spasm. She looked... Weird.

There was something completely and utterly wrong about that woman. But you couldn't name what exactly it was. And you were not allowed to judge since you were a cop, someone who has to help and protect people no matter what. So her face? That wasn't a thing that should scare you away.

"Hello, Mrs. Duffer. I am a local police deputy Y/N Hopper and this is my colleague Steven Harrington. Would you mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?" - You smiled at the terrifying woman and controlled the walkie-talkie on your shoulder. You needed to tell Anderson if you would decide to investigate the house.

"Of course, come in, come in." - Her low, gnarling voice told you as she turned back to walk into her house. Her movements were weird, to say the least. She moved like a... Puppet. It wasn't natural at all. You checked Steve with a quick look before turning your walkie-talkie on.

"Anderson? This is Hopper. Do you copy?" - You muttered and turned away from the door. But the signal was just quiet like there wasn't anybody on the other side. - "Anderson? This is Hopper. Do you copy?" - Just as the first time, the wave was silent.

"Can it be the boys playing around with the signals? Could they mess it up somehow?" - You asked him quickly, but he shook his head. It was a Thursday midday - you two were at work, of at least you should be, and the boys had a holiday. Also Cerebro, some machine that Dustin had created wasn't disturbing the other radio waves normally.

"Okay. Anderson? This isn't funny. It's Hopper and I'm going in. Over." - You put the walkie on your shoulder and looked at Steve. You silently touched his shoulder and made him turn away for a moment. - "Something is... Wrong. My walkie-talkie went dead just like that. It shouldn't be a problem to reach here from the station... But... It's completely dead. I can't even hear the static, nothing. Like there are no radio waves here."

"Your walkie talkie went off on its own?" - Steve asked and touched it so he could try on his own.

"Steve Harrington here. Do you copy?" - He tried as well and stood there for a moment with his hand on his hip. He looked you in the eyes and rose his eyebrows. - "Yeah. It's out."

"Oh, thank you, mister genius." - You took it out of his hand and hooked it back on your shoulder. - "Now listen to me. You need to stay close, if anything happens, don't forget that I am the cop and that I will protect your kids, okay? Stay close, don't talk and do as I say. Nod if you understand." - You pointed your finger right up to his nose. He slowly nodded and you nodded as well.

"Alright, Mrs. Duffer. I and my colleague are now coming in." - You yelled and walked into the small hall. The house was definitely old and dusty, that lady wasn't the cleaning type. But something still felt kind of... Odd. - "Mrs. Duffer? Where are you?" - You walked into the silent, dark kitchen and looked around. Like if that weird, old lady just disappeared into the thin air. She walked out of nowhere, freaking you out.

You looked at Steve and remained silent. You were the authority, you were the cop - and for that, you needed to stay as calm as possible.

"I wanted to prepare you some cookies, do you like them? I heard that youngsters like cookies and sweets." - Her tensed face watched the both of you like she wanted to bite your head off. You just tried not to look at her and instead you looked all over the place. There were opened chemical bottles next to the sink, but the house was definitely not clean. Torn newspaper laid around the table, there was mud on the floor, almost a thick layer of it. Like if somebody dumped that place in water. The cabinets were full of broken plates... Something happened in that house.

But then you saw it. A family photo hanging next to her fridge. The woman there was relaxed, smiling, she was fine. She didn't have that weird, tensed expression, she wasn't looking like a clown. Whatever was with you at that house, it wasn't Mrs. Duffer at all.

Then you shook it off. It could just be an old photo. And people change over time. That was it.

"That's nice of you, Mrs. Duffer, but I don't want any. I just ask you a few questions and then we'll leave." - You smiled at her, still not looking to her face while standing up next to Steve. Something made you feel unsafe - and he didn't feel as well. Then it hit you. That disgusting stench. The thing the neighbors described to Anderson. You almost threw up on the spot.

"Okay... Shall we?" - You looked at her with an urge to puke into the sink and she nodded at you with her weird, puppet-like moves. She almost broke in her waist when she tried to sit down and you heard as something... Broke inside of her.

This was your first time doing something serious as a cop and Anderson sent you to some freak house. Great.

"So, have you noticed something weird in your neighborhood?" - You took out the notepad out of your back pocket and clicked your pen, smiling sadly while you took a deep breath in with your mouth. Steve checked you with his look and leaned his ass into the counter behind him.

"No. Should I, dear?" - She looked at you with those crazy eyes and you nodded, writing something down and showed it to Steve while you glanced over the lady. He read it in the most secret way he was capable of.

'CHECK THE FAMILY PHOTO AND TELL ME IF YOU THINK THAT SOMETHING IS GOING ON'. Steve nodded almost invisibly and went to check the photo out.

"No disappearing food, maybe chemicals? A strong stench? You couldn't smell it?" - You asked, eyeing Steve's back. Mrs. Duffer was, thanks to god, watching you with her bestial and hungry eyes. You felt like a slice of fucking grilled pork.

“Oh, I didn't, darling.” - The old lady smiled at you again, showing you her mouth of fake teeth. You didn't have anything against that - just their condition was scaring you like hell. They were yellow and bloody. At that moment, Steve gave you a slight shook of his head, which was just the signal you needed - just to be interrupted by a creaking on the attic.

And it wasn't any creaking which could be just dismissed like that. It was so loud that you almost jumped on the spot. You shot your look there, looking at the old lady with a question.

“What was that, do you keep some... Animals out there?” - You asked in a breathy voice. Mrs. Duffer just laughed it off. At that moment, your brain was completely empty. What should you think about that lady? She looked like she crawled right out of Steven King’s novel, her house was looking like if a fucking hurricane stormed through the place and a strong stench could be smelled all over the place. Plus that loud creaking. You were on thin ice - this was your first intervention ever.

You tried your best to stay professional, but it was bringing you just chills.

“Oh no, sweetheart, I have just ghosts out there.” - She laughed as if it was a joke, but it sent chills down on your spine. It sounded like squeaking in your ears.

“Can we have a look there?” - Steve asked out of blue. You shot a look at him and he carefully rose his fingers to calm you down. You subconsciously touched the revolver on your belt. - “You know... Investigation purposes. We will just have a short look and then we will leave. Alright?” - Steve said in a calm, slow tone. He was actually pretty good at this, you needed to say. He was humble and charismatic, and that actually calmed you down.

“I mean, if you need to, darlings, I will let you look there. You are not going to find anything there anyway, I tell you that.” - She laughed again and then reached her palm for Steve to help her stand up. He did and he was really gentle with her. Steve couldn't tell you, but he felt how ice-cold and sticky her skin was, which actually scared him. Old people were usually nicely dry if you know what Steve had on his mind.

She led you to the ladder which was leading into the attic and said that Steve can open it up. The stench that came out of that place almost made you faint. You gagged in your own mouth a bit, turning away from that place.

“Go on, go on, I will wait here.” - She said quickly, throwing her hand in the direction of the attic. Steve entered first, giving you his hand to hold on it as you climbed the stairs up. And men, something definitely rotted there. At first, you had the feeling that the old lady maybe went mad and she was killing animals.

“Jesus, can you smell that?” - Steve turned his head at you and tried to cover your nose with your sleeve, so you didn't have to smell that.

“Yeah. Yeah. Try to search for the source. If she’s truly abusing animals as I think, there must be some rotten corpse.” - You reached your hand to lighten up your surroundings. There were only two small bulbs for a huge attic, so you couldn't see shit precisely; at least you got your flashlight prepared.

There were a ton of old things covered under sheets - old furniture, paintings, some boxes with clothes, old cages for small animals. You stopped for a minute at those. To your bad luck, it could be seen just with the eye that those cages weren't used in ages. They were old, rusted, the metal was basically crumbling under your fingertips.

“You got something over there?” - You stood up, turning your flashlight at Steve.

“I can't really see for... Shit, was is that? Ew!” - He shouted loudly. You slowly walked across the huge attic to him, looking at weird, brown jello on the ground. Late you realized you were staying in a track of blood. But it wasn't normal blood there was something abnormal about it. Before you could inspect that, you heard creaking on the other side of the attic. But before you could catch glimpse of anything, there were only sheets moving caused by the wave of air something created. Steve rushed to the attic stairs while you followed the trail through countless rows of boxes.

“Y/N, where is that old lady?” - Steve shouted to the back so you could hear him, but his question was abrupted by your screaming, coming from the depths of your lungs.

Before you could stop yourself, you threw up to your right side. There was a rotten, staggered body laying down on the ground - parts of it were even missing. Clearly, you could still say that it was an old lady before that - the short curls, eyes, lips. Whatever spoke with you downstairs, it wasn't Mrs. Duffer. Because you were looking at her corpse. You were too shocked to even move or make a single sound, your eyes were glimpsing at the body with its left forearms torn away just as her bitten leg and stomach and scratched neck.

Whatever killed her, it was brutal and animalistic, yet it had found the decency to hide that body. It was showing some kind of... Intelligence.

You didn't even notice that Steve was standing beside you, looking at the corpse. A creaking made you look from it again. You wanted to point your flashlight at it, bit stopped working. Just like the bulbs. You could only see its silhouette - a slim, almost sinewy pale body resembling a human one, standing on two legs with something that looked like a head.

“Oh no, no, no...” - You could hear Steve whispering, but you couldn't tear your look away from that thing. It was moving slowly and its bones were cracking inside of it. It was walking on two feet like a normal human being, yet those moves were uncoordinated and puppet-like. You took the revolver out, ready to shoot at it any minute.

“Stop, or I will be forced to shoot you.” - You yelled at it with a high-pitched tone. But it didn't stop. It only hissed back at you as a form of an answer. But then it spoke to you in the exact same voice you heard downstairs.

“There is no need for that, honey.” - It said and hit your palm, so you let your revolver fall down. Before Steve or you could fo literally anything to stop it, it caught your forearm in its limb and held it so tightly that it almost crushed your bones. It opened up its head like a flower, showing you countless rows of sharp teeth that could tear your hand away just like that.

Steve was moving around you, screaming at you and maybe even at the creature, but you were paralyzed by fear.

The creature in front of you was the Demogorgon.

#the upside down #stranger things by kyle dixon & michael stein #stranger things #stranger things netflix #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x hopper!reader #jim hopper #the demogorgon #ah shit #here we go again

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mingiswow · 5 years ago

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Soulmate!au Series | Changkyun

Pairing: Changkyun x reader

Summary: Not everyone had the same soulmate mark and that made even harder for you to find yours, especially when there was no visible mark on your body. But a boring class could change things.

Genre: fluff - loads of it

Words: +1.5 k

a/n: So, it’s finally over! The last part of the Soulmate Series is finally up and I’m so proud I finished. Thank you all who read it. Hope you guys enjoy Kyun’s and love you 💖

You had seen everyone around you to fall in love, meet their soulmates, have names or words tattooed on their body, drawings adorning their skin, having a missing sense, so many ways to meet their soulmate, but yours wasn’t there. At least not visible.

The class was boring as you could think, your eyes barely kept open, the battery of your phone died and your friend missed the class. You had absolutely nothing to do and the video your teacher insisted on putting was even as boring as the man’s voice.

You grabbed the pen by your side and started to doodle on your notebook, but some freckles in your arm grabbed your attention, making you start drawing onto the skin, making little smiley faces, constellations, and doodles.

You kept doing that until the signal played, warning you and your classmates that the class was over. “Thank God” you thought when leaving the classroom, going straight to the small cafe-library near the uni so you could focus on your actual study, not that bullshit you were never going to use anyway.

The tables were empty due to the time, it was midday, but you weren’t hungry to get an actual lunch. You asked for your classic black coffee and sat on the table, spreading your books, notebooks, and pens, getting ready to study the effects of “screens” on kids' behavior.

When you stretched your arm to grab a pink pen that rolled away, you noticed that the drawings from before in your arms were gone and a simple phrase was marked in black.

Hey, soulmate

Your eyes blinked a few times before touching the skin, the color fading until was gone. You grabbed the pink pen in your hand and wrote.

Who are you?

You watched the words being sucked by your skin and couldn’t help but let a gasp out of your mouth. What was going on? You noticed letters starting to appear in your skin again.

I’m your soulmate. Everything we put on our skin appears on the other.

The words faded again but soon other ones appeared.

You should thank me for not doing the tattoo I wanted

You couldn’t help but chuckle and, somehow, you could feel them smiling to their arm. A feeling of warmth took your body, the idea of actually having a soulmate made your day happier and more exciting. How does this person looked like? Were they pretty? Tall? Short? Where they come from? You spent minutes thinking about it, not realizing when new words appeared in your forearm.

How’s my soulmate's name?

You smiled, liking the idea of the person calling you their soulmate, it was recomforting.

Y/N. How’s yours?

Changkyun. And I like the pink pen you’re using.

How do you know I’m using a pink pen?

The words faded and some green ones started to appear, the line thicker, almost like it was written with kids’ markers

Because the words appear in pink on my skin.

That’s so crazy and cool.

I know. I thought that I’d never meet you.

You blushed at his words. The idea of talking to him through your arms almost felt like talking through phone messages, the difference was you didn’t know how he looked like.

Me too. Why we never drew on our skins before? I never thought of that.

The laugh that left your mouth was loud and almost exaggerated but you were nervous, anxious with the whole situation.

My mom never allowed me because the ink was bad for the skin.

And you behaved?

Yes ???? And why didn't you draw on yours?

Never felt the need I guess, never thought of that

Fair enough

You two spent the whole afternoon speaking to each other, your study plans long gone with the first words that faded from your skin. Talking to Changkyun was comforting, warm and fun, he was a funny person and you guys clicked right away - which made you really happy because you always wondered what would happen if you and your soulmate didn’t match and actually hated each other.

Wanna meet sometime soon?

The words appeared after you stopped talking about your favorite foods. The thump in your heart could be heard by the people in the tables by your side, which now were filled with mostly students and couples.

Yes. Tell me when and where

Are you free friday night? I know a Thai restaurant that is delicious and I think you’d love.

Ok. Friday night.

See you there at 8.

See you too, Kyunnie

Can’t wait to meet you for real

You giggled like a little girl and nodded, even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

Me too

Bye, soulmate

You hugged your arm, almost feeling like you could hug him. Nothing in the world could describe the feeling you were having right then. The smile so big it couldn’t fit your face.

The days couldn’t pass slower, even with you constantly talking with Changkyun. You guys even joked about not having anything to talk about when you meet, but you two couldn’t help, the first thing that you’d do was give him good morning and the last one give him good night. It was like you two met each other for ages, even if it was for a couple of days.

When friday finally arrived, your stomach was aching from anxiety, your head dizzy from nervousness, legs shaking. You felt like you were about to have a meltdown.

It took you almost three hours to get ready, your mind spacing out too often thinking about Kyun and all the things you two talked about, how well you two got along. You were so happy your soulmate was someone like him, funny, smart, kind, sweet and so many things. But to say you were also very nervous to finally meet him face to face was almost a joke.

A tingling sensation appeared in your arm and you looked down just to see a cute smiley face drawn on it and soon disappear a few seconds after.

I’m at your door, babe.

Your heart skipped several beats when you read the sentence.

You didn’t even reply to him, getting your purse and, literally, ran out of your apartment. There was no time for the elevator either, practically jumping down the stairs to get as faster as possible to the front door.

When your eyes met the man in front of you, nothing could describe the smile that grew on your lips and the heartwarming feeling that took over your body.

“Hi” his voice danced its way to your ears and you just wished you could hear him talk forever. His voice was deep, velvety, soothing, felt like a warm day of summer in the park.

Changkyun had the brightest smile on his lips, his teeth showing, his eyes shut close. His heart was pounding on his chest, nothing could describe what he was feeling, you were much more he expected.

“Hi” you finally spoke, taking him out of his daydream, and running to him, jumping into his arms, wrapping the man into a tight hug. “You don’t know long I’ve waited to do this” your voice sounded muffled by the skin of his neck, your face hidden in the crook of it, scenting his smell and keeping it in your memory.

“Me too, babe” his voice so close to your ears and the hot breath leaving his mouth and gently touching your neck made shivers ran down your whole body. “I couldn’t wait to meet you, to meet my soulmate” you finally left his neck and looked to his eyes, they were like constellations shining in his beautiful brown orbs. “I brought you something” Changkyun smiled and took a little red box out of his jacket, handing it to you.

“You didn’t have to” the rush of blood tinting your cheeks pink. “Thank you, Kyun” the man could swear he’d die when you called him by the nickname and he decided that his name leaving your lips was his favorite thing in the world.

You opened the box and found two little red rings, thin as a thread and shiny as stars. On top of them there was a smiley face.

“It means the red string of destiny with the first doodle you did in your arm” he explained to you, his hands nervously fidgeting behind his back. “I hope you like it” you looked back to the man.

“I… I loved, Kyun. They’re gorgeous” you both smiled, genuine happiness. “Can you… Can you put it to me?” you shyly asked and he nodded, taking the ring from the box and gently slipping to your finger. Changkyun left a little kiss on top of it, making you giggle. You did the same to his one.

“You are mine now, forever” he said as he held your hand.

“And always” you smiled to him and did what you had been dreaming of doing, kissed him. The first of so many.

Requests are open

Masterlist

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killjoy-fool · 5 years ago

Text

4/7

His legs could barely support his little body as it crumpled to the floor sobbing. His body felt hot. It burned. The light was so bright it all blurred together. He screamed.

He gasped as he opened his eyes. Throat tight, chest-thumping, he straightened his back in his seat for a moment before curling forward, shoes sliding out as elbows resting on knees.

Nightmares weren’t surprising. He was, after all returning to the same place that caused them. He let out a breath feeling pathetic for the being still so shaken. Minato took the time to calm his nerves. The only sound, the quiet humming of the electricity coming from the rails.

A now steady hand ran through his dark blue hair before he lifted his back up in his seat, sliding back so that only the top of his back rested against the seats. The car was empty, no one else seemed to be taking such a late ride to the city. At least not in his area. Just him and his reflection on the window opposite of himself. Not that it had been his idea to travel so late. The transfer document was for immediate action. He had assumed he would be schooling where he was before more inland. It was his birthday when he was informed, when he told all the faces he would no doubt forget overtime. The next day he packed and handled all the necessary items of the checklist of upping his life and threw away the cards he was given after reading them. It was something he had grown accustomed to. There was no place for him there. It was foolish to assume otherwise.

He grew tired of the silence’s weight and grabbed his earphones from his collar and slid them over his ears. He slept enough, the battery of his MP3 player would last until he arrived.

The Moon was high in the heavens, granting pale luminosity to the lands of a rising sun. Adjusting his shoulder as he began to walk, his bag slid under his arm and he worked on fishing out the map he had from his bag. The loud bass blaring into his ears drowned out the many people interacting as he left the station. He lifted the paper between his hands and turned his eyes down, cutting himself off completely from the life around him. All that mattered was his destination. Moving up his arm he bent his wrist so that his watch was visible from under his sleeve.

[11:59]

He looked back to the map and felt a small knot form in his stomach but remained calm. The small tension of anxiety perfectly contained in the pressure of his body. Just as his feet stopped out in front of the station the music in his ears suddenly went quiet.

The lights dimmed until extinguished utterly along with the fading electronics. His vision darkened as his eyes adjusted to the lower light. The hairs on the back on his neck stood as if pulled by the devil himself before he turned to the sky to look back at the Eye that was an Emerald Full Moon.

It was his eternal companion. A life that only he knew he lived. A nightmare come true. A Hell come to earth. Water ran red and thick as blood, technology ceased functionality, and more hauntingly of all, the living beings around him would become an upright effigy, a coffin. A symbol of death.

And yet... it had just become another part of his life over the years. He tried his best to avoid it with sleep as much as he could but situations like this were inevitable at some point.

Turning his head down the sidewalk lined with red and coffins he took a deep breath and began to walk. The dorm wasn’t long from the station at least.

III

Minato stood frozen on his feet outside the door. He blinked repeatedly but it didn’t change the fact there was unmistakably the soft glow of a lamp coming from the window of the student dormitory. In all the years he had been experiencing this phenomenon, no form of technology or electric-powered item ever retained it’s function come the Green Moon. And yet, here the light was. Brushing against his skin as he slowly reached for the door and pulled it open.

There was light!

Two lamps on either side of the main entryway shone with bright intensity. A clear contrast to the darkness he walked out from. He looked around to the empty room unsure of what to make of this before he reached up and pulled down his headphones finally.

“You’re late.”

Nearly jumping Minato turned his head towards the front desk to the boy that called out to him.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you.”

Minato’s brow furrowed as he turned the rest of his body. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to.” He said quietly, staring at the boy, just as the boy was gazing back intently at him. Not one muscle moved to betray that. Then a snap and suddenly, as if just opening his eyes, the boy was gone.

“Now, If you want to proceed,”

Minato spun his head forward and took a step back in apprehension as the boy stood plainly right in front of him. “Wha-!”

“Please sign your full name there.”

“And what exactly am I signing?” He spat out quickly, too taken by surprise to react otherwise.

“A contract. An oath that you’ll take for responsibility for your choices. You know, the usual stuff.” He said

Minato didn’t move immediately, keeping his eyes on the boy for a moment before he walked to the countertop. He leaned over the document reading and assessing it before looking back to the boy and then picking up the pen to write his signature. When he finished, he moved his hand away to check it over once more.

“No one can escape time.”

Minato looked down and felt himself become dumbstruck as the document that was just placed before him vanished. He turned quickly as the boy closed the folder.

“It delivers us all to the same end.”

He lifted the folder half concealing his face, showing prominently the folder which now held Minato’s signature.

“You can’t just plug your ears and cover your eyes.”

The lights began to dim as the folder vanished like a card in a magician's hand. The boy reached his hand outwards towards Minato as the fading light made the shadows race across his pale skin until it swallowed him completely. And he was gone. As if swallowed whole by the darkness.

“And so it begins...”

Minato stood alone in the dark entryway to the dorm. The sight he had expected to find when he originally arrived. And yet... here he was. Shaking. Questioning. His bag fell from his shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud.

“Who’s there!?”

This did make him jump with the volume and intensity it was demanded. He turned to face a girl. A student? Her hair was light, even in the dark it stood out and the dim light from the moon betrayed her pink cardigan. He felt his brow furrow deeper as he gazed back. Her breathing quickly became uneven. And he quickly saw why. The slow movement towards her thigh. The soft shimmer of metal. A gun?!

But just as he saw it, she noticed he noticed which he knew was going to push her into a panicked action “Wa-”

“Takeba wait!”

The room stilled as both parties gazed at the newcomer. Another girl. Longer darker hair. It was red he quickly realized as the lights flickered back on suddenly and the music from his headphones once more began to blare against his chest.

That in combination with the third party quickly deescalated the situation.

She stepped forward, heels klunking against the wood floor. “I didn’t think you would arrive so late.”

“Neither did I.” Minato answered quietly looking between the two girls for answers.

“My name is Kirijo Mitsuru. I’m one of the students who live in this dorm.”

Puzzled by that statement Minato didn’t answer immediately.

“...Who’s he?” the first girl asked, leaning closer to the other. Minato felt it was from immediate distrust.

“He’s a transfer student, Arisato Minato.” She answered simply. “He was assigned here last minute. But he’ll eventually be moved to a room in the boys’ dorm.”

“...Is it okay for him to be here?” She asked not hiding her apprehension. He noted.

Yet Kirijo let out a sigh. “I guess we’ll see...”

Quickly feeling uncomfortable Minato shuffled on his feet, grabbed his bag from the floor and slid his hands into his pockets.

“This is Takeba Yukari.” She then continued. “She’ll be in the same year as you this spring.”

Minato looked back to the gun and then the girl as she quietly greeted him. “...Hey”

No doubt noticing his glances now she spoke fast as if thinking quickly. “Huh? Oh, this... well it’s sort of like a hobby. Well, not a hobby but more like...-”

Jumping back into the conversation Kirijo continued for her. “You know how it is these days. It’s for self-defense. Don’t worry though, it’s not a real gun of course.” she said with a smile, an attempt to relieve the tension of the subject. “But it’s getting late. You should get some rest. Your room is on the second floor at the end of the hallway. Your other belongings were already dropped off.” Then she turned his head back to Takeba who, almost as if remembering her line, continued: “Oh... well I’ll show you the way.”

The dorm was quiet. Not unusual for this time of night but with how this night has been so far. He didn’t like it. He followed Takeba quietly, wondering what he got himself into. He just showed up and he was already hit with a barrage of surprises and questions.

She stopped in front of the door, turning to him and waving towards it as if presenting a prize. “This is it! Pretty easy to remember right? Just don’t forget your key or Kirijo Senpai will never let you hear the end of it. So any questions?”

Minato looked to the girl from the door as she finished speaking. “There was a boy before... does he live here too?”

The puzzlement on her face told him the answer before she even spoke. “What kid?” She continued to look at him with a distant glare of uncertainty. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about but there’s no kid here.”

“Right...” He responded before reaching for the knob.

“Can I ask you something?”

He stopped and turned his head to the side to hear her. “On your way here from the station was... was everything okay?”

After a moment he answered. “Yeah.” Then he began to twist the knob. He felt her shake her head. “Nevermind. You look like you’re alright.”

The door slightly ajar now he stopped and looked at her.

“Well, I’d better get going. We’ll talk later okay?” And she began to walk off back down the hallway. He watched for a second and then entered his empty room. He closed the door behind him and let his bag fall from his shoulder.

The blinds were all shut, the bed was empty and all the electronics were unplugged. It was a familiar environment.

Walking over to the mattress he sat himself down, listening to the music ebb out from where his headphones hung around his neck. Then with a heavy breath, he let his body fall backward onto the cushion.

#drabble #headcanon #but also canon #THIS IS LOOOOOONG

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sidereal-fantasies · 6 years ago

Text

Shadow’s Whisper Prologue [Monsta X]

Mini Series!

Genre: Horror, Angst

WARNING(S): The prologue does not contain anything triggering like death, violence, or gore, but like always, if there is something that triggered you, please let me know so that I can place it here.

Playlist?: soon

The gentle pitter-patter of the night’s rain soon turned into a steady downpour accompanied by the booming claps of thunder and flashes of lightning. Your flashlight had ceased to work a while ago which left you to explore without a comforting source of light to guide you in your wary path through the house.

Sleep-deprived eyes scanned the obscure details of the looming hallways as your feet padded softly down the tile floor. Shadows crept and scurried across your barely focused field of vision, either giving your heart a jolt or proving that your mind was slow to wake up as well. You gave the flashlight in your hands a few quick taps in attempt to get it to function once more, but to no avail, you remained in the eerie darkness of your house.

“This is why I should have listened to mom and bought some candles,” you muttered as you pulled your jacket tighter around you.

Chills ran down your spine as a loud creek sounded behind you. Shutting your eyes tightly, you mumbled a few wishes before you whipped your head around only to be greeted by nothing. Furrowing your eyebrows, you continued down the long corridor, running you fingertips against the wall in hopes to remind yourself where you are in this large house.

“If you’re some kind of intruder, there’s really nothing to steal here!” You called out. Except my life, I guess, you thought.

Crreeaak!

You froze. A bitter coldness graced your arms, triggering goosebumps all over as you tried to calm yourself. It sounded much closer to you this time, but looking over your shoulder suddenly felt like a bad idea. Thunder cracked and lightning flashed, illuminating the hallway for a split second. Out of the corner of your eye, a figure darted off, leaving your now terrified mind in a state of infinite doubts and troubles about the pending future.

“I’m tired. That’s it. I’m imagining these things or I’m just in a bad nightmare,” you mumbled to yourself. Either way, I’ll have to go down into the kitchen to grab some extra batteries.

At the corner of the hallway, you stopped and leaned out, looking down one way, and then the other into the unknown abyss of your house. You frowned slightly, a sudden chill in the air nipping at your exposed skin as you decided to head right. It was useless to try to spot anything unusual lurking in the shadows. Yet, with your mind on edge, it would be the only way to ease your nerves. Unfortunately, you had to settle with the disquieted murkiness.

Boom!

Another wave of thunder echoed as lightning lit up the hallway soon afterwards. It only took a second for you to pause once more, however, wide-eyed and blood running cold. The familiar thump, thump, thump of your heart pounded in your ears as your throat constricted. Your hands, coated in sweat yet ice cold to the touch, fumbled with the flashlight before you began to tap it once more in a desperate hope to calm your mind. Curses and mutters, sharp and curt, dropped like bullets as the flashlight remained dead for a few more moments. Miraculously, the flashlight finally stuttered before casting a dim light bright enough to reach far down the hallway. At the end stood a man, hair dark as the ink dipped in by calligraphy pens, eyes dripping in the moon’s starless tears. Nothing suggested he was outside for his clothes, ripped black jeans and a beat-up white hoodie, were dry as a bone.

You gasped as he swayed slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He stood there, gaze boring into your now flushed figure, before he made his way down the staircase. No sound. No creak. Just like that...

... he simply vanished.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and attempted to wipe off the beads of sweat that formed at your hairline. Your shaky hand held up the flashlight and looked for the man again. Without any sign of him, a groan escaped your lips as you realized the staircase was the only way to the kitchen. The mysterious man had gone down those steps without a word uttered to her.

You readjusted your grip on the flashlight and began to make your way towards the staircase. Once there, you checked over your shoulder before you pointed the flashlight over the railing.

And there he was, staring straight back up for only a split second before he made his way in the direction of the kitchen. Once again, he didn’t make any move against you.

“Look, this- this isn’t funny! I’ll call the police in the morning!” You called out.

Yet no sound answered you back nor was there any sign of the raven-haired male that passed by. Your shoulders slumped as you debated heading on back to bed. However, you weren’t ready to risk another moment where the flashlight would stop working on you. With that thought in mind, you scurried down the steps before making a quick jog over to the kitchen.

Another round of thunder and lightning shook the house. Shadows raced and danced from corner to corner as the familiar chill settled in. You made your way over to one of the cabinets and opened it just as your flashlight began to flicker. You stopped moving for a second and glanced down at the flashlight as the flickering became more intense. Heartbeat matching the wild flickering, your hand searched and searched for the spare batteries, knocking over plastic cups and bumping into odd trinkets on the way to your only source of new light.

Click!

The flashlight finally given in just as your hand landed on the spare batteries. Your head spun in multiple directions, eyes trying to adjust to the deep abyss of your house. The rain had only lighten up just a bit, but kept it’s steady beat against your windows.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you unscrewed the bottom of flashlight as quickly as possible. The old batteries fell with a large clatter, bouncing on the floor and scaring your already adrenaline-filled heart. You sucked in a deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment, trembling hands calming down as you moved to place the new batteries in. Once in and the bottom snapped back on, you flipped the switch on the flashlight and peered around for the escaped batteries.

“What the hell...”

Instead of the two measly akaline-powered contraptions, an unsual sight caught your attention. There on the ground lied a computer’s hard-drive. Picking it up, you examined it for a few moments before turning it over in you free hand. Scribbles lied across the top of it in black lettering.

“Are you there?”

Continue to download?

#monsta x #monsta x au #monsta x headcanons #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagines #monsta x fanfic #monsta x ghost #kpop #kpop headcanons #kpop scenarios #kpop au #kpop imagines

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tang-wei · 6 years ago

Text

Ichinose Guren’s World Resurrection at 19 Volume 1 Chapter 2 Part 3 English Translation~

Title: The survivors (part 3)

Translator: @tang-wei

Raws: My own copy of the LN

The masterpost for the whole story so far, and the translation schedule that I will try really hard to follow! (recently updated)

T/N: College applications area bitch, sorry for the delay /lies down

From what it was taught, vampires existed, and they are abnormally strong, so 『One should not approach even if one sees it』,『One must not approach』was what he had learned, but he thought that was just a story.

But, the vampire had attacked the girl.

The girl seemed to be alive but she could not move anymore.

"Are you dead?"

"............"

"Well whatever. Heh!"

And he turned to speak to someone behind.

"Yes."

And a man of similar dress came in. It was a white uniform. Vampire clothes.

"It’s still alive. Take it as livestock."

"Did you drink the blood?"

“You can have some. Keep it secret from Lucal-sama.”

“If you drink any more from this one, it will die. I drank from a few children on the way here.”

“Our unit did not kill any, and the quota is met. We can take this child alive.”

They both picked up the girl and left.

That's it.

Furthermore, as the time on the surveillance cameras advanced, they saw themselves enter the convenience store ─

The two of them stopped the recording.

"............"

Both of them were silent for a while.

Because they understood the reason that there were no children.

The vampires are capturing children as livestock. The reason is because a lot of the human beings have died. All the adults over the age of 14 have died.

It was because they were 11 years old that they survived.

All the adults died.

And the vampires are capturing the children.

Monster-like white insects that they did not know existed are attacking the remaining children.

What is that? He did not know how things arrived to become as such.

"... ... they said something about destruction"

Narumi said, and Shuusaku nodded.

“ So"

"What do you think?"

"I don’t know. But I think the situation is bad."

"Are all the adults at home dead?"

"............"

Shuusaku looked over. His expression showed that he did not want to give up.

It was the same for Narumi. The sorcerers of 『Mikado no Tuskki』 were smart. Always strong, forging their lives and living in discipline.

They may have predicted that something like that would happen.

That means,

"............"

Narumi thought with his arms folded. He watched, thinking,the footage of them walking into the convenience store.

He had a frightened expression on his face.

It was an expression was not calm at all. Thinking that he would be stronger if he were calm. A follower of 『Mikado no Tsukki』. As a sorcerer that serves Guren-sama, he had to be strong.

"............"

He thought back.

To the conversation that happened before he decided to go to the mountains. A conversation with his father. He was motivated after meeting Guren-sama and wanted to train more than before.

Father seemed to be glad about it. Or he had thought about this a little before. So, he said.

Then, how about staying in the mountain for a while? Yeah ? As you continue to aim high, you will need to face challenges by yourself. I will need some time to change the training curriculum, Take Shuusaku and go to the mountains.

He thought that it was a good idea.

So he left immediately.

Five days.

In the meantime, he did not know what would happen, what his father knew, maybe he did not know it, but if he knew, he sent them to escape to the mountain─

His thoughts stopped here, and Shuusaku said.

“The croquettes my mother makes. Was it tasty? She asks. Even though she doesn’t like cooking, she always makes them when she returns. Even though she’s not expected to return yet, she turned up so suddenly.”

It sounded like it was the last time they were going to see each other, so she made croquettes.

Then, was it Father or Shien that caused this?

Or, have they already anticipated this, and let the children escape to avoid the plan.

Anyways, it seems like Father and Shien have anticipated this.

Narumi said.

"If we return home we might find something."

"Let's go home."

"But we can’t go back directly."

"I know."

There were a lot of vampires outside.

There were also mysterious monsters.

The monsters also moved fast. They understood that. It was not an opponent that they could face.

The vampires would kill them instantly if they don’t do anything.

And they would have to move stealthily and hide as they move.

Carefully keeping their breaths as silent as possible, moving towards home.

"It will take a few days"

Narumi said, as Shuusaku took out the clothes that were in the backpack.

"We need to find food too.”

“Yep.”

"If all the adults are dead, but the children are still hidden and left behind, we can go to a convenience store or a supermarket. We can gather all the necessary things."

Even so, Narumi also took out the clothes from the backpack and threw them aside.

"I think it will take six days to get home."

By running, it’s only half a day away. But it takes about 6 days if one goes cautiously.

Shuusaku nodded and started writing something with a pen on the notepad that was close at hand.

“8 days worth of supplies. Food, batteries, water ─”

“Just tell me what you need.”

Narumi said, leaving the staff room. He went outside the counter. He was very cautious, looking for sign of the enemies.

But he did not know if that held any meaning. If there are enemies, the other side is stronger than them.

If they are noticed, it’s the end.

That;’s why they move cautiously.

He left the convenience store.

Just outside, there was the corpse of the monster.

Looking at it,

"......What is that?"

Narumi said.

He did not know if I can approached the corpse. It may be a source of the virus infection.

But still, he approached a little closer.

And again said.

"What's with that"

"Makoto."

A voice came from behind. Shuusaku also came out of the convenience store. He grasped Narumi’s arm and do not let him go further.

Shuusaku said.

"Let's go home, everyone's waiting"

◆

Escaping from the vampires was easy.

The vampires were projecting their voices with loudspeakers to talk about 『protection』 and draw the children to them. Even if he heard that sound from far away, they moved further away.

Or, they escaped to the rooftops of buildings.

The vampires were not so enthusiastic in chasing and capturing children, but to take away the gathered kids to the truck and take them away as livestock.

No, the children who were more likely to be caught were more miserable.

Other than the vampires, a white monster is wandering around and persistently chasing and killing the human kids.

The children cry, scream and escape, but they are killed by the monster.

Children who knew they would die when approaching the monster hid, but their water and food are insufficient. They can’t go out to get them, as the monsters are outside.

Even Narumi was scared. The situation with the young children was already very deliberating. Although he gave them water and food, in the end, he abandoned them as he head home.

It was painful to abandon them.

Because he knew that every child would die if he left them.

Everyone is ordinary. They were all untrained.

A six year old girl cried with a baby beside her mother's body. Narumi was desperately asked to help , but he could not. If he had to move with a baby, they would attract monsters more easily. Then they will all be killed.

So he encouraged her to be captured by a vampire. He did not know what will happen after that─ living as a livestock may have been despair far beyond imagination, but it’s better than dying right now.

Because it's all over when you die.

They are all still children. If they can endure now, there is still a future for them

"............"

The girl and the baby was caught by a vampire in front of Narumi.

During the movement ─ Narumi ran into a group of 3 children about the same age as he was, who protected the younger children.

Kagiyama Taro.

Inoue Rika.

Fuji Yayoi.

These were the name of the 3 people.

They gathered the surviving children, hid themselves and were giving food.

If he had met these three children before, maybe he did not have to hand the baby and the girl to the vampire.

But if he left them alone, these three people could have been dead, the girl and the baby would have died, so maybe he should have let them be caught by the vampires.

Narumi and Shuusaku met these three people - and after moving with them for a while,

"We’re going to somewhere where adults may have survived, and we’re going to return to help"

It was promised.

Rika Inoue said,

"You better! You better!"

She sounded angry.

Everyone looked like they were about to cry.

Of course.

Even he who had been trained was about to cry too.

Narumi answered that he promised to come back to this place.

He did not know whether he could keep that promise or not.

But this time they could move faster.

It is because he knew how to proceed without running into a vampire or a monster as they move.

Four days later.

At last they arrived home.

"............"

The house was ruined.

He could see that the adults did not die due to the virus.

Clearly, due to a battle, everyone had died.

There are a lot of people wearing different combat clothes, not just the battle attire of 『Mikado no Tsukki』 , and they had died with sword cuts to their necks or torsos.

Shuusaku said, looking at the scene.

"This is the battle uniform of 『Mikado no Oni』"

Battle garment of 『Mikado no Oni』 led by Hiiragi family. The house seemed to have been attacked by a unit from 『Mikado no Oni』.

After all, war was happening.

"Well, was the virus set off during the fight?Did Father and Shien knew that this war would happen?"

However, Shuusaku was not here to hear him.

He continued ahead.

Inside the house.

Shuusaku’s home was a Japanese-styled building that was large enough to be called a mansion.

They went in.

There was no Shien. Battle was done everywhere in the house, there was no sign of Shien. The could not find a corpse. Of course, the mansion was overflowing with a tremendous number of dead bodies, so she may be under it.

Shuusaku said in a small voice,

"Mother."

He heard him saying.

But it was a really small voice. If he used a louder voice, if there were still enemies here, they would be informed of his location.

Narumi touched Shuusaku back. There he was.

"Sorry. I’m okay."

Although he said it, Narumi smiled thinly,

"I’m not okay though,"

"... ... Eh ... Should I comfort you back?"

"Yup"

And Shuusaku also stroke Narumi’s back.

With corpses were overflowing both inside and outside the house, they were truly the only two alive.

Narumi says.

"Shien isn’t here."

"There are too many corpses."

But Narumi looked over, into the bloody living room. They played in here often. There was a kind maid who did not get angry at them for playing. The maid’s corpse was there.

"............"

Narumi saw it.

And that, next to the maid.

He found footprints of dried blood on the tatami.

Is it a footprint after the virus had happened? Or is it a footprint after the fighting but before the virus?

He grasped the arm of Shuusaku and point to the footprint.

Shuusaku also looked over,

"Ah."

He said. As he said that, he crouched beside the footprints.

"The footprints are big, they are the footprints of adults"

"A vampire?"

As Narumi says, Shuusaku looked up and said,

"There aren’t any children in the house. If I were a vampire I wouldn’t bother coming here."

Agreed. The vampires had no motivation to protect others.

Then,

"What is this footprint?"

As Narumi said, Shuusaku replied,

"It may be from the battle"

However, they thought differently.

Narumi said.

"But if not ......."

"............"

"If footprints are from after the virus, there are living adults."

The two traced the footprints.

The trace of blood and foot prints disappeared along the way, but they understood where the footsteps are going.

Towards Narumi’s house.

◆

Narumi's house was in the same situation as Shuusaku’s.

Due to intense battle, the house was half-ruined.

Half of the roof was destroyed as if missiles were being shot.

There are only dead bodies in the house.

Uniforms of 『Mikado no Oni』

Uniforms of 『Mikado no Tsukki』

So Narumi noticed it.

"Neh, Shuusaku, have you noticed?"

Shuusaku nodded.

"Yeah I did."

"What did you notice?"

"Well it’s as Makoto says."

“I might be wrong. You say it.”

Shuusaku said.

"There is no corpse without severe injury, perhaps the dead bodies here were not caused by the virus at all."

In other words, it means that everyone had died during the fight.

"Is neither Father nor Shien alive?"

Saying that, Shuusaku sucked in a breath of air quickly.

There is hope. There is still hope.

Narumi headed to his father's study. The room had a desk and a bookshelf. There are books on difficult magic ceremonies and books for managing organizations on the bookshelves.

Among those books, there were favorite books that Father has read over and over, and he took them out. Flipping through pages. Then he threw it onto the floor.

He pick up the book that his father told him to read.Flipping through pages. Then he threw it onto the floor.

Then he forcibly broke open the locked drawer at the desk. There were some of documents and photos of Mother who died when Narumi was three years old.

To be honest, Narumi himself did not know much about his mother, but his father repeatedly taught him that she was a strong magician. She was as strong as Shien. So Narumi also had much magical potential in him.

Mother seemed to have died doing her duty.

That was what he heard.

Shuusaku said from behind.

"Makoto. What are you looking for?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think there is some material that will tell you what happened?"

“Hm─. Probably, I think.”

“I see.”

"If something happened, my father said that he would leave a letter in one of his favorite books"

Besides, Shuusaku looked down at the book thrown away on the floor,

“Not there?”

“Nope.”

"Okay, I will look at another book,"

And Shuusaku began to raid the bookshelf.

Narumi sat down on his father's chair after checking all the drawers. Even though he was 11, his father’s chair was still too big for him.

Someday he wanted to be like Father.

Father knew everything.

He was kind, strict, and strong.

At least that was how a young Narumi saw him.

He looked at the room while sitting in the chair.

Pictures decorated in the room.

There was a picture painted by Narumi. It was drawn at the age of two, when his mother was still alive.

He didn’t know what it was, it was too badly drawn, even if he looked at it himself─Father was told it was a rocket.

Narumi stood up.

Remove the picture from the frame.

Shuusaku glance at him, but he did not stop flipping books and throwing them on the floor.

Flip the frame. Remove the back plate. Take out the inside picture.

Look at the picture. After all, it does not look like a rocket. Even though he claimed it was a rocket, it was probably meant to be a frog? It had a green body and four legs attached.

"............"

But it does not matter. He do not care about such a picture. Father treasured it, but it didn’t matter to him.

Narumi turned over the picture.

There was another pictures drawn behind. He know what kind of picture it is.

The subject was Mother ─

He knew the picture. He also remembered Mother being pleased when he drew it. He did not remember most of Mother, but when he painted this picture, mother was joyful and he remembered that he was hugged.

That made Father happy.

And next to that picture of Mother.

"............"

Next to that unskillful drawing of Mother.

"...... Shuusaku......"

"Huh?"

"A message."

"You must be kidding"

Shuusaku hurriedly ran over.

Lines by the side.

The two looked at the picture of Narumi’s dead mother.

Beside that mother, there were lines written. Father’s script.

『I have my duty. What is your duty?』

The two peered down closely.

Shuusaku said.

“When was it written?”

“The contents were hidden. The destination too. So that the enemies would not see it.”

“So that’s the message.”

“I guess so.”

“What’s your father’s duty?”

“I don’t know. But it’s different from my duty. Father is Father, and I have my own duties.”

And Father’s thoughts were transmitted by those few words.

Certainly, it was transmitted.

Very clearly transmitted.

He had to think for himself.

And so, he thought deeply.

“Shuusaku.”

“Yep.”

Shuusaku nodded, and Narumi told him of their duty.

“Guren-sama is still alive. Let’s go to Tokyo.”

!!CHAPTER 2 END!!

<< Chapter 2 Part 2 || Buy the translator a kofi? || Chapter 3 Part 1>>

#owari no seraph #makoto narumi #iwasaki shuusaku #ichinose guren #ichinose guren's world resurrection at 19 #guren ln #mushroom translates

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a-moment-in-time-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Newt x male!reader :: Home - Part 1

Requests/Notes: @tyrelmocs Gave me a really detailed plot to work with! Thanks for being patient and explaining all your ideas to me! Also thanks to @vincentvangoghtthefuckaway who originally requested a Newt x male!reader story. I hope you enjoy this one--let me know what you think. :) It’s going to have multiple parts.

WC: 2,244

! Warning: Mentions of blood and violence

You were tired. Beyond tired. The lactic acid in your tensed muscles burned more like battery acid and your teeth were clenched to the point that you thought they may shatter in your mouth like shards of glass. When you managed to pry your eyes open momentarily the edge of your vision was blindingly white.

“Is he, well--?”

“We won’t know until the morning, his cells need time to rearrange.”

“And you think this rearrangement can get rid of his...his…”

“His curse. Because it appears to also manifest itself physically, this should help manage the symptoms that psychiatric care could not.”

“He just, well, he looks like he’s in so much pain.”

“The process isn’t easy, sir. These moments of struggle, however, are worth a lifetime of normalcy, or at least as normal as someone like him can be. Where’s his mother?”

“His mother won’t see him.”

“I see.”

“She’s...well, she’s a bit disturbed as well.”

“Mmm, I see. Well, nonetheless, he needs to rest tonight. Enough current has gone through his brain to light a 500 watt incandescent lamp. The nurses will be checking on him overnight to make sure no more convulsions occur. Let him rest for now, though. He should be exhausted enough to sleep through the night.”

Footsteps against a hard floor and the closing of a door and then silence. It took you a moment to remember where you were and why you were even here. Your “electroshock therapy,” or whatever the doctors called it, must be over. Your legs burned as if you had run miles uphill and were at odds with your brain which felt like it was coming out of the darkest slumber. You tried to take a deep breath but realized a leather strap ran across it tightly. You felt the familiar adrenaline rush of panic. Usually, this feeling would be accompanied by some strange event that no one could explain. You unlocked impossible locks to escape rooms, you broke a shelf of dishes a room away, or, if it was a particularly strong reaction, spontaneously set things ablaze. Now, though, you were too tired, far too tired. You let the muscles in your entire body relax in an orgasmic sort of release and fell back into the comfort of unconsciousness.

The next morning, you were woken by a nurse throwing open the curtains surrounding your bed. Light sliced through your eyes and immediately the knot of a headache began to form in your skull.

“Rise and shine, love.” You still felt tired, but the absolute blackness of dreamless sleep seemed a bit clarifying. You also had a small seed of hope in your heart. Maybe, just maybe now you could be normal. Maybe people, even your parents, wouldn’t be scared of you.

“Let’s get up, the sooner you get your muscles moving again the better!” You looked at the clock. The nurse was far too cheerful for 7 a.m.

You slipped on your pants and sweater and noticed that your skin was red and shiny and looked almost burnt where the straps had been across your body. You stood up and wobbled for a minute, but with the nurses’ help you gained your legs enough to walk down the hall to meet your father. He was as unreadable as ever and looked you up and down with curiosity as you approached like he was already trying to determine if you had been fixed.

“Mum, I’m home,” you said softly at the bedroom door. Your father, still not speaking to you, urged with a nod to try again.

“Mum?” you knocked with your knuckles, “I’m back from the doctor.”

A low, ghastly groan came from the other side of the door. It sounded inhuman, or demonic, as people liked to say.

“Alright, you go in,” you father finally said.

You pushed open the heavy wooden door, leaning into it with all your weight. In the center of a huge room lay an iron bed. There was no other furniture in the room besides a small table which held an oil lamp. The walls were bare but for a wooden cross directly above the bed and one dirty window with the curtains drawn shut.

“Mum…” you stepped in slowly. Your father immediately slammed the door and locked it with a key, nearly catching your arm. The sound seemed only to annoy the figure lying in the bed which again moaned loudly.

“Mum..I...I think the treatment may have worked,” you inched across the worn wooden floor trying to mask your terror with a cautious smile, “And the nurse said that, well, if you want to that is, that possibly...if it’s successful on me, they may be able to help you too.”

You felt something grab you by the collar, though all that was there seemed to be air. Your mother reached a withered, bony hand from under the blankets and was holding out a fountain pen like some sort of wand.

“W-where did you get that…?” you said nervously. She wasn’t supposed to have any sort of sharp objects at all, or anything that resembled a stick or rod.

She flicked the fountain pen, sending a spray of ink like black blood across the floor and you flew towards her as if someone had pushed you in the back. She flicked it again and you fell to your knees, legs locked together. This time the ink had splattered across your face.

“Mum, you’re not s-supposed to…”

“You’re not normal,” she said with a sandpapery voice.

“What?”

“You’ll never be normal. You��ll never be like they want you to be. You’re like me,” her voice was small but loaded with hatred, “They’ll want to change you, but they never will. They never will!”

She flicked the pen again and you crashed into the opposite wall. She had never been this strong before. She’d never had someone to channel her power.

“Mother...stop…” you pleaded, trying to remain calm. You didn’t want to feed her with your own fear.

“You’re better off dead than living in this world,” she spat.

“No...you’re wrong. I’m going to get better.”

“You’ll never be like them.”

“Maybe I don’t have to be.”

“What’s going on in there!?” your father asked through the door.

“Nothing--” you tried to reply, but were cut off by another invisible blow, this time to the center of your stomach. You tried to stand up, your instinct was to run, to get away from this as soon as possible. Before you could pull yourself to your feet, your mother had begun to speak again. It sounded like some ancient language, like Latin.

“Crucio.”

In a moment you were sure that you were once again getting electroshock therapy, this time fully conscious. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it was being filed away. Your bowels and stomach emptied their contents as you screamed the most primal sound you could make. The door slammed open, you heard your father scream and felt the floor rumble like an earthquake. Suddenly, the room was on fire and you weren’t sure if you couldn’t breathe because of the smoke or because of the pain.

The next time you awake it’s in an alley, with a trash bin blocking the bitterly cold wind with colorful figures standing over you. They seemed to be two people in full-length jewel toned cloaks trimmed decoratively. Once again, you found yourself an observer of a conversation about you.

“But how’d it get this bad, Gertie? He’s half-dead!”

“We can’t track every single obscurial in the entire world.”

“Yeah, but really, now what? ‘is parents is dead. No orphanage is going to take ‘im at this age, and now the bleedin’ Ministry is gonna be on our arses for not catchin’ this sooner!”

“Calm down, Tim.”

“Calm down? I just had to risk me flippin’ life draggin’ this kid outta a burnin’ building! An’ now I’ll be facin’ an inquiry!”

“You weren’t going to die. I was there as well.”

“Ohh, my hero!”

“Just shut up for a minute. We need to figure out what to do with this boy. His life is the priority right now.”

“I saw we leave ‘em. Leave it up to nature.”

“That’s a horrible idea.”

“He don’t ‘ave any other family?”

“They’re not going to take him. The entire neighborhood is already starting rumors that it’s arson.”

“What about another wizardin’ family lookin’ to adopt?”

“It’s not that simple. But…”

“But what?”

“He’s school-aged, right?”

“Yer not thinkin’ of sending ‘im to Hogwarts?”

“I think it might be his only chance at a normal life. No way can he go back to the Muggle world now, and if we could find a family for him to stay with during the summers…”

“He’d be so behind everyone else!”

“Better than developing a full blown obscurus.”

They both went silent for a moment.

“ ‘Is mum was real powerful…”

“Which is exactly why we can’t risk the development of an obscurus. Then it won’t just be an inquiry, but our heads.” “Blimey…”

“Let’s just get him to the Leaky Cauldron and make sure he stays alive long enough.”

“Yea…”

You felt two hands grab each of your arms and, still pretending you were asleep, felt them pick you up slightly. There was immediately a great whooshing sound and you felt your entire being stretched like a rubber-band. Your eyes flew open and before you could blink you were standing in a completely different place. You were in some kind of pub. Everything was cast with the golden glow of a giant hearth and a huge pile of metal steins shined from behind the bar.

“ ‘Es awake!”

The two robed figures turned to face you. The tall, pale on grabbed you by the shoulders, “My boy, are you alright?”

“Erm,” was all you could manage.

“Thank goodness you are conscious. Do you feel nauseous? Sick in any way?”

“Just...just tired. But, where am I?”

“The Leaky Cauldron, my boy. We’ll explain later. Right now you need to rest. You’re safe now.”

“Yer in good ‘ands!” the shorter wizard added with the warmest smile you had ever received.

“Who’s this?” a young, auburn-haired witch turned to face you from the bar. She had large, sparkling hazel eyes. She wore a maroon cloak with a twisting golden dragon embroidered around the hem.

“Ah, Madam Scamander.”

“That’s Miss to you, Gertie.”

“Miss Scamander, this ‘ere’s an Obscurial! Well, almost one. ‘Is whole family’s dead.”

Gertie elbowed Tim hard in the gut, causing Tim to fold forward and let out a steady stream of expletives like a punctured balloon lets out air.

“Is that so?” Miss Scamander’s eyes darkened and her friendly smile was gone, “I’m so, so sorry.” She looked you directly in the eye, something many throughout your life had been too terrified to do.

“What Tim means is that yes, he was close to developing an Obscurus, but it seems we found him in time. The rest is just noise for now as we need to find him a place to stay for a few days.”

“He can stay with me,” Miss Scamander offered immediately.

“What? That would be asking too much, Madam. Far too much of anyone. He needs constant supervision.”

“I’m home all the time, and now that Theseus’ graduated we have a spare room.”

Gertie and Tim looked at each other nervously and then to you.

“This is dangerous magic, Miss. We don’ even know if he’ll be fit for school. He don’ even know ‘imself the extent of ‘is powers.”

“My powers?” you cut in.

“Yes, your magic,” said Gertie softly.

“Magic?”

“Oh, you didn’t even explain things to him,” Miss Scamander gave a reprimanding glare to the two men aside you.

“Aw, come on! We jus’ picked ‘im up!”

“We just rescued him from a burning house, ma’am. We can straight here. Not really much time to--”

“Well, you’re a wizard,” Miss Scamander said to you, once again meeting your eyes.

“You don’t have to be so frank…” Gertie said, the wind blown from his sails. It was as if she’d ruined some big surprise.

“The pup might as well know,” Miss Scamander tucked a few strands of her bobbed hair behind her ear, “It’s good to know there are others like you.”

“Others...like me?” you dared.

Miss Scamander’s smile returned triumphantly as she nodded.

“Well, we still need to work out loding--”

“I told you, he can stay with me until the Ministry figures something out. If he was really that close to developing an Obscurus he certainly needs attention. Plus, Newt’s about the same age. He can teach him a little about our world.”

“Madam Scamander--”

“I insist. I can’t leave someone in need just like that. Especially not when I have plenty of room and food.”

“Erm…”

“C’mon, Gert! This could work out perfect!”

“I suppose…”

“That way we can say the boy is with, er, family. No inquiry today, mate!”

“Oh, fine,” Gertie conceded.

Miss Scamander clapped her hands together and stood up. Her skin was tanned and sun-spotted giving her a rather radiant glow.

“Alright, pup, let's get you home and washed up. You’re going to be just alright. More than alright, in fact.”

She reached a hand out to you and you clasped it with your own shaking one. Thoroughly confused, but attracted to her motherly disposition, you decided to trust her.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

tags: @ladytevans07 @frankthethunderbird @allnewtsbeasts @danisaurus-rexx @hardcore-ravenclaw @storyofmemory@needlesinacandybox @confused17yold @astronomicaldun @orangepumpkinpen @meka-meow @prodigal-books @see-the-thestrals @newton-scamander-lover @legit-trash-bro @kawaiiusagichansan @cutedictionary @itsleviosa14

Special thanks to the lovely @i-am-elsa-defying-gravity

#newt x reader #newt x male!reader #newt x male reader #newt Scamander x reader #newt Scamander x male reader #newt Scamander x reader fic #newt x reader imagine #newt x reader fic #fbawtft #fbawtft fic #fbawtft imagine #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beasts fic #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts and where to find them

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drdonckeandmdposts-blog · 7 years ago

Photo

AN ANGEL OF MERCY BECOMES THE WIDOW OF THE SOUTH I just returned in December from visiting the historic Carnton Plantation in Franklin Tennessee. While only one spot on the bloody battlefield of Franklin Tennessee on November 30th 1864, the story of that one bloody night is so incredibly horrific, that it defies the imagination. After the five hours of intense carnage and desperate hand to hand combat their would be roughly 10000 souls who were either killed, wounded or captured. Sarah North Martin was a resident of nearby Columbia, Tennessee just south of Franklin in November 1864 as both the Union and Confederate armies swept through the town during Southern General John Bell Hood’s “invasion” of Tennessee. Sarah, the wife of prominent local judge, William P. Martin, was taken by surprise on November 24, 1864 when two brigades of Union infantry under Brigadier General Jacob Dolson Cox Jr. commandeered ground on the Mount Pleasant Road. Before they were in position Union cavalrymen came hastily down the gravel road, fleeing from the brigades of Lieutenant General Nathan Bedford Forrest’s Confederate cavalry. Cox had three artillery batteries along with his troops on both sides of the road. More Confederate troops later arrived and sought to displace the Yankees. Sarah Martin’s thoughts as she and her family escaped, are part of a remarkable letter she sent to a relative:

The fighting commenced at our house, which is situated about 50 yards from the road on a high hill. I dare not write the particulars. Suffice it to say the Yankees had possession of our home & forced us to leave. We went to Mr. Martin’s fathers’ [i.e. George M. Martin], about 800 yards nearer town, taking with us the bedding of three beds & most of our wearing apparel. We were between the fires of the two contending parties for two days, & five shells struck [his] father’s house while [we] were in it, until we had to go down to a brick milk cellar in the yard, the minie balls falling on the roof like hail. The wounded Yankees [kept] passing through the yard, bleeding & screaming with pain. We could hear the yells of the Rebels as they charged & drove the Yankees toward town. At last, when the fight was evidently beyond us, I ran out quickly to avoid the sharpshooters, & entering the [George M. Martin] house, found Gen. [Colonel Edmund Winchester] Rucker’s staff, who showed us every courtesy. Each officer took charge of one of us, & led us in the line of the house, over to [our] home; procured an ambulance and sent us down to Gen. Pillow’s. [this was “Clifton,” four miles west of Columbia, the home of Brigadier General Gideon Johnson Pillow, who was married to her husband’s sister (Mary Martin Pillow)] Gen. [Brigadier General Stephen Dill] Lee had possession of our house, & artillery was planted in several places on the hill. The Yankees [had] sacked our house, & set fire to it, but Forrest came in time to extinguish the flames, before any serious damage was done. They [Yankees] threw our wheat into the pond, burned piles of bed clothes & books, & threw our china all over the yard, took the most of twenty-two hogs, and killed nineteen shoats, took all our horses, etc. In short I cannot enumerate our loss, or tell you how the Yankees treated us. We have ever since been living on biscuit[s] & milk, without a parcel of meat, for we have no money to buy with. You can have no conception of the oppression, & we dare not murmur. Even yesterday they came & took the only animal we had, a mule. Judge M. [i.e. her husband Judge William P. Martin] walked to town to day in the rain to try to get it back, but was unsuccessful, & now we have nothing to plow with, or to haul wood, for we had been driven to hauling wood in a cart. We are very anxious to sell & move to Texas… All our negroes ran off during the fight, & went with the Yankees in their retreat to Nashville. Some of them want to come back, but we will not receive them. The Lord has mercifully preserved our health, & I hope will bring us safely through these troubled times. Just six days later both armies raced towards Nashville for a final bloody showdown. The Union Army was delayed in Franklin due to the swollen Harpeth River. They were ordered to hold their position and dig defensive fortifications as a purely protective measure until they received pontoons from Nashville to move men and equipment across. They did not believe that a major battle would ensue their. But Confederate Lt. General John Bell Hood had other ideas. Seeing the Union Army split and penned against the swollen stream, he decided to launch an all out offensive. General Jacob Dolson on this day would awake Fountain Branch Carter at 4:30 AM to inform him that his home was being commandeered. As the likely spectre of a major battle grew more likely, the town residents hunkered down to bear a fear and horror no human being should ever have to experience. The following are a list of eyewitness accounts of that cold terrible November evening in 1864: "The Men seemed to realize that our charge on the works would attend with heavy slaughter, and several of them came to me bringing watches, jewelry, letters and photographs, asking me to take charge of them and send them to their families if they were killed. I had to decline as I was going with them and would be exposed to the same danger. I was vividly recalled to me the next morning, for I believe every one who made this request of me was killed." Chaplain James H. M'Neilly Quarles Brigade "When Conrads brigade took up its advanced postion we all supposed it would be only temporary, but soon an orderly came along the line with instructions for the company commanders, and he told me that the orders were to hold the postion to the last man, and to have my sergeants fix bayonets and to instruct my company that any man, not wounded, who should attempt to leave the line without orders, would be shot or bayonetted by the sergeants." Capt John K. Shellenberger 64th Ohio Inf. "When I regained consciousness I was laying in the ditch . . of running water and could feel the loose dirt fall in on me when Yankee bullets would strike the top of the ditch . . I became thirsty but had fallen on my canteen but could not get to it... I drank the water in the ditch and it was cold and good. I knew my sight was destroyed. I placed my hands under my forehead to keep my face from above water .. and fell asleep" Lt. Mintz 5th Arkansas, Govans Brigade I saw a Confederate soldier, close to me thrust one of our men through with a bayonet and before he could draw his weapon from the ghastly wound his brains were scattered on all of us that stood near, by the butt of a musket swung with terrific force by some big fellow whom I could not recognize in the grim dirt and smoke.. As I glanced hurredly around and heard the dull thuds, I turned from the sickening sight and glad to hide the vision in work with a hatchet for I had broken my sword. Col Wolf 64th Ohio Conrad's Brigade "The slaughtering could be seen down the line as far as the Columbia and Franklin Pike, and where the works crossed the pike . . . Our troops were killed by whole platoons, Our front line of battle seemed to have been cut down by the first discharge for in many places they were lying on their faces in almost as good order as if they had lain down on purpose; but no such order prevailed among the dead who fell in making the attempt to surmount the Cheval-de-frise, for hanging on the long spikes of this obstruction could be seen the mangled and torn remains of many of our soldiers who had been pierced by hundreds of minie balls and grape shot ... The ditch was full of dead men and we had to stand and sit upon them. The bottom of it from side to side was covered with blood to the depth of shoe soles" James M. Copley 49th Tennessee Quarles' Brigade " as evening came on the neighboors began to come in . . and we went down in the cellar. Grandpa had already put rolls of rope in the windows. . to keep the bullets out. The negroes crouched down in the dining room, and all the children & grand children and neighbors in the hall cellar, and granpa walked back and forth and watched out the window." "The first sound of the firing and the booming of cannons, we children all sat around our mothers and cried." Alice M. Nichol age 8 Tod Carters neice "The mangled bodies of the dead rebels weere piled up as high as the mouth of the embrasure and the gunners said that repeatedly when the lanyard was pulled the embrasure was filled with men crowding forward to get in who were literally blown from the mouth of the cannon. Only one rebel got past the muzzle of the gun and one of the gunners snatched up a pick and killed him with that. the ditch was piled promiscuously with the dead and badly wounded and heads arms and legs were sticking out in almost every conceivable manner. The ground near the ditch was filled with the moans of the wounded and the pleadings of some of those who saw me for water and for help were heartrending." Capt John K. Shellenberger 64th Ohio Inf. Conrad's Brigade "Nothing could be heard but the wails of the wounded and the dying, some calling for their friends, some praying to be relieved of their awful suffering and thousands in the deep agonizing throes of death filled the air with mouthful sounds and dying groans" Capt. Hickey 1st Missouri Cockrells Brigade "I could hear the wounded calling for help in every direction. I again wanted water and thought I would again drink from the water in the ditch, biut this time it tasted of blood and I managed to get my canteen from under me and drank from it." Lt. Mintz 5th Arkansas, Govans Brigade (who has been blinded) "I stood on the parapet just before midnight and saw all that could be seen. I saw and heard all that the eyes, or my rent soul contemplate in such an awful environment. It was a spectacle to chill the stoutest heart...the wounded shivering in the chilled November air; the heartrending cries of the desperately wounded and the prayers of the dying filled me with an anguish that language cannot describe. From that hour I have hated war. Colonel Isaac Sherwoood 111th Ohio Infantry "I remember seeing one poor fellow, sitting up and leaning back against something whose lower jaw had been cut off by a grape shot, and his tongue and under lip were hanging down on his breast. I knelt down and asked if I could do anything for him. He had a little piece of paper and an envelope. He wrote: No, John Bell Hood will be in New York before three weeks." Teenager Hardin Figuers, Franklin resident moments after he emerged from shelter. "God forgive me for ever wanting to see or hear a battle! You had to look twice as you picked your way among the bodies to see which were dead and which were alive and often a dead man would be lying partly on a live one, or the reverse. And the groans, the sickening smell of blood! I noticed while wandering along the earthworks that all or nearly all of the Union soldiers were shot in the forehead. In front, the ground was covered with bodies and pools of blood. the cotton in the old cotton gin was shot out all over the ground. Our Union soldiers had been stripped of everything but their shirts and drawers, but the Confederate soldiers could not be blamed much for that, for they were half clothed, half barefoot and many of them bareheaded." Carrie Snyder; a Union sympathizer who happen to be visitig friends in Franklin at the time. "In this yard and in that garden, I could walk from fence to fence on bodies, mostly those of Confederates. In trying to clean up, I scraped together a half a bushel of brains right around the house, and the whole place was dyed in blood. Nothing in the shape of horse, mule, jack, nor jinny was left in this neighborhood. In fact I remember it was not untilChristmas, twenty five days afterwards, that I was enabled to borrow a yoke of oxen, and I spent the whole of that Christmas Day hauling seventeen dead horses from this yard." Moscow Carter: Brother of Captain Tod Carter recalling what he saw upon emerging from The Carter House root cellar. "Amid the hundreds of dead and wounded Confederates who lay thickly scattered over the field in our front....there was one lying in front of my company, only a few distant feet crying "Mother you were right, you'll never see your boy again. I'm dying out here in the dark....I'm bleeding to death. "The boy's voice became gradually weaker and weaker until we heard it no more......One of the company's new recruits, a mere boy in years, was crying as though his heart was broken. He too was the only son of a widowed mother.": An unknown officer of the 63rd Indiana. The carnage was so great throughout the town that any available structure was used as a hospital. To put this into proper perspective, for every single resident who resided in Franklin Tennessee (pop. approx. 900) there were 7 casualties. The Carnton house quickly became a field hospital for Confederate wounded. It was a ghastly scene of pain , torment, and suffering. The McGavocks tended for as many as 300 soldiers inside Carnton alone, though at least 150 died the first night. John and Carrie McGavock and their 9 yr old daughter Hattie and 5 yr old son Winder helped tend the over 300 men who lay throughout the home. Soon the outbuildings were filled with hundreds more until the only place to lay them were in the yard. After the battle, on December 1, Union forces under Maj. Gen. John M. Schofield evacuated toward Nashville, leaving their dead, including several hundred Union soldiers, and their wounded who were unable to walk. The residents of Franklin were then faced with the task of burying over 2,500 soldiers, most being Confederates.The following are some of the first hand accounts of the nightmarish eve at Carnton: "Every room was filled, every bed had two poor, bleeding fellows, every spare space, niche, and corner under the stairs, in the hall, everywhere -0 but one room for her own family. Our Doctors were deficient in bandages, and she began by giving her old linen, then her towels, amd napkins, then her sheets and table clothes, then her husband's shirts and her own undergarment. During all this time the surgeons plied their deadful work amid the sighs and moans and death rattle. Yet amid it all, this nobel woman. . . was very active and constantly at work. During all the night neither she nor any of the household slept, but dispensed tea and coffee and such stimulants as she had and that two with her own hands.. she walked from room to room from man to man her very skirt stained with blood." Capt. William D. Gale - Lt. Gen Alexander P. Stewart's staff "Give me forty grains of morphine' he called out all through the night. 'Give me forty grains of morphine and let me die!' 'Oh Can't' I Die?' ' My Poor Wife and Child!'' My Poor Wife and Child!' "OMG ! Can you get the surgeons to administer some drug that will relieve me of this torture" I did try through my appeals were in vain. " Cold presperation gathered in knots on his brow and of course (he) knew that death was inevitable. . . "I went down the steps and far beneath the silence of the stars to escape his piteous prayers." C. E. Merrill Adjutant General , Brig. Gem Scott's Staff All of the Confederate dead were buried as nearly as possible by states, close to where they fell, and wooden headboards were placed at each grave with the name, company and regiment painted or written on them." Many of the Union soldiers would later be re-interred in 1865 at the Stones River National Cemetery in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. Over the next eighteen months many of the markers either rotted or were used for firewood, and the writing was disappearing. To preserve the graves, John and Carrie McGavock donated 2 acres of their property to be designated as an area for the Confederate dead to be re-interred. The citizens of Franklin raised the funding and the soldiers were exhumed and reburied in the McGavock Confederate Cemetery for the sum of $5.00 per soldier. A team led by George Cuppett took responsibility for the reburial of 1,481 soldiers. The names and identities of the soldiers were recorded in a cemetery record book by Cuppett, which soon fell into the care of Carrie McGavock. It is said that for years following the war visitors would knock on her door requesting the book to see if they could find closure from the loss of a loved whom they never knew of their fate. Carrie never failed to fulfill those requests. Carrie McGavock spent nearly 40 years of her life maintaining the McGavock Confederate Cemetery. In her later years she also would help to raise orphaned children, many of which were created by that bloody war. It was the most sincere expression of the heart and compassion she personified for so many years. Carrie died in 1905 and rests beside her husband, John, within sight of the nearly 1,500 Confederate soldiers who they protected and watched over for so many years. The mere thought of young children having to witness so much blood and suffering should draw deep emotions from even the coldest of souls. This was truly an experience where nightmares were born. Harriet (Hattie), Young McGavock was only nine-years-old on the day of the Battle of Franklin. That afternoon and night, she and her younger brother, five year old Winder, and their parents, John and Carrie, watched as their home became a hospital and mortuary. Hattie and Winder worked alongside their parents throughout the night, helping where they could as the battered bodies poured in to the house. The next morning, the bodies of four Confederate generals, who had been killed in the fighting, were brought to the McGavock home and laid side-by-side on the back porch. They were Patrick Cleburne, John Adams, Hiram Granbury, and Otho Strahl.

In Hattie McGavock Cowan's own words over 50 years later:

I can still sense the odor of smoke and blood. I recall how the startled cattle came home from the pastures, how restless they became, sniffing and excitedly running about the place, bewildered by the smell of the battlefield. I can still see swarms of soldiers coming with their dead comrades and lying them down by the hundreds under our spacious shade trees and all about the grounds. I shall carry those awful pictures in my mind down to the day of my death. I was only nine-years-old then, but it is all as vivid and as real as if it happened only yesterday. I overheard a man at Carnton that night say he estimated over 300 wounded were crammed in to our home. There we were in this ocean of suffering — mother, father, Winder and me — going from man-to-man doing what we could. Mother ordered the bed sheets and linens torn into bandages. Those ran out so, she told the medical attendants to use her tablecloths, towels, and father’s shirts. At one point, she used her own undergarments, put to use mending the myriad of wounds. Those who saw her were awestruck by her selfless actions. Mother never ceased in her work that long and dreadful night. She handed out tea and coffee and went from room to room making sure there was nothing else she could do. William D. Gale, of Gen. A.P. Stewart’s staff, said mother was so involved in affairs that her skirt was “stained in blood.” I remember it vividly. Some of the soldiers recuperated at our home until June, nearly seven months after the battle. There was a lot of bad, but there was a lot of good. You sometimes see the best in people under these circumstances. We just went to work and did what we could. I stuck by my mother. Chaplains, doctors, and agents of the U.S. Christian commission showed up over the coming weeks and months.

What happened to Hattie McGavock Cowan?

She married a Confederate veteran named George Cowan at Carnton on January 3, 1884. They lived in close proximity to Carnton for many years in a home known as Windermere. George died in 1919. Hattie lived until 1931 and for many old Franklin residents she was the last living connection to the Battle of Franklin. She is buried with George at Mt. Hope Cemetery in Franklin. Winder Mcgavock took over Carnton after his mother's death in 1905. He died just two years later. While touring Carnton (which would cost over 10 million in modern day currency) visitors can still see the blood stains in the wooden floors from over 150 years ago. The operating table used by surgeons was set up "rather ironically" in the nursery. It consisted of two saw horses and a barn door. It is still on display their today. Hattie Mcgowan quite vividly retold of her memories of that bloody night in an interview she gave shortly before her death in 1931 recalling the smell of blood and powder smoke and the sounds of the intense suffering of the wounded. One can only imagine the nightmares these two children experienced for years afterwards.

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