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watchyourbluesturngolden · 4 years ago

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let me in

this is very different from what I’ve been writing lately. this is just something I have struggled with, and I know there are others out there who also struggle with this.

please do not self harm. there are so many other ways to deal with problems, self harming will not help. please talk to someone you trust if you are struggling with this. I love you very much and i want you to stay safe and healthy :)

this includes graphic descriptions of self harm, so please do not read if this will be triggering for you!

warnings: self harm, graphic descriptions of self harm, blood, anxiety, angst

word count: 3.5k

You had been getting better. The thin scars on your legs had nearly faded away; they weren’t even noticeable unless you knew where to look. You hadn’t had the urge to harm yourself in what felt like ages. You weren’t even upset when you noticed the faded lines anymore. You knew they were part of your past, not something you needed to keep reliving.

Harry didn’t know. You had stopped soon before you started dating him, and it wasn’t something you really wanted him to know about. Logically, you knew he would never make you feel bad about it. Of course, he would want to make sure you were ok, and you just didn’t want to have that conversation. You were fine. You didn’t want to go through the whole “why would you do this to yourself” because honestly, you didn’t know.

There was also a part of you, albeit a small one, that was scared to see how he would react. What if you were wrong? What if, once you told him, he saw you as a crazy girl who slit her own skin because she was sad? What if he decided you weren’t worth the trouble? What if he didn’t want someone who was broken?

You felt bad keeping this from him, but you told yourself it was for a good reason. The last person you had let see your scars was your ex. He had always been good to you, up until you trusted him enough to show him the ruined skin. He had pulled away, looking mildly disgusted. He had made you feel like an idiot, asking over and over again why you would do something like that to yourself. He even implied you had done it for attention.

So, you just didn’t tell Harry. It’s not like he would ever need to find out. The scars were faint and high up on your thighs, and there was only one that could really be seen. It’s not hard to explain away one small scar.

Lately, though, something was different. You didn’t know why, you just felt off. Nothing had changed; there was no big stressful life event happening. You weren’t approaching any milestones or anniversaries, those were always hard. You and Harry weren’t having any problems; you were just as in love as ever. You weren’t even stressed at work; in fact, you had been doing very well there for a few weeks now.

Maybe it was just that everything felt too perfect. You weren’t used to having such a stress free time. Ironically, it was making you anxious. It felt like the calm before the storm. The only problem? you had no idea what this storm was, or when it would strike.

You were just constantly on edge. You would flinch when Harry came up behind you, tensing in his arms before you relaxed against him. You were short tempered with your coworkers when all they were trying to do was make polite conversation. You felt like you were constantly on the verge of tears, and the smallest inconvenience made you cry.

Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by Harry. He could tell something was wrong, he just didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if asking you about it would upset you more, so he just made sure to let you know he was there for you if you needed anything.

He didn’t know it, but this just made you feel worse. You felt like you were being a terrible girlfriend, being snippy and closed off when he hadn’t done anything wrong. You didn’t have the energy to go into everything right now. You were just tired, mentally and physically. You barely had the energy to get up in the morning, instead snoozing your alarm and rolling over until Harry reminded you that you’d be late for work. Not that you really cared about that anymore.

It was getting harder to care about anything anymore. You were just too exhausted to care about your job or your skincare routine or your favorite tv show. You were still taking care of yourself, but you were pretty much just doing the bare minimum at this point. You knew you weren’t eating enough, and most days you drank much less water than you should. Eventually, Harry got too worried to stay quiet anymore.

“Love, we need to talk,” he said, settling into the couch next to you. “What’s been going on with you? I can tell something is wrong, did I do something?”

“No, of course not,” you said, immediately feeling guilty. “I’ve just been- I don’t know.”

“Been what?”

“Nothing, just- work has been stressful,” you lied. You didn’t really know what else to say. You really had no idea why you felt so miserable and anxious all the time.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you were mad at me,” he said, looking relieved as he pulled you against him.

“No, I’m not. I’m sorry I worried you,” you said, staring blankly ahead over his shoulder.

“Promise you’ll talk to me when you feel this way, yeah? I don’t want you to be sad all alone. I want to help you feel better, and if I can’t, then I want to be sad with you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I love you.”

“I love you,” you whispered, clutching his shoulder.

-----

Even though you had Harry’s continued support, you could feel yourself getting worse again. You were more anxious than ever, and you were getting less and less sleep. You knew the two were related, but you couldn’t help it. You laid awake most nights, listening to Harry’s even breathing next to you as you stared at the dark fabric of his sleep shirt. At this point you were getting less than five hours each night.

All the energy you did have was devoted to pretending everything was fine. You forced yourself to smile and be polite to your friends and coworkers. Your family was convinced that you were doing well. Harry was harder to lie to.

You didn’t know it, but he didn’t fall asleep very easily. The even breathing you heard at night wasn’t really a sign of his sleep, but rather him trying to soothe you. He stayed up with you until you fell asleep, only letting himself drift off once you were down. He knew how little sleep you were getting, he just didn’t know why. He didn’t want to press for answers, especially after you had insisted you were ok. But he couldn’t let this go on. He saw that you were eating less and laying around more. He saw how your fingers constantly fidgeted, pulling at your clothes or picking on your cuticles. He saw that your smile never quite reached your eyes like it used to.

Harry didn’t want to leave you alone. He was worried that something would happen; that the dam holding your feelings back would suddenly break and you would be wrecked. He barely left the house, working from home as much as he possibly could.

Some days, though, he had to go in.

“I’m going to the studio today,” he said, kissing your forehead. “I shouldn’t be more than a few hours.”

“Ok,” you said with a small smile.

He held back a sigh, noticing once again how fake the expression looked.

“I’ll text you when we’re finishing up. I can bring something home for dinner, what do you want?”

“Whatever you want’s fine,” you replied, looking down at your nails. They really were in bad shape. You had been pulling at them constantly, not even noticing it most of the time. You just couldn’t keep still, needing a way to release the nervous energy built up inside you.

“Sounds good,” he smiled, picking his keys up from the bowl by the door. “Love you.”

“You too,” you answered, only glancing up at him for a second before you went back to picking at your skin.

He stepped out the door, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts. Almost immediately, your mind drifted to the kitchen.

You weren’t sure when the desire had come back. It had been so long since you had felt the urge to harm yourself. You really thought you would never do it again. Now, every time you were alone, you couldn’t drag your thoughts away from the knives in the kitchen.

You felt your eyes drifting toward the drawer where you kept all the utensils, your mind telling you to go get one. Your heart started to speed up, which was never a good sign. You felt the beginnings of panic as it became harder to take a deep breath. You looked at your hands, clenching them into fists to stop the shaking.

You stood up, taking an uncertain step toward the kitchen.

You took a steadying breath, forcing your lungs to move. The closer you got to the kitchen, the worse you felt. Your hands were shaking nonstop and you felt nauseous, your heart still pounding out of your chest. You knew this was just the anxiety. You weren’t really dying, even though your brain was trying to convince you otherwise. Even though you knew you were physically in a safe place, you didn’t feel like it.

You made your way to the drawer where you knew the knives were, sucking in a deep breath when you pulled it open.

Am I really about to do this?

You picked up the closest one, slamming the drawer shut and sinking down to the floor. You leaned your back against the cabinet, holding the knife in a death grip as you breathed shakily. You slid up the thin fabric of your pajama shorts, inspecting the skin.

Your breath hitched when you saw the single scar, remembering the night you had put it there. You remembered the countless other cuts you had made, all too small to leave noticeable marks.

With those terrible thoughts in your head, you pressed the tip of the knife into your skin, dragging it parallel to the existing scar with enough pressure to leave a small trail of blood.

You exhaled as the pain exploded along the injury. You had forgotten how much this hurt. As much as the cut stung, though, it was better than the horrible restlessness and anxiety. It was grounding.

You dropped the knife to the floor beside you, sliding it away so it was out of your reach. You put your hands over your face, tipping your head back to rest against the wood.

After a few minutes, the open cut was still really hurting. You looked down to see a thin trickle of blood running down your leg. You sighed, standing up and making your way to the bathroom.

You gritted your teeth when you ran a wet cloth over the cut, wiping away the blood. You placed a band-aid over the area, pulling the edges of the injury together in hopes that it would heal faster.

Finally, you changed out of your shorts and into a pair of sweatpants. You didn’t want to take any chances and let Harry see what you had done.

Once everything was cleaned up, you went back to the kitchen to pick up the knife. You rinsed it quickly in the sink before putting it in the dishwasher so you wouldn’t have to see it anymore. Out of sight, out of mind.

-----

Harry came in the house to see nothing had changed. You were still sitting on the couch in the same position with the same expression on your face. The only difference was that you were wearing pants instead of shorts. When he asked, you easily explained it was because you were cold. He didn’t totally believe you, but he didn’t know what to say, so he let it go.

He had decided to bring home McDonalds, knowing how much you loved chicken nuggets. He got concerned, though, when you picked at it and ate less than half of the meal.

“Y/N, really, is something wrong?”

“Hm?” You hummed, looking up.

“Is everything alright? You’re not acting like yourself. You’re not even eating your chicken nuggets.”

“Oh- I just ate a lot today.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said gently. “You haven’t been eating much at all lately.”

“I’m- I’m just not hungry, I don’t know,” you said, avoiding his eyes. “I’m really tired, I think I’m just going to go to bed. Thank you for bringing this,” you stood up from the table, bringing your leftovers to the fridge so you could eat them later. You pressed a kiss to his cheek before padding up the stairs.

You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror, sighing at the dark circles under your eyes. They had been getting more prominent lately with how little sleep you were getting.

You brushed your teeth, ignoring the exhaustion that was clawing at you. All you wanted was to collapse into bed, but there was one other thing you had to do first. You set the toothbrush back in the stand, taking a deep breath. You pulled the sweatpants down, glancing at the cut from earlier. Your stomach turned when you saw how red the area was.

You quickly pulled them back up, flicking off the light switch and making your way back to your room. You were a little surprised to see Harry laying in the bed.

“Are you going to sleep? It’s still pretty early,” you said, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

“I had a long day,” he smiled, stretching his arms out. “Also, how could I resist cuddling you?”

You smiled, the first genuine one in weeks. Harry’s heart swelled. It felt like forever since he’d seen you happy.

“Come on then!” He said, wiggling his fingers at you.

Once you settled in, you very quickly realized you might have a problem. You were used to sleeping in, as Harry called it, “the most uncomfortable position known to man”. You were mostly on your stomach, but your upper body was slightly twisted so both of your arms were in front of you, wrapped around the edge of the blankets. Harry would throw his arm over your back and one of his legs over yours. This was normally fine, but it also meant the front of your legs were pressed against the mattress.

The sweatpants you wore were smooth, but they felt like sandpaper on the wounded skin of your thigh. You were constantly adjusting, trying to find a position that would allow you to relax. You thought you were being subtle, but apparently not so much.

“Why’re you moving so much?” Harry murmured, not opening his eyes.

“Sorry,” you said quietly. “Can’t get comfy.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re flopping around like a fish out of water,” he said, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“Am not.”

“You are,” he insisted, grinning wider. “Just go to sleep.”

“Oh, wow, thanks, that’s so helpful,” you said sarcastically. “You’re a miracle worker, really.”

“I know I am,” he smiled, pressing his face against your shoulder.

Despite the stinging pain in your leg, you finally managed to drift off. It was probably the lack of sleep finally catching up to you, combined with the emotional stress of the day.

You snapped awake, feeling a stabbing pain. You sat up, gasping faintly when you saw the thin line of blood staining the white sheets. You quickly made your way to the bathroom, squinting in the sudden light as you pulled your sweatpants down. You must have torn the cut open when you were asleep. Luckily, your pants were black so they wouldn’t show a stain, and the one on the sheets was small enough that Harry probably wouldn’t see it before you could clean it up. You reached for the Kleenex box, pressing a tissue against the cut to stop the bleeding.

Harry mumbled when you got up, his half asleep brain not fully registering your movements. He woke up more when he heard the bathroom door shutting, sitting up against the headboard. He knew it was no use trying to sleep, he wouldn’t be able to relax until you were in his arms again.

After a few minutes, he started to get worried. He stood up, glancing at your side of the bed. He stopped when he saw a small red stain on the sheets. He furrowed his eyebrows, his sleepy mind trying to work something out.

He knocked on the bathroom door.

“Y/N? I saw the sheets. Didn’t you already have your period, last week? What happened?” He started getting concerned, knocking again when he didn’t hear an answer. “Can you hear me? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” You said, your voice wavering.

“You don’t sound fine,” he said, placing a hand on the doorknob. “Can I come in?”

“No- just go back to bed, Harry, I’ll be there in a minute,” you answered quickly, wiping the tears from your eyes. You were getting really worried; the blood wasn’t stopping and you didn’t know what to do.

“Y/N, what happened?” He asked again. You heard his hand ratting the doorknob, breathing a silent sigh of relief when you remembered you had locked it. “Why is the door locked? You’re worrying me, please let me in?”

“It’s nothing, Harry,” you insisted, sniffling.

“It’s not nothing if it’s making you cry, baby, I can hear you crying,” he said, rattling the doorknob again. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m- you can’t come in,” you said, beginning to feel frantic. You were going to have to find a way to explain this to him, even if the bleeding stopped soon. What were you supposed to say at this point? You were locked in the bathroom, crying on the floor. That was bad enough without the self inflicted cut on your leg.

“Ok,” he relented. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to sit here on the floor until you come out, or let me in.”

You sighed, eyes darting around the room. There was nothing in here to help you; all you could do was press the tissue against the cut and pray it stopped soon.

After a few minutes, you lifted the Kleenex again, wincing when a fresh trickle of blood pooled around your skin.

At this point, you were getting really scared. It had been almost 10 minutes and the bleeding wasn’t getting any lighter. This had never happened before and you didn’t know what to do.

“Harry?” You asked quietly.

“What is it, love?” You heard his voice from the other side of the door.

“I need help,” you sniffled.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice immediately sounding worried.

“It’s- it’s not stopping.”

“What’s not stopping?” You heard the doorknob rattling again. “Y/N, please unlock the door,” he begged.

You obliged this time, shuffling to the door and turning the lock. You sat back, not looking at Harry when he entered.

He immediately kneeled down next to you, inhaling sharply when he saw the blood-soaked tissue in your hand.

“Baby, what happened?” He asked, his eyes going wide.

You didn’t answer, blinking back tears. He gently lifted the tissue away from your leg, gasping again when the blood bubbled up around the edges of the cut.

“How did this happen?” He asked again, grabbing several new Kleenex from the box and pressing them to the area.

You still didn’t say anything, finally meeting his eyes. It only took one look at your sad expression for him to put the pieces together.

“Did you do this?” He asked quietly, not looking away from you.

You only hesitated for a second before nodding, dropping your head in shame as a new wave of tears came to your eyes. There was no point in lying now.

He didn’t say anything, just shifted on the floor. You panicked for a minute, thinking he was going to leave, but you quickly calmed down when he put his arm around you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, resting his head on top of yours. “I’m sorry you’re going through something and I’m sorry I didn’t notice how upset you are.”

“Don’t be,” you sniffled, leaning against him. “It’s not your fault I pushed you away, and it’s not your fault I’m stupid enough to cut open my own skin because I’m sad.”

“Hey,” he said firmly, lifting his head to look at you again. “Don’t talk like that. You are not stupid. I don’t ever want to hear you talking bad about yourself. I love you way too much to allow that.”

“I’m sorry,” you leaned your head against him again, too tired to keep eye contact.

“Remember what I said?” He asked, wiping a tear off your face. “You talk to me when you’re sad. If I can’t help you feel better, I’ll sit with you and we’ll be sad together. But whatever you do, you don’t get to shut me out.”

“I know,” you sniffled again. “I just didn’t want to burden you.”

“Y/N, you could never be a burden. You are the love of my life. I will gladly sit with you and be sad every single day if that’s what you need. You just have to let me in. Promise you’ll let me in?”

“I promise.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harry styles/you fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you fanfiction #harry styles x reader fanfiction #self harm

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smithy-smith · 3 years ago

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I love This Way Up series 2. Did it go the exact way I hoped? No. But I honestly think that I appreciated how much more real and three dimensional the characters all felt as a result of that. Although some aspects of the series felt a touch clunkier than S1, I think a lot of that can be put down to the fact that they had to work under some pretty strict COVID restrictions while filming. I’d be interested to know how Aisling Bea envisioned this series going before it had to be written to work during lockdown and if that meant significant changes to the scripts.

Anyway, more thoughts under the cut…

Shona & Áine : 10/10 sibling dynamic. They love each other so much. Are they verging on co-dependent? Probably a little bit, but it works for them. They would both kill each other and kill for each other at a moment’s notice, and I love that for them. Their interactions feel so real and you can truly get a sense of their deep love and affection for each other. If I tried to list all of my favourite Áine and Shona moments then I’d be here all day, but some highlights are: the whole time that Áine is ‘helping’ Shona to unpack, the haemorrhoid, and also Áine and Shona lying on the floor together at the end. S1 was so much of Shona being there for Áine (understandably!) that it’s amazing to see that get flipped, and for it to be made explicitly clear that this isn’t just a case of the younger sibling relying totally on the older one. They need each other, and that’s wonderful!

Shona/Charlotte: I feel like we got more confirmation of something I’d sort of suspected- that Charlotte wasn’t Shona’s first foray into sleeping with other women, but that it was probably the first time that feelings got involved. I get the impression that she’s probably had one night stands with women, but relationships with men, and so as soon as Charlotte said that she was falling for her, Shona completely panicked. Charlotte was right to feel hurt and used, and that whole scene where they had it out in the office was so raw and painful. I’m glad they went down that route, and that it is clear that if they do reconcile then they’ll need to do a lot of work to get there. Ideally, I’d love that to be the outcome, but I’m happy to be along for the ride whatever happens at this point!

Shona/Vish: I love Vish, I think he’s sweet, but it still feels like he and Shona are on different pages. Maybe even different books, at least when it comes to their relationship. Him being away for this series really worked, as it allowed Shona to miss him and feel like she wants to connect with him, without the reality of him actually being around. I think it’s clear that she’s burying a lot of her feelings and it’s much easier for her to do that if he isn’t there. I really want see the fallout of that voice note…

Áine/Richard: God love them, but they need to sit down and actually talk. I think they’re super sweet together and that they could be really good for each other, but it’s obvious that Áine is having issues with telling Richard about rehab and her breakdown, and that she’s kind of terrified about what telling him will mean. (I get it. I too get that anxious panicky feeling every time I’m about to talk to other people about my mental health issues. I dread the thought of watching their face change in real time as they realise what a fucked-up mess I actually am…) Richard on the other hand is still dealing with the fact that he became the father of a teenager overnight, and is clearly still struggling to regain a sense of control over his identity as a result. That, combined with his intense level of Repressed British Awkwardness™ is definitely having an impact on how they communicate with each other. Him telling Étienne without talking to Áine first is the peak example of this- that is 100% a conversation they should have had with each other first, even though ultimately it was the right thing to do at this point. Fingers crossed that we’ll get a S3 as I really want to see if that communication issue gets resolved, or if it will be the death of their relationship… They had some really cute moments this series, and some moments with more honest and open communication, so I’m hopeful that they might be able to work things out, it definitely seems like that is an option for them!

Áine/Bradley: I LOVED that we got more Áine and Bradley time this series! Their flatmate dynamic in S1 was great, it very much seemed to sit in the ‘we’re friendly, but we’re not 100% certain that we are friends’ category, and his loud relationship with Emma was clearly a bit of an awkward sticking point, for obvious reasons! But this series they’ve spent more time together on screen and they are clearly solid friends- with potentially something more simmering away… I loved him giving Áine advice on how to be sexy and flirt with Richard when they were having problems, and his obvious acceptance of all her quirks as a housemate. In the fundraiser ep he was not feeling Richard’s vibes, which was understandable given Áine’s obvious insecurity and worries, and let’s be honest, what he’s heard about Richard so far probably hasn’t been the most flattering or reassuring! Áine turning to Bradley when she found out about Tom dying, knowing that he would be there and support her! The fact that he already knows about rehab, and it doesn’t seem to make a difference to how he treats her! Plus, that conversation at the end?? When he was saying ‘wouldn’t it be nice to be with someone you can relax with’?? It definitely seems like he is working through some stuff of his own, and that maybe he is starting to potentially see Áine as that person… At the moment, it feels like their relationship is teetering on the cusp- if it tips one way he can fit into the protective ‘older brother’ friend mould, looking out for Áine and supporting her. Or it could tip the other way and they could perhaps be at the beginning of something more romantic…

Étienne: he is so big! I’m hazarding a guess that he wasn’t in this series as much because it’s easier to send him off to France so that they don’t have to worry about exposing the child actor to COVID, but perhaps that was always the plan. His relationship with Richard seems to be improving slightly, but is obviously still a bit difficult for them both to negotiate. Again, fingers crossed for a S3 where he can be more involved, as I really want to see the fallout from Richard telling him about his relationship with Áine, and the change of tutors. God I wish Richard had waited for Áine before he did anything!

I haven’t even touched on the exciting development of Áine and James going into business together, and what that would mean for Áine’s personal growth. (Also her friendship with James! Hooray for Áine having more friends!) But this is already HELLA long so maybe I’ll dig into that another time :)

Fingers crossed for S3, I think there’s still so much left to explore with these characters, and I hope that we get the chance to see that!

#This Way Up #this way up spoilers #this way up s2 #this way up series 2 #Aine & Shona #shona x charlotte #Aine x Richard #Aine & Bradley #long post #aisling bea #tobias menzies #sharon horgan #indira varma #kardiff kirwan

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snailsnfriends · 3 years ago

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This is the third analysis and summary of Tommy’s prison stay with Dream

You can read through the first one here, and the second one here. Dialogue is color-coded: Tommy, Dream, Wilbur.

Stream: Dream Revives Tommy

The stream starts with Tommy in limbo. He asks if he’s dead, and is greeted by Wilbur. He and Wilbur interact with each other normally; nothing seems very different from how they’d interact while alive. Based on what we see and what we’re told, Tommy’s limbo is a whole lot of nothing. There is nothing but darkness, Wilbur, Schlatt, Mexican Dream, and himself. Objects do exist here (Wilbur complaining that he set up cards for six hours that morning), but we do not see them. Wilbur also seems to have knowledge about the universe, including when it ends. Eventually, we get this conversation (there is a lot of crosstalk here, so forgive the messiness of this):

“I’m really happy you’re here, man,” “Stop saying that to me, stop it,” … “You know why I’m glad Tommy? … Me and you were never good for that server… it all falls in our laps, the problems, right.” “When you talk like this, I do the thing where my voice gets shaky, when you talk like this.” … “... if it weren’t for me and you dying, the server would be in shambles. I know for a fact that if I come back… it’s definitely gonna just go to shit again. … I know what I’m like, that’s the issue.”

Wilbur then talks about creating a solitaire arena, and Tommy is on the verge of revival. Now that we have some hindsight vision, we can analyze this a little more properly. When this was first streamed, we had no idea what Wilbur’s limbo looked like or if he had one. Now we know that they were able to speak to each other despite being in separate limbos. The way Wilbur is speaking here plays into Tommy’s fears and challenges his beliefs. Tommy is upset by his death and Wilbur’s happiness over it. Something to note about Wilbur being happy about his own death here is that Tommy grieved over Wilbur for a long time, and arguably, was still grieving at this point. Seeing Wilbur be happy about it compared to his grief is, understandably, upsetting. He has a hard time staying calm while Wilbur talks about this. Tommy, as stated in the last two streams, believes that Dream is the reason why the server is in shambles, not him and Wilbur. The fact that Wilbur, someone Tommy trusts, is saying this, makes Tommy uncomfortable and upset. Not only that, but the fact that Wilbur doesn’t have faith in his goodness if he comes back makes Tommy more anxious. Again, this is somebody that Tommy trusts and cares about. Wilbur speaking like this is concerning, to say the least.

Now, Tommy is revived, and visibly shocked. He can’t get a single word out for a while. He describes his limbo as “void.” He tells Dream who was there, which piques Dream’s curiosity even more. Dream asks what it feels like, and Tommy struggles to give an answer. After more stuttering and pacing, Tommy says it felt like being ripped apart and put back together again, all stretched out, shredded. He asks Dream to pinch him, and once Dream does it, he screams in retaliation. Touch has now become another trigger of Tommy’s. Once Dream tells him that nothing has changed and everyone thinks he’s dead, he responds with this:

“I was dead. I was- you killed me!”

Note that Tommy did not mention this immediately after revival. This acceptance, or, at least, realization, came about when Dream told him that everyone believes that he’s dead. This only comes into perspective for Tommy when he thinks about others, not himself being able to move around with Dream again.

After being told that he was dead for some time, Tommy panics, saying he was gone for plenty of time. He asks for Tubbo first multiple times, then Phil, then Fundy, then Sam. It’s very easy to see that Tommy is having a panic attack. He trips and falls over his words, he is not calm, he paces around the cell, he asks for people he’s friends with to help ground him, his breathing is shaky. Tommy is not stable at all right now, yet Dream continues to ask him questions about the afterlife. Tommy tries to piece together what happened. He knows how he died, but struggles to tell Dream how much time has exactly gone by. As Tommy tries to think, Dream speaks to him, so we get:

“Shut up! Shut up! H- sorry. I’m sorry.”

Though this seems minor, it really isn’t Tommy is not one to apologize for something like this, and he has no reason to apologize to Dream here. Tommy apologizes for his emotions when he’s nervous and ranty, but only to people he likes. It is not normal for Tommy to be apologizing here. He is not stable and is incredibly overwhelmed.

Each time the guardians make a noise, Tommy jumps. He stares at the walls and objects in the prison for a while before moving around again. Tommy is not only having a panic attack, but he’s also experiencing sensory overload; he is taking in more information than his brain can process. This only makes his panic worse. Not only that, but Tommy was deprived of his other senses while in limbo. He has not seen light in a while, nor has he felt anything other than pain. This makes the sensory overload worse because he now has to go back to “normal.” He goes from nothing to absolutely everything at once.

This is when Dream calls himself a god over being able to kill and revive people whenever he wants. Tommy moves on from this quickly, though, to ask Dream questions, because he does not have the capacity to process it. Now, Tommy talks about Wilbur:

“Dream, I thought he was like my brother, alright? Even before, I wasn’t sure… as much as I hate him, he was one of my best friends, whether I like him or not. Dream, I’ve been there for so long now, I take every last ounce of doubt I had back. Do not bring back Wilbur. Ever. Promise me you’ll never do that.”

We did not see all of Tommy’s time spent in limbo. We have no idea what could’ve been said within that time. However, we do know that what Wilbur said scared Tommy to the point where he was willing to be friends with his abuser to keep Wilbur dead. Wilbur and Tommy were very close, so hearing this from Tommy is major. What Wilbur said earlier, as previously stated, played into Tommy’s fears and challenged his beliefs. Tommy is severely overwhelmed right now, so he may be exaggerating, but the point still stands: What Wilbur said to Tommy scared him so much that he did not want Wilbur back, despite their close relationship.

But, of course, because nothing is that easy, Dream says that it is out of Tommy’s control. Dream suggests that Tommy could go back and take notes, which Tommy refuses quickly. Tommy explains that what he went through is not something Dream could possibly comprehend. Dream admits that the revive book is memorized after Tommy asks him to burn it. Afterwards, we get this:

“We can study it! We can study it together! We can become immortal together by studying it!” “I want absolutely fucking nothing to do with you.”

Dream does not see Tommy as a human being. Dream has heard Tommy describe the pain and anguish he went through in the afterlife, but he doesn’t care. This is also evidence of Dream’s obsession with Tommy; his want to be immortal with Tommy being the reason why. His morbid curiosity is more important than Tommy’s autonomy. We get this right after:

“You owe me your life!”

Again, Dream believes that Tommy is just as obsessed as he is. He does not see Tommy as his own person. He does not understand why Tommy would be upset and ungrateful because he is excited and interested. He lacks any remorse for his actions, and believes that he should be praised. Tommy owes Dream nothing but the blame for his death. This abuse of power makes Tommy realize that he has to kill Dream. Dream accepts this, and Tommy prepares to kill him. As Tommy begins to hit Dream, he realizes that he will be left alone in the prison if he kills Dream. Sam would not visit, so there is truly no way out for Tommy. Here, Tommy notes that being completely isolated would be worse than being dead. After exile, Tommy fears being alone. He knows that at least when he’s dead he has people around him. If he kills Dream, he’ll have nothing.

“I could go and kill Tubbo and bring him back. I could, I could, you know, everyone is my puppet, and I can…” … “You didn’t believe me! I was proving a point!” “You killed me just to prove a point!”

Dream’s dehumanization of people is not limited to Tommy. Dream sees everyone as disposable and controllable. He literally calls everyone his puppet. He killed Tommy to prove a point, which is not something he had to do. Tommy was justifiably upset by this, but Dream disregards it. Dream victim blames Tommy outright here by saying that he absolutely had to be killed. Again, no one was pulling Dream’s leg here. There is not some otherworldly being causing Dream to do this. He beat Tommy to death because he wanted to. He didn’t have to do this. This was a conscious decision he made. He then gaslights Tommy, saying that it isn’t a big deal because he’s alive now, as if he wasn't dead literally twenty minutes before this. Despite Tommy calling Dream out on his behavior, Dream doesn’t care and says that once he gets out, he’ll use the book to his advantage. He’ll bring back Wilbur and have Wilbur help him escape. And so, we’re left with this:

“Promise me you won’t bring back Wilbur.” “I’m bringing back Wilbur.” “Fuck. Fuck.”

And the stream ends there. Within three streams, Tommy has died and been revived. Tommy originally entered the prison to gain closure. He wanted to close the book with Dream. He wanted to focus on his hotel. He wanted to heal. He wanted to move on.

But it’s never that easy, is it?

#dream smp #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #dream smp prison arc #dream smp analysis #snailtrail.slimes #tw victim blaming #tw gaslighting

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alfredosauce50 · 4 years ago

Text

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 11

Wordcount: 5,150 Rating: M for strong language, ideologically sensitive and mature themes, gore “In a society that normalizes cybernetic enhancements, many forget what it is to be human. He never did.” Chapter synopsis: Allen and Arthur race to find you both, but it proves to be harder without knowing your whereabouts. Meanwhile, you've successfully helped Alfred find the chip. Before leaving, you have a long-awaited conversation with your father to realize he's more insane than you thought. The reader is referred to as she/her.

Songs to listen to while you read (in order as found in playlist): Cyberninja, Trouble finds trouble, Tower Lockdown, Me!Me!Me!, Pt. 2, Him & I (with Halsey), Atlantis. I have indented song titles throughout the chapter so you can change accordingly. Starting now:

Cyberninja

Before Arthur could even buckle himself in, Allen rammed his foot into the gas pedal. He was thrown back in a violent manner, and hit his head against the headrest. But the mechanic never complained. He looked stressed enough as is, continually scanning the road while murmuring to himself as if he’d really gone mad. “Hell, that motherfucker could be anywhere in the whole fucking city right now.” He hissed, pulling out of the driveway and into the main road.

“We can’t call him. Track him. Nothing. Same goes for (F/N). They’re off the map.” Turning to his companion numerous times in distress, he sped through the streets, though he had no particular destination in mind.

The indicator clicked. Allen cursed at the car in front of them, but never made a move to overtake. As Arthur became overwhelmed by these stimulants, he opened his mouth, defeated. “If you’re in such a hurry, why--why bother following traffic rules? You never have before, so why now?” He asked with a shake of the head, earning a loud scoff from the other.

The car windows glowed with a flurry of pinks and purples as they moved closer to the commercial district. They were near their first stop.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t give a damn if I didn’t have to.” The whites of his eyes reflected a mosaic of color as he never looked away from the road. “But that was when I was working for my boss. I had protection. I could do a hit and run if I wanted, and without the running part.” The redhead breathed. Then, he stuck his head out of the window with a huff. Immediately, he was choked by the city smog, and deafened by the blaring of car horns.

“Friggen’ prick...” He flipped off the driver in front of him. Sitting back into his seat, he flashed Arthur a grin, though the man couldn’t return the energy.

“Did you get fired? Or did you quit?” This wasn’t the best time to ask about the past, but he had been dying to know why he wound up half-dead on his doorstep. So what better a time to do it than now?

“I quit.” Allen answered point-blank. “Old man didn’t take it well. Decided to kill me. Didn’t.” Slowing the vehicle, they arrived at a parking-lot surrounded by backdoors of multiple piss-poor establishments. One of which was illuminated by a flickering red neon sign that read ‘no-tell motel’.

“He thinks I’m dead, so the rest of the city has to think that too.”

Arthur gawked at him. “That makes you no better than a fugitive! And it’s not just anybody after you--Allen, he’ll kill you when he finds out you’re still alive!”

“And that’s why he won’t find out.” Tapping the side of his neck for a flap to open, the said man slotted a small disk inside. “Disables cybernetic upgrades in a twenty foot radius. Means I can’t use mine, but it stops other people from figuring out who I am.” He dug through one of the compartments for a muffler, which he wrapped around the bottom half of his face.

What he did next was alarming, however. Sticking his hand further in, he pulled out a gun and cocked it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell are you doing--!?” Arthur exclaimed, fumbling with a face mask Allen tossed his way. He didn’t see a silencer anywhere either. “If I can call the police without any upgrades, so can everyone else!”

His statement couldn’t ring any truer, and yet, it never slowed down the other’s movements as he climbed out of the car. Unsatisfied by his silence, he wound up getting out to follow him. “Oi, say something! At least let me know you’re not gonna shoot up a restaurant!” Whispering that part out, he had to speed up a few steps to catch up with the man, now marching to the backdoor of a motel.

“Put the mask on.” Allen murmured without sparing him a single glance. But he paused briefly to process what he said. “... A motel, you mean. But I’m hoping we won’t have to resort to that.”

Arthur’s eyes went round. “You were considering--”

He could share the desperation to save Alfred’s life, but he had a hard time following how. Shooting up a motel? What was he thinking?

“Yes.” Attaching his hand to the door, it creaked open. Before Allen took another step, he faced him with a serious glower. “Now when we get inside, I want you to walk up to the receptionist. He’s programmed to greet you. Ask him for a room, and while you do, I’ll approach him from behind and deactivate him. Kapeesh?”

But then again, he was in the dark here. Arthur hadn’t the slightest clue on what Alfred’s circumstances were, as mysterious as the man was, so he had no idea how he was on the verge of dying.

So naturally, he wouldn’t know how to save him either.

But he trusted Allen to know what to do.

“... Alright. You better not make me regret this, you tyke.”

“You can call me anything you want, just not that. I’m not a kid anymore.” Those words would become apparent as they walked inside, where their plan went by without a hitch. They heard the automated voice of superficial kindness, which stopped abruptly to the sound of an android powering off. Its body fell to the ground to reveal Allen standing behind. Without wasting a second, he leaned over and typed furiously on the keyboard of the computer.

Trouble finds trouble

“Lemme see if this has a log of everybody who came by...” A few moments later, he started nodding at what he saw. “Bingo...” On their private encrypted server, stored the history of all the guests who booked a night. “Well, what do you know... Alfred checked out two days ago. But he’s on the move.” Pulling away to stand up straight, he jogged over to the exit.

“Even if someone tried to look for him in one a’ these places, he’d have to get behind the reception and do exactly what I did.” This someone referred to Matsumoto, but death already followed Alfred wherever he went. Not that Alfred knew that. “The perks of a no-tell motel. Even if they reek of piss, so long as there’s crime, they’ll never go out of business.” He beckoned Arthur to follow him with a tilt of the head.

“One down, twenty-seven more to go. And that’s only in the direction he’s going... And under the assumption he’s only staying at these motels. So, uh, let’s hope he didn’t try to be too unpredictable.”

The Brit huffed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“I think he’d be predictable to do that if you asked me.” He murmured. “But you call the shots. I’ll just be... Moral support.”

Allen already disappeared out the door, but his head poked into the doorframe at that. “Nah. You have the most important job outta’ the both of us.”

That was right. He didn’t tell him yet. He really should’ve a while ago, but he got caught up in the chase.

“Whether you remove a chip from his head or not will determine if he lives or not.”

Arthur paled.

“He’s the guy my boss wanted me to kill. Remember the dude I told you about? The one who tried to steal a prototype chip three years ago?” Now that he mentioned it, he recalled the conversation a few weeks ago. But wait a minute.

The mechanic felt his face scrunch up as he was hit with a major epiphany. That was Alfred? The terrorist Allen had been updating him about? He was the man who tore up three floors of the headquarters of Matsumoto Optics, and simultaneously, the same customer he had been serving for the last few years.

Before he could even process his shock, he was presented with even more appalling information.

“He stole it this time. That’s what he and (F/N) disappeared to do. But now that it’s in his head, it’ll overwrite his consciousness until he’s a fucking vegetable.”

Arthur was horrified. “Then why would he even--”

“Because he doesn’t know.” Allen cut in with a grim expression. “He thought the chip was supposed to give him immortality, so he wanted to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Like my boss. But no. It’s the opposite. It was all a ploy to kill him.” At this point, the blonde was at loss for words. As a doctor and mechanic, he was quite frankly terrified of how devilishly clever Matsumoto was. But he couldn’t expect any less from him, could he?

They made it back to the car, and he could only stare aimlessly out the windshield, paralyzed.

“That’s why we need you.” He heard him say. Turning to the man, albeit slowly, he felt a hand slap down on his shoulder. Allen gave him a lopsided grin. “You’re the smartest guy I know, second to my boss. You were always great at fixing stuff. Cars, enhancements, people--so what’s a mixture of all three?”

Arthur dug a hand through his hair stressfully. “... You’re kidding.” And yet, he already knew he was on board. “... Are you calling him a car?”

The other flattened his lips. “... He technically could be.”

“Just to be clear, I fucking hate you.”

Allen laughed. “Sure.”

“But otherwise, we’re wasting time.” He couldn’t believe the words falling from his lips. This was really happening, wasn’t it? After taking him in as an apprentice for his auto shop, the roles were finally reversed. He no longer took charge as the teacher. Or rather, he became the student caught up in the most difficult assignment yet. Having a taste of Allen’s work.

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

***

Tower Lockdown

You had all the reasons in the world to be anxious coming home.

On top of worrying over Alfred, who had hundreds of trained assassins coming at him all at once, during every minute of the heist, you had to face an aspect of reality you avoided until now. You were in the building, and he had already stolen the chip. It was slotted comfortably in his head, ready to leave the premises.

How come your father never appeared? Was he really just going to let you go just like that?

But the real question was this--should you stay or leave?

Yes, you hardly approved of anything he’d done. Done to the world like Alfred always mentioned, and to Alfred himself. But you weren’t prepared to abandon him yet. He was still your father, and the only family you had. If you had to make a decision, you needed some closure. If not, a discussion.

And you expected him to give it to you as the least he could do.

As Alfred stood among a pile of dead bodies bathing in red, his mantis blades trembled against a katana blade. Even with his hands full, he made the time to check on you. “(F/N)! Stay away from walls! Just hang on for a second longer!” He shouted, turning to you briefly before diverting his attention back to his opponent. “We’re nearly home free!”

Pulling away to give him a swift jab in the chest, blood sprayed onto his face, but he wasn’t fazed.

What did, however, was the sight of you being thrown over the shoulder of one of the bodyguards. Color drained from his face and he burst into a sprint.

“(F/N)! No!” Watching you disappear into an elevator, he slammed right into the closing metal doors. “Fuck!” He slammed his fist against them to hear a loud bang. Before he could linger too long, he hastily made his way to a door adjacent. The emergency stairs would take a hell lot longer, but as if he’d wait for the elevator to come back down.

Even if he needed to climb up a hundred flights to get to you, he would--all the way to the penthouse where Matsumoto was.

When those men approached you, there was no struggle on your end. You knew where they were going to take you. And you wanted them to. It could even be said you were relieved, because that meant your father was thinking of you. After a minute or so, the soft whirring fell silent, followed by a soft ‘ding’.

They moved outside the elevator, and after a few steps, they set you down on your feet. Right in the middle of your father’s office. At the very end behind a desk sat the man himself, and he was eyeing you with an unreadable expression. Upon returning his stare, came an onslaught of emotions. But the most prominent was incapacitating anxiety.

Even as his daughter, you could never see through him. He was impossible to read. So you had no idea what to expect.

“Dad... We need to talk.” You began, walking up to him warily. This was what you wished for at the start, cried for, even. To return home. And yet, the nervous pounding in your chest seemed to worsen with every step you took. It was jarring to confront how much had changed since then. So while you barely managed any words, you were already overwhelmed, struggling to choke back tears.

“For once, I need to know what you’re thinking.”

He inhaled deeply before responding. “I was under the same impression that we’d have this conversation.” Standing up from his chair, he furrowed his brows at the sight of you clenching the fabric of your pants. “Don’t look so nervous, child. You haven’t done anything to anger or disappoint me.” Reaching out to your head, he settled a hand on it.

“... Really?” You whispered out. Hearing his assurances calmed you down a touch. But when you saw the forlorn gaze he cast down at you, your heart was crushed. “... Dad?”

Me!Me!Me!, Pt.2

Any existing contempt for him melted away just like that, but you weren’t upset at yourself for it. Your father hardly expressed any emotion besides calm indifference. And when he did, it always felt like the world was ending.

“I’m the one who deserves your anger.” He clarified, lowering his hands to your shoulders. “I’ve left you by yourself for far too long, (F/N). I hope you don’t hold it against me that you had to come home yourself.” You hung your head, unable to meet his saddened gray eyes. If you were to hold a grudge at him for it, you’d start by avoiding his gaze. “And I understand why you would’ve wanted to help him. He has a way with words, and a naïve sense of justice. But it’s a warped perception of reality.”

You’d hate to admit it, but no matter how cruel he seemed to be, there was a method to his madness.

And you were perhaps the only person in the world to know it.

That was why you were so torn. Torn between hating him and understanding him. After all, you couldn’t have both. “You can’t blame him after what you did to him.” Glancing up at that, you felt bile rise in your throat. Then, your vision blurred. “I don’t know what you’re aiming for--for this company, and this world. But you can’t expect him to accept this world you created when you stole him from his. He had a life!”

Staring at him through hot tears, he breathed out a soft sigh before rubbing them away with a swipe of the thumb. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness. And I won’t expect you to forgive me even after telling you the reasons for my actions.”

He pulled away from you to begin walking back to his desk, but not to sit down. Instead, he stood by the window to watch the blinking lights of skyscrapers and small moving dots of cars on the streets. “In a society that normalizes cybernetic enhancements, many forget what it is to be human. He never did. So of course, he would reject the idea of immortality. The destruction of the most human quality there is.”

He paused briefly to scan the landscape.

“Mortality. One’s inevitable end gives everything they do meaning.”

Wrinkles creased between your brows. It was confusing to hear him speak so highly of death, frustrating, even. Wasn’t he the one investing billions into correcting it like a flaw? “If that’s what you really think, then why? Why would you make something that would take that all away?”

He held his hands behind his back. “To serve the greater good. A sacrifice, if you will.” The man turned to you, this time with a serious glower. “Alfred thinks I would commercialize it. Sell it to the public. But he’s wrong. Immortality will only be available to the leaders of the world.”

By leaders, you could only assume he meant people like him. Not politicians, but business men and women. Company owners. The most powerful forces of the present. “The inability to die is a curse. You never move on because you’re still breathing. But that may be just what the world needs. Stagnation. An absence of change.”

It was daunting to know this man was your father. You couldn’t say you were born with half as many of these attributes he had. Intelligence was easily passed down, but there was something else written in his genes you could never dream of having. “With every passing year, decade, and century, humanity frays like a rope. Society continues to deteriorate... All until self-destruction becomes a matter of time.” Facing the window again, he scanned the impressive architecture he was proud to call his own. And it looked as pristine as it did yesterday.

“The only way to stop this was to take control of it myself. And that’s how I came to found this company. I’ve found a way to govern the people. To invest in science as the world’s last and only hope. But it’s a job that will last eons, so I was prepared to do it until the end of time.”

He was right in saying that society was inevitably doomed with the direction it was heading. That technology was the only solution, along with a world government. Matsumoto Optics. A cosmocracy with jurisdiction over the whole planet. There would be no wars. No conflict. And with only one state to call the shots, things could be done so much faster on a global scale.

It was a radical concept to grasp, but you couldn’t say there was no logic to it. “Alfred was meant to do it with me. To reincarnate again and again as my closest aide on my quest to preserve the world. But he ended up being the opposite. My foil.” Matsumoto shook his head. “Alfred is a nostalgic soul. He’s too attached to the past. But the way of the old can never last with how fast it makes the world burn. Even if he realized that, he would want to exact revenge on me after what I’ve done to him.”

“So before he destroys everything I’ve created, I have to destroy him first.”

Him & I (with Halsey)

You tensed up all over, but before you could ask him what he meant by destroy, the doors burst open. The very subject of the conversation had appeared, and just in time for the conclusion of it. His arrival caught you completely off guard, successfully derailing your train of thought, but your father merely acknowledged his arrival. “Ah. Speak of the devil.”

“Speak for yourself, you fucking demon.” He spat, marching over to your side to pull you into his chest. Immediately putting his hands all over your face, he was riddled with concern as he inspected you. “You okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you in time. What are you still doing here? C’mon, let’s go.” While he reached down to your hand to lead you away, you stayed put.

As relieved as you were to see him here, you couldn’t follow him out yet. You gave his hand a squeeze, then a soft smile of reassurance. Then, you turned to your father.

This time, you held him in a firm stare.

“Even if everyone thinks you’re crazy, I always knew you’d have some kind of justification for everything.” You started. Little did you know, you would take back this statement in the very near future. “But I can’t forgive you for what you did to Alfred. He never ended up doing anything you wanted him to, so giving him all those adjustments was pointless for you. But not for him. If you wanted to get rid of him, it wouldn't be easy.”

Matsumoto closed his eyes as if to agree. That was what you interpreted it as, at least. But unbeknownst to you, he was doing anything but. “I wouldn’t know what’s best for this world.”

“But what I do know is that I won’t let you hurt him.”

You spoke those words with a conviction so strong, Alfred’s eyes widened when he heard it. It wasn’t news you cared deeply for him, but to hear you say it to your father like that, and Matsumoto, no less, it made his mechanical heart pound more than he could fathom. You were actively disobeying him, a man you previously revolved your life around, for his sake. To say he was infatuated would be an understatement.

You felt his grip on you tighten.

“Say what you will, and I’ll respect your conviction. But I will come for him.” The bearded man murmured in a foreboding tone. A sinister light glinted in his dark gray irises. “And in the most unexpected way he could ever imagine. You will never want to see me again when that happens.”

“If.” Your voice was a little strained. As much as you wanted to hate him and move on, you couldn’t. Every single fiber of your being was urging you to find a reason, any reason, to not despise the man who raised you. “If, dad. Because if you did, I really will never forgive you. I’ll hate you forever.”

A grim expression contorted at his face. In his many decades on the planet, he’d never felt more dread. But one had to wonder if that was the right word. The regret had already arrived, because he’d already done something unforgivable. It was only a matter of time before you’d find out. “I’ve already done something to earn your unconditional hatred, child.”

That was right. He’d killed Allen, your best friend and only other semblance of family in your life. And perhaps, the person you held the closest to your heart. “Soon, you will learn what it is. So I’ll let you leave today because you will never want to come back. I’d imagine that to be more… Convenient for you.”

It was only your ignorance that blessed him this last moment. The last moment where you’d see him as your father with eyes unclouded by hatred. But it was short-lived.

It didn’t take long for you to put two and two together, and in your short silence, you came to remember someone that had been gone for a while. Allen.

Atlantis

You woke up in a cold sweat. For just one measly second as you oriented yourself, you weren’t tortured by a fury. Betrayal. Disgust. But it all came rushing back to you like the memories of that Godforsaken day you met with your father.

Sitting up with a deep frown, you felt heat build up around your face. It would be etched in your mind forever. The memory of Allen laying in the dump. Tossed out like a broken toy. Then, the stench of blood and rust as he was left for dead.

You always knew your father was mad, but he kept on surprising you with how mad he was. Turning to the figure beside you, tears only overwhelmed your waterline to see his chest rise and fall steadily.

He was still here. Alive and well. You could only hope the same for Allen.

It had been ten days since the heist. There hadn’t been a single sign of Matsumoto or his men, meaning Alfred really did do his research on the best places to hide. Climbing onto his form, you wound up laying on his chest. Then, you peered down at his sleeping face.

As you got comfortable, you felt a smile creep onto your lips. If the you from a few months ago saw what you were doing, she’d be flabbergasted. Since when did you like him this much?

Your cheeks grew a little rosy as you became self-aware of the position you were in. Full-on embarrassment hit you when he began to stir, but before you could get off of him, his eyes fluttered open. Uh oh. Now this warranted an explanation.

For a second, he was confused, but when he saw that it was just you, he grinned lazily. “Morning, babe. Care to tell me why you’re not sleeping on your side of the bed?”

He’d totally cornered you. And did he just call you babe? “Um... I, well... I woke up on you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I was just about to get off.” Sliding yourself off of him at that, you tried your damndest to simmer down. But he never gave you the chance. Rolling over to face you, he pulled you in around your waist much to your surprise. “Hey!”

You never got around to pointing out that pet name, either.

He caught you in a serious stare. “Don’t be so shy. We’re close, aren’t we?” Alfred was never one to beat around the bush. You knew that better than anyone, but that didn’t mean you were used to it. Lowering your head at that, you fixated on his chest.

“... I guess so. That doesn’t mean I can sleep on you like that, though. And plus, it must’ve been uncomfortable.”

“Nah. You’re light as hell.” He hummed. Sitting up with you on his lap, his statement became more apparent in how effortless he made it seem. “You’re like a few grapes, really. So don’t worry about it.”

Why he chose to focus on that part of your argument was beyond you. Did he really not see anything wrong with what you were doing? Or maybe he did, and didn’t want to mention it. He’d been hugging you a lot lately the past week, but that wasn’t as deserving of your attention as spooning you while he slept.

Wasn’t he pushing the envelope? It would make sense he was just trying to comfort you after your run-in with your father, and your discovery that he was the one who attempted to off your best friend. But wasn’t this a bit much?

He wrapped his arms around your neck. There was nothing between you both, and yet, he was holding you like there was. Like you were his.

"...” It was in his smile. It was different to how he always looked at you, as if there was finally something behind those electric blue irises. Something alive. Something hot. As you played around with the idea, you lit up like a Christmas tree and pushed his mouth away. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Almost as if he read your mind, he relented. But only reluctantly. Picking you up from under your arms, he set you onto the mattress so he could get out of bed. Looking back at you over his shoulder, he gave your cheek an affectionate pinch. “Whatever you say. I’ll be back after a piss.”

When he left the room, you were left to your own devices. As you brought your knees to your chest, you came to realize how tight it was. He’d only left for a few seconds, and you were already waiting for him to return. It was ridiculous to think about, but it was almost as if you missed him. Already.

Did spending all this time with him give you some kind of separation anxiety?

Or was it something more?

You couldn’t tell.

The fact that he mentioned ‘I’ll be back’ suggested he was aware of your attachment to him. You buried your face into your knees.

Turns out, you weren’t the only one having a hard time processing your feelings.

When he disappeared into the bathroom, he pressed his back against the wall. Reaching up to his chest, he scrunched up a part of his shirt as the pounding in his heart subsided--his metaphorical one. Alfred didn’t think it was weird to find you on top of him like that, let alone dislike it. In fact, he loved it. It gave him a shred of hope that maybe, you did like him the way he liked you.

But that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t be with you.

This was the fifth motel he’d been to after the heist. There was no saying he’d be dead by the end of the day. Not when your father was after his head. So he wasn’t about to start anything. That would be too selfish, even for him--though one had to wonder if ‘selfish’ could even describe him anymore. He was anything but. At least, for you he wasn’t.

Alfred would only be proven right when he took a step towards the toilet. His vision started to glitch. Then, he lost his balance, falling over the sink and slamming his head against the mirror. “Fuck--!” Stumbling back onto his feet, he was engulfed in black for a few seconds. What the hell was going on?

His bout of disorientation lasted for far too long to be normal.

Before he would start accepting the prospect of going blind, his vision returned. He thought he would celebrate that moment, but he forgot what he was even fussing about. What happened? Lowering his gaze to his hands, he stared at them for a while before looking back up. What was he doing here? Where was he?

That was right. He was in a motel. With you. Running away from uncertain death. It took a minute or so to recall all of these things, and that was what alarmed him. It seemed like his body wasn’t accepting the chip very well.

Temporary memory loss and blindness was just apart of the transition, right?

Little did he know, it was anything but.

Outside that very district sat two men in a car. Bags hung under their dull eyes as they scanned the streets as vigilantly as their sleep deprivation let them. It had been two days since they slept, but they wouldn’t rest until they found him. There were only four days until the damage was done.

If they didn’t get to the man before then, he would be as good as dead.

22 notes · View notes

wonjaekook · 5 years ago

Text

Golden Sweet, Golden Sick

A/N: I want to make it very, very clear that I am in no way encouraging this kind of behavior or saying it’s okay, at all, ever. Like everything I write here, this is entirely a work of fiction and is not intended to portray the real personalities of any of the people involved. If someone does anything like this to you or you do this to anyone else in real life, please find help. That being said, this is a type of character that I’ve never written before and it was kind of interesting to write; this is very much meant to be a story-driven piece. Stay safe and enjoy :) (I also have a Jaemin fluff coming soon to make up for this!)

21 Tropes: 11. Yandere + gold w/Jaemin

Description: You would be his forever, one way or another.

Word Count: 14k

Genre: horror/thriller, fluff (kind of?), angst (kind of?), slight smut/suggestive (nothing super explicit in that realm, but there are multiple mentions/allusions)

Warnings: creepy behavior, blood, death, very descriptive violence (seriously, it gets bad), manipulation, drugging, swearing, alcohol, mild suggestive/sexual content and mentions, all around bad things

He doesn’t know when he started feeling this way about you. Na Jaemin has always been the perfect example of everything - athlete, student, boyfriend. Then, you came along and tore his world apart. The more time he spent with you, the more he thought about you until every other breath he took was solely for you. He knows it’s not normal. Yet… he doesn’t feel like there’s anything he can do about it now. It’s too big. It hurts and it feels so good at the same time. It’s a reason. A force propelling him towards something: you. He also knows he would treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Cared for. Protected. Loved. So, he listens as you talk to Heejin, straining his ears against the noise of the lunch room.

“You know that new exchange student from Germany, Liu Yangyang? I really like him.”

“Oh?” Your best friend gives you a knowing smile. “I didn’t know you were into foreign boys.”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

Heejin laughs at your bashfulness. “Do you think he likes you back?”

“I don’t know,” you say, cheeks pink at the idea. “He’s really sweet and funny to me and…”

Heejin hooks an arm around your shoulder. “If he doesn’t like you back, he’s an idiot. Look at you! You’re perfect wife material.”

“Hold it right there,” you say, holding up your hands in a ‘stop’ gesture. “No one said anything about being anyone’s wife. We’re still in high school and it’s just a crush.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Are you going to ask him out?”

“Maybe on White Day? Is that too cheesy?” The thought of asking him out makes you nervous, but you can’t just expect him to come to you first. He might be too shy.

“Y/N, you’re too cute for this world.” As she affectionately pinches your cheek, the bell signaling the end of lunch rings, cueing all the students in the cafeteria to get up and rush to class. Your best friend starts backing away in the opposite direction than you’re headed. “See you after class!”

You’re blissfully unaware of Jaemin’s eyes following you.

About a week later, you’re gearing up for White Day in a few days when you get the news. You respond with a broken heart, thinking about how the chocolates you had prepared at home are now going to waste, after Heejin tells you what she heard from some of Yangyang’s friends. “He’s going back? To Germany?”

“Yeah… it’s a shame he has to go back home early. I wonder what happened.” She looks at you. “Hey! Maybe this is your chance. Even if you don’t think you can do long distance, you should tell him how you feel anyway.”

“I… okay!” Taking your best friend’s advice, you run outside to meet Yangyang after classes are over. The question of why he didn’t tell you he was leaving earlier in the class you had with him itches in your mind. You consider yourself to be friends at the very least - why hadn’t he told you? A moment after you think that, you spot him. When he sees you approach, you think you see him tense up. “Yangyang!”

“Y-Y/N…” He seems anxious, his eyes dart around and he’s shifting uncomfortably.

Brushing off his strange disposition, you jump straight to the point. “Yangyang, are you really going back to Germany?”

“Erm, yeah… family… I mean! Personal… stuff.” His eyes land on something behind you for a moment, remaining fixed there, before he looks down at the ground.

“Oh,” you pause, solidifying your decision that you have to tell him after hearing him confirm it himself. “I just wanted to tell you that… I like you. I’m sorry I don’t have any chocolate or anything to make it a proper confession, but-”

“It’s fine!” Yangyang’s words come out rushed and high-pitched. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I can’t accept your confession. I really have to go, sorry.” Your heart sinks at his words, a sad pout adorning your lips. With one last glance behind you, Yangyang practically bolts away, heading towards the student parking lot. Trying to follow where his eyes were, you glance behind you, but see nothing of interest. There’s no one there. With a heavy heart, you trudge back into the school. How had he gone from warm to cold with you in such a short amount of time?

The first thing you do is seek out your best friend. She looks excited to see you for a second before she notices you moping. “Did it go badly?”

You nod, dropping down to sit on the stairs next to her. “He rejected me. He was even acting weird! So closed-off and distant. It wasn’t like him. Am I that off-putting?” You try to pull out your phone, look at your appearance, but Heejin grabs it from you, putting it facedown on one of the steps.

“No! No way it’s you, it’s definitely him!” The indignant face she makes has you feeling a bit reassured. “He’s probably distracted by whatever it is that’s making him go home. You’ll find someone better anyways, I promise.”

You sigh, resting your chin on your hand. “It just sucks.”

“I know. But, hey, it’s okay. It would’ve been hard to have a relationship with an exchange student anyways.” Heejin pats you comfortingly on the pat, attempting to reassure you.

“I know, I just…” You sigh heavily again, blowing some hair out of your eyes.

Heejin glances at her phone and shifts uncomfortably. “Y/N, I’m sorry, but I really have to go…”

“That’s okay, your review session is important. I’ll be fine.” You scrub at your eyes, not caring about the redness you’re causing. You’re not crying yet, but you feel like you’re on the verge of doing so.

“Text me if you wanna hang out later?” Once you nod, Heejin bids you farewell and hurries away. With your best friend gone, you can’t help but feel a little more lonely.

At that moment, Jaemin is walking by, but he stops when he sees you with tears in your eyes. He knows instantly that his plan worked. Well, he knew that it worked when he saw your interaction with Yangyang, but the further proof is encouragement to him. The sadness on your face almost makes him regret what he did, but he knows he can make you happier than Yangyang ever would. If there’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s that. “Y/N,” he says, feigning confusion, “what’s wrong?”

You would say you’re acquaintances, kind of friends at best, with Jaemin - you’ve had a few classes together and hung out in groups before, but you’re not close. You’re a little hesitant to answer, but you figure he’s just asking out of courtesy. “Nothing,” you say, sniffling slightly, “I’m fine.”

“Y/N…” The tone with which he says your name is gentle and pleasant to your ears, almost relaxing. He closes the distance between the two of you, sitting down next to you on the stairs. “You can tell me. We’re friends, right?”

That makes you look up. Na Jaemin, one of the most popular, good-looking boys at your school, considers you a friend? Then again, he’s also renowned as one of the sweets guys in your grade, the type to take care of abandoned kittens he finds in cardboard boxes and walk grannies across the street. The smile he gives you tells you that he’s being sincere, so you can’t help but give him a tiny, sad smile back. “I just got rejected.”

His eyes widen. “Who would reject you?”

“Liu Yangyang. I confessed to him because he’s going back to Germany soon, but he doesn’t feel the same.” Saying it out loud, you realize how silly you sound being so upset about it. Like Heejin said, it really wouldn’t work out with him being so far away. “God, I’m so stupid. Sorry for bothering you with this, Jaemin. I probably look like an idiot right now.”

“You aren’t stupid! Anyone would be upset if they got rejected.” He doesn’t know who to be angry at for making you feel this way about yourself - himself or Yangyang. Your pain hurts him ten times as much it hurts you.

“Thanks, Jaemin,” you mumble.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” He contemplates for a moment and, before you can tell him that he doesn’t need to do anything else, he stands up. “That’s it! Let’s get ice cream.”

“Jaemin, you really don’t have to-”

“It’s my treat, come on!” He takes your hand, pulling you to your feet. Seeing that he’s not giving up, you reluctantly let him guide you. It’s a little colder outside than when you met Yangyang earlier given the season and time of day. You expect that he’ll just take you to the convenience store across the street from the school, but he keeps going, bringing you to an actual ice cream shop two blocks away. Every so often while you’re walking, he’ll glance behind him, like he’s making sure you’re still there, and smile at you. It feels nice to be acknowledged like that.

He relishes in how you let him take your hand and guide you down the street. He had let go after he helped you up because it would have been a little strange if he kept holding on to you when you’re not that close yet, but the warmth of your hand lingers on his fingertips.

The little bell on the door dings as he pushes it open, holding it for you. Walking in, you give a small bow to the man behind the counter. You’re about to order when Jaemin stops you with a hand on your forearm. “My treat, remember?”

After he asks you what you want, you watch him go up and order, smiling at the cashier, polite as his reputation says. Even in his school uniform, he looks exceedingly handsome. Jaemin returns to you a moment later, handing you your ice cream, and you thank him. You sit with him, eating your respective flavors, when you decide to prod him a little. “Jaemin, why are you going through all of this trouble just for me? I’m sure you’re busy.”

“I can’t just let my friend be sad. Plus, honestly, I’ve been wanting to get closer to you for a while now.” If you would have to place it, you would say Jaemin is acting shy. No way. Na Jaemin, shy about saying he wants to be better friends with you? If you were closer to him, you would call him cute for that.

None of what he said is a lie. It’s just not the full extent of the truth. He wants to be closer to you than anyone else. He wants you to only look at him. He blinks, looking away from you and trying to get the dark thoughts out of his head for now.

“Let’s hang out more, then,” you say, more cheery than you’ve looked since he’s met up with you. “We can be closer, if you want.”

You get Na Jaemin’s number that day after he happily agrees.

It’s not too long before you’ve forgotten almost entirely about Yangyang. Jaemin does a good job of getting your mind off of him, off of everything that’s preoccupying you, honestly. He’s almost a miracle cure, ready to talk whenever you need him, always kind, always charming. When he starts walking you to some of your classes, offering to carry your books like a character out of a movie, that’s when your heart finally melts for him.

As you get to know Jaemin, you also pinpoint what the unease you’ve been feeling for months is. It’s the feeling of eyes on you, at all hours of the day, when you’re in public, when you’re with family, when you’re with friends, when you’re alone. You’re not exactly sure when the feeling of someone watching you started. The ever-present pit of discomfort in your stomach. All you know is that Jaemin makes it better. With him, you feel safe.

He’s not sure when the longing started. The headaches. The constant need to be with you. All he knows is that only you make it better.

“Heejin, I like him so much, I don’t know what to do.” You clutch dramatically at your heart, pouting. “He’s just too perfect.”

Sadly, your best friend is more skeptical than you. “Yeah, that’s the problem. He’s too perfect and every girl falls for him.”

“He treats Y/N differently, though, you can see it,” your friend Renjun says from next to Heejin, looking up from his chemistry homework. “Believe me, I’ve known him for years. He only acts that way with girls he likes.”

“Injun, don’t give me hope.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m just telling you like it is. You know I’m not the type to sugarcoat.”

That’s true enough. Renjun is the one who started the group hangouts that you first spent time with Jaemin in and he has known him for much longer than you or Heejin. It’s also not in his personality to say things he doesn’t truly believe.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Heejin says, turning back to you. “Then, Y/N, if you were to go on the dream date with the dream boy, what would you even do?”

“If someone asks me out, I want our first date to be cute and simple. Let’s go take a walk in the park or something and get ice cream. Maybe give me a flower when he comes to get me. I dunno, maybe I’m being dumb,” you laugh, pushing your hair away from your face. The thought of going on a date with Jaemin- you mean, someone, has you feeling warm and blushy.

“There’s no use trying to be sly. When you say someone you mean Na Jaemin and you want ice cream because that’s where you had your first unofficial date,” Heejin says, smirking.

You stick out your tongue at her, scrunching up your face. “If you keep being weird about it, it won’t happen.”

To your surprise, despite Heejin’s continued weirdness about it, Jaemin approaches you the next day. Immediately after you greet him, he’s looking at you with those adorable doe eyes of his, making you feel like you’re the only person in the world. A simple, “Y/N, I like you a lot. Would you go on a date with me?” from him has your heart beating out of your chest and it takes all of your self control to not spin him in a circle and hug him right there.

Jaemin shows up to your first date that following Saturday with a single white and red carnation, which he tucks behind your ear when you meet him on the sidewalk.

If it’s possible, he’s even more perfect than what you imagined. He’s out of a dream - walking with you slowly, his hand brushing yours as you walk and talk, remembering your favorite flavor from the last time you got ice cream together. If you’ve never felt lovesick, you certainly feel it now. By the time the date is drawing to a close and Jaemin is walking you home, he’s politely asked if he can hold your hand, which you quickly obliged. You can’t help yourself from asking him about his decisions as you’re approaching your house.

“Jaemin, how’d you know?” His hand feels warm and comfortable in yours, your fingers interlaced. “Did Heejin tell you this is how I wanted a first date to be?”

He puts a perfect mask of surprise on his face. “Really? This is just how I thought the perfect first date should go and I thought you would like it, too.”

That, along with everything else, makes you feel like you’ve finally found the right guy. You feel safe with Jaemin, warm and secure, and the paranoid feeling of someone watching you isn’t present with him around. Maybe he’s your guardian angel. Maybe he’s your soulmate. Either way, you’re glad you found him.

He asks you to be his girlfriend after your second date, to which you eagerly agree. When you get home from that outing, your parents can see the change in your face and Heejin is the first to hear the news when you call her soon after. She mentions something about ‘if Na Jaemin ever hurts you’ but, in your joy, you insist that everything will be fine and peachy.

Two days later, when he meets you between classes at school, his hand instantly moves to interlace with yours as you walk, making your heart rate pick up and a light blush cover your cheeks. Each step seems almost lighter than the last and, when you would ordinarily shy away from the looks and whispers of your classmates as you pass by them, his warm gaze on you alone makes everything alright. When you reach your class, he stops, but doesn’t let go of your hand. There, in front of the prying eyes of your schoolmates, he leans down and kisses you for the first time. It’s soft, sweet, and very Jaemin, should you have to describe it. Your eyes, which you had instinctually shut when he moved closer, open after he pulls away and you find that he’s smiling brightly at you, a sort of happiness that you’ve never seen from anyone else before in his eyes.

“Have fun in class,” he says softly, as if he hadn’t just kissed you in front of everyone, before he walks off in the direction of his own class. You’re dizzy in the best way and practically glowing as you force your feet to move into the classroom and to your seat. Renjun, who you share the class with, looks up at you as you practically melt onto your desk and into your chair.

“Did Jaemin strike again?” He questions, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You nod, lifting your head to look at him. “He just kissed me in the hallway.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Get a room. Seriously.”

You’re too distracted by the fuzzy warmth in your chest to reply something snappy back.

Jaemin makes a habit of sneaking little kisses between classes or after lunch or whenever else he gets a chance and you can’t say you mind it at all. After a little while, the small pecks he places on your lips when he drops you off at home or in any other area more hidden from the gazes of others become more intense, more full. His hands, once respectfully staying at your hips or cupping your cheeks, tangle in your hair and edge ever so slightly under your shirt after you say that it’s okay. Even so, he’s always one step ahead of you, always patient, always asking permission, always backing off when you give even the slightest sign of being uncomfortable. It’s a tugging back and forth of how far you’ll go that lasts for months, leaving you with a lot to think about when you’re alone at night. In those times, in your distracted state, you forget about the blinds of your room being open, your body on full display for anyone who may be looking in. Not that anyone should be watching you. Not that you think anyone is.

Every time, you let him push the boundary a little further until, one day, you’re at his house with the intention to study together. That intention is quickly forgotten as he murmurs sweet words in your ear about how ‘you look so pretty today’ and ‘that shade of lipgloss looks so nice on you, I wonder what it tastes like?’

With unmatched eagerness, you welcome his touch, his lips on yours, the little sighs he lets out as he kisses you and pulls you onto his lap. Your energy fades into uncertainty and insecurity as his hands drift to the edge of your shorts and his lips travel to nip and kiss at your pulse. He feels the change, but simply holds you closer, his fast heartbeat seemingly pounding into your chest because of your close proximity. He feels your heartbeat as much as you can feel his.

“Jaemin,” you murmur, distracted, as he presses kisses to your neck, “I’m a virgin. I don’t know if…”

He’s heard enough of your conversations about the topic with your other friends and watched enough of your late-night sessions to know. He would be upset with how sloppy you are about exposing your body to the light when your blinds are open, but it allows him the best view he’s ever had, so he figures that he can’t complain much. Not that he could ever tell you.

Once that confession leaves your lips, he pretends to be surprised, stopping his actions, straightening up, and cupping your cheek with his hand while looking in your eyes. You look so pretty there, your cheeks pink with embarrassment, lips parted and lipgloss smeared slightly, hair slightly out of place from when he ran his hands through it. Above all, he loves the feeling of being able to read exactly what you’re thinking from your eyes and the way your body is positioned. If he could keep you here like this forever, he would. “That’s okay. If you want to stop, I’ll wait for you. I don’t want to pressure you.”

He doesn’t have to worry about pressuring you. You’re his, anyways. His and his alone.

The warmth in his eyes is comforting to you. His free hand still strokes your side just under your shirt, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “I think… I want you to continue. Please.”

The slightest desperation in your voice sets him off. You want him. You need him. Your own desire for him brings him more pleasure than any amount of sex with someone else ever could. But he holds back the urge to just take you right then and there. “I’ll go slow, baby. Tell me to stop if you ever want me to.”

One day, maybe not soon, but eventually, he knows he’ll have you where you’ll never tell him to stop. You’ll want him just as much as he always wants you.

“I know we’ve never talked about it before, but I’ve been thinking. About the future, university, all of that.”

Jaemin’s words surprise you. Of course you had thought about bringing it up with him, but the past few months with him had passed so fast and so blissfully that the topic always slipped your mind with him. You hum in response, signaling him to continue.

“I want to go to Korea University.”

He had been listening to you gush about Korea University to your parents and other friends for months, so he’s nearly certain you would be happy when he says your own dream school is also his. However, your expression falls for a moment, throwing him off. Are you not happy he wants to go to the same school as you?

You pull yourself together quickly, forcing a smile onto your face. “That’s great, Jaemin! What makes you want to go there?”

You want to go there. “Well, their academics are great, and…” As he gives the speech he had rehearsed about the school, he watches the flickers of insecurity swim in your eyes, your smile a poor mask for how you really feel. “Where do you want to go?”

You clear your throat, your toe nudging the floor awkwardly. “I… I actually want to go to Korea University, too.”

He reaches for your hands, clasping them gently in his. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t know whether you should tell him or not, but you know by now that he won’t give up on getting the truth from you until you’ve spilled it. With a sigh, you try to find the words to explain how you feel. “I just don’t want it to seem like I’m just following you. I don’t wanna come off as some clingy girlfriend who only chose a university because her boyfriend wants to go there. I don’t know, does that make sense?”

Voicing your thoughts out loud, you suddenly feel stupid, like you’re making this out to be a bigger deal than it is.

As soon as the words come out of your mouth, all Jaemin feels is regret. He made you feel this way? How could he do that? It’s a sinking pit of disappointment and anger in himself that makes it hard for him to speak for a moment. But, he’s become far good at acting to show his internal frustration now. He squeezes your hands, making you look up at him. “Y/N, I promise you don’t sound like that at all.” I’m a fucking idiot. “It’s just a happy coincidence. You should go wherever you want to without caring where I’m going.” I can’t be without you. “You’re your own person. Nobody thinks you’re just following me.” I want to worship the ground you walk on.

“Really? I… thanks, Jaemin.” He lets his regret serve as a lesson for how to approach these kinds of things with you in the future. I’ll never let you get hurt again, not from me, not from anyone. Never again.

When you and Jaemin move in to Korea University in the fall, the way your excitement lights up your eyes makes him feel equally as giddy. Of course, he also has his own reasons. For the most part, any of the guys that even remotely present a threat to your relationship back off as soon as they see your hand in his. You make safe friends who do safe things. He can keep you even closer than before. For once, he feels secure. At least, for a little while.

There’s one guy. In your calculus class. Jaemin doesn’t like him. Not at all. He doesn’t like the way he looks at you or the way he trails you slightly after class. You’re clearly uncomfortable because of him, too. He’s overheard you tell him, ‘please leave me alone, I have a boyfriend.’ When he doesn’t back off, that’s justification enough. Jaemin only plans it out a little bit. The red haze that takes over his vision every time he sees that guy is the final push. That guy… he’s easy enough to follow. Easy enough to trap in a secluded place. To Jaemin’s surprise, he’s even easy enough to kill, too. There’s no blood. He doesn’t even struggle as much as he thought he would. If anything, it’s exhilarating. His breaths come quickly and shakily through the mask covering his face as the last of the light leaves the other guy’s eyes. He would never, ever bother you again. Taking someone else’s life to protect you? It’s the highest form of protection. The highest form of love. That first kill… it feels almost as good as when you first told him you loved him. This way, he can show evidence of his devotion to you. Not that he can tell you. You’re too soft-hearted to know. But, now… now, you’re safe. That’s what he tells himself, as he walks home, as he throws the clothes he was wearing in the washing machine, as he lies in bed and sends you his typical goodnight text. You’re safe. He can keep you safe, from now until forever. He wouldn’t think his next greatest concern would be so close to him.

One breezy fall day, Jeno texts him. He hadn’t seen him in a while - they went to separate high schools and then separate universities. Jaemin can’t say his mind has entirely been on his friend when he has other, closer people to worry about. Two years ago, that would’ve been a different story. Now, when his entire mind is consumed with you? The stray thought Jeno appears in is always a result of seeing his name pop up as the sender of a text.

JN: hey!! your best friend is coming to korea u for a baseball game on saturday!

JM: oh shit, really?

JN: hell yeah dude

JN: do you have any plans on friday?

JM: i actually have a date with my girlfriend that night

JN: i promise i won’t take up your whole night then! do you have any time to squeeze me

in? lmao

JM: i suppose, you wanna meet y/n?

When you first meet Jeno, everything is fine. He’s so similar to yet very different from Jaemin and has a nice smile. Jaemin had told you a little about him before but never elaborated, so you’re excited to talk to him more. Jeno has a natural, soft sort of charm about him and you quickly become comfortable with each other, unaware of the look that your boyfriend is giving you.

He had thought everything would be fine. For a moment, it is. He introduces you to Jeno, all smiles and jokes, but doesn’t realize his mistake until afterwards. He doesn’t like the way you smile at Jeno. Your smiles should be only for him. He shakes his head, trying to clear it. He hadn’t thought like that for a while, not since he got rid of the guy from your calculus class. But are thoughts like that all bad? He’s only looking out for your relationship. He’s only trying to keep you close to him.

It’s times like these he forgets about the adoring look you always have in your eyes for him, all the moments only he gets to witness, all the I love yous. All that’s left is the need to have your every expression, your every breath. No matter who stands in the way.

As the hour ticks on, he keeps coming back to that thought. Are you ignoring him? For Jeno? You wouldn’t even dream of cheating on him with his best friend, would you? No. His gaze turns to Jeno. He’s smiling that handsome, charming smile that makes even strangers on the street fall for him and Jaemin’s jaw clenches. How dare he look at you like that. How dare he.

Time passes far too quickly for you and Jeno and excruciatingly painfully slowly for Jaemin. Finally, finally, the hour is coming to a close and, when your boyfriend reminds you that you should leave soon, you step out to use the restroom. As soon as the door clicks shut, Jaemin turns to Jeno, grabs him by the collar, and slams him into the wall. With you gone, the ever-present pounding at Jaemin’s temples returns and his temper flares even more. Jeno groans, wincing as his head hits the concrete. “What the hell, Jaemin?”

“What the hell? What the hell is wrong with you?” His hand tightens around his collar. At that moment, when Jeno looks into his best friend’s eyes, all he sees is a profound emptiness. The Jaemin he knows is gone. Or was this Jaemin there the whole time? “Keep your eyes off of my girlfriend.”

“I don’t have my eyes on your girlfriend, you lunatic!” Jaemin’s knuckles press into Jeno’s collarbones. “You just introduced us!”

“I see you. I see the way you’re looking at her. Wanting to take her from me. Undressing her with your eyes. I thought I could trust you, but you’re like every other man. You’re-”

“You’re insane,” Jeno rasps, not fighting back for fear of hurting his friend. Even if he’s acting like this, he’s still Jaemin. Right? “What are you talking about? What happened to you? Jaem, I’m not trying to steal your girlfriend. You’ve known me for how long? You know I wouldn’t do that.”

Jaemin is practically shaking with rage, but Jeno’s words start to get to him. There’s clarity in his eyes for a moment, Jeno can see it. Right then, you open the door back into the room. You see Jaemin pinning Jeno to the wall and you frown, concern marring your beautiful face. Jaemin instantly relaxes. “Jaemin, what-”

He lets go of his friend and gives you a sweet smile. “It’s nothing.”

You glance at Jeno, who still looks shaken as he runs a hand through his hair and adjusts his shirt. “Jaemin-”

“We should go, right? The movie is in thirty minutes.” He reaches for your hand, taking it gently in his. When you keep looking at Jeno, who appears to be relatively untouched other than his slightly disheveled clothes and hair, your boyfriend’s eyes darken. You don’t see, but Jeno does. His blood cools, afraid of whatever is possessing his friend. The moment of clarity is gone. Jaemin’s face then morphs into a perfect mask that makes Jeno almost believe the encounter never happened. He tugs on your hand, getting your attention. “Come on, Y/N.”

“Alright…” You grab your bag, Jaemin’s hand never leaving yours. “It was nice finally meeting you, Jeno.”

“You… you, too.” The tone he’s using with you reminds you of an old memory, but you can’t quite place it. You let Jaemin pull you along and out the door. He starts up a new topic and you forget about the strange incident for a while. He’s always been too good at distracting you.

He’s in your dorm room that night, cuddling with you in your bed and holding you close with a hand on your hip and your head tucked in the crook of his neck. Mumbling into his chest, you reflect on your day. “It was really nice to finally meet Jeno.” He hums in response, hoping that’s all you’ll say about the topic. You continue. “Hm, I never got his Kakao. I-”

“Why do you need his Kakao?”

The way he interrupts you is uncharacteristic of him, so you shift in his arms, trying to look at him better. “What do you mean? He was fun to talk to. I could bug him and ask him questions about you.”

He relaxes at that. You’re too perfect - the definition of a loving, devoted girlfriend. The least he can do is give you that same devotion back by keeping you away from other temptations. Away from even Jeno, who he can’t trust anymore. Not after today. He sighs, his thumb running over your hip soothingly. “He’s garbage at responding to messages. You wouldn’t want to text him, anyways.”

“Mm, okay, whatever.” When you make a noise of contentment and lie back down in the same position as before, he knows everything is fine once again.

Jaemin lets himself get carried away far too often. He knows he does. But the way you make him feel - lighter than air, higher than the stars - is what causes it. He wouldn’t give that up for anything in the world. The sound of your clothing rustling and the little kisses you exchange with him in the library, in a secluded corner than hardly anyone goes to, sound so loud in the small space, but the feeling of being with each other is sweet enough for both of you to drop your guard for a little too long.

“Jaemin,” you half-whisper, half-giggle, “stop.”

His hand slides up your thigh slightly higher, the tickling sensation turning into something more warm and anticipatory. “Do you really want me to?”

You hide your mouth with your hand and mumble into it, your face growing hotter by the second. “Someone will see.”

“No one will see. Y/N…” His hand barely slips under the edge of your short skirt before you hear laughter from down the row of bookshelves. You and Jaemin both freeze, looking to the source. Three guys, one you recognize from one of your classes, are standing at the end of a nearby bookshelf. You had been so busy with Jaemin that you hadn’t noticed them approaching.

“Getting busy in the library, are we? Mind if we join?” You don’t catch the tightening of Jaemin’s jaw and the near murderous glint in his eyes. All you feel is your face heating up and embarrassment as you lift your boyfriend’s hand away from your thigh. After it leaves your skin, his hand curls into a fist.

“Yeah, we mind. Get lost.” Jaemin’s face displays irritation and a hint of a threat, but the guys just laugh.

“You’re telling us to get lost? We were just admiring you feeling up your pretty girl in the library.” A second guy speaks, his eyes raking over you, making you feel exposed.

Jaemin stands up suddenly, the chair squeaking backwards at the sudden movement and startling you. “You guys wanna die?”

“Jaemin, come on…” You reach up to grab his hand, tugging on it.

“What? I’m just complimenting your girl.”

“Bastard, keep your filthy eyes off of her or I’ll-”

“Jaemin,” you whisper, pleading with your eyes, “please.”

When he meets eyes with you, the tension in his shoulders loosens a bit and he sighs. “Fine. Let’s go.”

You laugh about the embarrassing incident with him later that night. A few hours later, his body count triples. The police report the accident as a drunken run-in with a group from the bad side of town. Jaemin watches you frown in concern when you see the news. The baseball bat he had used is shoved in a garbage bag under his bed.

The second year of university, he asks you if you want to move in with him. He had planted the seed of the idea in your head months before so that, when he finally asks, you eagerly say yes. You know your relationship with him is serious, more serious than the relationships any of your friends have, but you’re more than happy to take that step with him. Your parents love Jaemin, so you have no problem convincing them. In fact, as you move in, you have no problems at all. On the first day, you spend your time taking things out of boxes and dancing around the small apartment with your boyfriend, who takes every opportunity he can to pull you into hugs or plant kisses all over your face. Sunlight streams in through the windows that you have yet to put curtains on. After a break in the middle of the day to, well, break in the bed that the two of you will share, you finish setting up and step back, observing your new living space. Jaemin turns on some music, pulls you closer, and the two of you sway back and forth.

He can’t describe living with you as anything other than bliss. Where he can see you and hear you and feel you at so many hours of the day. Except, somehow, his head hurts even more when you’re gone. You… you’re the addiction he could never get rid of. He needs you. When you’re sad, he’s sad, when you’re happy, he’s happy.

You, on the other hand, walk a little faster past dark alleys, look around more than your friends do. It’s that feeling of eyes, still present whenever Jaemin is gone. You just want that feeling to go away.

When he comes home to the sound of you crying one night about a month into the semester, an unsettling feeling instinctually warps his emotions. His body instantly runs hot and cold and he sprints to where you are, seeing you curled up on your shared bed, sobs racking your body. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He tries to stay focused, but an all-consuming rage starts to fill him. Whoever made you cry is going to regret being born. He’ll punish them himself. You shake your head, continuing to sob, and he slowly unwraps your hands from around yourself, moving them until you’re clinging to him instead and he’s pulling you into his arms. “It’s okay, I’m here, it’s okay.” It takes you a few minutes more to calm down, your sobs slowly turning to sniffles and a few more silent tears. He strokes your hair, keeps your head cradled in the crook of his neck. “Tell me what happened, baby.”

You shake your head, mumbling out a response against his shirt. “It’s stupid…”

“You’re crying, it’s not stupid.” His voice is deadly serious, cold as stone, and you hug him tighter. He realizes how he sounds and softens his voice. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me…”

“Jaemin,” you say, your voice muffled, “you’re too good for me.”

His heart nearly stops. You’re in pain. You might leave him because you think he’s too good for you. You might leave him. “No,” he croaks out, his own emotions threatening to consume him, “I’m not. You’re the one who’s too good for me. Why would you ever think that?”

“This girl from my class… she said it and… it just got me thinking and… she’s right. You’re-”

Suddenly, Jaemin is kissing you. It’s not a new action, not in the slightest, but this kiss feels different somehow. He pulls away, leaving you breathless. “She’s wrong. Y/N, you’re perfect. You’re my entire world. If you think I’ll ever leave you,” you can’t leave me, “you’re wrong. You’re my sun, more precious than gold, and I’ll do anything for you. You’re my angel and without you, my world is dark. I would have nothing without you.” He finds his tongue loosened, spilling words that he wouldn’t normally admit, drunk on rage and desperation and the clawing fear that you’ll leave him. Don’t leave me don’t leave me don’t leave me. His hands tighten around you almost painfully. He kisses you again, a short press of his lips against yours, and lets out a shaky breath. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” You whisper against his lips, letting him kiss his love into you. With his words, your insecurity starts to melt away, leaving a different sort of nagging unease at the back of your mind. A bitter taste in the back of your throat that you can barely tell is there, but is sometimes strong enough that you can tell something is wrong and doesn’t go away even if you brush your teeth a thousand times. That sometimes comes and goes quickly as he starts to kiss you with a feverish need. You don’t know why, but something seems off about Jaemin.

A few hours later, he’s holding you, lying in bed with you. His hand cards through your hair, his eyes earnest and soft as he gazes at your now relaxed face. “Who was it? That said that to you.”

“Kim Yuna. From my biology class. You shouldn’t hate her, though. She’s probably just jealous that I have such a sweet, loving, handsome boyfriend.” He smiles at that, but his insides grow cold. Tomorrow night, maybe. That’s when he’ll punish her.

The next night, he slips a sleeping pill in your drink at dinner. A colorless, tasteless thing just so you won’t wake up when he leaves to do business that night. When you go to sleep, more drowsy than usual, Jaemin’s arm is around you, spooning you against his body, his own soft breaths landing on your exposed neck and his heartbeat not quite in sync with yours. You don’t feel as he untangles his body from yours after he’s sure your breathing has slowed enough for you to be asleep, you don’t see as he slips on a black hoodie, jeans, and gloves and steps outside, you don’t hear as Yuna screams when his blade sinks into her once for each tear she made you cry, you don’t realize what’s happening as he knocks out a homeless man that reeks of alcohol and presses the blade into his hand. All you know is the feeling of Jaemin wrapped around your body, embracing you loosely, the morning light coming through the curtains casting pretty shadows on his face, and the low, rumbly sound of his voice as he tells you “good morning” when the soft tracing of your fingertips on his cheekbones wakes him up.

On your third anniversary of being together, it seems like you and Jaemin have the same idea. You beat him to giving him his gift, presenting him with a gold colored ring, the outside carved with delicate vines and your anniversary date carved into the inside. You were afraid that it would be too much - you’re not even engaged yet, and you’re sure it’s a yet - but the way he hugs you and promises to wear it as much as he can validates your decision and you practically glow when you smile at him. Then, from the depths of one of his coat pockets where he was trying to keep it hidden from you, he pulls out a little box. Inside of the box is a beautiful, simple gold necklace. It has a tiny heart charm on it that, when you flip it over, has the hangul of Jaemin’s name carved into it.

“I always want to be close to your heart,” he says, a whispered confession in the space of your small apartment, “just like that.” After he secures the chain around your neck, you’re tugging him out the door, to the nearby ice cream shop that has replaced the one you used to go to back home and that both of you have grown to love.

It’s late by the time you get back and both of you have class tomorrow. You’re no longer shy about being naked in front of him, so, as you’re getting ready for bed, you don’t even ask him to leave the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches you change clothes, a smirk of satisfaction coming to his face. You’re his. The satisfying feeling that comes with you wearing the necklace with his name on it is the same contentment that comes with eating a good meal or waking up from a nice nap. He feels complete, whole, because you’ll always have a piece of him with you.

At least, it’s enough for a moment. Like with eating or sleeping, the feeling eventually fades and he’s left empty once again. He doesn’t even pretend he’s not watching you anymore. His eyebrows draw together, furrowing under the confusion he feels as he watches you reach behind your neck, attempting to unclasp the necklace. “What are you doing?”

“Hm? I’m getting ready for bed. What’s wrong?” You stop moving for a moment, giving him a look. There’s an expression on his face that you don’t recognize. His eyes are on your neck.

“You should keep it on.” He has enough control of himself that he can make it sound like a suggestion instead of the command he truly means it to be. There’s a crippling sort of fear inside of him at the thought of you taking off his gift. It’s not a feeling he can explain, but he’s certain something terrible will happen if you take it off. He doesn’t want you to take it off. You can’t take it off. The next word he lets out has a hint of his desperation leaking out. “Please.”

“Your necklace?” You muse, tracing the chain with your finger. “Jaem, I love you, but I’m trying to get ready for bed. I have to take it off.” You reach back again and he strides over to you quickly, his hands sealing over yours. His grip, normally warm and comforting, feels tight, choking now, his knuckles just barely pressing into your neck where his hands wrap around yours.

“Keep it on.” He insists again and you blink at him slowly. What’s wrong with him?

“Jaemin, I have to take it off. I don’t want to choke in my sleep,” you say, resisting the push of his hand against yours. His eyes are desperate, the chain on your neck straining slightly under the combined force of both of your hands as he fights against you.

“No. Don’t take it off.” The grip of his hands on yours suddenly becomes harsher, stronger, and you whimper, feeling the gold press marks into your skin.

“Jaemin, let go, that hurts!” Your back to your vanity, you can’t move away any further. When you look into his eyes, your stomach drops in fear. You had never seen him look this scary before, but at this moment, he is murderous, terrifying. This isn’t the sweet boy you had fallen in love with. Something is very, very wrong.

“Promise you won’t take it off. Promise!” The way he phrases it sounds almost childish, but you know there’s a threat behind the words. What would he do to you if you disobeyed him?

“Okay,” you say, voice barely a whisper, “I won’t take it off.”

His hand shakes as he unlatches it from the chain and cups your cheek. He’s normally warm, but not now. Now, he’s ice cold. “Promise me.” His eyes are full of passion, but somehow dull at the same time, as if he lost a part of himself and is trying to fill it in another way. He’s a void, empty and trying desperately to drag you in.

“I promise.” You force the words from your lips.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a lump catches in your throat as he reaches up to stroke your hair. You’re afraid of what you just agreed to. You don’t have the strength or will to pull away as he slowly presses his lips to yours. His lips, which had once been familiar, feel foreign now. His eyes still have that dullness to them when he pulls away. You used to think he had all the stars in the universe in his eyes, but now something has drawn all the light out of them. “I love you,” he says, those eyes burning deep into your own, sucking you in.

“I-” You don’t know anymore. “I love you, too, Jaemin.”

“You’re mine,” he says, pecking you on the lips again. “You’ll never leave me, right?” You shake your head, like you’re in a trance. “We’ll be together forever.”

“Forever.” You echo, your voice ringing hollow.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, fingers grazing your cheek before they fall to take your hand, “let’s go to bed.” You let him lead you to the bed, let him tuck you in next to him, let him pull you into his arms, let him whisper goodnight to you like he usually does. There’s something so off-puttingly normal about the way he moves now that has you unmoving in his arms, tense and unable to relax. His arms around are usually so comforting, but now… now, they feel like bars of a cell. Shackles. What happened to him?

Sometime, somehow, you slip into a fitful sleep.

He can’t sleep. Not until he feels you relax in his arms, finally drifting off. The room is too dark for him to see more than just the faint outline of your features, but he stares, eyes wide open now that you’ve drifted off. Slowly, carefully, as to not disturb you, he untangles his limbs from yours. He just wants to see.

Slowly, he makes his way to the window, opening the curtains quietly. Cool moonlight bleeds through the glass, casting long shadows around him and falling on your figure. The gold chain on your neck still glitters, even with just that little bit of light reflecting off of it. From his view at the window, he swears he can still read his name engraved on the necklace and he can’t help but smile at the thought that you would be his forever.

The way you look, comfortably asleep in his bed, face and body completely relaxed and at ease, stills the pounding of his head for just a moment. It’s only gotten worse recently. The only time it doesn’t hurt is when he’s with you, when he can see you and feel you and touch you. You’re both his poison and his antidote. There is no cure. Not that he would want one - he only wants you. It feels like it’s only ever been you.

He wasn’t always like this, but, now, it’s hard to remember a time when he didn’t need you as much as he needs air. It wasn’t until he met you that he realized how dangerous the world is, how greedy the eyes of men are. You’re a flower that he needs to protect from anything that could harm or sully you. He will take care of you, even if it means putting you in a glass case and killing anyone who gets near.

That’s right - you would look prettiest if you stayed in this room forever, he’s sure. But you wouldn’t have that. That’s okay. If everyone else is part of the outside world, he would be the glass protecting you.

What good is a bird if it’s not in a cage?

Satisfied at the glimmer of gold around your neck, he draws the curtains shut once again and returns to your side.

You wake up before Jaemin does. The morning light dances over his face, making him look as pretty and innocent as ever. What happened to him last night? Your mind flashes back to the cold, empty look he had in his eyes, and all you can do is shut your eyes and turn away, facing the opposite direction from him. One of his arms is slung over your abdomen, but it feels like it’s burning into your skin. It’s early enough that your alarm hasn’t rung yet, but you know it will soon. You’ll have to go about your day like everything is fine and normal. That thought has your stomach turning. Just as you’re about to get up and out of bed, your morning alarm goes off. Jaemin groans and his eyes flicker open as he turns slightly, pressing the button to turn off the beeping. He shifts so that both of his arms are around you, pulling you against his body.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says in that gravelly morning voice of his between the moist kisses he plants on your neck. When you stiffen in his touch, he frowns, pulling away slightly. “What’s wrong?”

You muster up the courage to speak to him. “Jaemin, we have to talk about last night. What happened to you?”

He appears confused when you say that, which confuses you in turn. “What are you talking about? After we got back from getting ice cream, you were so tired that you went straight to bed. You barely even said goodnight before you were out.” Your eyebrows furrow. It felt so real. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“I…” Was that all it was? A really vivid dream? Now that you think about it, that makes sense - your Jaemin wouldn’t do something like that in reality. Lying in bed with you, he’s the Jaemin you’ve always known: his eyes soft and warm, his voice low and sweet, his arms gentle around you. “I guess so. Sorry, Jaem.”

His hand shifts under the covers so that it ghosts over your upper thigh. He looks at you with those pleading puppy eyes, his tongue not-so-subtly darting out to wet his lips. “I could make you feel better, if you want.”

You swallow hard, body already anticipating him. His distracting abilities are phenomenal and you really need that from him right now. You know his diversion would get rid of that last little bit of doubt in your mind and you always give yourself enough time before class to be ‘distracted’ by him, after all. Your golden necklace shines in the little bit of sunlight coming through the curtains as you move to get closer to him. “Shower first?”

“I prefer breakfast first.”

When you’re finally properly getting ready about thirty minutes later, you glance down after washing your face. On the palm of your hand is a trail of bruises shaped like the chains of your new necklace.

He made a mistake. That much he knows. The way you pull away from his touch, the lingering fear in your eyes, they hurt him more than anything. But, you kept the necklace on. Maybe he feels guilty, or like he’s slipping up. Maybe that’s why he agrees to go to your friend’s party with you a few weeks later. Prior to then, he always distracted you with dates and sex and anything else he could to keep you from going out to things like that but, now, maybe it’ll be okay. That’s what he convinces himself of for a few days.

Now, seeing you in the tight black dress that you had gotten for the occasion, anxiety about the event creeps up on him. His eyes rake over your figure and all he can think about is the attention you’ll get from other men, the lustful stares, the wandering hands. You can’t go out like that. That thought finally prompts him to speak. “Y/N, you shouldn’t wear that.”

“Why not? I think it looks good on me.” You twirl, as if your dress isn’t so tight that it’s incapable of flaring out. You try to be playful with him, hoping that what he said was a joke. When you came out, all dolled up for the party, you had expected a ‘wow’ or ‘isn’t my girlfriend so sexy?’ Anything but what had actually come out of his mouth.

“That’s not the point.” He grits his teeth, doubling down. Though the way the piece of fabric hugs your every curve is a welcome sight to him, his possessive side wins out - like it always does. After that slip-up with the necklace, he knows he should be trying harder to repress it so that you don’t notice, but he can’t help it. Not then, not now.

You stop moving, staring at him with a quirked eyebrow and a hand on your hip. He’s really serious? “The point of a party is to have fun and look good, is it not? Come on, Jaem. If you’re allowed to look good, so am I.”

“You look good in everything, “ he says, pushing his tongue to the inside of his cheek in frustration as he eyes you up and down once more, “you just shouldn’t wear… that.”

You press your lips together in a tight line. Your next words are a dare you hope he doesn’t take you up on. “And what do you mean by that, Na Jaemin?”

He grits his teeth again. You’re really not getting the message? “I don’t want you going out looking like a whore.”

Your eyes widen and he immediately knows he’s made another mistake. Before he can even attempt to apologize, you’re throwing on the black heels you bought to match your dress and hissing out a response. “Well, you can just stay home while your girlfriend of three years acts like a “whore” with her friends, then.” You raise your fingers to make air quotes around the offending word. The golden necklace with his name on it glimmers around your neck as you turn, grab your bag, and storm out the door.

Instantly, his head starts pounding and it feels like his heart has been filled with molten lava. “Fuck,” he hisses between gritted teeth, “fuck.” By the time he catches his breath and has the thought that he should catch you, apologize, do anything to stop you from going out, he knows you’re long gone, in your friend’s car who was coming to pick you up. He can’t make you come back. But, he can…

The jeans, loose button up, and baseball cap are a good enough disguise. You gave him the name of the club that party is at a few days ago, so it’s easy enough for him to make his way there and slip inside through a back door. Sit in a booth near you with a little divider that blocks his face unless you’re purposefully looking through it but doesn’t block the sound of your voice. Spare a glance at you before he sits down, where you’re so beautiful that you glow even under the dim lights of the club. At times, your voice is low enough that he can’t hear it over the throbbing bass filling the venue, but he hears enough. He can tell that when your friends ask what’s wrong, you’re trying to perk up and act like everything is okay, but it’s not. He upset you. But he can deal with that later. Right now, what matters is that you’re safe.

He hears as your friends get up to dance, but you say you want to finish your drink first and you’ll join them soon. The thought of you dancing with a stranger makes him swallow hard and clench his fists, the skin over his knuckles turning bone white, but he doesn’t have enough time to be angry about that before someone, recently emerging from the dance floor, sidles up to you. From his stagger and how his voice is far too loud, even for the club, Jaemin can tell he’s drunk. Whether he knows it or not, this man is choosing his fate by what he says next.

“Baby,” he drawls, making Jaemin want to gag and punch him at the same time, “why don’t you come dance? Give me some company.”

“I have all the company I want here,” you say back, your voice louder than normal but still more even and quiet than the stranger’s. You idly swirl the remainder of your fruity drink in its glass with sluggish circles of your wrist.

“Come on, have some fun. Have some fun now and we can have some fun later.” Jaemin’s breathing starts to come out unevenly, the edges of his vision turning red.

“I have a boyfriend. Please, leave me alone.” That makes the red go away for a moment and a swell of pride take its place. His beautiful, loyal girlfriend. That feeling goes away as the stranger speaks again.

“Bitches get boyfriends and start pretending they’re too good to have a little fun? Your dress screams that you’re begging for some dick. I could fuck you better than any-” With each word that comes out of that vile pig’s mouth, Jaemin’s nails press tighter into the skin of his palm, nearly drawing blood.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to my friend like that!”

He lets his shoulders sag as your friends approach from the dance floor, driving off the stranger. He leaves with a few more curses while Jaemin makes careful note of his face. His eyes lock on the table as he thinks about everything he could do to him for daring to even look at you. For a moment, it’s almost like he can already taste the blood. Then, just before he’s about to get up and tail the guy, he hears your soft sniffling and the consoling words of your friends.

“Y/N, it’s okay, he’s gone now! We can enjoy the rest of the night.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, quietly enough that he has to strain his ears, “I just started off the night really bad. Jaemin was supposed to come with me and I just totally stormed off without him and…” He can tell from your babbling that the alcohol is getting to you. “I want to go home. Knowing Jaemin, he’s probably beating himself up over this right now and I just don’t think I’m in the mood to be out right now. Sorry for ruining your party, Gowon.”

“It’s okay! You didn’t ruin anything. Go get your boy.” She cheers you on, much to Jaemin’s delight. You’ve always been soft-hearted enough that even when he said something unforgivable to you, you still want to go home to him. You’re wrapped around his finger even tighter than he thought you were. He can smile at that.

As you’re on your phone, arranging a pick up, he slips back out. No matter how much he wants to follow that guy, to punish him for what he said to you, it’s more important that he meet you now. When he gets back, he does his best to change, throwing the clothes that now stink of the club into his laundry basket, changing into something more casual, and spraying on an extra coat of the cologne he was already wearing, your favorite scent on him, just to mask the smell more. He hopes it’s enough that your tipsy self won’t notice. Not a moment later, you’re clumsily unlocking the door and walking in, shutting the door heavily behind you. He rises to meet you, emerging from the bedroom to see you throwing your heels to the side.

When he sees the tears in your eyes, he approaches you with a quiet call of your name. “Y/N? What happened?”.

“Jaemin, I’m sorry for walking out on you like that,” you sniffle, peering up at him with teary eyes, “I know you just care about me. You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone out wearing this. A guy tried to get me to go home with him and he told me he thought I wanted some dick because of my dress. I’m sorry.”

Another step forward, then closing the gap and working to dry the tears smearing your makeup. “No, baby, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have called you that. If I went to the party with you, that guy wouldn’t have even dared to approach. I know I hurt you, I’m sorry.” He pecks you on the lips several times and you wrap your arms around him in return, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. He hadn’t been drinking, but the sweetness of your lips drives him wild, making him feel dizzy and drunk. He mumbles against your lips. “Let me make it up to you.”

Later, when your body is still under the sheets, the gold chain still comfortably resting around your neck and your makeup sloppily wiped off in the few minutes you managed to stay awake after he was finished ‘making it up to you,’ he lies awake, watching your quiet breathing like he always does in times like these. If he stops looking at your face, he’s afraid the regret of not following the man who had harassed you would consume him, make his headache rise again, make him drag himself out of bed to go track him down, no matter how difficult of a task it is. Even when he pulls you closer and tries to sleep, all he can think about is him. His last thought before he drifts off himself is that he’ll find him. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon.

Jaemin isn’t sure whether to call it lucky or unlucky when he’s out on a picnic date with you, enjoying the setting sun in the park, and he sees the guy from the club. The man doesn’t seem to recognize the growing anger on his face, instead sauntering over to you and allowing Jaemin time to compose himself slightly.

“I’m sure you remember me from the club the other day, sweetheart.” Jaemin’s jaw clenches. How dare he speak to you? How dare he?

Your eyes also narrow, irritation clear on your face. “I thought I asked you to leave me alone.”

“And miss the chance to look at your pretty face?” His gaze then shifts over and he eyes Jaemin. “So, this is the cuck who lets his girlfriend go out dressed like a slut?”

“You’re the asshole who tries to hit on other guys’ girlfriends?” Jaemin fires back.

“Yeah, and I could’ve been successful if her friends hadn’t interfered.”

“You think you could piece of shit like you could ever get a girl like mine?”

“I could get a common whore like her any day.”

That comment is what has him leaping out of his seat and grabbing the man’s collar. His fist connects with the man’s face once, twice, three times, and he’s on the ground, kneeling over him and slamming his fists into whatever he can hit - eyes, nose, jaw - over and over again. He’s no match for your boyfriend and, for a moment, all you can do is watch. Watch as Jaemin effortlessly holds down this man and hits him, blood covering his fist from where the other man’s nose is now clearly broken. Luckily, the area is pretty abandoned, so no one is there to witness the incident, but you’re still yelling, grabbing onto Jaemin’s shoulders and shrieking at him to get off of the man. Jaemin’s fists slow and you pull him off the other guy, who crawls backwards, spitting blood.

“What the hell is wrong with you, kid?!” His face is all shades of red and purple, blood smearing across his nose and mouth when he wipes at it. “You’re fucking insane!”

“Yeah?” Jaemin says, his voice eerily even. He’s not even breathing hard. It’s like all he had done was stand up. Subconsciously, your nails dig into his arm and you can feel his quickened heart rate.“Maybe I am.”

“You fucked with the wrong guy, kid. You’ll regret this, you’ll really regret this.” The man’s voice shakes - he clearly is having the same realizations about Jaemin that you are. Still, he spits out threats as he shakily rises to his feet and stumbles away.

He disappears from view, but Jaemin’s eyes continue to blankly stare in that direction. All you can do is look at him. Never, not once, have you seen him physically hurt anyone. He never gets into fights, never hits people, never even looks at anyone the wrong way. But that - whatever just happened - was so easy for him. What happened to him?

You find that’s not the first time you’re asking yourself that question.

He seems to snap out of his thoughts a moment later, turning to see you staring at him, a wide-eyed, scared expression on your face. “Let’s go home,” is all he says before he’s stiffly packing up the things you had brought with you. When he extends his hand for you to take, you grab onto it out of habit and see some of the warmth return to his eyes. He’s smiling at you gently, tugging you along the path back home. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” After you nod, your words come out as more of a murmur, as if you’re afraid to ask him. Because you’re afraid to ask him.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling a beat later, “my fists hurt, though.”

“Why did you do that?”

He looks away from you, focusing on the sidewalk ahead of him. “I just lost it for a second because of what he said to you. He… he had no right.” His thumb runs over your knuckles, a motion that would normally be soothing. Now, you’re not sure how to feel.

“Jaemin, where did you learn to fight?” How did he learn to do it so well?

“I did taekwondo for a while as a kid, then Jeno and I took some kickboxing classes together in high school.” At that, you relax. It’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. It makes sense, more sense than anything else in the last few minutes has. You cling to that answer, forcing down the rising concern in your mind, shoving that feeling into a dark corner of your thoughts and hoping you never have to see it again.

You just want things to be okay. Maybe that’s ignorant and selfish, but you don’t want to think about Jaemin any differently than you did not even an hour ago. You don’t know what you would do if things weren’t okay.

When you get home, he lets you clean up his knuckles and wrap them in bandages. They had split and started bleeding a bit when he was punching the other man, though you try not to dwell on that. The man got up and walked away and, though he didn’t look too pretty, he’ll live.

Why are you afraid that he might not?

Shaking the thought off, you raise his hands up, pressing a kiss to the bandages on each of his hands. When you look up at him, he’s gazing down at you, his eyes soft and warm. That’s the Jaemin you know, you tell yourself. “No more fighting, okay?” You whisper, keeping eye contact with him.

He leans forward, quickly capturing your lips in a kiss. Something about the kiss reminds you of the first time he had kissed you in the hallway three years ago, where the only thoughts you had about him were honey sweet and full of wonder. “As you wish,” he mumbles against your lips before going back in to kiss you again.

When you’re sleeping later that night, his arms are around you as usual. Once again, his thoughts are consumed with that man. He’s not scared of him. No, why would he be? He’s scared for you. As long as that piece of filth lives, he can come after you. He can keep hurting you so long as he still draws breath. He had already drawn his blood - he just needs to go a little further next time. Keep hitting him until the light leaves his eyes. He can try to understand what he did wrong in his grave. Taking a shaky breath, Jaemin tries to ignore the phantom taste of blood in his mouth, the feeling of the hot, irony liquid coating his hands that isn’t there, not yet. I need to kill him.

“Doll, do you want to go out tonight? I want to make up for ruining Gowon’s party for you.”

It’s a few days later, the next weekend, when he speaks up. You look from your laptop, where you had been idly checking emails and doing a little bit of schoolwork. “The club? You didn’t ruin anything, Jaems.”

He rolls over so that he’s next to you in the bed, his arms circling around your waist. “I know I did, Y/N. You don’t have to deny it.”

Your hand idly goes to his hair, threading through the silken strands. “I would be okay with doing some drinking and dancing with you. But only if you want to!” You recognize that his offer is somewhat strange, not something he would usually bring up himself, but you imagine it would be fun to go to the club with him.

“Wear something pretty tonight,” he says, winking at you slyly before he rolls away, getting off of the bed. “I’m gonna go shower.”

This time, you don’t pull out that same tight black stress, opting for something a little less showy, something you’re sure your boyfriend will be happy with. Your heels are a little more modest, your makeup a little more simple. When it’s late enough and you’re both ready, you do a little twirl for Jaemin, who whistles in appreciation. “My pretty girlfriend,” he says, reaching for your hand so he can spin you, “are you ready?” You nod.

He knows he is.

It’s a different experience, arriving through the front and not the back, but he welcomes it. All it takes is a single sweep over the club for him to find the man from before, his face still swollen with bruises and some sort of strong alcohol in his hand. Good.

You greet the three friends who you invited out as well. Jaemin had told you to get others to come, that it would be more fun. You sip on a fruit drink, one with less alcohol than last time, and his hand rests idly on your thigh, his fingertips playing with the lace edge of your dress. He smiles at your giggling comments, feigns listening to your friends as they talk, makes all the right moves. Finally, the man from before stumbles out the back door, alone. Jaemin excuses himself from your group, saying something about the bathroom.

The man is outside smoking when Jaemin catches up to him. “Hey,” Jaemin says, catching his attention, “I wanted to talk to you.”

It takes a moment for the man to recognize him. When he finally does, he throws his cigarette down, clumsily putting it out with his boot. “You… I told you that you’d regret what you did. C’mere.”

“Let’s talk somewhere more private, yeah?” The man scowls before following him. They enter a side alley, somewhere quieter, away from all prying eyes.

“Don’t want anyone to see you get the life beaten out of you, kid?” The man drawls, stumbling slightly in his drunkenness. He raises his fists. “Hope you said goodbye to your girlfriend.”

He throws the first punch. Sloppy as expected, easy enough to sidestep. Jaemin’s leg sweeps out, knocking one of his feet out from under him. He falls to the ground, smashing his head into the broken concrete of the dilapidated alley. Not one to give up, the man gets up after a moment, attempting to hit him again. Another easy dodge and Jaemin is using the momentum to slam his palm into the man’s head, sending his head into the brick wall of the alley with a sickening crack. A spot of blood is barely visible on the bricks in the dark. He crouches down next to the man, who is breathing hard, trying to get up but unable to because of the spinning of his head. For a moment, Jaemin just watches him attempt to get up, slumping back down over and over again. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t breath any harder. In fact, he hardly does anything at all. He just watches.

Slowly, he begins to speak. “Do you understand now?”

The man gurgles out something that resembles a curse and Jaemin reacts lightning fast, lifting the man’s head up before slamming it into the ground again. Another cracking sound, more blood.

“Do you? Do you know what you did?”

All that comes out is a groan this time. The bloody mess of a man reaches out and Jaemin’s shoe lands on his fingers, crushing them. The man barely has enough strength to cry out.

“No,” he says, putting more pressure on his fingers, “you don’t. And you never will.”

He lifts the man’s head and, with both hands, smashes it down again. And again. And again. A pool begins to form under his head. Jaemin’s hands are coated with blood now, he knows it. He can feel the liquid splattering onto the sleeves of his loose black dress shirt. He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop.

It’s all for you. Always for you.

Jaemin has been gone for too long. When you wonder aloud about his whereabouts, one of your friends mentions that they saw him go out the back door. Confused, you get up, saying you’re going to go check on him. Behind the club, there’s litter, scattered bottles of alcohol, and cigarette butts, one of which is still smoking slightly. You frown, making a quiet noise of disgust. People are really that careless? From farther away, you hear a cracking noise, like the sound of someone breaking open a watermelon on the first day of summer. Some sort of sick intuition has you following the source of the noise, leading you to the opening of a side alley.

It takes a moment for you to process what you’re seeing, but when it sinks in, your gasp gives you away. Jaemin’s head turns towards you fast, too fast, before he relaxes when he sees it’s you.

“Y/N,” he says, “you weren’t supposed to see this.” He speaks like he was just hiding Christmas presents and you had caught him, or like he was stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. Not… not this. The way he rises to his feet is stiff, like he had just woken up from years of sleeping.

It’s the same for you. You’re finally awake. Years of blindness, of willful ignorance. Now, you can finally see.

You can’t speak. There’s blood over everything and you know it isn’t his. “Baby,” he says, using that same sickly sweet tone of voice, “what’s wrong?”

Something about his question finally makes it so you can breathe again and your shallow, panicked breaths make the easy expression drop from his face. “Y/N…” He reaches out and you step back, so he stops, looking down at his hands with a dead, appraising expression. The attempt he makes at cleaning off the blood covering his hands just smears it further on his pristine skin and wipes some onto his pants. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to get so messy.”

“Jae…” You can’t even bring yourself to finish his name. You want to run, but your legs won’t let you. You take a step back, but stumble, nearly falling down. He catches you and your skin crawls as you feel the blood on his hands transfer onto yours.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, too calm, too cold, too detached, “he won’t hurt you anymore.”

What is he saying?

“I dont… I don’t understand… why…?” You can’t keep your eyes off of the body slumped in the alley.

“Stop looking at him.” Jaemin’s grip on you is crushing, even more so than the night he had prevented you from taking your necklace off. A night that now clicks back into your brain as you realize that this is the real him. He had lied to you about it being a dream. What else had he lied about? Whoever the man in front of you is, you don’t know him. This can’t be him. But it is. You can’t deny it anymore. You shut your eyes at the pain and he lets up. You slowly open your eyes to meet his. When you look at him, he raises a hand to cup your cheek. “I promised I would protect you. I love you, Y/N. More than anything in the world.”

“You killed him,” you breathe out, unable to look away from the void of Jaemin’s eyes now, “you killed him.”

“He deserved to die.” The words come out as a growl. It’s beyond Jaemin’s imagination how you can possibly be sympathizing with this man. “After what he said to you? What he wanted to do to you?”

“He’s still a person!” You shriek, trying to jerk away from him. His grip tightens.

“No man,” he says, “no one like him is a person to me.”

The image you have of your boyfriend, who you’ve been with for three years and known for four, morphs in your mind. Where he had once been so pure, a golden ray of sunlight that you wanted to dwell in forever, you realize now that the shadows he’s casting are darker and longer than any of the light he’s given you. You’ve been in denial for far too long. Jaemin is a monster.

With all of the strength you can muster, you fight against him. Trying to pull away, get away, run from this person that you no longer know, that you’re not sure you ever knew. You take a step away and his arms are around you, embracing you in a crushing motion that makes it feel like you can hardly breathe.

“Don’t run. You can’t run.” He says, pulling you more firmly against him, his grip impossibly strong, impossibly tight. Against your will, you start to sob.

The shackles he placed on you years ago were made of gold, but shackles nonetheless. Maybe some part of him really does love you. But, a larger part of him is sick. Too sick for you to fix and too sick for you to escape. It’s a familiar scene, you, wrapped in his arms, your tears sliding into his shirt. His arms are a prison and, all this time, you’ve never had any hope of escape at all.

“Shh,” he cooes, stroking a blood-covered hand over your hair and tucking your head against his chest, “it’s okay. Everything will be okay. I’ll keep you safe. From everyone.

“Forever.”

#reuploading bc tags were broken :'))#jaemin angst #jaemin smut #nct smut #neowritingsnet #nct angst #debating if i should put this in the fluff tag #maybe not bc even though it has fluff it's too dark #nct dream angst #please let this work this time :( i worked so hard #sorry to the people who saw this before i'm reuploading akdfjas #feel free to pop into my ask box and leave criticism!

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s1utspeare · 4 years ago

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Get To Know Me!

@foxofninetales tagged me in this ask game and since I LOVE HER i will now be doing it (i mean i’d do it anyway but now it will be filled with love for FOX i am not accepting CRITICISM ON THIS POINT)

Part I

name: Brigid! I’m named after the Irish goddess of like, poetry, healing, smithcraft, and protection, or the Irish saint (they’re both pretty similar it’s just whether or not you’re talking about Celtic religion or Catholicism). She’s very cool, and I think it’s a very fitting name for who I turned out to be!

pronouns: she/her

star sign: i’m an insufferable theatre kid of course I’m a Leo

height: 5'8″ babeeeyyy (172 cm). I’m not short like, at all, but all of my family members are over six foot, so I’m like. tiny in comparison. they all make fun of me all the time for it :(

time: 8:49pm! A delightful time of evening!!!

birthday: July 31st, same day as Harry Potter lol.

nationality: american :P

fave bands/groups/solo artists: hnnnngggghhhh why would u ask me this I don’t KNOW jk i just have a lot uhhhhh all time faves would be Bastille and Mumford and Sons, but I’m SUPER into kpop right now, so my top groups are BTS, Stray Kids, and One OK Rock (who are technically jpop but I really like their stuff). I also am a Broadway BITCH (hello, theatre kid) so before this year all of my Spotify library was basically just show tunes.

song stuck in your head: Get Away by VeriVery. I think they’re a pretty new group? idk i saw them on one of those tumblr promotional things and checked out the music video which is like??? really interesting conceptually? so I’ve just been listening to the song for a while lol.

last movie you watched: Train to Busan! I’m gearing up to write a dmbj zombie apocalypse AU and so I was like “this is a popular zombie film! I’ll watch it for inspiration! :)” holy shit. holy shit i was so wrong. It’s one of the most viscerally affecting films I think I’ve ever seen, I was like. On the verge of an anxiety attack the entire time but in like the best possible way?? it’s a mastery of character introduction and action/horror and I cried for like the last ten minutes straight. SO affecting. I do NOT RECOMMEND IT if u are already made anxious by zombie apocalypse scenarios, blood, violence, and a Lot of Death.

last show you binged: hmmm uh like I’m currently watching Mystic Nine but at like a normal pace, so the last show I probably binge watched was maybeeee The Uncanny Counter on Netflix? HIGHLY recommend that one, I made @cross-d-a watch it and I’m living for her liveblog reactions lmao. Idk most of my free time has been spent writing the past few months which. After months of only having the energy to watch shows is kind of really invigorating? the things u can do when u fix ur health I’ll tell you what

when you created your blog: in 2012 asldighalsdkfjladskjga i came on here to like burdge’s pjo fanart :)

the last thing you googled: "is it bad not to have an air cap on your tire” ALSDIGHALKDFJLADFJA FUCK ME (i learned that it’s not necessarily bad but it can get dirt and stuff built up in there so I went to the store after work today and replaced it)

other blogs: everything is here bc i am too lazy to create a sideblog! so sorry to everyone who does not follow me for cdrama content bc this is all I am now.

why i chose my url: cause it’s my ao3 username and i wanted people to be able to find me more easily on tumblr! :) the long answer is because i love shakespeare and also i think that slut is a really funny word and concept for me especially because i am one of the most sexless people u will ever meet in ur life so slutspeare is like. an aggressively ace joke that only I think is funny.

how many people are you following: 588

how many followers do you have: ah just over 200?!??!!? which is like. a lot for me. I think it was like 75 up until like last year omg

average hours of sleep: my sleep app says I average around eight! which is very good for me! I do have to get enough sleep consistently or I will Have A Bad Time so my sleep schedule is pretty good and luckily I don’t have the Insomnia depression I have the Sleep Lots one which I am glad for bc idk what I’d do if I couldn’t Be Unconscious regularly. Die probably.

lucky numbers: I don’t think I have lucky numbers?? my favorite number is 21 for no reason other than the vibes alone.

instruments: i’ve played the piano for uhhhh.... eighteen years now? and I can play the ukulele and am surprisingly good with the recorder since I’ve had to play it in Multiple Theatre Performances. I was also an honor choir singer back in high school so I’ve done a lot of select ensemble stuff which was super fun!

what i'm currently wearing: a Life Is Good long-sleeved t-shirt that says “Not All Who Wander Are Lost” that I got in a military surplus store like a million years ago and red Adidas athletic shorts that I found at the thrift store a couple weeks back

dream job: playwright! I just wanna be a playwright! playwriting is like drugs i literally go nuts for it

dream trip: I don’t know??? I don’t really like traveling tbh aslidhalkfdj umm I do want to see the grand canyon sometime before I die tho so maybe a road trip down there? I definitely like traveling solo so I’d probably just hang out with myself and drive and go to whatever places I want and see dumb tourist attractions and sing loudly in the car

fave food: CURRY i know i said eggs the last time it asked me this but I miss my local Indian restaurant I want to eat literal Platefuls of tikka masala at 12pm at the Indian buffet after my physics class again :(

top three fictional universe you'd like to live in: hmmm i don’t know, actually! probably one where I have Powers and could do Cool Hand Motions and make Lights Appear. If I were anywhere with like. An Actual World-Dooming problem tho I would not be helpful at all. I would just die. Besides, I already live in fictional universes half the time, I’m a writer!

Part II

last song: Basquiat by Pentagon! The music video is like. Very whumpy. So if you’re into that... the song’s also a bop

last stream: i don't watch streams very often, I just watch clips from them, cause those usually just give the best parts lol

currently reading: mmmmmbbbaaaaahhhhh literally nothing? I’m trying to get caught up on the backlog of dmbj fic I haven’t gotten around to so Binding by @vishcount is next on that list! oh I guess I’m also reading Johnny Tremain with my kids (one of them SPOILED THE END and I forgot how it ended and now I’m big sad).

currently watching: Mystic Niiiiinnnneeeeee! love those gay history bitches. everyone in that show is so funny. I just finished the Fuba Side Plot tho and now we’re back to Politics so i’m like >:( someone give zhang baby rishan a hug (and then i write angst about him what is wrong with me)

what is antipoetry to you: antipoetry??? what the heck is antipoetry hold on... uhhhh that’s just poetry. who came up with this term. i guess like lyrical fiction would be the technical correct definition but idk I consider anything to be poetry! like that’s the whole point! poetry is poetry is poetry as long as it’s focused on intensity and emotions it’s poetry! a haiku? poetry. the random one-lined mess of words on my phone? poetry. a literal drawing of a cardinal with the word “bird” written next to it? poetry. idk I’ve been trying to teach my kids that there are no wrong ways to write creatively; if you’re expressing yourself and making emotions, then you’re writing! also like half of my work could be considered antipoetry lmao. I love emotionally supercharging the mundane.

currently craving: i have noooo ideaaaasssss i’m literally just vibing. uh. water? ok i took care of that one my water bottle was right next to me.

AH IF YOU READ THIS MUCH THANK YOU???? i love u

uhhhh no pressure tags for @xia-xueyi, @nope4ever, @bookjoyworm, @elletromil, and @gaiahenshin, as well as anyone else who would like to give the full-rundown on themselves! :D

#ask tag #about me #Brigid's Fox #asldighalsdkfj i thought cross' tag was very funny so i've decided that's my foxofninetales tag from now on #because i love her

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

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Written In The Stars CXXIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: :)

Words: 4,134

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘You’re Somebody Else’ -by flora cash

Chapter Twenty-One: Flint's Rescue.

Harry avoided them for the rest of the day and the majority of the next. She didn't need to have a special connection to know he was scared to come down.

She'd tried to look for him in his room and instead only found Phineas, who asked her about Harry and whether he was still in the house or not.

She figured it was Dumbledore the one who was asking, so she told him Harry was still there, and that they were all safe.

Hermione arrived in the evening. She walked into the house with the air of a girl on a mission, Mel told her where Harry was and Hermione decided to try and convince him to get out. She tried to take Mel with her, but the girl refused, instead, she made her way to the twins' bedroom.

She didn't know what Hermione, Ginny, and Ron told him, but it had been enough to put him back on track. After that, Harry was better. Unfortunately -and very much expected from her- he would still do his best to avoid her. This, however, turned into a secondary annoyance the morning of their sixth day in Sirius' house.

Mel walked into the kitchen to the usual sight of Emily and Sirius talking under their breath. Mel -and everyone else in the house- was well aware of the fact that Emily and Sirius were now sharing a bedroom.

Her mother wasn't leaving the house at all for some reason, she thought that was due to the fact that people had seen her with Sirius at the train station and now she was a new target to follow. Still, they couldn't deny the fact that they were acting odd.

Mel entered the kitchen with loud steps and humming a lullaby. The adults turned quickly and faced her.

"You've got a letter," Emily told her, handing her a thin envelope.

Mel read the smeared words on the back of it.

"It's Erick's!"

Her mother sighed. "Poor thing, he must be feeling lonely..."

She turned to look at Sirius and told him about Erick's grandad. Sirius was genuinely upset by the news.

"I knew Eliot Flint," He said. "He was friend's with my uncle Alphard! I met him once or twice... great bloke..."

"Erick reminds me of you, you know?" Emily smiled absently. "A good boy with very particular relatives... When I met him he looked terrified to be near me! I guess he was afraid I was going to ruin his cover—"

Mel stood up so abruptly her chair fell, one hand was covering her mouth in shock as the other held onto the letter with trembling fingers.

"Mel," Emily's smile faded. "What is it?"

"E-Erick ran... he ran away," She stammered. "Last night, he... he sent me this last night."

"Ran away?" Emily asked. "Why?"

"They found out," Mel said urgently. "Look!"

It was short, the handwriting was shaky and not at all like the usual perfect works Erick used to deliver. Even his notes were neater than this. What scared her the most, was the tiny bloodstains on the corner.

'My parents know. Left when everyone went to bed. Currently staying at the leaky cauldron but I'll leave tomorrow. I won't go back to Hogwarts. DO NOT TRY TO FIND ME.'

"He knows that I'll try to find him, right?" Mel asked in disbelief. "I can't leave him!"

"Calm down—"

"I won't leave him alone," The girl walked to the kitchen entrance. "Not again..."

Emily rushed to her side, grabbing her wrist.

"You're not going anywhere."

"Mum, he's leaving. With no money. The world's not safe right now, let alone for someone with no family! What if he runs into a death eater, what if they find out he was helping us?"

Mel started to feel herself shaking, her hands were like ice even though it wasn't particularly cold in the kitchen. She was on the verge of losing it again. Just when she was slipping, Sirius spoke.

"She's right."

Emily looked at him.

"What?"

"We made him part of this. He ran out of his home to protect the Order, this is on us," Sirius walked up to her. "Get Lupin. We can't distract the others with this but we won't leave this boy alone."

"What are you saying, Sirius?" Emily frowned.

"He's just a kid," Sirius insisted. "Not older than my brother when he joined the death eaters. I won't let it happen again..."

"He would never join the death eaters!" Mel argued.

"I'm just saying I won't turn my back on him," Sirius shook his head. "I've heard enough about him from you and Emily to know he can be trusted. I'm sure Lupin would agree. Mily..."

"I'm on it," Emily grabbed the floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. It lit up instantly.

"What's happening?" George walked in, Fred beside him. They still had sleepy expressions.

"Erick ran away," Mel showed them the letter anxiously. "His parents found out..."

"Lupin," She heard her mother say from the fireplace, half of her body was surrounded by flames as she kneeled there. Sirius made a sudden movement, but he stayed in place when he noticed Mel was staring at him.

"What is it, Mel?" He asked.

"I don't want to risk my uncle and my mother... they'd be on their own..."

"No, they wouldn't," Fred said. "Erick's helped us before and we're of age now, right George?"

"Sure thing," He nodded, his drowsiness going away. "Don't worry, Lady. We'll go. We owe it to him."

"But your mum—"

"Mum's with Dad," Fred said. "As long as we get back before she comes back, she won't know."

"I certainly can't stop you from going, boys, but are you sure—?"

"We're certain," replied the twins.

Twenty dreadful minutes passed in which Mel watched Emily and the twins got ready to leave. Lupin entered the house five minutes before they were set to go.

"Guys," Mel said with a hint of bashfulness. "I don't even know what to say... if Erick refuses to come..."

"We'll petrify him and we'll carry him all the way back," George replied.

Five minutes after the twins, Emily and Lupin left, Ginny and Hermione appeared.

"What's with the long faces?" Ginny frowned. "Is Dad okay?"

Mel explained everything to them shortly while Sirius made breakfast, then Ron and Harry came in, and she had to start over. When she finished the girls were looking as anxious as her, and Ron was worried for his brothers. Harry, on the other hand, was glaring at his plate.

"It's been three hours... it's almost lunchtime," Hermione said worryingly. "If Mrs Weasley comes back and the twins aren't here..."

"I'll take the blame," Sirius said. "If it weren't because of my bloody record I'd be able to leave— but I was foolish once, and it cost me a lifetime..."

He sounded so angry about it that no one knew how to respond to that. Suddenly, a light silver mist flew in and stopped right in front of Mel. It was her mother's Patronus, and it talked with the woman's voice.

'We'll be there in five minutes.'

"Wait," Mel said once the Patronus faded. "How are they going to let him in if Dumbledore didn't show him the place?"

"The piece of paper where he wrote the address for Harry," Sirius explained. "Emily had it in our room. For emergencies like this. Not that she'd been expecting this to happen, but that woman's instincts are like no others."

"That's brilliant."

"I want to meet that Flint boy, you know?" Sirius said, a bit more relaxed. "The way you talk about him... he reminds me of my brother..."

Harry stood up without finishing his breakfast. The others didn't notice since they were all anxiously waiting for their loved ones to come back. Mel did though, and the worry that so far had occupied a back room in her mind rose up from the shadows. She got up as well and followed him into the drawing-room.

"What is it?"

Harry turned around.

"What?"

"You're upset," She insisted. "I already let Hermione and the others take care of the first wave, it's my turn."

He frowned. "You make it sound like I'm always attacking people."

Mel raised a brow, Harry rolled his eyes and turned back around, walking away from her.

"You either tell me what's going on inside your big head or I'll force it out myself," She insisted, quickly catching up with him.

Harry stopped so abruptly to face her that she stumbled over her feet.

"Legilimency is magic, and last I checked you're still underage," He stated. "Why do you care? Aren't you waiting for Flint? Bet he's having a dreadful day..."

She would've ignored his comment hadn't been for the heavy sarcasm in his voice.

"Is this about Flint?" Mel frowned. "You're angry because they're helping him?"

"You're risking people's lives for this," Harry reprimanded. "Erick said he was fine. He's clever and he's almost of age—"

"I still worry about him!"

"Yeah," He replied louder. "You worry a lot about him— More than you ever worried about yourself!"

Mel stood there, dumbfounded at his statement.

"How would you even know that? You haven't spoken to me in months," She responded.

The girl stepped forward so menacingly it was Harry's turn to stumble back.

"How dare you stand there and say that?" She scowled. "As if you actually care— You never had a thing against my ways when it was you the one who I was saving—"

"You said you never did that for me," He was quick to reply.

"I lied! I clearly lied, Harry! Why else would I risk my life if not for you? You were my best friend!" She poked his chest with one finger as hard as she could. "I knew you would torture yourself if I were to put all that on you, that you were going to try and stop me if you thought I was doing it only to help you!"

"You lied about that and you lied about not liking Fred, and before that, you hid Erick from me," He said, pushing her hand away in anger. "If you'd cared, then you would've been honest!"

"I had to hold my tongue around you every day! I was so sick of not being honest! Yes, that was such a stupid thing to do, look where it took us! I'm the biggest liar and you're... We can't even look at each other now, can we?"

There was a murderous glint in his gaze, not towards her, but simply existing within his very own essence. She'd seen it before but had refused to admit it until now. That nasty darkness in Harry appeared ever since he'd come back from the maze, it had been present when he pushed her out of his life, and it had been present in every single one of their arguments. Only then, she dared to admit she had her own thing hidden inside her too.

Hate. Pure and blinding. Having no way to release it, they poured it into themselves in different ways. Mel erased the old self she'd abandoned the day they broke apart, convinced that she was a new version with no trauma. It had been working so far, but only in the moments where Harry wasn't present.

As for Harry, his own hatred would burst when least expected, anytime someone would remind him of his past mistakes, that he was nowhere near enough to be of use. Mel was a constant reminder of both even if she wasn't aware of it. Harry regretted leaving her as soon as he did it, but he tried to convince himself that it was for the best, that she was going to be okay. She had to be.

When he found out he was wrong, all fell apart. What was he, compared to a Dumbledore? What was he doing with his second chance, compared to every single thing Mel had done in a year?

As they stood there, Mel and Harry felt like complete strangers. Now she could see him as he was, just like he could see her, all flaws and shortcomings, but they no longer understood. No words were enough. They were attached to each other, yes, but attachment isn't love, and it isn't caring.

"They're here!" Hermione yelled from the kitchen.

Mel realized it was likely that everyone had listened to their argument, but she didn't care anymore. Maybe this way they would finally stop pestering. No more questions about her and Harry.

"You should go and welcome your friend," He was cold, talking as if nothing of what she'd said was any relevant. "He needs you more than I do."

He left her there, all alone in the room before Hermione called a second time. Then she gathered herself up and controlled her breathing, she had this. She could do it.

The twins looked okay, so she wondered what had taken them so long.

"This stubborn git, that's what slowed us down," George rolled his eyes. "At first he was pissed about you sending us to get him, but Emily told him it wasn't your idea, that we were there because it was the right thing to do."

"Then he said this wasn't our problem and that we had to leave."

"So Fred and I kicked the door open and forced him to listen."

"How did you find which room was his?"

"We bribed one of the maids," Fred smirked. "She knew right away who we were looking for, 'tall boy from around your age looking like pulp?'"

"Looking like pulp?" Mel asked in alarm.

She pushed them aside and stood next to her mother and Lupin.

"Merlin..." Mel gasped as soon as she saw Erick's face. "What happened?"

"Miss," He tilted his head a bit so he could look at her. "There you are. I was wondering when were you going to stomp into the room, but I suppose you finally learned to be quiet..."

"You're upset," Mel sighed. "I don't regret telling my mum you were in trouble. Look at your face!"

"You should've seen how my father's knuckles looked after the beating," He said cynically. "They were the real victims..."

Erick wasn't as beaten as to look like 'pulp' but his father had certainly tried to. He had dry blood under his nose. It looked okay now, only the faintest bruise on the bridge, which made her think that his father probably broke it and her mother or Lupin had fixed it. He had scratches all over, later she would find out that his left eye was looking much worse when they found him, but Fred and George fixed it right before leaving the leaky cauldron.

His hands also looked as if he'd spent an awful lot of time climbing, they had a few blisters, but Emily was taking care of them now.

"It's not funny," Mel scowled. "Your father's an animal."

"Well, luckily for me I no longer have a dad," Erick said casually, grimacing when Emily poured a liquid on his palm. "I've been trying to quit the family for years... did me a favour, really."

"We'll take your stuff upstairs," Fred walked up to them, putting a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "Sirius, where should we leave them?"

"My brother's room," The man said immediately. "Is it just the trunk?"

"Not like I could carry all my stuff as I climbed out the window," The Slytherin scoffed. "Almost died trying to push that out... Mrs Sultens, I'm fine, please..."

"I told you to call me Emily," She said sternly, holding his shoulder to keep him in place. "And stop saying you're okay. You're not."

Sirius and the twins left so they could take Erick's stuff to Regulus' room and perhaps clean it a bit. Now only the girls, Emily and Lupin remained.

"Mel," Her uncle called. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

She didn't want to leave Erick in a room full of strangers, but the way her uncle was looking at her cause her to move forward, leaving the kitchen.

"He looks much better now," He said gravely. "But he didn't want to tell us what his father found out... said he took care of it. Maybe he's afraid to tell us what information slipped out. Maybe if you try..."

"I'll talk to him," Mel accepted. "But I don't think it's anything serious... if it were something of interest he would've told you. He wouldn't have cared about ruining his reputation. Erick knows how important it is to keep secrets... well, a secret."

"If it turns out you're right then you don't have to tell us," Lupin assured her. "But we have to be sure, alright?"

"Yes," She nodded, then stopped her uncle before he could leave. "Thank you. I know you have more important things to do. Thank you for bringing him here."

Lupin put a hand on her shoulder and brought her closer.

"I still remember Erick from the time I was your teacher, I wasn't going to leave him on his own. Especially now, the wrong turn can take you to the worst places..."

"The full moon is in a week," She held onto him tightly. "And I know you don't have the potion anymore... What are you going to do?"

"I'll manage," He responded.

Lupin guided her back to the kitchen as Ginny quickly left the room, Mel heard the sound of footsteps in the main hall. Ginny probably had gone over to her mother to explain Erick's arrival.

Hermione was now near the stove, waiting for the kettle to start whistling, and she was doing her best to make a sandwich, though she seemed too nervous to get it right.

"Let me help you, Hermione," Lupin said.

Mel made a beeline to where Erick and her mother were, she heard Erick's quiet objections as he tried to make Emily stop, but it was useless.

"I'm almost done, kid!" Her mother scowled. "And stop calling me 'Mrs' or I'll give you a black eye to match your nose!"

Mel snorted.

"He keeps calling me 'Miss' even though we've been friends for almost five years. You're asking for too much, Mum."

"Fine!" He rolled his eyes. "If you really want me to... thank you for the help, Emily."

Mel's mother smiled. "No problem, kid."

"And you too, Mel."

The girl beamed as well, holding his hand and patting it gently.

Erick kinda vanished after dinner. Everyone treated him like he'd always been there, even Ginny, who had never spoken to him, acted as if it was no big deal. The only person who acted hostile towards him was Harry, but she pretended not to notice.

Mel followed the directions in which Sirius told her the boy had gone, and soon enough she was entering Buckbeak's layer, her eyes immediately falling on the figure next to the Hippogriff.

"You know they gave you your own room, right?" She teased. "This is Buckbeak's flat, he's the only single hippogriff in miles so he's quite popular, we're not allowed in here during the weekends because he's always hosting parties..."

Erick was absently stroking the creature's beak, he didn't even react to her jokes.

"I always liked him," He said quietly. "When Hagrid showed them to us in my fourth year I was... dunno, I just like how they look."

"They're wonderful," She agreed sitting beside him. "They also have the temper of conceited royalty... maybe you like them because you relate to that!"

"You're funny," He said with no enthusiasm. "Maybe I'll hire you to be the court jester in my kingdom."

"I do love making people laugh," She nudged his side playfully, but Erick merely acknowledged her touch. "...are you going to tell me what happened?"

Erick looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Harry?"

"Yes."

Erick scoffed, not believing her.

"I mean it," Mel said. "If you tell me what happened, I'll tell you everything."

The boy hesitated for a moment, then gave in.

"I was stupid," He leaned back on the wall and uncrossed his legs. "I was re-reading one of Anne's letters... I do that sometimes, don't you dare laugh at me—"

"I wasn't going to!"

"Just making sure," He continued. "Mum asked me to run an errand, so I left... but I guess I didn't put the board back on the floor properly, or my brother finally gathered enough brains to do something right... He came back from work while I was out, wanted to annoy me no doubt, I don't see why else would he want to go to my room..."

As he talked Erick gently ran his thumb over the cut on his chin, it didn't look swollen and was the last remnant of the beating his father gave him. Which was a good thing, really. Mel didn't want him to spend the holidays watching the mirror and remembering that disastrous night.

"When I came back my mother was holding Anne's letter... fortunately I burn the Order's messages as I finish reading them, but Marcus had this nasty grin on his face, and mother was saying how embarrassing it was, how she'd trusted me... which is a lie, really, but then my Dad came home..."

Erick tensed, doing everything in his power to suppress the shiver that wanted to run down his back.

"I always knew my dad was a prat, but I never expected him to be a violent one. I suppose that was better than him using magic to punish me. I'm sure he would've tried to do so next morning, but that night he was so angry he forgot about his wand, he just threw me out of the chair and... did his best."

He looked up to her and frowned.

"Don't pity me. I didn't defend myself because I'm not seventeen, I didn't want to get expelled... though now that I think about it that doesn't matter now... I couldn't move and I figured... well, he had to stop at some point, he would get tired eventually..."

"What about Anne?" Mel asked. "Are they going to look for her?"

"He threatened to go knocking door to door, he said he wouldn't care and he would force me to watch as he..." The boy clenched his jaw. "But I'm gone now, and my parents care more about what others think than they care about muggles. They'll pretend, I don't know— That I changed schools, or that I'm ill... Anything before admitting their son was friends with a muggle."

"We thought they had found out about the Order..."

"Yeah, I figured as soon as your mum and uncle appeared... The twins were an odd surprise, they were the last people I expected to see coming to my rescue."

"They said your grandad helped them a great deal, so they wanted to pay back somehow."

"It's not like he'll know," Erick frowned. "He's dead."

"Maybe... maybe he does," Mel tried, but Erick let out a dry laugh at her comment.

"Don't tell me you believe in that nonsense," He replied. "He's not in heaven, and he's certainly not looking down on me; if he were I—" He forced the words to leave his mouth. "I wouldn't have gone through any of this. I didn't deserve it."

"Maybe he's the reason why you're here," She offered. "Maybe he knew it was time to get you out of there—"

"And he couldn't find a better way than to have my dad trying to kill me?" He snapped. "He couldn't find a way to make sure Anne was safe, after all I did to try and keep her away from all this? He couldn't..." Erick's voice died, his breathing uneven. He tried again. "Couldn't he wait until I was home so I could say goodbye?"

For the first time ever, Erick didn't push her away when she hugged him or tried to pretend he wasn't okay with it. He hid his face between his knees and sobbed, she'd never heard anyone cry like this before.

It hurt her in a way she didn't know she was capable of feeling, and part of her wanted to cry too, but now was not the time. Mel wondered if Erick would feel ashamed after this; if he would try to pretend that night never happened and keep up his cold demeanour even higher and stronger than before.

"It's okay," She said, lovingly running her hand through his curls. "We're going to be okay..."

For the first time in months, she meant it.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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thot4marvel · 4 years ago

Text

you should see me in a crown

TW: Underage Drinking, Angst, Drug Use, Drug Abuse, Swearing, Violence, Drug Misuse, and Mention of Death.

Pairings: Pietro Maximoff x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes x Sister!Reader, Brock Rumlow x Reader, Pietro Maximoff x OC!Sierra Johnson, Reader x Avengers (Platonic)

Summary: Y/N Barnes and Pietro Maximoff, the power duo of the school, arrive at senior year of high school with their friend group, The Avengers. Things are going great for Y/N and Pietro’s friendship until life started to go downhill after the party. Will her feelings be returned or rejected?

тыква means pumpkin.

Outfit Inspo

Her alarm clock goes off loudly as the clock strikes 7:00 am on a Monday. Y/N has had a change of attitude due to recent events. She's become more stable and ready for vengeance. She rushes to her bathroom to take a nice hot shower to wake her up. She steps out of the shower and looks at herself through the foggy bathroom mirror.

"You got this. Just be the same old Y/N with a reality check," she breathes. She looks at self one more time in the mirror before going to her closet. She passes all the shirts on the hangers until she found the best one. Y/N puts on a white wrap long sleeve top that ends at her midriff with dark blue high waisted jeans. She looks over at the clock that reads, 7:48, in its big red coloring. Her eyes widen at the time, Y/N quickly puts on her Air Jordan 1 Retro Obsidians as she runs to the living room. She grabs her keys, phone, and backpack as she rushes out of the front door and into her car. She looks at her rearview mirror to swiftly put on her lipgloss. Bucky was already at school with Steve to help with some student council event, so it was just Y/N entering the school by herself. She parked in the school parking lot near Nat's car, Y/N glances at her self in the rearview mirror and sees a flash of sinister in her eyes. She steps out of her car, and everyone stares at her as she walks to the school entrance. She smirks as she notices all of their attention is on her and only her. The boys catcall and continue to stare at her while the girls glare at her and gossip about her.

"Do you think her and Brock broke up," Nebula whispers.

"I don't know, but he's been on Sharon's story a lot," Gamora answers.

"Woah, who is that," Happy asks while starstruck at the woman walking down the hall.

"Dude, that's Y/N," Scott shockingly responds. Everyone continued to stare until the bell rung, making everyone head to class in a frenzy. Y/N heads to her first class, which happens to be the class she shares with Brock and Sharon. She walks into her first class and immediately feels pairs of eyes on her. Y/N walks to the seat next to Natasha but drops her pen on her way there. As she reaches to grab her pen, she notices Quill stare at her with lust in his eyes. She slowly bends back up, but she continues to gaze at Quill with desire in her eyes. Her eyes remain on his eyes until she walked to the seat near Natasha.

"Damn, Y/N, you got these boys chasing after you," Nat comments.

"Shut up," she laughs.

"Y/N," a voice speaks.

"Yes," Y/N answers as she turns to see who it was. It was Quill with the same lustful look in his eyes. As he whispers sweet nothings into her ear, she focuses her attention on Brock, who is scowling in her direction. Y/N playfully leans into Quill while still staring at Brock mischievously.

"Meet me at the football field sometimes," Quill finishes.

"I'll think about it," she whispers teasingly in his ear. As Quill walks back to his seat, Brock glowers at him the whole time.

"Uh Oh, side-eye at 3 o'clock," Natasha alerts. Y/N glances over to the side and sees Sharon glaring at her. Y/N casually flips her off and turns back towards the lesson.

After boring classes and rumors spreading around the school, the lunch bell rang, now Y/N can finally stop hearing whispers about her. She heads to the table where her brother and Steve are already sitting.

"You look like a psychopath," Bucky comments.

“Thank you," she smirks. The rest of the group started to head in the cafeteria and sit down at the lunch table.

"Here's your daily iced coffee," Tony says as he hands her the cold drink.

"I love you so much, Y/N praises. She goes to drink the coffee, but a roar of laughter stops her. Y/N glances over to the table where the noise came from to see Sharon looks at her and then murmurs something to the table.

"I-Uhm. I'll be back," Y/N stutters.

"Just don't kill anyone in the process," Sam jests.

"I'll try," she grins. Y/N sneaks to Sharon's table so she can hear what Sharon is saying without her noticing. Y/N tightly grips her iced coffee as she hears someone mention her name.

"Y/N thinks she's all that. She thinks she runs this school. That's why I got with Brock," Sharon rants.

"And he tasted amazing-"

Sharon was interrupted by Y/N pouring her iced cold coffee on her long, blonde hair.

I like the way they all

"BARNES," Sharon shrieks as she jumps out of her seat.

Scream

"Yes," Y/N answers sinisterly.

"I'm going to destroy you," Sharon yells.

"Are you," Y/N dares as she walks away.

"Wait, I have a question to ask you," Y/N challenges as she walks back to Sharon.

"What is it," Sharon annoyingly asks.

"How do I taste," Y/N provokes. Sharon's face turned red from embarrassment as she ran out of the cafeteria. Y/N chuckles at her reaction and, so does everyone else. Y/N starts to walk back to the lunch table but was guided out of the cafeteria to the hallway by Brock.

"Why are you acting like this," Brock scowls.

"Acting like what," she questions.

"Acting like we aren't together," he snarls.

"Oh, I thought kissing other people and not texting me back meant we aren't together anymore," she retorts.

"C'mon baby, Sharon doesn't mean anything to me," he sighs.

"She wasn't talking about you like it was nothing," Y/N quips with her arms crossed.

"Baby, you're prettier than her. I would pick you over her any day," he expresses as he caresses his hand on her cheek.

"I'm okay," Y/N scoffs as she pushes his hand off of her cheek.

"I'm not your baby if you think I'm pretty," she growls.

"We're over," Y/N scolds at him as she starts to walk away.

"Y/N," Brock calls after her. Y/N continues to walk away while she gives him the middle finger.

"Y/N," someone yells behind her.

"What," Y/N angrily asks as she turns around to meet Sierra.

"Please don't tell him," Sierra pleads.

"Oh, I will," Y/N taunts.

"I'll tell him myself. I promise," Sierra negotiates.

"We all know you would not tell him yourself," Y/N argues.

"Please," Sierra begs.

"Should've thought about that before cheating on him," Y/N sasses. Y/N grabs her books from her locker and walks to her next class. Her last few classes consisted of people still whispering about her, boys trying to hit on her, and boring lessons.

The last bell rang to announce that the school day was over. Y/N walked over to her locker to pack her homework and books into her backpack.

"Y/N, I'm so glad you put Sharon in her place," Wanda says as she walks up to Y/N.

"Someone had to do it," Y/N shrugs. They pass by Sierra and see she has a terrified look on her face.

"Are you ready," Wanda asks as they walk out of the school door.

"I'm nervous, but I'm sure he'll understand," Y/N answers. They walk up the hill to their usual spot and see Pietro is waiting for them at the tree.

"Hey," Y/N greets.

"Hey, тыква," Pietro greets back.

"It's been a while since we talked," he continues.

"Maybe we should all catch up," Wanda suggests. The three spent talking about how they've changed since the last time they all hung out together. Sierra was the only reason Pietro stopped hanging around them, but he doesn't realize that.

"So what was the important thing you had to tell me," Pietro asks. Wanda and Y/N both looked at each other with anxious written all over their faces.

"It's about Sierra," Wanda answers.

"What about her," he says in a curious tone.

"Pietro. I-I'm sorry," Wanda stutters.

"Sorry for what. What's going on," Pietro rages.

"She cheated on you," Y/N blurts out.

"A-are y-you sure," he sputters.

"Yes, I caught her and Thor at a party," Y/N explains. Pietro paces back and forth, not knowing what to do.

"I don't believe you," Pietro growls.

"We would we lie about this," Wanda argues.

"Pietro, you have to believe us-"

"You guys never liked her for no reason," he interrupts Y/N.

"And when I'm finally happy with someone, you guys want to ruin it," he rants.

"We aren't trying it ruin your relationship," Wanda grumbles.

"Yes, you are. Just because I'm your twin brother doesn't mean I have to listen to you, Wanda," Pietro scolds.

"Pietro, we are trying to help," Y/N consoles.

"Help with what? My relationship," he questions.

"No, help you from getting hurt," she explains.

"Y/N, just because you and Brock had issues and broke up doesn't mean you get to do that to my relationship," he insults. Wanda looked over at her and saw that Y/N was on the verge of crying.

"That's not what she's trying to Pietro," Wanda reasons.

"Go ruin your life with drugs. Don't try to ruin mine in the process," Pietro storms off.

Your silence is my favorite sound

Tears start to spill out of Y/N's eyes after Pietro's harsh words.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry about him. I'll talk to him," Wanda comforts.

"Thank you," Y/N wipes away her tears, and Wanda chases after her brother.

As the week goes back, Pietro's harsh words kept replaying in her mind. Y/N had worn a fake smile and not let anyone see her true feelings through this entire week until Friday. Y/N was in the school bathroom when those words got in her head.

"Your little plan didn't work," Sierra nags as she enters the bathroom. Y/N ignores her and tries to leave, but Sierra stops her.

"You should listen to what he said," Sierra scowls.

"What," Y/N croaks.

"That you should go ruin your life with drugs," Sierra snarls. Y/N's wall around her feelings had broken down after those words. Y/N runs out of the bathroom and out of the school. She gets into her car and drives home as tears flow down her cheeks. Y/N pulls into her driveway and quickly enters her house. She collapses on her bed, thinking about the incidents with Pietro and Sierra. Y/N falls asleep with the words still replaying in her mind and tear-stained cheeks.

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writingfandomfeels · 5 years ago

Text

Bellamy Blake - Please Don’t

A/N: This was a request where you’re one of the 100 and Bellamy protects you from you abusive ex

Nothing went according to plan, like usual. A couple of idiots unbuckled themselves to float around the ship, but once the parachutes deployed they went flying and hit something obviously important since it set off a bunch of alarms and filled the room with smoke. The ship shook as you descended onto Earth. You felt yourself begin to feel nauseous from the motion. Just as you feared something was about to come up, the movement stopped, and everything fell silent. Soon everyone was scrambling to get out. You followed the crowd.

“Oh, sorry,” You apologized as you bumped into someone.

The boy looked up at you. “Heyyy, Y/N! Fancy seeing you again.” It was your ex boyfriend. As if being banished to Earth and likely sentenced to death wasn’t enough, now you got to die next to this fool. The nausea filled you again. You pushed past him into the crowd, deciding it best to avoid him for now.

“Hey, just back it up guys.” A brunette boy standing in front of the door said.

“Stop!” Someone yelled.

You looked to try and see where the voice had come from and saw a blonde girl climbing down the ladder from the upper deck.

“The air could be toxic.” She explained.

“If the air is toxic we’re all dead anyway.” The boy argued.

“Bellamy?”

You turned your attention to the new voice now. A brunette girl, approaching the boy.

“It’s the kid who hid under the floor.” You heard someone nearby say.

You’d heard about her. The rules on the arc were one child per couple, and I guess her parents had two, so she hid and was arrested for it.

“My god, look how big you are.” The boy said.

You assumed based on what the girl had said, his name was Bellamy. And based on what he’d just said and the way he hugged her, you figured he must have been the first born that forced her to hide.

You sighed impatiently as you watched their exchange. Being is such close quarters, knowing your ex was nearby, mixed with the sickness from the trip, really made you want to get somewhere spacious where you could take a breath and feel less claustrophobic. Then again, once they open that door you might never take another breath again.

Finally, Bellamy opened the door and a blinding light overwhelmed you. As your eyes adjusted you could see trees, and grass, and the sky. It was beautiful. A gentle breeze tousled your hair. The brunette girl that Bellamy had referred to as Octavia, cautiously stepped out onto the ground. There was a moment of silence before she yelled in celebration.

“WE’RE BACK BITCHES!!!!”

Everyone cheered and poured out of the drop ship.

Not even an hour on the ground and there was already discord happening. A fight between the Chancellor's kid, and this guy Murphy you recognized, he used to hang out with your ex. Between that and some sort of disagreement in plans? From what you heard, there wasn’t any supplies nearby. The brunette you had overheard was named Bellamy suggested the ‘privileged kids’ go trekking through the woods for it. You nearly volunteered to go with the five others just to get away from your ex who also happened to be sent down, but you were still too nauseous form the trip to go for a long walk at this point. Instead you sat yourself down at the base of a tree. Eyes closed, face toward the sky, you breathed in the fresh air and tried to calm your stomach.

“Damn, you look just awful. Sitting there in the dirt.” The all too familiar voice of your ex assaulted your ears. “You’d think you hadn’t slept for five years with all those bags under your eyes. Space travel does not look good on you my dear.”

A nervous tingling spread through your body as you felt a bit of a panic, being around him.

“Leave me alone.” You said flatly. You didn’t want him to know he was getting to you just with his presence.

“Well, I did, didn’t I?” He smirked. He had been standing behind the tree you were leaning against but now he moved to stand next to you. “I’ve been thinking though, maybe we ought to get back together, you and me.”

The panic you had been trying to keep at bay boiled inside you. You’d wanted to leave him for so long but never had the courage to cut things off. As terrible as it was for him to have framed you for stealing the vicodin he was so addicted to, you had to admit you were relieved he did and dumped you. The idea of ever being forced back into that terrible cage of a relationship with him again terrified you.

“I mean look at you. You obviously need me. And what kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t here for my baby.” He bent down and caressed your cheek, his fingertips feeling worse than sandpaper on your tender skin.

You pulled your head away from him, quickly met by a slap to your cheek now.

“Don’t do that!” He snarled, then quickly turned his voice gentle again. “You know better than that sweetie.” He went back to caressing your now stinging cheek. “I only want to love you.”

You bit your lip trying to hold back the tears prickling the edge of your eyelids. A voice called from the distance.

“Coming!” He responded. “I’ll be back for you my dear.” He kissed your cheek and stood again, leaving for whatever savior had called him away.

You gasped in panic, panting, trying to catch your breath once he was gone. Your worst nightmare was revisiting your reality and there was no escape this time.

***

The rain poured down as everyone cheered, enjoying the new experience. You were having a hard time having as much fun as the others though with the anxiety over your ex constantly eating at you. Not to mention the speech Bellamy just made could encourage him in the worst possible way. Bellamy got the group chanting “whatever the hell we want”, meaning it in a freeing way from the oppression of the Arc, but that motto given to someone like your ex? Not good.

“You hear that?” There was his voice again.

You spun around to meet his horrible face.

“He said whatever the hell we want. Well I,” he paused, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you toward him, “want you.”

Everything inside you screamed. You wanted to run far away and hide from him. You couldn’t let yourself get sucked back into this. You just… couldn’t.

“Please. Don’t.” You mumbled, trying to get out of his arms. Instead he squeezed you tighter. Persistent tears tried to escape your control but you held back. You had to. And you had to get away.

You struggled and turned, pushing against his arms, eventually freeing yourself, but causing you to fall into the person walking nearby, Bellamy.

“Whoa, are you okay?” He asked, catching you from falling. Guess he saw the fear in your eyes and that you were on the verge of crying because he immediately became protective.

“Hey, is this guy giving you a problem?” Bellamy asked.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Your ex tried to say.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Bellamy responded firmly before turning back to look at you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder.

Frantically you nodded your head. “Please. He… he won’t leave.” You stammered.

Suddenly Bellamy noticed your arms. There was a bright red mark on them where he had been gripping onto you, trying to hold you to him before you got away.

“Did he do this?” Bellamy asked though he knew the answer.

“He also hit me earlier…” You muttered, but Bellamy was able to hear it.

Bellamy opened his arms to offer you a hug which you gladly took. He rubbed your back, while glaring at your ex over your shoulder, and then releasing you from the embrace.

“Don’t worry. I’ll deal with him.” Bellamy scowled, then roughly took your ex with him, into the woods.

Now alone, you let yourself cry freely over the emotional experience. Your arms crossed, you hugged yourself as you kneeled over, sobbing. How desperately you hoped he wouldn’t come back. How relieved you were that for the moment you were safe. How anxious the idea of his return made you. But the only one you saw return later, was Bellamy.

“What happened?” You asked in a quiet voice.

“I took care of him.” Bellamy answered.

Suddenly you began to worry. As much as you hated your ex and fantasized so many times of floating him, you weren’t sure if you really did truly wish death on him.

“You didn’t…?”

“No, no.” Bellamy responded. “I didn’t kill him. But I did tell him to leave and never show his face ‘round our camp ever again. It’s a big place and a lot of people have been exploring lately. We’ll just tell the others he must have gotten lost and gone missing. Don’t worry about it.”

You sighed a sigh of unexplainable relief. “Thank you.”

He gave you an encouraging smile and another hug. “It was no problem.”

#bellamy blake #bellamy x reader #the 100 bellamy #bellamy imagine #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagine #the 100 #the 100 x reader #the 100 imagine #my writing

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lovelylogans · 5 years ago

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booyah! (emphasis on the boo)

TOUR GUIDE GARRETT: Now, I'm gonna tell you something a little spooky. The morning of October 25, 1894, Sir Aldridge awoke furious when his breakfast was not waiting for him. So, he called to his servants, but none of them responded. Why? Because, during the night, one by one they had each been stabbed to death in their sleep. It was later discovered that they were murdered by his eldest daughter, Gertrude Aldridge. Sir Aldridge once wrote in his diary, 'I know God makes no mistakes, but I believe he may have been drunk when he built Gertrude's personality.'

-ghostbusters, 2016

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: recreational drinking, mention of homophobia, murder mention, absolute fucking disaster gays, claustrophobia maybe (stuck in a closet while anxious, not specifically because of the closet)

pairings: logicality, eventual prinxiety

words: 2,244

notes: so, this is for the 13 days of halloween prompt over at @sanderssidescelebrations! today’s prompt is ghost hunting! i am essentially rewriting a premise i once wrote in an old fic of mine, so. here we go. let’s see how my writing stacks up a couple years apart.

They’re all drunk on shitty wine for one of their intermittent wine-and-whine nights when Virgil brings up his haunted apartment.

When Virgil says it, Logan heaves a massive sigh from where he’s got his head pillowed on Patton’s lap, where Patton’s playing with his hair—Logan swings between sleepy drunk and ranty, rambly drunk, and he’s landed on sleepy tonight—and grumbles, “Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Now, Logan, let’s hear him out,” Patton says. “Virgil is, after all, one of our best friends in the whole wide world who should be cherished and loved because he is one of the bestest little boys.”

Patton, on the other hand, solidly embodies the whole “cuddly-complimentary-drunk-girl-in-the-bathroom” stereotype.

“Yeah, yeah, I wanna hear this,” Roman says, from where he’s sprawled out on Virgil’s rug, grinning loose and easy, making Virgil’s stomach flip-flop. “You’ve been living here, what, a year, and you’re just now talking about how it’s haunted?”

“I know,” Virgil says, “I know, I know, but—but I basically have proof, this time, all the other stuff seemed, y’know—creaking furniture and things not being exactly where I remember and whispers in the night, that kind of thing.”

“Proof,” Logan sighs, and rolls his eyes. “All right. What proof is there.”

“It locked me in a closet.”

There’s a brief, thoughtful pause.

“So, like, the ghost is homophobic?” Roman says. Patton nearly snorts wine out of his nose as Virgil feels his face heat—well, even warmer than he already is, from the alcohol—and he sets down the novelty Thanos-glove-themed cup of wine with a thunk.

“I mean, probably!” Virgil says heatedly. “If you look at, like, all of historic times—”

“Homophobia was fairly frequent, yes,” Logan says, musingly. “But it’s not as if you’ve particularly shown off homosexual activity in this apartment.”

Roman starts laughing so hard he nearly falls off the couch, and Virgil fights the urge to chuck a pillow at either Logan or Roman.

“You didn’t have to at him like that, L, oh my God,” Roman says, and snorts, giggling still, and Virgil wishes that it didn’t practically melt away all of Virgil’s irritation at him—it does heighten the embarrassment, though, because he’s been single because he’s been hopelessly pining over Roman.

Logan glances up at Patton, confused, and Patton explains, “It kind of sounded like you were saying there wasn’t much reason for a haunting because Virgil’s been single for so long, honeybear.”

“Thanks,” Virgil grumbles. “All of you, great, thanks so much, I’m painfully single, we get it, can we get back to the ghost that’s bullying me into going back into the closet and managed to trap me there for two hours—”

“Two hours?!” Roman exclaims. “You were stuck for two hours and you didn’t, like, slam your body into it until it flew off its hinges or something?!”

“I tried, but it wouldn’t budge,” Virgil says. “It swung open again after I, like, learned my lesson, or whatever, and then I spent all of last night not able to sleep and with all the lights on and now I’m wondering if I’m going crazy.”

“So that’s why you called for a wine-and-whine night,” Patton says, which is mostly true. He’d been planning on calling one because he’s going grocery shopping sometime this week and he wanted to clear out the remaining dregs of his bottles of three-dollar wine now before he goes and gets new, unopened bottles, but it’s been rushed up the line because Virgil’s hands won’t stop shaking and he can’t really look too closely at the closet that he’s got propped open through all the means he could think of, and sage burned, and he’d been researching the paranormal all day, which made him even more anxious. So he just says—

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “Just in case something else happens.”

And nothing else does—well, Logan falls asleep pretty quickly after that, and Patton goes on a tooth-rottingly sweet ramble about how much he loves them all and how much better his life has been since they all came into it and how he thinks Logan is The One for him and he’s so grateful they’ve all been with him on this life journey, and Roman wraps an arm around Virgil’s shoulders and leans his cheek against Virgil’s hair and lets out this soft, content sigh that makes Virgil kind of absurdly happy—but ghost-wise, nothing happens.

At least, not until a couple weeks later.

They’re all at Virgil’s apartment again—this time, they’re all doing separate work time, Patton settled under Logan’s arm as Logan read a book and as Patton flipped through a notecard set, and Roman with a script strewn about the floor, Virgil taking notes on a reading he has to do—when there’s a loud noise. Virgil freezes.

There’s another noise—like someone slamming their fists against the floor. Like someone trapped underneath, trying to get out.

Roman glances up from his script. “What was that?”

“Gertrude,” Virgil says through a dry mouth.

“Gertrude?” Patton says, curious.

“The ghost.”

Logan scoffs.

“It’s not funny, Logan, I’m being serious,” Virgil says, and decides fuck it and then digs out his printed-off pages of research. “There used to be a manor here and this lady named Gertrude Aldridge apparently killed all the family’s servants and then her dad locked her in the basement to spare the family public humiliation and she died down there, so—“

Roman makes an interested noise, reaching for the folder, and Virgil hands it over. Roman’s a big fan of true crime and ghost stories and also Buzzfeed Unsolved, so he really probably should have roped Roman into this earlier. Also, ghost research wasn’t even the most pathetic excuse he’d tried to use in order to spend time with Roman alone, he really should have used it.

“So you think Gertrude,” Logan says, voice dripping with disdain, “is going to... kill you.”

“Well, now I am.”

Logan heaves a massive sigh, and sets aside his book. “Look, Virgil, I can understand that you are anxious, and I can understand the popular narrative of ghost stories offering a simple explanation for various noises and occurrences, though there are dozens more logical explanations for—”

He’s cut off by a distant, feminine howl of outrage.

Logan pauses, before he says, “Your neighbor.”

Logan’s book then proceeds to pick itself up and throw itself from his hands.

Logan looks on the verge of saying still not a ghost, but Roman howls “holy SHIT!” before he can, nearly falling backward off the couch in his quest to scramble away, grabbing Virgil’s hand and tugging him back before planting himself in front of him, arms spread wide, like he’s guarding Virgil, like he’s shielding him, and if Virgil wasn’t so scared shitless right now he’d think it was noble or sweet or something, but as it is, Virgil’s legs are trembling underneath him and he distantly, hysterically, imagines himself swooning into Roman’s arms like some kind of southern belle.

And then the floor starts rumbling, and then Roman grabs Virgil’s hand, and Patton yelps, and Logan grabs Patton—Logan shoves Patton down and rolls underneath Virgil’s dinner table—and Roman hauls Virgil closer to his bedroom, and before Virgil can say wait, don’t—

—the door swung shut behind them, and, in the dark, Roman said, “Ah.”

“We’re trapped,” Virgil said. “In my closet. Again.”

“Well,” Roman said, breath a warm puff against Virgil’s neck, “It’s my first time being trapped in your closet.”

Virgil giggles, a bit hysterical because the fucking ghost started shaking his whole apartment, and Roman huffs out a laugh, and Virgil can feel the hot air on his neck, and wow that sure was a strange mix of emotions, adrenaline and fear and a hint of embarrassment at being so close that he can feel Roman’s fucking breath on his neck and a twinge of heat deep in his stomach.

“So,” Roman said, and swallowed audibly. “Should I try slamming against the door?”

Virgil shuffled aside as much as he could, stepping on a pile of what’s probably dirty laundry and trying not to trip directly into Roman as he wobbled for balance. “Sure.”

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

That repeated a few times, before there was a voice outside the room. “Roman? Virgil?”

“Hey, Logan,” Virgil called, trying not to wince.

“Your closet again?!” Logan said, exasperated.

“It’s not like we chose this, Ego-ist Spengler!” Roman snapped.

There’s the sound of someone trying the handle, then someone more enthusiastically trying the handle, then a huff.

“It’s stuck.”

“Yeah, Logan, we know,” Virgil said.

“Is that them?” Patton’s voice sounded.

“Yeah, it’s us,” Roman said.

“I think I’m going to go find some kind of toolkit,” Logan said decisively. “Virgil, do you have one?”

“One, a toolkit won’t work against a ghost, two, no, what do I look like, Bob the Builder?” Virgil snapped, and Roman snorted—he must have been equally pressed against the other wall of the closet, so that they’re as far apart as they can be.

Logan sighed, irritated, and said, “Well, you should have one. Do either of you have your phones?”

“I’ve got mine,” Roman said.

“Fine. Virgil, where are your keys?”

“You’re leaving?!” Virgil demanded.

“Yes, to procure the tools necessary to free you,” Logan said.

“At this point, you should maybe take the door off the hinges, kiddo,” Patton suggested.

“That won’t work against a—! You know what, fine, yeah, go, my keys are on the kitchen table.”

“Patton and I will be back shortly,” Logan announced. “I’ll ask your neighbors first and if we have to visit a store, I’ll text.”

There’s the sound of footsteps, and the even more distant sound of Virgil’s front door closing.

There’s a long pause.

“Well,” Roman said. “We’re stuck here because of your homophobic ghost.”

“Gertrude. Yeah.”

Virgil tried to take in an even, good breath.

“Hey, you okay?” Roman asked, all soft and concerned, and Virgil’s breath hitched as Roman’s hand gently closed around his wrist, fingers grazing delicately along the veins there, the soft skin above them, the tendons standing out stark, and if Virgil’s heart started racing a little faster, well. Roman wouldn’t be able to tell why.

“Fine, mostly,” Virgil said, a little strangled. “Just—y’know. Ghost in my apartment. Even stronger than I thought it was. And now I’m trapped in a closet” with you, my unrequited maybe-love but I haven’t even gotten close to unparsing those feelings and I’m freaking out about enough right now “with no way to really get out, so. I’m just peachy.”

“Right, yeah,” Roman said, still soft, almost uncharacteristically so. “D’you want me to count, or—?”

“Just—“ Virgil said, and swallowed. “Distract me?”

And then Roman does something entirely unexpected.

Roman’s hand slid to cup his cheek, his hand sure and warm, and then he leaned in and pressed his lips against Virgil’s. Virgil’s mouth parted in surprise, and his eyes went wide, but he couldn’t see in this stupidly dark closet, the strip of light from the door only enough to dully illuminate the gold stripes running down Roman’s jacket sleeve. Roman kissed him harder and it felt like finally, finally, and Virgil was grateful now for only that little strip of light as they parted because he was sure he was gaping like an idiot.

“Like that?”

“I,” Virgil said, fumbling, “I—”

“I’ve liked you,” Roman said, stubborn and a little shaky, just around the edges. “I’ve really liked you, for a really long time, and I think you—I think you maybe like me too, or at least I hope you do, and if you don’t this is so embarrassing and I’m gonna spontaneously combust and also never talk to you again just to save you from the—”

Roman couldn’t say anything more, though, because Virgil’s fumblingly grabbed at the lapels of Roman’s jackets and hauled him close, and just like that the kiss went from finally to scorching, Roman biting hard at his lip and Virgil letting out a startled, gasping, embarrassing noise at the sensation of it.

“Fuck that homophobic ghost,” Roman growled. “I’ll show her—”

“Roman, shut up,” Virgil said, sounding closer to a wheeze than anything, and then Roman did shut up, quite tidily and for quite a while, until—

There’s the sound of Virgil’s front door opening, and Virgil pulled back from Roman, who made an incredibly ego-boosting noise when he did, and he attempted to quickly finger-comb his hair into some semblance of array.

Logan’s voice rang out, “One of your neighbors had a toolbox, so we were able to borrow it from them for a bit, if you’ll just—”

“Yeah, yeah, uh, sure,” Virgil called, avoiding the gruffness to his voice as he heard Roman similarly, hastily, making sure that he’s in order, and then the door swings open.

“There we—“

Logan fell silent. Virgil cleared his throat, tugging at his hoodie, making sure it covers any part of his neck that Roman had touched, or kissed, or bit. Logan and Patton looked between them.

“You know, when someone experiences physiological responses related to fear,” Logan said, sounding absolutely exhausted, “people often mislabel those responses, it’s called misattribution of arousal—”

Virgil, cheeks burning, leaned down to grab a t-shirt at random, balling it up and hurling it at Logan.

“It’s not just,” Virgil began heatedly, but then he saw Patton beaming, all gleeful and delighted, and talking about arousal in front of Patton is a bit like talking about arousal in church or something equally awkward and slightly taboo.

“You two,” Patton said, “you two—”

“Yeah, we—yeah,” Roman said, and looked to Virgil. “I mean, we—we are. Yeah?”

“—yeah,” Virgil said, and couldn’t stop his grin. “Yeah.”

“How romantic,” Logan said dryly.

Identically, Roman and Virgil reach out and shove at Logan’s shoulder.

#my post #text #my fic #sanders sides spooky month 2019 #okAY SO THIS ONE GOT AWAY FROM THAT WHOLE 1K LIMIT I SET ON MYSELF

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jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 5 years ago

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Episode 17: Stranger Beside You

SPOILERS and thoughts ahead.

0:13 - How freaking creepy is this? She just pops up from the floor. Did Malcolm not see her there as he was approaching? Why didn’t he acknowledge her presence as he approached? ALSO - he’s excited about muffins? Does that mean muffins are one of the only foods he eats? I find this surprising. ALSO - last episode we learned that Malcolm can’t cook…why does he have a muffin tin? I know this is a dream but still.

0:45 - Ok. Story time. I watched this episode when it premiered. It was the first week I had moved home from university since the whole COVID-19 stuff. My younger brother (20) and my mom (45) who have never seen this show decided to watch it with me. Ugh. Our family dynamic is generally a lot of sarcasm and teasing. I’m the only one in the family interested in crime shows/whump. When Malcolm said “This is when the scary thing usually happens.” both of my family members started cackling like buffoons. For the next week my brother quoted that line to me. They both now tease me for loving this show so much…so that happened.

1:18 - This is kind of sweet. I don’t like Eve but I like seeing Malcolm this happy.

1:56 - This is such a good sibling conversation. Ainsley is setting Malcolm straight. I know Malcolm is right but honestly - Ainsley has a point. Malcolm has a tendency to accidentally sabotage his own relationships because he can’t trust people and he doesn’t believe that he’s worthy of love.

3:15 - Look at this. Just. Look. JT is happy to see Malcolm. They’re bantering like brothers. This relationship has blossomed and I’m so happy…also I google “sip and see” because I really wanted them to be fake. They sound ridiculous, but they’re real. IDK. I don’t have kids but it seems crazy to organize a big fancy party right after you give birth. Invite friends and family over - sure. Order a pizza and a cake. But hang out in something comfy and keep it casual. Maybe that’s just me. IDK.

3:42 - Malcolm’s projecting again. “Perfect can be an allusion.” Honestly. Is he even aware that he does this?! Also, is he projecting about his childhood or his relationship with Eve. Either way, I’m concerned for him….though I do like how happy he’s looking right now.

3:47 - hahaha OMG. “With the stiff!” Gil is so done.

4:30 - I thought this was interesting. 1) Do dead bodies actually do that? Compress? Huh. Cool. 2) I like the way that Edrisa and Malcolm are so totally absorbed in how cool/weird the cause of death was that neither of them notice Edrisa’s hand on Malcolm’s chest. 3) Gil pointing out Edrisa’s hand makes things a little awkward - but honestly I see it as a gentle warning. He knows that Edrisa is socially awkward. She’s not in trouble and he’s not mad. He’s just reminding her that stuff like that isn’t appropriate.

5:04 - Watching this after realizing that Tally is pregnant brings a whole new weight to all of JT’s comments. Every time he mentions babies, baby swag, moms - he looks either scared, stressed (because money), or excited. It’s freaking precious.

6:15 - “It’s a cloud of love. Nothing to be ashamed of.” Again. More proof that Malcolm is an A+ adult male. Who speaks like that?

7:05 - Do I need to be scared about Dani now too? I do not like the way that Martin says her name. Wait. Is Martin going to go after every person that takes Malcolm’s time away from visiting him? I can totally see it. Martin escaping - killing Gil for replacing him as Malcolm’s Dad. Killing Jessica for trying to keep Malcolm from him. Killing JT, Dani, and Edrisa for being his friends. Can’t decide if he’d kill Ainsley…

7:41 - HOW is this show so dark and yet so funny?!?!

8:20 - I know that Malcolm knows that Tally is pregnant…but after the pizza roll comment there’s no way Gil and Dani don’t suspect. Look at their faces!!! And the way JT looks down way too quickly. He’s clearly hiding something.

8:55 - Look at Gil’s face. He’s concerned and a little scared. I am too. What the hell does Malcolm mean by “Mom’s love me”?!?! Is this some weird sex thing?

9:05 - Dani is a queen. We stan. She is the friend Malcolm deserves. I especially love the fact that later we find out that she told JT about this conversation. As though she thought Malcolm needed “guy advice”.

10:00 - Yo. People like this shouldn’t be allowed to have children. Kids are not a fashion statement - they are human beings who need to be nurtured and loved.

11:10 - So, I don’t usually like it when Ainsley snoops around for a story and gets all determined - but this time I do.

12:00 - Does Ainsley really not understand that what she did was a total invasion of privacy?!? She doesn’t look sorry. At all. The fact that Ainsley actually talks to Eve about it is kind of awful too? Like it’s one thing to do a background check on someone - it’s another thing to talk to them, unprovoked, about what you found.

12:12 - Poor Jessica. She looks upset. Between her two “socially bizarre” children ( lol ) she really has a hard time making friends. Although…..I will admit. It’s a little weird that Jessica is making friends with a woman young enough to date her son.

12:32 - Soooo this means that Malcolm has an instagram account (at least a fake one for work anyways). I feel like Malcolm is one of the people who don’t have a personal instagram account. Because a) he has like 3 friends and b) he doesn’t strike me as the type of person to take pictures of food, people, events, or himself.

12:40 - So Malcolm’s sitting at that desk again…..forget about the gitb… I want to solve the desk mystery (and the mystery of JT’s name).

12:57 - Damn it JT! We were about to get a super awesome father/son moment. Ugh. When I said I wanted the writers to give JT more screen time I didn’t mean this.

13:13 - Aww…look at how proud Dani is of herself. Girl made a cool discovery and she’s proud/excited about it. <3

13:22 - ARE YOU KIDDING ME. We finally get a good look at the desk from the front. No name plate in view?!? UGH. This is killing me.

13:33 - hahaha look at these faces! JT looks confused/freaked out that Malcolm knows so much about babies feeding habits. Dani looks so annoyed that she’s been put on Malcolm babysitting duty again. I don’t blame her. Gil is always making her babysit Malcolm. JT never has to take a turn.

13:55 - The most annoying thing about this episode is that we never find out how Alessa cut her arm. It’s a weird place on your arm to get a cut and I’m curious about it.

14:35 - I respect Malcolm a LOT in this scene. He’s asking some tough (but necessary) questions. He’s calm, kind, and respectful. He’s not minimizing Alessa’s stress, her loss, or her devotion to her daughter.

16:30 - Soooo if Christine’s (ex) husband lives in Canada - does that mean he’s Canadian (or dual citizen)? Or does he just have a work permit? I’m curious about what that means for Christine’s citizen status. I find this odd though - even if Christine isn’t Canadian - if she was last seen in Canada and her husband reported her missing - the RCMP would’ve been looking for her. They NYPD would know that. Although - she is using a fake name. Huh. There’s a reason I’m not in law enforcement. People are too crafty. I’ll stick to math.

17:55 - Look how mad JT looks that Christine tried to abduct Nina….he’s going to be such an overprotective, good dad. <3

18:25 - This is a really cool moment. This scene is the first since 1x9 when JT and Malcolm have a heart-to-heart. JT also gives Malcolm some really good relationship advice. Damn. No wonder JT’s been married for 7 years. He gets it.

18:55 - I love how manic Malcolm looks and how concerned JT looks when Malcolm goes off on his little rant about being a suspicious person. I wonder if JT is wondering why Malcolm trusts Gil, Dani, Edrisa, and himself? They are, by all means, good things in Malcolm’s life. Is he suspicious of them?

19:25 - Does Martin know about Malcolm’s sensitive stomach? I’m really curious.

19:44 - This scene is awesome. Malcolm is sad, upset, a little anxious, and angry (at Martin) throughout the scene. Martin, even though he is a crazy serial killer, actually gives Malcolm some good relationship advice. I guess it makes sense. Martin could never have tricked Jessica into marrying him unless he acted like a perfect, good dude with good relationship skills.

20:04 - Martin actually believes he was a perfect father? Nope. I can’t. Any parent who genuinely believes that should have a psych eval. No one is perfect. Parents aren’t excluded from this rule.

20:56 - This is such a powerful moment. You can see how pleased Martin is because he got through the Malcolm. You can see how desperately Malcolm wants to love his father and how painfully aware Malcolm is of who his father is and how much he despises it. Malcolm shouldn’t have to remind himself to hate his father. No one should. Watching Malcolm grapple with that (through his facial expressions) is heart-wrenching. He actually looks close to tears for a moment. ALSO screw Martin for still trying to manipulate Malcolm into loving him.

22:10 - I’ll just say it. We’re all thinking it anyways. Malcolm’s soft voice when he’s confused is so freaking cute.

23:08 - Look at JT’s face during this scene. He just about had a freaking heart attack. I feel soooo bad for him. I can only imagine how bad he feels. Gil gave him one (1) job: protect the baby. JT’s probably thinking, “If I can’t even protect this stranger’s baby - how will I ever protect my baby? Will I be a bad father?” Someone give this man a hug for me.

23:25 - Look at the way JT touches the infant to make sure she’s real. That is a man who is on the verge of a panic attack.

24:00 - AND now JT is worrying about Tally’s health throughout her impending pregnancy. Good Lord. What a rollercoaster he’s on tonight.

25:25 - Concerned!Gil for the win! Gil hasn’t been around Malcolm much this episode. Yes - Malcolm is obviously upset right now, but it makes me wonder if Jessica and/or Ainsley have called Gil because they’re concerned about Malcolm right now. Did they call Gil and ask him to send Malcolm home?

26:25 - Look at that. Malcolm looks crushed. Not surprised just disappointed. He truly believes that he’s not worthy of love. Eve just confirmed it for him. I honestly don’t know how this dude will ever trust any romantic partner ever again. My heart is shattered.

26:43 - Look at how brave he’s being. He’s trying to mask his pain with a smile and a self-deprecating joke as usual. Problem is - his eyes look tortured and he’s trying to lie to the two women who know him best. They see through his mask and they’re concerned for him.

27:00 - Ainsley is such a strange character to me. Right now as she tells Malcolm about Eve, she is looking at Malcolm with dread, concern, and determination. In 1x7/1x10 she publicly embarrassed him and revealed his personal, private details with the world - without remorse. I know that Ainsley is really obsessed with the progression of her career. However, it shouldn’t blind her to the emotions of her big brother. Ainsley needs therapy.

27:08 - soooo Eve has a key to Malcolm’s place? After two(ish) weeks? For a dude who doesn’t trust easily this seems like a stretch. I’m choosing to believe that Malcolm left the door open when he saw Ainsley and Jessica.

27:15 - THIS is so important. Jessica’s “How could you?”. See her face? She’s devastated. The first female friend she’s had in probably 20 years just stabbed her in the back. To make matters worse, this woman also just broke the heart of Jessica’s very emotionally vulnerable son - thereby also breaking Jessica’s heart. Furthermore - Jessica is definitely already paying rent in the self-loathing hotel because she traumatized her children because she married a serial killer. NOW she’s also dealing with the guilt of knowing that she’s the one who brought Eve into Malcolm’s life. That look hurt or devastation on Jessica’s face which later transforms into rage and hatred is haunting. Props to Bellamy Young.

27:26 - This. Look at Malcolm’s face. Eve looks like she’s close to tears. Malcolm is looking at her with compassion. Yes - you can tell that Malcolm is devastated and hurt by Eve. However, he also clearly empathizes with her. Again. Malcolm. Bright. Is. An. A+. Dude. Fight me.

27:40 - Can we all just pause for a second and praise Tom Payne’s acting in this scene? He captured the raw emotion of a trauma induced panic attack perfectly. Look at how utterly broken Malcolm is. Hands shaking on his head. Tears in his eyes. Ragged breathing. Followed by a brief angry outburst which leads to more shaky, anxious breathing and eyes on the verge of tears. The end result is physical and emotional exhaustion.

27:45 - Ainsley looks shocked and a little scared by Malcolm’s outburst. Has she (HIS SISTER) never seen him have a panic attack? They grew up together. I refuse to believe it. Ainsley shouldn’t look shocked - she should look sad and resigned to it.

28:06 - This is heartbreaking. Malcolm genuinely thinks that there is something about him that makes him unlovable. I know he’s already in therapy - but they need to stop focusing on his trauma for a hot second and focus on his self-worth issues. I aM nOt OkAy.

28:22 - Can we all just take a minute to appreciate Dani Powell. She has been such a good friend to Malcolm. Probably the first true friend Malcolm’s had since he was 10 years old. Even in the midst of extreme emotional turmoil a work-related text from Dani makes Malcolm smile. Because Malcolm knows that Dani - a woman who isn’t related to him and has no obvious crush on him - doesn’t hate him. In fact - she likes him enough to be his friend. Right now that’s enough. That’s a big comfort to Malcolm.

28:36 - This is sheer panic on Jessica’s part. Check out those eyes. She just saw pure self-loathing and anger in her son’s eyes. She’s terrified for him. Maybe this look is reminding her of a look he got as a teenager when he became suicidal (it’s my headcanon that Malcolm had a period of active suicidal ideation as a teenager)?

28:40 - “I can’t solve this.” Is Malcolm referring to himself here? I mean - he clearly thinks that he is the problem; despite the fact that Eve came into his family’s life with the intention of getting information on his serial killing father. Ugh. His sad eyes and messy hair (that tends to indicate Malcolm is in severe emotional distress) is breaking my heart.

28:54 - Ok. So - who is this woman? How did Christine find her? Why did Christine go to her? It doesn’t look like a women’s shelter - it looks like a random lady’s residential home.

29:00 - Again. Let’s all praise Queen Dani. The bestest friend this dude has ever had. She just goes out and asks him what’s wrong. She’s concerned about him BECAUSE she knows he’s upset about something.

29:20 - I love that Malcolm is comfortable enough around Dani to be honest with her about the really hard stuff in his life. Look at how sad Malcolm looks here. Look at Dani’s reaction. She isn’t judging him or pitying him. She isn’t pushing him to talk. She’s just supporting him. She’s a little shocked, a lot upset on his behalf, but mostly she’s just concerned. She’s being a good friend and I love her for it.

29:36 - Lucas is a scum. Anyone who abuses a spouse, child, or family member has a special spot reserved in hell.

29:52 - Look at Dani as Christine tells her story. She’s sympathetic, respectful, and concerned. Either this isn’t the first time Dani’s been around a battered woman on the job or Dani has personal experience with abuse. Maybe a friend/family member was abused? Hell - maybe Dani had an abusive boyfriend or something?

30:20 - I really respect Malcolm in this scene. He knows that women who are fresh out of an abusive relationship (or still in one) with a male are weary of men. Usually, when Malcolm gets this type of information about a case he starts speaking quickly, loudly, and intensely. He starts gesturing a lot with his hands. IN THIS SCENE - Malcolm reigns himself in. He stays relatively calm and still as he speaks. He knows that his usual hand-gesturing and loud voice would terrify a woman who was just beaten by a man who was supposed to love her. This. Is. A. Good. Dude.

31:10 - Malcolm just shows Dani his cracked phone screen. I’m curious - does she ever ask about it? I’d like to hear that conversation.

33:05 - I LOVE THIS. Gil is terrified for a) Malcolm but b) Alessa and Nina too. This is a side of Gil I’d like to see more often. ALSO notice that the second that JT realizes that Gil is suffering from a parental panic attack he floors it. JT is going to be a good Dad. <3 He knows how to love and he has a big heart. That’s the most important thing.

34:34 - Again. Malcolm is currently displaying empathy and sympathy for a murderer. This dude has the biggest heart in the world.

35:45 - Alessa is a badass. Nina is a lucky little girl.

36:04 - I love this scene. Gil looks so relieved that Malcolm is in one (mostly unharmed) piece. He’s so proud of Malcolm for keeping Alessa and Nina safe. I’m certain that Jessica and/or Ainsley called Gil about Malcolm’s panic attack which exacerbated Gil’s worry over Malcolm.

37:07 - THE SCENE. The scene. This scene is easily my favourite of the episode. I love watching JT and Malcolm’s friendship in real time. Look right here this is two guys chatting about how cool someone is. <3 Look at how happy and proud JT is of a woman he just met. I promise you he’s thinking about how awesome and badass of a mother his wife is going to be.

37:28 - JT’s scared face coupled with his softly spoken “Dude.” stops my heart. It’s as though talking to someone other than his wife makes the baby seem like more of a scary, real responsibility. You can tell that he’s excited but still terrified about fatherhood. He’s not quite ready to tell people yet.

37:37 - “The thing’s the size of a peanut.” - I googled it: Tally is about 9 weeks pregnant. ALSO how freaking cute is it that JT is so excited about his unborn child that he knows how big it is. <3 I can just see him panic researching about pregnancy and caring for infants in the middle of the night while Tally sleeps. <3

37:44 - He doesn’t want to jinx it? Does that mean he and Tally have had trouble getting pregnant in the past? Miscarriages? Infertility? Or is JT just scared from everything he’s been researching about pregnancy? Either way - if Tally looses this child I will riot.

37:50 - “You don’t do happy.” - Malcolm’s face twists into a look of hurt and sadness. He genuinely believes JT’s words - even though JT meant them as a joke. JT sees that too because he immediately starts teasing Bright. JT is concerned about Malcolm.

38:39 - So Eve does have a key. Nope. Not cool. Not in-line with Malcolm’s trust issues. I refuse to believe it.

39:11 - I hate watching Malcolm be this sad. Look at his nose. It’s just a little red - he’s been crying. His fragile ability to trust has been shattered again and Eve’s apology is quite honestly not very good.

39:45 - Can we all just pause on Malcolm’s shirt? It looks like the orange sweater Gil wore in 1x13. Did they go shopping together? Did Malcolm buy the shirt because it reminded him of Gil? Does he only wear it when he feels sad because the fact that it reminds him of Gil comforts him

40:35 - What’s the story of Eve’s Dad? What’s his deal?

41:40 - I’m really proud of Malcolm for being brave enough to face the truth and have this really difficult conversation with Eve.

43:09 - Ok. I’ll say it. Malcolm is too nice. This woman shattered his heart last night and now he’s hugging her? Bro - you don’t have to do that. You’re allowed to be upset. You’re letting her walk all over you.

Thanks for hanging out Prodigies.

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akl1 · 5 years ago

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GONE: Chapter 1 - Rain

Summary: “We’re not supposed to be here. None of us should be standing here in dark black clothes with lumps in our throats, on the verge of breaking down like we did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.” Logan shifted, adjusting his hair.

Tilting his chin up, he gazed over the small crowd of four, all of whom he knew too well- but one person was missing. That person was lying beside him.

In a coffin.

TW: Major Charactor Death, Suicide, Like a Lot of Angst

Ships: Implied Analogical, Royality and Dukeceit

FIRST (you’re here!) NEXT

“We-” He cleared his throat, as his voice came out raspy.

“We’re not supposed to be here. None of us should be standing here in dark black clothes with lumps in our throats, on the verge of breaking down like we did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.” Logan shifted, adjusting his hair.

Tilting his chin up, he gazed over the small crowd of four, all of whom he knew too well- but one person was missing. That person was lying beside him.

In a coffin.

Logan swallowed. “Whenever I watched a silly romance movie, and in said movie a loved one-” He hesitated, “-dies, I always found the scene where they remember the deceased, and say something along the lines of ‘I took their presence for granted’ unrealistic, or corny. I thought I would never be in such a place.”

A dry chuckle slipped from his lips.

“Falsehood.”

He looked up from the small stack of papers clutched in his hand, towards the window.

“It’s raining,” he said.

“Virgil always loved the rain. He could stare out the window for hours upon hours, feeling so calm and relaxed whenever there were storms. Most would expect him to be alarmed, but the deep rumble of thunder paired with the soft pitter-pattering of rain was one of the things that he loved most.”

A lone tear ran down his cheek; he didn’t notice it.

“He was special, you know. I’ve never encountered such a resigned yet… loving person. He was the one who introduced me to astrology and showed me the wonders that the night sky can hold.”

“To this day, he reminds me of the galaxy. To some people it may seem cold or intimidating, with it’s darkness, but to others, it’s warm and wondrous with it’s light. At first glance it the galaxy may seem like nothing special, just balls of gas and rocks floating in a big nothingness, but if you take the time to look closer you’ll start to find miracles. Wonders. Beauty in a place you assumed bleak.”

He shifted as nostalgic memories entered his mind of him and Virgil lying on a hill at night- Virgil pointing out constellations and telling interesting facts about space. This memory, though comforting at first now turned a daunting reminder of someone lost. Someone gone.

He looked down at his papers, turning over to the final page.

“But, in the end, there’s a bitter truth that we must all come to terms with, sooner or later. Virgil-” His voice cracked on uttering his name.

“Virgil is gone. And there is nothing that we can do about it. Virgil is gone now and he is gone tomorrow and gone overmorrow. We will grieve and we will cry and we will wish with all our might that what experience now is just a cruel nightmare. But it’s not.”

The only thing that was holding Logan together was the final paragraph he had painstakingly written down, and though he practically knew it off by heart, he kept looking down at it.

“We love him. We all loved Virgil and we will miss him so, so much. He was… Well, he was Virgil. Our anxious stormcloud.”

He looked beyond his friends’ broken faces, eyes unfocused and in another world.

“May he rest in peace.” His last words were a gentle whisper, doused in anguish. Logan silently gathered his papers and glanced over at the open coffin; his pale face too perfect to be real- to be alive. There was no smudged eyeshadow or bag under his eye. there was no dimple on his cheek with a lopsided smirk accompanying it. His hair wasn’t covering half of his face. It was all so blank- so wrong.

He walked down to sit beside Patton, whose eyes remained glossed over, just as they were when he found out the news.

Patton handed Logan the flower he had brought, as it was easier to hold the papers without having to hold the bouquet as well. He had brought Candytuft, as the soft purple colour was Virgil’s favourite.

It’s funny, he thought, a flower with a name so sweet for a time so bitter.

“Would anyone like to view Virgil for the- last time?”

Patton and Roman shook their heads, but Dee and Remus slowly nodded. Dee let Remus go first, waiting patiently for his turn.

An uncomfortable silence enveloped the room. It’s ironic, he used to love the silence and constantly complained about all the noise everyone was making. But now he wanted nothing more than to hear his friends talk and laugh and interact. He knew that that was not going to happen for a while- hell, maybe forever. He might never hear his friends laugh or joke around or be comfortable in their own damn skins beca-

“-gan?”

He snapped out of his trance, looking up to find Dee.

“Yeah?”

“We should go.” Dee replied.

Logan nodded- the coffin still had to be lowered into his grave, and he thought best to get it over with.

* * *

It had stopped raining, but the chilly autumn breeze was still present. They made their way over to the grave, dread crawling up their spines. The mere sight of the grave was horrific.

Noone had spoke a word during the lowering. They were all feeling too much they didn’t dare open their mouths. Everyone was just tired. They all threw in their various purple flowers onto the coffin as a final farewell to Virgil.

Logan decided to move further away from the rest and called a taxi. Looking back at his friends as he waited for the taxi to arrive, he could see Roman leaning against a solemn Remus.

The two got closer after the death, for fairly obvious reasons. They both needed an anchor, and they quickly resolved their feuds in their desperate time of need. Though Logan didn’t necessarily miss the constant bickering and fighting, it was weird regardless without it.

Shifting his gaze over, he could see Patton’s arm hugging Dee’s waist, pulling him close. They were both hunched over, too tired to care about insignificant things like their posture. It was bittersweet, really. The two of them, like the twins could barely get along before, and here they were, supporting each other.

Soon, the taxi arrived, and they all got in. Quietly.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides angst #sanders sides fic #gone au #myfic #analogical #dukeceit #royality #tw suicide #tw death #tw funeral #tw angst

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lettersofwrittencollective · 5 years ago

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The Pull (26/?)

Summary: The Ragnulf’s are one of the oldest lines of werewolves known. A gift from ancient times was given to the line. Though not all of the line will experience it. There are some who will experience a Pull. This Pull leads them to their true mate, a soulmate. The problem is, just because the wolf finds their true mate does not mean that they are the same for that person. .

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective

Pairing: S Stiles x Hale!Cousin OC (Reader)

ReaderWord count: 2617

A/N: I swear, I am not intentionally putting Void. He is coming:) Anyways let me know what you think of this scene! Let me know if you want to see more! Truthfully, interaction gives me life! So, comment, reblog, send me smashed keyboards, anything works 😘

<<Prev || Masterlist || Next>>

“I’m sorry you did what now?!”

“Tasha it wasn’t that bad! Allison's dad was there and it’s not like anyone actually got hurt. Plus we found out what the things are and that apparently it’s a Nogitsune that they’re looking for” Isaac tried to defend himself, putting his hands up in an attempt to placate you.

You growl at him somewhat menacingly and he seems surprised by your actions but before he can dig himself into a deeper grave, you point out, “Ok let’s not even dive into the supernatural aspect of the issues with you meeting up with the Yakuza. It’s the freaking Yakuza! You don’t just meet them and then go on your merry way and act like it never happened! There’s going to be things that come up later. God forbid you ever want to work in law enforcement, guess what that’s not an option anymore!” By this point, you’ve raised your voice and are just short of yelling at him while you pace back and forth, motioning at him in your agitated state.

“Tasha...”

“No Isaac! Did you know that the Yakuza has their own werewolves? Rumor is there’s even an evolved kanima amongst them. Not to mention they have different kitsune at different ranks!”

“Yeah, we actually um- met one of the werewolves.”

You freeze as the ice runs down your spine at those words. Slowly, you turn back to face Isaac as you school your features into a hard mask. You’re praying that he’s joking, that there wasn’t actually a meeting with the Yakuza a few days ago let alone one that had a werewolf present but his face is serious. He’s not trying to hold back a smirk or a laugh and you realize that he’s being serious.

“Do you realize how lucky you are that they let you walk away alive?”

“Yeah,” Isaac rubbed the back of his neck and this time you weren’t sure if it was because he was nervous or because he was upset, “Apparently the main guy owed Allison's dad.”

“That’s really not that reassuring. Besides, you do realize you’re not gonna get that lucky again in the future, right?” Your voice was small, terrified at the prospect of what was to come. He took a step towards you, calling your name, softly, and you stepped back while shaking your head. “This isn’t a game Isaac.”

Isaac took another step towards you and pulled you into a hug, “I know. If it makes you feel better, Allison's dad wasn’t comfortable with the whole thing either.”

Hugging him back, you breathed in his scent and listened to his heartbeat for a minute to ensure that he was alive. It’s a scent that has become as comforting as Aarics or Ro’s though not as soothing.

You’d had a sense of foreboding all afternoon. It’s been a couple of days since the Oni attack at the McCall house but you’d found yourself more and more anxious as time went on. While none of your friends or yourself had been killed by the creatures, you hadn’t been able to relax since that night.

Scott had caught Stiles up on what was going on while waiting for Rafael. Stiles has been worried about everyone but particularly Lydia but Scott had been able to reassure him. You had confirmed with Scott that he and Kira had also had the kanji for self on their necks and since then had been trying to figure out why yours was different.

Once you’ve confirmed with your own senses that Isaac is, in fact, alive and well you step back from him. As your stepping back, you feel your phone buzz and Scott is yelling for Isaac. He sounds stressed out but your phone is ringing and it’s late so while Isaac runs out of the room, you check your phone.

Seeing the contact, you swipe and lift the phone to your ear, “What’s up Ro?”

“Hey kid, so you didn’t hear this from me cause we’re still not sure and dad doesn’t want you to know just yet but, as your brother, I think you should know.” you’re about to ask what it is he’s talking about but he doesn’t give you a chance, he’s speaking so fast you can barely keep up with what he’s saying, “You know how you had asked if your mate could be human? Now we aren’t sure but we did find a mate that wasn’t a werewolf and we’re trying to find more on her. ”

You didn’t completely understand what your brother was trying to tell you and you’re sure that bein as tired as you are isn’t helping the situation. He’s talking about a priestess of some sort and you’re not sure but suddenly Isaacs calling your name and when you turn to him he says, “We gotta go. Somethings wrong with Stiles.”

“Ro I gotta call you back,” you say and hang up the phone, grabbing your hoodie before making your way out of the room to follow Isaac down the stairs.

As you’re making your way down the stairs, Scott's phone is vibrating again, he answers and while you don’t usually like to listen in on cell phones because of the high frequency, you pay attention this time, “Hey, Stiles.”

“Did you call him? Did you call my dad?” You can hear the panic and fear in Stiles’ voice and share a look with Isaac. This is bad.

“No,” Scott assures and shakes his head, as if Stiles can see the motion. “Just Isaac and Natasha. We’re coming to find you. Can you figure out where you are? Try to find something to tell us where to look.”

“It’s a basement. I don’t… I think… I think I’m in some kind of... some kind of basement.”

“Stiles is it a house?” you ask loudly.

Thankfully, he seems to hear you and, a moment later he’s saying, “No, it looks bigger. Like it’s industrial.” The more that he talks, the more it sounds like he’s on the verge of tears and you can hear the shake in his voice when he says, “I think there’s a furnace but it’s cold. It’s freezing down here. I gotta… I gotta turn the phone off, Scott. It’s going to die.”

“Stiles wait,” you say at the same time that Scott asks him to wait.

Thankfully, it seems that Stiles listens as the line does not go silent and Scott asks, “What else is there, what do you see?”

“The phone’s dying I can’t talk,” he repeats, the frustration evident in his voice and while you don’t blame him you also don’t know how else to help if you can’t get information from him. Suddenly, Stiles is whispering and there’s a different kind of terror to his voice. “I have to go. Please...” he begs.

“Stiles, why you whispering?”

There’s a moment that’s tense and a knot forms in your stomach as you meet Scotts eyes. The next words out of Stiles’ mouth cause the Alphas face to pale considerably, “Cause, I think there’s someone in here with me.” Then the line goes silent.

Shit.

You look at Isaac and then Scott. No one says anything for a moment and you’re sure that they’re trying to put together a list of places where they can check but really, where is there to go?

“We need to call his dad,” you say as you go to reach for your phone. It’s as you realize that it’s not in your pocket that Scott grabs your arm.

“I promised I wouldn’t,” the young Alpha tells you with all seriousness, a pleading look on his face.

“Why would you do that?!” you practically hiss at him. “Of all the things -”

“Natasha he begged me not to.”

“That’s not how that works Scott!” you yell as you throw your hands up, in exasperation, “He is missing and we need to call in his dad.”

“Natasha, please? I promised?” He looks torn and a part of you does feel bad for snapping. This is his friend and his territory so he’s gonna know better than you would about what his friend can and cannot handle.

Crossing your arms, you huff, and glare at him before saying, through gritted teeth, “Fine, where do you want to start?”

You get it, you really do and, if you're honest with yourself, if you were at home and it was Aaric or Ro who had asked you then you probably would have agreed not to say a word.

Scott looks surprised that you agreed and you’re already regretting the decision. Just as you’re about to tell him to forget it, he seems to make up his mind. “Let’s start at his house. Get the freshest possible scent and go from there. I’m sure we’ll be able to track him.”

“What if someone else took him?” Isaac asks and you turn to him, giving him a look that you hope indicates how much he is not being helpful in this situation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Scott shaking his head. “He was probably sleepwalking. But if someone else did take him, then there’ll be a scent there that shouldn’t be and we can track both of them.”

“Alright then let’s go.”

The three of you are out of the house and on your respective bikes moments later and making your way towards the Stilinski household. You can feel the worry and anxiety rolling off Scott and, surprisingly, off Isaac.

As you ride, your instinct decides that now is the perfect time to speak up, We should be going after him.

We are but we have to have his scent.

Do you really think we don’t know it?

And what happens if we’re wrong? Hmmm, you ask your instincts, If we get this wrong he could end up dead. Remember when we agreed that death happens to those around you? I happen to like these people. Sherriff would be devastated if something happened to Stiles and we know that Melissa and Scott wouldn’t take it well. Not to mention, I happen to like the kid. He’s passionate, funny, caring. He may be human but he’s someone I want on my side when a fight comes.

Your instincts are silent for a moment and you wonder if perhaps you’ve said or done something wrong. But a moment later, you can feel the growl in your chest, Then let’s get the scent and go.

Getting to the Stilinski house, you put your bike in park. A quick glance around and you realize that you recognize a car parked across the street.

As the group of you walk into the house, you ask the boys, “Why is Aidens car is parked across the street?”

To their credit, neither of them stop though they do hurry up and Scott has a key to let himself in, though he ends up not needing it. As soon as you enter the door, your hit by both Aiden and Lydias scents within the house.

Running now, you make your way up the stairs and find both Lydia and Aiden in Stiles’ room.

“How did you know? Did he call you too?” Scotts asking the redhead.

Meanwhile, you shake your head, “Lydia for the love of Odin please tell me that this wasn’t a feeling that you go.”

Lydia shakes her head, “I heard it.”

“Don’t ask,” Aiden warns, “It gets more confusing when you ask.”

“Guys,” you step past the two of them towards the bed.

“Not as confusing as that,” Lydia points out. There are red strings tied to a pair of scissors that have been stabbed into the middle of the mattress. The opposite ends are attached to different pictures.

“He uses red for the unsolved cases,” you whisper, remembering the night you’d worked on Barrow. Blue’s just pretty.

“Maybe he thinks he’s part of an unsolved case.”

“Or is an unsolved case.”

“Aiden, Isaac…” You turn to face them, “I will deball you if you keep it up.”

They both look at you, a look of scrutinization on their faces. You figure that they’re trying to determine if you’re serious or not and so you offer then a fanged smile before turning back to the pictures the red strings connect to. Eyes bouncing from picture to picture again, it takes you a moment to figure they’re probably not connected, “Scott w need to go find him.”

“Hold on,” Lydia begins, “is he still out there? You don’t know where he is?”

Scott tries to defend himself again and Aiden must feel your agitation because he reaches out and squeezes your shoulder. What you can’t seem to understand is why everyone else seems so calm in this.

“What else did he say?” Lydias asking.

“Somethings wrong with his leg. He’s bleeding.”

“I’m sorry what?” you turn to Scott. “You didn’t say that at the house. We need to go to the cops.”

Aiden backs you up, “Natasha’s right, tonight’s the coldest night of the year. It’s going to drop into the 20’s.”

“Wait, hold on-” Lydia cuts off the pending argument. “You haven’t told his dad?” When Scott doesn’t say anything, she clarifies, “Stiles is bleeding and freezing and you didn’t call his dad?”

“He made me promise not to. We can find him by scent. If he was sleepwalking, he couldn’t have gotten far, right?”

“You guys didn’t notice his jeeps gone did you?”

“That was probably my fault,” you say, raising your hand and addressing Aiden, “I was more distracted with your car.”

Lydia’s pulled out her phone and is going through her contacts, “You promised you wouldn’t call his dad. I didn’t.”

“I’m with her, Scott. Sherriff’s gonna have more resources.”

“Wait, you guys, I can get more help. I can call Derek-”

“Already texted him, Peter, too for that matter.”

Scott gives you a look but continues, “I can call Allison.”

“Everyone except for the cops! Great idea!” Lydia snaps and you don’t blame her. You’re about two seconds from taking off to look for Stiles on your own. Roscoe may smell like other cars but the paint does have a small difference to it. If you can figure that out then maybe…

“You guys remember she only gets these feelings when someone’s about to die, right?” Aiden says and you walk past them towards the front of the house, pulling off your hoodie as you go.

Isaac calls your name and you ignore him. You would have outrun him but you needed to get your shoes off in order to be able to shift and when you’d stopped he’d grabbed your arm. Turning, you snarled at him but he tightened his grip.

“Natasha, we’re gonna go to the station right now.”

“Why is it that only me and Lydia are worried about him right now? Scotts just hanging out like his so-called best friend isn’t potentially dying and I get that you and Aiden aren’t his biggest fans but come on, he’s supposed to be pack and you don’t leave pack behind… we have to keep him safe.”

Isaac looks at you and tilts his head “hey - we’re gonna find him. I promise.”

Before you can respond, Scotts come down the stairs, “Lydia said there’s something here. She and Aiden are gonna stay behind. Follow me.”

“How long till we get there?”

“5 minutes in normal traffic.”

“Well, we’re in a rush. Better make it 3,” you say as you get on your bike and the three of you ride out of the neighborhood like Hades’ hellhounds are after you.

tag list:@nicole-lynne @fandom-princess-forevermore @capandbuck @biles-bilinski-24 @stiles-o-dylan24 @fiveisadorable @falling-stars-never-cry @blueraindrops @its-livelovelife @screamxqueenx94 @ceceliaking-18 @jasmineshwayze1994 @dear-vista @fangirlbitch02 @riseandshinelittleblossom @jessicakimba @truthdaze @seninjakitey @kateeee0817 @squadkyoya @lucifersnipnips @niawoods @pansexualbitchesofhell @bloodrose-scythe @fox-in-a-mousetrap-8 @findingmyselfinthismessedupworld @shantayok @yougottalovefandoms

Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective . Associated characters belong to MTV and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted 22 May 2019

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lily-blue · 5 years ago

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CODE Z3RO | CODE 04

characters: BTS & Red Velvet genre: thriller, futuristic au warning: blood, death summary: The twelve most ambitious and promising university students are welcomed in Choego, the world’s first entirely artificial intelligence-driven city, to compete for five job contracts that could change their life. But what if something goes wrong? What if they get trapped? What if the city suddenly turns against them? Can they find a way out before the countdown reaches zero? words: 4,7K tagged: @philosopher-of-fandoms

➼ Chapter Index

The corridor was dreadfully quiet as if Jung Hoseok had walked down on an abandoned graveyard full of long forgotten souls. Honestly, he hated every damn minute of this impossible trial that the researchers had forced upon their group of twelve, but at least his rivals weren’t too much to bear except for Taehyung whom he hoped would have disappeared along with or rather instead of daddy’s little princess. At least, Sooyoung had been a weaker link than him, a brainless doll dressed in gold and glitter. Considering the dynamic of their miniature society, she had meant no harm, meanwhile Taehyung seemed to be one of those guys who would have given you the last drop of drinking water just to poison you in a deserted island. He was ambitious and Hoseok knew that people like him would have done anything to get what they wanted.

Taking a sharp right turn, the Sociology major pushed the canteen’s double door open and walked towards their group that was eating in the corner, putting his arms on the edge of an ugly, plastic chair’s backrest. For a few minutes, he listened to their quiet chatter about neutral topics in silence, rolling his eyes when one of the girls changed the subject from a television show to the weather. It was a natural reaction for the chaotic situation they were in, complete ignorance, but the fact that he had known that it was something he should have expected didn’t mean that it didn’t rub him in the wrong way.

He cleared his throat to gain everyone’s attention. Looking at the empty lunch boxes and the dirty cellophane in front of Seokjin, he couldn’t wait to leave this creepy hospital behind, finding useful clues in the researchers’ headquarter, earning some good points for his neatness from their supervisors. He had always been good at finding links between reasons and consequences until the equation hadn’t expanded with risky variables such as haunted buildings, axe murderers and walking zombies. Would have it been possible that the researchers had made a complex trial for them, getting their inspiration from stupid, American survival shows and lame books for young adults? Shit! How much he hated their sick society and the masterminds behind the contemporary entertainment industry.

‘Did anyone see our Korean Richie Rich or that scary IT guy with the eerie look?’ he asked before he could have overthought their situation even more, his long fingers already shaking under the imaginary weight on his shoulders. Staying composed in an ambiguous situation had already taken a lot of energy out of his body and was harder that he had first thought.

‘Did you check the toilets?’ the grumpy guy with lilac hair asked, chewing on the last bites of his sandwich in an obviously annoyed pace and Hoseok wondered whether Taehyung had hated people in general or it was him whom he had an actual problem with.

‘Well, obviously. I’m coming from there,’ he answered and patted the front side of his jeans with a wide grin, satisfied that he had finally found a toilet after he had failed so during his first attempt, half an hour prior when they had stepped into this eerie labyrinth with dozens of empty rooms and abandoned beds. Although a part of him did find rationality behind the absence of people - Choego was still under construction and was waiting for its wealthy inhabitants after all -, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy whenever he thought about the silence that surrounded them 24/7.

His gaze never leaving the boy deep in his own thoughts, Taehyung rolled his eyes at Hoseok’s stupidity, saving his energy as he swallowed a cocky comment on the inevitability of having more than one toilet in a huge building like this one with at least six floors. Humming, he honestly started to doubt the company’s management, considering that they had indeed thought of idiots like Hoseok as valuable candidates. From his point of view, even his three-year-old little sister was smarter than a significant part of their group of so-called prodigies. The thought of teaming up with a bunch of losers was utterly ridiculous yet he couldn’t disobey the researchers’ orders.

They all finished the remains of their food in utter silence except for Wendy who hushed her boyfriend when he tried to break the unpleasant atmosphere with a joke about two cartons of milk talking in the desert that only Seokjin could appreciated. Said boy stood up not long after the carefree laughter left his mouth and looked around with a pinch of worry in his eyes as the peace finally settled between the lovebirds on his right.

‘So now that we all finished our breakfast and Joohyun also got her insulin, I suggest to go and find the others. Any objections?’ he asked in a firm tone as he took the lead voluntarily. After all, when it came to measuring their possible strengths and weaknesses, he was far the most qualified for the job since he’d already had experience in disastrous situations thanks to his degree in Crisis Management. He’d served his required volunteer service in Nepal where a massive earthquake had killed more than eight thousand people in 2015. He was certain that he could handle the researchers’ tough simulation just as smoothly as he’d helped to rebuild hundreds of buildings for those who had lost not just their homes but their loved ones, too, from one day to another. Although back then, he hadn’t had to deal with disrespectful youngsters like Taehyung.

‘You bet! Could you explain, why are they so freakin’ important?’ he asked as he stood up just the same, his itching palms resting on the top of the table, voice heavy because of the boiling anger in his veins. He looked at his rivals, annoyed, then smashed the wooden furniture, fingers curling into pulsing fists as he stretched his back and faced with the eldest challengingly. ‘I mean, we’ve already left that crazy bitch behind - thank goodness -, so why are they any different? Is it because of his money?’ he came up with the first thing that seemed rational enough to waste their time for losers when Seokjin’s sharp glance rendered him speechless. The lilac-haired boy gulped but didn’t blink, holding onto his pride with tooth and nail regardless of the others’ disapproval snorts.

‘It’s because we’re in the same team, Taehyung, and we won’t betray another fellow. Not until I’m here,’ Seokjin claimed earning a few smiles mostly from the girls. When he took the first step towards the double door, no one stayed behind. They all followed him to the hallway, leaving their bags and luggages casually in the corner, close to Jimin’s belongings.

As if the obvious disagreement between Taehyung and Seokjin had forced everyone’s mouth shut, the incomplete group walked down the hallways without exchanging small talks, only Joohyun’s heavy breathing emerging from the background noise of their firm steps. Unlike his caring girlfriend who simply couldn’t hold herself back from glancing at her roommate’s direction, Namjoon looked more than bothered because of her current state. But he chose not to confront the redhead more than once within a single hour and fixed his gaze on the strange duo right in front of him. Seeing Taehyung’s clenched fists and crimson ears, the mechanical engineer had some serious doubts whether Joohyun was the only one they should have been worried about.

‘Did you see the Saw?’ Hoseok asked completely out of the blue as his gaze glided from the light green tiles to the boy on his left with an arched brow floating slowly yet challengingly to the middle of his forehead. He seemed nervous, Namjoon could tell, as his trembling hand ruffled his messy locks unintentionally, his hair already resembling to a bird’s nest because of his ugly cap that now peaked out of his jeans’ huge back pocket.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes, waiting anxiously when the lilac-haired boy’s annoyed voice reached his ears with a harsh ‘What?’

The older boy had always thought of himself as someone who rather avoided conflicts than raising his voice on the verge of an upcoming storm yet he couldn’t stop his shoulders from becoming naturally tense as he observed his childish teammates. He didn’t understand why any of them or anyone in general would have made an anxious sphere even more uncomfortable on purpose and if not on purpose then how came that they didn’t notice the obvious, the negative effect of their debate on the remaining people in their group. For him, it was enough to shoot a quick glance at Wendy’s creased forehead and he knew that something was definitely off with the situation.

‘In the sixth movie, although I’m not sure, there was this horrific game in which all the victims had to work together…’ Hoseok went on, trying to take a further discussion on the subject that seemingly made the whole situation worse as Taehyung’s fingers curled up in a slightly shaking fist.

‘Jeez! Just shut up already, would you? You’re such a headache,’ he snapped and speeded up his hasty steps to get as far from the Sociology major as possible considering his limited options. In the end, he slowed down next to Seulgi and walked by her side in silence as if she hadn’t been there in the first place. Not that the girl would have minded the momentary peace, Taehyung’s rejecting attitude was better than listening to their whining.

‘Asshole,’ Hoseok murmured under his nose, darting his tongue out at the younger’s back when he thought that no one was watching. But his resentful comment didn’t slip Namjoon’s attention as the engineer stepped behind him and watched her girlfriend as she checked on Joohyun when she was finally left alone. Her genuine eagerness to help others in need never failed to amaze the ever so rational boy therefore the fond smile that played in the corner of his mouth was rather proud than annoyed.

‘I saw that movie, man. It was the fifth actually,’ he answered the question Taehyung refused to and even patted Hoseok’s shoulder a few times to soothe his nerves, encouraging to follow the others who were already a few steps ahead of them. ‘A bit disgusting, if you ask me, but genius.’

They changed their opinions on the mentioned movie in which there had been a group of people who had to work together in exchange for their freedom. Yet, they failed miserably as they couldn’t stop sacrificing each other, not caring about anything but their own lives. Every single task in the survival game was designed to emphasize the importance of teamwork hiding it behind selfishness and the players only realized it when it was too late. At the final challenge, they had to fill an enormous object with their own blood and considering that by the time they had reached the last room only two of them survived, they almost bled out and died inches away from their redemption. If they hadn’t been killing one another so carelessly, a few ounces of blood would have been enough from each one of them. It was mind-blowing, one of the most amazing plot twists in the history of horror for sure.

Opening every single unlocked door and walking into every damn toilet and janitor’s room, they searched for Yoongi and Jimin literally everywhere in vain as if the Earth had suddenly opened its mouth and swallowed both of them up in whole. It made everyone uneasy.

They were on the ground floor in the eastern wing when Seokjin finally stopped and they all could take a short break from this insane hide and seek. Though, not everyone was so keen to rest as Jungkook and Taehyung markedly walked back and forth, not knowing what to do with their energy. But while the grumpy boy kicked into the wall here and there lightly, testing his strength, Jungkook observed the remaining doors on the current level one by one.

‘I really don’t think that they’ll be there,’ Namjoon stated when the youngster pushed the door with the basement sign on it open and peeked inside, turning his head left and right.

‘Maybe,’ he hummed, not really paying attention to the fellow engineer’s presence as he stepped on the first step behind the door instead. He had questions and he was more than willing to leave their group behind for a few hours at most if it was really necessary to find the desired answers. What was the whole point of this simulation beside the obvious, that the researchers were curious about their problem-solving abilities in an artificial catastrophe? What happened with those who had left the group? What if they all managed to pass the trial? Why had they lied to them about their schedule for the rest of the day when they clearly had other plans for their candidates? What kind of skills were required to get a contract? Creativity, cooperation, critical thinking? ‘But I’d like to check the whole facility in case they hid some clues on one of their computers,’ he explained, grabbing the handrail as he looked at Namjoon from above his shoulder. ‘You don’t have to follow me, though.’

The older boy furrowed his brows and opened his mouth, ready to protest but the voice that filled the air was definitely more high-pitched and less raspy than what his vocal chord could have ever maintained. Both Jungkook’s and Namjoon’s head turned towards the petite girl, standing right behind the latter, watching her acting all embarrassed because of the faint ‘I’d like to. Sounds like a good idea even if I won’t be much help,’ that had left her mouth. Yerim brushed a tiny mop of hair behind her ear over and over again, unable to stand the younger’s piercing gaze for more than an ephemeral moment. And everything became much worse when Taehyung decided to join their company.

‘Hah! Of course, she thinks that. After all, it’s his idea,’ the lilac-haired boy blurted out, his deep voice heavy with ill will and mockery. The Marketing major’s loud presumption and malicious smile turned the girl into a blushing mess within a blink of an eye and seeing her frightened look, anyone could have told that she wished nothing but to dissolve into thin air.

‘Is there something you want to say?’ Seokjin joined the conversation as well and stepped between Taehyung and Yerim like a human shield as if his presence could have protected the girl from everything that the grumpy boy had been so ready to throw at her face.

Taehyung snorted. Ridiculous.

‘Sure. Your sister isn’t any better than Sooyoung was,’ he claimed, tilting his head to Yerim’s direction as the others walked closer, their figures forming a lame, irregular circle around the epicentrum of their debate. ‘Now that Gangnam girl’s gone, she’s the weakest link,’ Taehyung scoffed matter-of-factly, earning a few deadly glances from their teammates although no one protested, not even Seokjin. The eldest just stood there with tense shoulders and clenched fists, breathing shallow and worried. He hated that the Marketing major wasn’t that far from the truth - considering their abilities in an emergency situation, Joohyun, Hoseok and Yerim seemed to be the less useful members of their group. While the older girl panicked in stressful situations and Hoseok got easily scared even of his own shadow, his sister usually froze when everyone around her was loud and pressing. He had still remembered the first fire alarm test they’d had in primary school since Yerim’s homeroom teacher had made sure, it remained unforgettable as he’d freaked out in front of everyone when he had failed to find the little girl. But it didn’t mean that they couldn’t have surprised them with unexpected, innovative solutions. They had plenty of time to prove Taehyung wrong and Seokjin hoped they would. After all, without Yerim, they would have slept through and have failed the first part of the simulation.

Turning towards Jungkook, Seokjin relaxed his stiff muscles and spoke up in a rather calm voice.

‘Actually, we have plenty of time. Let’s go and check the area,’ he said, encouraging the younger with a firm nod as he took the first steps towards the door. To Taehyung’s dissatisfaction, everyone followed them thus he was the only one who remained in the hallway.

‘It’s useless. It’s not that we’ll find some nasty skeletons in their basement,’ he shouted like a sulky child and his annoyed statement forced Namjoon to stop on the first stair, head snapping at his direction. He looked at Taehyung, confused, lips in a firm line, white like virgin snow. Truth to tell, he didn’t like him - especially not his destructive attitude - but he was a part of their group, just as much as anyone else, and teamwork was the keypoint of their task. The researchers wanted them to work together, in unison, and Namjoon wasn’t that stupid to disobey their will because of Taehyung’s ill-wishing behaviour. He didn’t plan to shut him out since he didn’t plan to lose his chance to get a contract because of him either.

‘Don’t be a dick, man! I’m sure, you don’t want to be their enemy,’ he said, calling for him with a simple wave of his hand. ‘Let’s go!’

A few seconds later, the hallway was as empty as it had been before they would have crossed the threshold of the abandoned hospital - eerie and silent, lack of human souls.

Kim Seokjin was an excellent team player until his little sister wasn’t a part of the said group because then she became more important to him than anything or anybody else and preferences inevitably destroyed the collaboration. It wasn’t his fault though, their parents had raised him to be like this, they had literally planted the protectiveness in his nature from the moment Yerim had been born.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked in a voice so quiet, it was barely above a whisper although he did it out of goodwill rather than being ashamed of the fact that his sister wasn’t as fierce and independent as their mother who had been a zealous activist in Yerim’s age. She and their father had met on a protest against the educational system and its clearly disadvantageous and sometimes sexist rules such as the unsaid privileges that the wealthy students had gotten and the must of mini skirts even in winter. Well, back then they had been on different sides and that was what had made their love a groundbreaking story. Seokjin found it endearing and inspiring at the very same time.

Shaking his head, he put his palm on his sister’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. His caring touch earned an equally light sigh in return.

‘Yeah. It’s not that I suddenly become useless just because he said so,’ Yerim replied and even though her voice was faint, both her eyes were shining with a reassuring glint, her lips curling up all the way to her ears. She didn’t want her brother to worry to no end nor was willing to give the satisfaction to Taehyung by letting him see her fall apart. So she strengthened her heart and didn’t let anxiety consume her soul.

‘That’s my girl,’ Seokjin smiled and patted the top of his sister’s head, staying by her side as they followed Jungkook who seemed unbothered by the fact that Yerim couldn’t take her eyes off of his back and could have easily burnt a hole in the middle of his bladebone if one had been beared with superpowers. Ah! He would have given everything to be able to turn simple object to gold.

At some point when the first closed door appeared on the hallway, Seokjin started to make mental notes and different theories based on their surroundings and all those things that had happened to them since they had arrived to the artificial city. Although it looked logical that the city was empty considering that it didn’t have any citizens and the food supply in the canteen was also rational, the lack of instructions bugged him as if something had been off, as if the simulation hadn’t gone as planned. They should have found at least a video or audio file by now that could have help them step on the appointed path, shouldn’t have they?

Sharply turning right, Seokjin was so immersed in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice that Jungkook’s firm body stopped dead in front of a glass wall that separated them from a well-equipped laboratory full of huge, white cabinets and tables, papers laying in piles on their titanium surface.

‘Look! There’s a computer,’ Jungkook spoke up, his index-finger pointing at the electrical device in the left corner of the room. He didn’t hesitate, not even for a moment, as he lifted his bracelet in front of the small control panel on the right side of the door with a victorious smile on his face, demanding entrance which he got after a few seconds of complete silence. ‘Cool.’

When the boy stepped inside the lab, Seokjin grabbed his sister’s wrist, looking deep into her eyes, searching for some kind of confirmation in them that she knew what she was doing and she wasn’t so impatient to follow the raven-haired boy inside the room because she was indeed attracted to him as Taehyung had suggested approximately ten minutes ago. Not that he had problems with Jungkook as a person because he seemed like a really nice guy but the fact that he had let Sooyoung stuck inside their dormitory didn’t make him the most reliable fellow. He didn’t want Yerim to be used by some guy who was mostly alluring because of his distant behaviour. He was familiar with young adult books, he knew that these kind of boys always got the shy girl in town.

Yerim pulled her arm out of Seokjin’s grab and walked inside the laboratory soon followed by the rest of the team except Taehyung who refused to play by Jungkook or anyone else’s rules. He leaned against the glass wall from the outside and shot an ill-wishing smile at the eldest when he gave in to her sister’s wishes and crossed the threshold as well.

Since her steps came to a halt a few inches from Jungkook’s back, Seokjin walked to the computer, too, while the others opened the cabinets and the hidden drawers that they couldn’t have seen from the hallway. Joohyun and Namjoon made themselves busy with the printed papers on the tables.

‘Honey, could you take a look at these reports? It’s absolutely Chinese for me but you might be familiar with the ingredients in the right corner. They sound pretty medicine-like,’ he mused, looking at the said girl from above his shoulder, watching her as she put a tiny phial filled with some blue fluid back to its container.

‘Just a sec,’ she replied and slid the glass door back to its frame, paying close attention not to break anything inside.

As she step behind her boyfriend and took the paper out of his hand, Seokjin’s gaze glided back to the computer’s screen. Honestly, he didn’t understand a single thing but Jungkook’s clicks were so firm and confident that he put his trust in his knowledge without thinking. He opened then closed some folders, pushed the keys on the keyboard, furrowed his brows and started everything all over again until a stubborn window blocked him from further investigation and after a careless right click, everything went black.

‘What happened?’ Yerim asked, curious, leaning a tad bit closer to the blank screen and so to Jungkook without thinking twice. As her nostrils got filled with the boy’s characteristic scent that was definitely stronger and manlier than she would have thought, her whole face turned ruby red and she stepped backwards so hastily that she bumped into her brother’s shoulder. Seokjin rolled his eyes but didn’t make a comment on her obviously awkward behaviour. No, he turned towards Jungkook instead, waiting for his reply.

But that answer had never come as the door that allowed them to leave the room started to move, fast.

‘Everyone! Get out of this room! Now!’ Seokjin shouted as soon as he caught a glimpse of the closing exit, waving with his hands towards its direction as if his exaggerated gestures could have fasten everyone’s speed. But it couldn’t.

Since Joohyun couldn’t handle stress and Wendy cared too much, Namjoon couldn’t pull them out of the room on his own because dealing with a mild panic attack and his stubborn girlfriend was simply overwhelming. He needed help and Seokjin was the only one who was willing to give them that extra hand. He ran towards his frozen teammates and grabbed Joohyun by her wrist. The eldest threw her arm over his shoulder casually then lifted her petite figure as he carried her out of the lab, letting Namjoon show him the way.

‘What the…,’ he heard Jungkook swearing as he accidentally crashed his shoulder into the glass wall, trying really hard not to collide with Seulgi who got to the door the same moment as he did. Seokjin rolled his eyes, panting, before he put the girl in his arms down.

‘Where is Yerim?’ he asked when he caught his breath and looked around, anxiety growing in his chest due to the absence of his little sister.

‘Inside,’ Taehyung stated with a flat face while he pointed at the girl who had seemingly frozen a few steps from the blank screen. Her gaze were cloudy, lips slightly parted with fear.

‘I left her with you. You should have grabbed her hand and pull her out, you selfish bastard,’ Seokjin snapped, screaming like a wild animal and the only thing that kept him back from slapping Jungkook’s face was the clinking sound of the closing door. It was already through halfway but he couldn’t stay still.

The boy ran back inside the lab and wrapped his long fingers around his sister’s wrist, pulling her towards the hallway like crazy but Yerim fell into her knees because of the sudden force and hit her head into the table, feeling the bitter taste of her own vomit in the back of her throat. She didn’t move until her brother helped her find her balance and pushed her towards the door. Three. Yerim finally took her first steps on her own, running. Two. Seokjin was so happy that his sister managed to reach the hallway in time that he didn’t notice the report that had slipped out of Wendy’s hand on the floor. One. Glass collided with glass at the same time, the young man’s butt crashed to the floor. Shocked, no one dared to say a word.

The relieved smile soon froze onto Yerim’s lips as she realized what had happened. Her whole body was a shaking mess as she turned on her heels and looked at her brother, stuck inside the lab. She put her palms onto the wall, tears blurring her vision.

‘No,’ she whispered over and over again while her spirit slowly gave up, knees fitting close to the ground. ‘We’ll get you out, don’t worry, okay?’ she promised, not knowing that the room was actually soundproof and all Seokjin could see was her sadness and guilt. So he smiled, crawling to the wall in his own pace. He didn’t have to be fast anymore, there was no need to rush.

Meanwhile Hoseok stepped to the control panel and lifted his own bracelet in front of it in vain. It didn’t work, in fact, it rejected his request more dramatically than he would have ever thought. It shifted red and turned on the security system.

Seokjin’s shoulders tensed as the ventilation system markedly stopped working and the air became heavy with an unfamiliar chemical product, something transparent with no scent yet with something that burnt his veins. He shook his head, leaning his sweaty forehead against the glass, and took a few swallow breathers as if it could have magically solved his breathing problems. It hurt like hell, moving his limbs, keeping his eyes open hence he stayed still, gaze fixed on his clearly panicking sister. She was worried, he knew it. She must have been already screaming for a while, making silly promises that she couldn’t keep. It would have been so typical of her. He laughed and his raspy voice echoed in the sphere as the world turned red.

Red walls, red people, red tears. Even the last memory that popped up in his mind between confusing, fading pictures was red, cherry lips sealing his mellow ones with the untrue promise of infinity.

➼ chapter V.

#code zero #bts scenarios #red velvet scenarios #ssbyme #here's where the roller-coaster begins #thriller #futuristic au #poor seokjin #he was such a good brother

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