#you say you feel suicidal and you are immediately dragged to the hospital no matter what

[omg-ame-chan]

think i'm just never going to get better no matter what happens

[nctsjiho]

2 AM Healing [Part 2 of ‘2 PM Suffering’]

Click here for Part 1

warnings: explicit language, consumption of alcohol and medication, suggested attempted suicide (overdosing on pills and alcohol), anxiety

era: April 2021

❀ Things seem to take a big turn after Taeyong and Doyoung go check up on JiHo

“Wah~~ I can’t wait to get in my bed.” Haechan sighed dramatically as the 4 boys from the 5th floor were waiting on Taeyong to open the door.

The shoot had dragged on for a while, along with some other schedules and now it was a little after 2 at night. Johnny and Haechan had been whining about how tired they were and couldn’t wait to sleep. “At least take a shower first Haechan, you stink.” The older of the two snickered, earning a shocked expression from the smaller boy. “Hey! I don’t-”

“It’s past midnight and we have neighbours. Be quiet already.” Doyoung sounded annoyed which had the two boys shut up quickly. “And you, why are you taking so long.” Doyoung rolled his eyes at the leader who had yet to open the door. Taeyong rolled his eyes as well at the attitude of Doyoung and before he could say anything else, Taeyong pushed the door open.

Meanwhile, inside the dorm, JiHo had curled up into Xiaojun’s side. She had been sleeping for close to 12 hours straight now, the severity of her exhaustion very clear to Xiaojun. The only time JiHo had woken up, was when Xiaojun had gotten up to clean up the food he dropped when first entering her room. He quickly cleaned and went to the bathroom before joining a whiny JiHo back in her bed. He had sung a few more songs for her and decided to go to sleep as well after she had comfortably slotted her body into his side.

Completely forgetting that he had to send updates to Doyoung, Taeyong, or at least Kun about JiHo - partly because his phone was out of battery and otherwise because he physically couldn’t move because of JiHo’s deadly grip on him - he drifted off into his own dream world and hadn’t woken up since.

As the residents of the dorm arrived the first place Doyoung went to was JiHo’s room. His hand had barely made contact with the door handle when Taeyong stopped him from entering. “Is this a good idea? JiHo’s probably sleeping at this time.” Doyoung scoffed at the comment. “We haven’t heard from her since we left, for all we know she’s dead in there and you’re not even going to check.” “Kun said Xiaojun-” “Well Xiaojun hasn’t picked up his fucking phone once!”

The leader hadn’t seen Doyoung this mad before. He knew he was only worried about JiHo, so he could excuse his anger completely. Yet despite that, Taeyong was still taken aback by the amount of poison was spilling from the black-haired man’s lips. “Okay, let’s check.”

Doyoung softly pushed the door open, such a contrast to his earlier tense body language. Upon opening the door the light which came from the hallway illuminated the room, revealing how messy it was.

JiHo wasn’t the tidiest member when it came to her own room, but the visual Doyoung and Taeyong were met with was quite shocking. Pillows and blankets seemed to be thrown off the bed and even to the other side of the room. But among all the mess a certain few items had caught Doyoung’s eye.

Rather confused as to why Doyoung wasn’t commenting on Xiaojun and JiHo comfortably - a bit too comfortable to Taeyong’s liking - sleeping on her bed, Taeyong eyed his dorm mate closely. He watched as Doyoung reached out to a small white container, one he wasn’t familiar with.

Suddenly Doyoung let out a chuckle. Not a friendly-sounding one though. Not friendly at all. “What’s this?!” He suddenly yelled which startled not only Taeyong but also the two sleeping friends. Xiaojun jumped up from beside JiHo as he saw the two older members watching them.

“Doyoung hyung-” “Pills and alcohol?” He sighed in disbelief. JiHo was still laying down in bed, her eyes squinted as she tried not to strain them. “Lim JiHo? Please tell me you didn’t drink.” When JiHo only fell back down in her spot from her previous hoisted up position Doyoung already knew the answer.

He turned to Xiaojun, who was wide-eyed, seemingly terrified about the way he was woken up. “You know how dangerous this is?” Doyoung shook the pill bottle in front of the younger boy’s eyes. “Why didn’t you answer your damn phone?! If you found JiHo drinking and taking pills you should’ve taken her to the hospital!” “I told him I was fine.” The girl mumbled from where she had buried her face into her pillow. “Of course you would tell him that!”

“Or did you give these to her? JiHo normally doesn’t drink or take medication. So did you?” Xiaojun frantically shook his head. He’d never do such a thing and the fact his hyung thought he would, made him feel cornered, not being able to defend himself.

Doyoung’s chest heaved and so many thoughts crossed his mind. “Let’s calm down for a bit okay?” Taeyong carefully took a step closer to the two boys and placed a hand on Doyoung’s shoulder. “Calm down? This kid didn’t do anything after knowing JiHo mixed alcohol and pills and afterwards climbed into bed with her!” “That’s enough!” Johnny yelled from the doorway. “I’m just stating the facts!” “GET OUT!” A higher-pitched yell resonated through the room, followed by a few painful coughs.

All eyes were on JiHo’s heaving figure, as the boys were afraid to say or do anything. Everyone but one. “JiHo-” “Doyoung can you shut up for one goddamn second?!” JiHo yelled, sounding so desperate. “I’m just trying to help.” “You’re not only worsening my headache, but you are also chewing out my friend who has been taking care of me while I was alone. Xiaojun did nothing wrong, so let him be.”

A few seconds of silence followed before Doyoung approached his younger friend. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, but he shouldn’t have let you sit here after taking those pills and drinking. You know how bad this could’ve ended-” “For God’s sake, oppa you don’t get it. You weren’t here, so you don’t know what happened.” She groaned in defeat. Doyoung’s stubbornness wasn’t helping her growing headache, the one she had been able to forget due to her hours of sleep.

“I don’t have to be here to know that mixing these is bad!” “Can you stop?” “Do you want to die?” “YES!” JiHo stood up from her position, staring directly into Doyoung’s eyes with watery eyes. Everyone in the room collectively gasped at the youngest’s answer. Haechan who had joined after hearing the commotion felt his eyes fill with tears as well.

JiHo gulped as she felt the crop in her throat forming and blocking her airways. The two best friends just stared into each other’s eyes not knowing what to say. Doyoung was still processing what had just been said and JiHo was going over all the ways to explain herself, but she couldn’t find the right words.

“Is that why you took these?” Taeyong reached out to grab the bottle from Doyoung’s grip. His question caused the girl to break eye contact with Doyoung and she immediately shook her head. “No. I never thought- That wasn’t my intention. I didn’t even know this was alcohol. I didn’t mean it.” Her voice trailed off.

“How could you say something like that?” Doyoung’s voice was dangerously low and it scared JiHo. “I didn’t mean to. I promise I didn’t.” Doyoung just shook his head in disbelief before facing Xiaojun. In just a split second he had grabbed onto the collar of Xiaojun’s shirt and pushed him against the wall.

“Why didn’t you do anything?!” Doyoung’s voice quivered, tears already threatening to fall. “Why didn’t you take her to a hospital?” Doyoung lifted his right hand, balled into a fist. At the sight, the two older members rushed towards him. Johnny and Taeyong pulled back the yelling man, preventing him from potentially hurting Xiaojun. “WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL ANYONE?!” Doyoung had completely lost it. Tears streamed down his face as he felt the great amount of guilt take over him. If only he had been there with JiHo instead of Xiaojun, that’s what he thought.

All the members stood there wordlessly as Doyoung continued to sob. Haechan crying silently in the doorway and the other members being completely lost.

Not being able to take it anymore, knowing that her members were making assumptions in their heads about why she took those pills, JiHo decided to explain the whole situation. From why she took the pills and drank the alcoholic beverage, to how Xiaojun had ended up sleeping next to her and why he hadn’t messaged anyone.

“The alcohol helped my anxiety and the pills helped my headache for a split second before it came back worse. I didn’t take many, I’m fine.” “How can tell us you’re fine when you’re suffering like this. Alone.” Doyoung stood up from where he fell to his knees earlier. The sobbing had stopped, but he was still very emotional. “Because I didn’t want to worry you guys, I’m already being a big inconvenience.” The girl explained sadly.

“You’re not an inconvenience to us JiHo.” Johnny said. JiHo just sighed, thinking of how the boys weren’t allowed to talk to her publicly, how they had to be careful around her afraid to ask something she couldn’t talk about, how they always worried about her even if she told them they shouldn’t. No matter what the boys said, JiHo felt like such a burden these past weeks.

JiHo fell back down into her bed and pulled her knees to her chest. “I didn’t mean it when I said I wanted to die. That wasn’t why I took the pills. I haven’t slept in days because of these headaches and I was desperate to get some sleep. I didn’t even know that juice was alcoholic, but it helped me calm down. It was the first time in days I started to feel a bit more relaxed. It’s not that I want to die. It’s just that, some days, I rather feel nothing than feel the shitty way I’m feeling almost daily.”

Haechan who had been standing in the same spot this entire time walked up to JiHo and sat down next to her, pulling her into his side. “You should’ve just told us.” He watched as his tears fell onto JiHo’s shoulder and got absorbed by her grey tee.

“We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us.” Taeyong had grabbed her hand and let his thumb draw random patterns on the back of her hand. JiHo nodded, wordlessly telling him she understood. 

Doyoung cleared his throat causing everyone to look at him. “I’m sorry Xiaojun. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You were only taking care of JiHo.” “Hyung, it’s okay.” Xiaojun directly said, but Doyoung shook his head. “No, it’s not okay. I acted and said things before I thought and I didn’t even hear you guys out. I’m also sorry towards you JiHo.” JiHo just nodded in acceptance of the apology.

He then settled down on the bed next to JiHo. “Please stop keeping things like this to yourself. I know you might not like talking to us about it and I know with the way I acted right now, that you might never want to talk to me about these kinds of things first. But if you’re ever suffering like this, you can talk to any one of the boys okay? So if you don’t want to talk to me.” Doyoung turned to face Xiaojun. “ I completely trust Xiaojun to listen to you and be able to take care of you.” Xiaojun nodded firmly which caused JiHo to smile.

As JiHo felt the love of her members intensify, she let herself melt into Haechan’s embrace, feeling her headache subside until it was almost gone. Johnny pulled Xiaojun in a side hug to comfort him after all the commotion that went on. Suddenly JiHo noticed something in the doorway. A head of hair seemingly floating from one side of the door. “Mark?”

At the mention of his name Mark popped his head from behind the wall, the boy wide-eyed. “What are you?” “Haechan messaged us saying Doyoung and Xiaojun were fighting.” Yuta explained as he unexpectedly walked into the room. Doyoung and Taeyong both glared at Haechan, disappointed that he felt the need to make the other members worry. “I’m sorry, I panicked.” The boy pouted which caused the older two to soften.

After Yuta had walked in, Mark, Jungwoo, Taeil and Jaehyun followed. “How long have you guys been out there?” JiHo asked worried, hoping they hadn’t picked up on everything that happened. “A few minutes.” Jungwoo smiled sadly and the girl sighed. “Listen, Doyoung is right. You have 23 guys ready to hear you out. Don’t be afraid to talk to us.” Taeil sat down on the bed. JiHo nodded and looked around the room meeting all the boys’ eyes and seeing the amount of love and care in them. “Thank you guys.”

“Group hug!” Haechan yelled to which both Yuta and Jungwoo repeated the words and suddenly JiHo was suffocating because of the 10 guys who had thrown themselves on top of her. Luckily her bed was just a thick mattress on the floor or otherwise it had broken for sure.

And even though she could barely breathe beneath the pressure of 10 bodies on top of her, she basked in the love she was receiving and felt all her stress and anxiety leave her body for once. For once she knew for certain that she was going to have fewer sleepless nights ahead of her.

---

Side note: I hyped myself up this morning to write a good part 2 only for it to end up like this? jk, I love the story and the little fluff at the end, I just imagined it to pan out way differently (more angsty). It’s definitely not the most exciting thing to read but if you’ve made it this far, first of all thank you <3 and secondly I think this just gives closure to part 1.

Thx to anon for suggesting this though and if there is anything that has been mentioned before that you want to get some extra information on or just things/scenarios you want to read, let me know! My inbox is open so feel free to send me anything <3

[itsapapisongo]

DON'T LET IT PASS | N. JAEMIN

Cast: Jaemin x Female!Protagonist ft. Taeil, Johnny, Yuta, and Jeno

Genre: Angst | Dramedy

Word Count: 4.7K

Word/Object: Bouncy Ball (tennis-sized ball)

Warnings: Allusions and brief mentions of suicide and strong language throughout.

Summary: Admitted to an underfunded psychiatric clinic, Na Jaemin feels stuck and the “nice” girl that always says hi and waves at him isn't helping.

Collab: “A Vibe”

“I WONDER IF you get your kicks off of being problematic,” said Jeno, his wet black hair practically covering his brow and eyes like a thick curtain. “And, to be honest, it wouldn’t surprise me if you did.”

Jaemin, who was laying in bed and reading a porno mag he’d managed to sneak into the clinic, shrugged. He didn’t have to look at his bunkmate to know that Jeno (1) had taken a shower and (2) was staring right at him. He had heard him talking with one of the orderlies, their conversation frustratingly cheery for two people stuck in a nuthouse.

He chuckled. Remembering that if Jeno—or anyone else, for that matter—heard him refer to the clinic as a nuthouse, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. It wasn’t positive language, they’d told him. Jaemin would find it funny if it weren’t so ridiculously depressing. People were sensitive like that. People lied to themselves like that.

Call it a psychiatric clinic, a hospital, a mental ward, or what have you but the truth was that every single person that had been admitted to this damn place was off their nut.

But, hey, people kept themselves sane in strange ways. Calling things by other names seemed to make them forget—no, repress—their reality of their lives.

Whatever floats your boats, Jaemin often thought.

“I think I’ll just keep you wondering,” Jaemin replied, smirking. He passed a page and whistled. “Nice b—”

“Could you not?” Jeno cringed as he dried his hair. “I've had my share of horniness today.”

That made Jaemin look up and ignore the porno mag for a second. He slightly lifted his head, that wicked smirk of his plastered on his face, and wiggled his eyebrows. Jeno, who was too focused on hanging on his towel by the window, missed this. He got to see again when he turned and was met by Jaemin sitting on the edge of his bed, magazine flat on his lap as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Fair share, you’d say?”

“Yeah, fair share . . .” Jeno trailed off, raising an eyebrow. He felt the spotlight on him and it was a burning and shameful sensation. “What are—what are you on about?”

“Oh, nothing.” Jaeming shrugged one shoulder, winking. “Only that sharing is caring, you sly fox.”

Jeno scoffed as he sat on his bed, opposite Jaemin’s. For a second, he remained unfazed until he sniggered. His eyes became nonexistent, a wide smile reaching them and touching them with a glint of embarrassed amusement. Jeno seemed to open his mouth to share but instead shook his head and turned away.

Above his bed, a collection of manga and manhwas was alphabetically organized and stacked on a wall bookshelf he’d put himself. Jeno was very proud and possessive of all of his volumes. They were one of the few things that offered comfort and enjoyment in this rather dull and isolating place. Jaemin never touched them and was more than okay with admiring them from afar. Not because he wasn’t interested but because he knew how much they meant to Jeno.

“So, puppy boy, who was horny today?” Jaemin asked, intently watching as Jeno reached for a manga volume he’d read over four times this month alone. “Come on. Don’t be a tease.”

“No one,” Jeno replied sheepishly. He laid on his bed, opened the manga, and stared at it.

“C’mon! You said you had your fair share of—” Jaemin paused, searching for the right word. It fell on the tip of his lips and his smirk reached his eyes. They had a distinctive glint of mischief as he added, “—arousal.”

Jeno blinked, uncomfortable. “Well that—that slipped out.”

“How very freudian of you.”

Jeno said nothing, pretended to read. Jaemin swore he saw the hint of a smile on his face, but he relented from asking him again. He wasn’t going to push him any further. Not tonight, anyhow.

With a huff and a chuckle, Jaemin hid the porno mag underneath his mattress, laid back on his bed, and decided to call it a night. He could annoy the ever living shit out of Jeno—and everyone else—in the morning.

THE NEXT MORNING, as he entered the cafeteria, Jaemin saw her before she saw him.

She was finishing her cereal as she talked with a guy. He was older than both of Jaemin and her, had pink hair, and was kinda loud. She was laughing at something he said and Jaemin felt an urge to ask her what the fuck was so funny and punch him right in the gut. He’d ask him the same question, but he really hated repeating himself.

“There she is,” Jaemin grumbled, barely parting his lips. “Miss Waves-A-Lot.”

Jeno, who was skimming through the fifth volume in the manga series he’d recently started reading, looked up and immediately squealed when he felt Jaemin pinching his forearm. It hurt so much he almost dropped the manga and cussed out loud.

“What was that for?” Jeno asked, gently rubbing his forearm. He gave the rec room a quick glance and saw who Jaemin was aggressively staring at. “What happens when she catches you looking at her like a psycho?”

“She’s not gonna catch me.”

She wouldn’t. She was too focused on Pink Hair to pay Jaemin any attention. Or so he thought.

Just as Jaemin blinked and thought about looking away, she met his gaze and they made eye contact. That’s when Jaemin noticed something. Though her hair was short and dyed blue, she had turquoise highlights he had previously missed.

“Fuck!” Jaemin gritted his teeth.

“Could you be more obvious?” Jeno rolled his eyes. “The least you can do is pretend you’re not looking.”

“Looking?” Jaemin scoffed. She was looking at him. He was looking at her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jeno scoffed. “Way to play dumb.”

“Did you just call me—”

“Good morning!”

“JESUS!” Jaemin screamed in a high-pitched voice. He punched the air—twice and upward—when he noticed who had startled him. “You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!”

“Morning,” Jeno greeted her with a warm smile. “Sorry about my—” he paused, looking for the right word. “—roomie. He can be very loud.”

“That’s okay,” she replied, smiling. “Just wanted to say hi.”

Jaemin scoffed, grumbling, “You could have just waved.”

That made Jeno and her turn to Jaemin. One had an eyebrow raised, the other looked surprised. While Jeno shook his head and mouthed “what the fuck is wrong with you”, she simply shrugged and said she felt it was better if she actually introduced herself for a change. Jaemin felt something akin to butterflies in his stomach. Whether he was hungry or genuinely feeling something due to how she was looking at him, he couldn’t tell.

“I see you guys often, but I hadn’t gathered the courage to say hi face to face.”

“We’re idiots.” Jeno pointed to himself, but relented from pointing at Jaemin. “We’re alright. We don’t bite.”

Jaemin scoffed. “Speak for yourself, puppy boy.” He looked at her, smirking. “I bite.”

“Not hard, I imagine,” she retorted, her tone casual and affable. “You look like the type of guy that’s all bark and no bite.”

“All bark and no—yah—when were you born?” He pointed a firm finger at her, pushed it against her shoulder.

She looked at him, glanced at the finger, and removed it with such calm that Jaemin felt his blood boil. Jeno seemed to have realized Jaemin was close to doing something incredibly and stupidly impulsive because he tried to drag his roommate back to no avail. Jeno glanced over his shoulder, backed off, and disappeared from view. They barely registered that it was not the two of them.

“1998,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

“Bullshit.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“To fuck with me.”

“Really?” She smiled. It was both beautiful and irritating. “Just you?”

Jaemin tilted his head to the side, pushed his tongue against his cheek.

“When were you born?” he asked again.

“I already told you.” She reached out and took his hand, shaking it. “Name’s Ryu. Born June 30th, 1998.” She let go of his hand and winked. “Let’s treat each other well, okay?”

“Bull—”

“Jaemin, Ryu,” said a familiar voice. “Is everything okay here?”

Ryu smiled a small smile and bowed. “Everything’s okay, Yuta-san.”

Jaemin didn’t have to turn to see Yuta nor did he have to guess who had brought him. He nodded and, without turning, said, “Yeah. Everything is okay, Yuta-san.”

Yuta stood between Jaemin and Ryu, smiling that friendly smile of his. Jaemin didn’t meet his gaze but he could tell his hyung was looking intently at him and that he no doubt had that disappointed glint in his eye.

“Drop the honorifics,” said Yuta, beaming at Ryu. “It’s too early for that.”

“If you say so.” Ryu shrugged one shoulder, slightly bowed, and turned to Jaemin. “See you when I see you, lanky.”

Lanky? Did she just—you cheeky shit, Jaemin thought. He feigned a smile and a chuckle, waving her off when she left. It took him a second to realize that it was now just him and Yuta. Great.

“You’re looking a little worked up there, Nana.” Yuta gently clapped him in the shoulder.

“I’m okay.”

Yuta shrugged. “If you say so,” he said, half-smiling. “You do know that it’s too early to get this worked up, right?”

Jaemin bit his tongue but before he could nod and come up with some lame answer, he heard himself say: “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

Yuta raised an eyebrow then smiled fully, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He clapped Jaemin in the shoulder then nodded towards the cafeteria’s small line.

“Try your best to be kind,” Yuta advised in a gentle voice. His gaze was stern but not unkind. “Try your best to not be—”

“An asshole?”

Yuta’s eyes widened for a second. There wasn’t anger or disappointment or pity in them but heartache.

“You see yourself as an asshole?”

“Everyone else does. Why should I see myself any differently?”

Before Yuta could reply, Jaemin bowed and said he’d rather get in line before the banana milk he liked was gone.

HE SAW HER again in the rec room.

Ryu was playing dominoes with Pink Hair when he sat down with Jeno and pretended to be entertained by a bouncy ball—about the size of a tennis ball—he’d nicked off someone.

(Jaemin couldn’t remember who it was. He just knew he managed to get his hands on it and that was all that mattered.)

Whether Ryu was too focused on her game with Pink Hair to notice him or she was genuinely ignoring him, Jaemin couldn’t tell. After a while, he stopped caring. And with good reason—he fell asleep on the couch.

After what felt like hours, but had only been about twenty minutes, he woke up and noticed someone had left a note. They had stuffed it on the waistband of his sweatpants. He opened it and scoffed.

The note read:

you never told me when you were born

Jaemin thought about crushing it into a ball, tossing it aside, ripping it apart. He didn’t.

He gently closed it and stuffed it in his pocket.

RYU HAD BEEN admitted about three months prior.

Jaemin had seen her once or twice, but had never paid attention to her. And, sure, she was pretty and he had noticed, but he was more concerned with more important stuff. Like, say, getting away with sneaking porno mags and cigarettes and bouncy balls into the clinic. Granted, the smuggling wasn’t his job, but he helped to enable it.

So when she started saying hi and waving at him, he felt like she was onto something. She was too friendly, too enthusiastic, for Jaemin’s taste. He preferred it when people ignored him or gave him shit. At least that way he could play dumb or trade patter with them, hurling insults that would definitely shatter someone’s self-esteem and were occasionally played off as good fun.

The more she waved, the more she said hi, the more Jaemin grew irritated by her. He did his best to avoid her but about a week ago they were placed in the same therapy session. Ryu often sat two or three seats to his right and Jaemin could feel her staring.

For an entire week, he ignored her—her stares, her soft but enthusiastic greetings, her incessant waving—and felt he was doing a fine job of it until this morning.

What the fuck does she want?

That’s all he could think about as he aimlessly wandered around the clinic. He walked past the lobby, the cafeteria, and one of the outdoorsy areas—the one everyone referred to as the wee park—but found himself without a glimpse of Ryu.

After half an hour, Jaemin decided to call it a day and renew his nap.

Not in the rec room, though. That place reeked of neglect.

JAEMIN HAD BEEN admitted about two weeks prior to Ryu’s admission.

To no one’s surprise, he had issues. Which was a condescending way of saying he wasn’t in the best headspace. Ryu had asked around about why he’d been admitted but no one really had an answer. Every time someone asked him, Jaemin would answer differently and contradict himself. It seemed funny to him.

It wasn’t. On the contrary, it was genuinely frustrating because the staff couldn’t help him take the necessary steps to achieve some kind of positive progress. Ryu wanted to understand why he was such a pain in the ass and had tried time and time again to catch his attention. He ignored her—rudely, blatantly, every chance he got—and that only made it more intriguing for her.

“He’s handsome but he sure is mean,” mumbled Hendery, playing with his pink hair as he chewed on the biggest wad of chewing gum Ryu had ever seen. “He cussed at me just for looking at him.”

“Na Jaemin’s a sweetheart,” said Yuta one day as they—him and Ryu—cleaned the rec room. “But he has a mean streak.”

“Heard that before,” Ryu replied, nodding.

Yuta shrugged. “Dr. Choi mentioned it’s a coping mechanism.”

And maybe it was. Maybe he was just an asshole. Whatever the reason, whatever the motivation, Ryu gathered he wasn’t the easiest guy to be around. And yet . . . she felt some type of camaraderie with him. They no doubt came from different places, had lived different experiences, but she related to this impulse to put up a wall, a preemptive measure against anything that could hurt you.

Na Jaemin was no different.

Difference was that while he put on this snarky and confident façade, Ryu wore her emotions on her sleeve and kept her head held high even when she felt like crumbling. Being vulnerable didn’t equate to weakness in her mind. Vulnerability was acknowledging that every once in a while she might need a word of advice or a hug or simply someone beside her, sharing the silence when words failed.

Jaemin seemed to reject that idea. Ryu knew not because she had seen it but because she had sensed it. That and she had lived it. Once upon a time, she put a wall so high and thick that it took a lonely walk in the middle of the night and a stop by a bridge to make her reconsider her life and they way she was living it.

Whenever she remembered that night, Ryu remembered how cold it was. She remembered how angry, sad, and lonely she felt. There were days she wished she didn’t remember that cold night in Busan. And then there were days when she looked back and felt genuine relief that she had decided to step away from the ledge.

“The road to recovery is a long one,” Dr. Choi had told her, smiling softly. She was a woman in her thirties with a motherly aura. “Some days you’ll walk with your head held high. Others, you’ll stumble. And you know what? That’s okay.”

Ryu took these words to heart. She embraced them, keeping them in a little corner near her heart so that whenever she felt close to the edge, she was reminded she wasn’t alone and that she was capable of healing.

JAEMIN FOUND HER in the studio.

It obviously wasn’t really a studio, but it sort of functioned as one. Here, there were several instruments and the space to play them freely. The whole point of it was to release stress, learn something new, or otherwise just play for the sake of playing.

He was walking past the studio when he caught her silhouette through his periphery. Ryu was sitting on a small stool, plucking the shit out of a gayageum’s strings that had no place being there. The plucked zither was old but had been taken care of and Jaemin couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Ryu wasn’t playing alone. She was jamming with—was that Yuta? Holy shit. It was. He sat behind a drum kit, jamming, eyes closed, a goofy smile spread across his face. Standing opposite Ryu was a tall, broad-shouldered guy with long brown hair tied in a man-bun; he was playing bass. They were caught up in the moment and unaware that they had an audience—inside and outside the studio—as they grooved to the funky groove of Dr. John’s Right Place, Wrong Time.

Jaemin smiled in sheer disbelief, unconsciously tapping his foot to the song’s beat. He realized that Ryu and Yuta were singing the chorus whereas the bassist was singing the song, putting on a gruff voice that didn’t match his appearance.

“Good shit, huh?”

“Oh, fuck off—” Jaemin gritted teeth, slowly turning to meet Moon Taeil, and immediately felt his face drop. Nervously, he cleared his throat. “Taeil-ssi.”

Taeil was looking forward, smirking. “Do you play?”

“That’s a very vague question.”

“Music.”

“What about it?”

Taeil sighed, a mixture of exasperation and amusement. He looked at Jaemin and tilted his head to the side, showing a smile that reached his eyes. He wasn’t mad or annoyed or disappointed; he was just looking at Jaemin with endearment in his gaze.

“You’re being deliberately dense, aren’t you?” he asked, calmly.

“No—” Jaemin blinked, then deflated. “Yeah.”

Taeil chuckled with a small nod. “So . . . do you play?”

“Piano,” he replied, “but I haven’t played in forever . . .”

“Shame. I heard you were a pretty good player.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, feeling a glare coming up. “Did my mother put you up to this?” he asked, doing his very best to sound even-tempered.

“What if she did?” Taeil shrugged.

“Yeah? Well, she’s the reason I no longer play the fuck—”

Taeil laid a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder, smiling ruefully. “I know,” he said in a low, understanding voice. “But it’s never too late to try again.”

Jaemin groaned, closed his eyes, and threw his head backwards. “Sure,” he grumbled, reluctantly nodding. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good to hear!” Taeil clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t forget. Therapy session at—”

“3:30. Yup. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Taeil gave him a thumbs-up. He knocked on the studio’s wide window, nodded with a smile and a wave, then walked off without another word. All eyes were now on Jaemin—Ryu, Yuta, and Mr. Bass—and he desperately wished for the ground to open up and swallowed him whole. They had stopped playing, which meant the studio and the corridor had fallen silent. He awkwardly waved and cringed when Ryu met his gaze and waved back.

Yuta waved at him, motioning for Jaemin to join them in the studio, but was met with a stiff head shake from the youth. Jaemin opted for pointing at Ryu and motioning for her to meet him outside. She glanced at Yuta and Mr. Bass, shrugged, then joined Jaemin in the corridor.

“Whatcha think?” she asked, smiling.

Jaemin frowned. “About?”

“About us playing?”

“Oh, that. You were gre—okay. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Ryu raised an eyebrow, curious.

“I mean the bassist is pretty damn good.”

Ryu looked at Mr. Bass. “Yeah, Johnny’s a hell of a player,” she agreed. “But what about Yuta-san and I?”

“Yeah, you were good—”

“I smell bullshit, but okay.”

Jaemin blinked at that. She had a mouth on her, didn’t she? Then again, he supposed, so did he. Instead of feeling irritated, he felt at ease; he couldn’t understand why. Ryu knocked on the studio’s window, mouthed that she was taking a break, and pointed at Jaemin.

“What was that about?”

Ryu blinked then shrugged. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“Walk—er—no—” Jaemin began to protest, but was yanked by his forearm away from the studio and into the God knew where. “What are you doing?”

“Dragging you away so that we can have a civil conversation.”

“Civil? I’m being kidnapped!” Jaemin grasped Ryu’s wrist and tried to squeeze it, but instead found himself on the ground, groaning and moaning. “Ouchwhatthefuck?”

Ryu put him on a hold by twisting his wrist and she was glaring daggers at him. It took her a second to realize what she was doing and immediately looked apologetic.

“It was—I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, sheepishly. “It was just—”

Jaemin raised a finger and looked at her intently. “If I come with you, promise me you won’t assault me,” he said, almost pleading.

She nodded, offering her pinkie. “Promise.”

“Okay—fuck—lead the way,” he said, offering his own pinkie to seal the deal.

THUD-A-POMP!

They were throwing the bouncy ball against a wall on the courtyard. They stood about six feet apart to not bump into each other when they moved to catch the ball.

Thud-A-Pomp!

Jaemin threw it. Ryu caught it.

Thud-A-Pomp!

Ryu threw it, glanced at Jaemin, and smiled at him when he caught it.

Thud-A-Pomp!

Jaemin threw it harder than usual, winced, and guffawed, rather impressed, when Ryu caught the ball without looking. To his surprise, she was staring at him.

“Something in your mind, dear?” he asked, smiling smugly.

“Loads of things, really,” said Ryu, throwing and catching the ball without breaking eye contact. “But nothing that I’d bother sharing.”

The smug expression disappeared from his face. He looked more confused than anything; he felt himself slipping and giving into irritation.

“I thought you wanted to have a civil conversation,” he grumbled, hands on his hip.

Ryu sniggered. “Yup.”

Thud-A-Pomp!

“Oh-kay,” Jaemin intoned, rolling his eyes. He caught the ball, gave it the once-over, then—thud-a-pomp!—threw it again. He sighed and cracked his neck, staring at the clear blue sky above them. “I was born in 2000.”

Thud-A-Pomp!

A wide, proud smile spread across Ryu’s face. She tapped her foot and nodded, tongue in cheek.

“So that makes me your noona, huh?”

Jaemin’s annoyance was palpable. “Aish,” he groaned. “I guess so.”

“I’m older,” she said, giddy to the point of dancing, “which means you must be respectful.”

He twirled the ball in mid-air, watched it return to his hand a resting bitch face. “Yeah, yeah, reverence and low bows and all that jazz.”

Ryu chuckled, though it wasn’t an amused sound. It was the sound of someone running empty on sympathy. When he looked at her, he saw that she was running her hand through her hand and pulling on the roots; it looked like a bad habit. She was staring at the ground, a frown disfiguring her beautiful features.

“You okay?”

She shook her head. “Nope,” she replied, calmly.

“Something in your—”

“Why are you here?”

Jaemin blinked, aghast. “Excuse me?”

“Honestly, why are you here? You seem like you’d rather be elsewhere.”

“It’s not like I had a choice!” he retorted, throwing the ball at her instead of bouncing it off the wall. “It’s not like I enjoy being here!”

“Seems like you really dig this place. Doing what you want. Talking to everyone and anyone without a filter.”

“If you got something to say, don’t mince words.” Jaemin crossed his hands. “Sugarcoating is a waste of time.”

Ryu nodded, raising both eyebrows. Her posture displayed that she wasn’t afraid of conflict or calling others out. It reminded Jaemin of Yuta and Taeil. She looked between the ball and the wall then hurled it with all of her might.

“You’re an asshole,” she finally said.

“I’m a—did you just call me an asshole?”

“You heard me right, Jaemin, so stop being coy.”

Jaemin squeezed the ball hard, felt its material giving in but not quite breaking. He looked away and feigned laughter. He wanted to throw the ball as hard as he could and watch it explode against the wall or the ground, but he disasuded himself from the idea when he simply dropped it to the ground. The small thump-thump it made was equal to the low thudding of his heart as he tried to calm himself down.

“Why are you here?” Jaemin threw Ryu’s question back at her.

“Depression,” she replied without a hint of embarrassment. “That and a bungled—” she paused, unsure if to use the word. “—incident.”

“Did you try to—”

She nodded, grimacing. “Yup.”

The question slipped out of his lips before he could reconsider asking it. But his tone wasn’t malicious or mocking; it was instead one of preoccupation and dread.

“How?”

“Leap of faith.” She motioned with someone walking on the edge of something then plunging into the depths below. “Or lack thereof.”

“Fuck,” he mumbled, then looked at her. “Why?”

“Why does anyone do anything really? You’re not in the best headspace when you’re close to . . .” Ryu trailed off with a small shrug. She noticed Jaemin looking at her differently. Not with pity, but with understanding. “My brother left to study abroad. My parents found themselves falling out of love. They divorce and were very open about how much they disliked each other. Things changed. The life I thought was almost perfect sort of—” she closed a fist and slowly opened it, making a sound akin to an explosion. “—imploded. Everything just went down the drain.”

Jaemin heard what she wasn’t saying—the desperation, the loneliness, the fear—and the wall he had worked so hard to put up and keep others away began to crack. The way she was looking at him showed him a person that had descended into rock bottom—not crashed like he had, but instead slowly found themselves in the depths of their own despair—and was finding their way back.

“Now,” she piped up, stirring him from his reverie, “why are you here?”

He shrugged, pouting. “Anger issues . . . depression . . . delusions of grandeur . . . stubbornness,” he replied, nonchalantly. “Take your pick ‘cause I don’t really know.”

She stared, said nothing, then picked the ball from the ground and—thud-a-pomp!—threw it.

“It’s never too late to start again, y’know? To try and better yourself.”

“Heard that before.” He scoffed.

“Don’t let it pass, Jaemin.”

A frown. “Don’t let what pass?”

“Life.”

“Life,” he repeated, as if the concept was foreign to him. “Easy to say, don’t you think?”

“Very fucking easy, yeah,” she admitted with a chuckle. “But nothing in life is easy. Progress requires work and time. Everything starts, y’know, way from within.”

He looked at her, gobsmacked. “You really are wise for your age,” he said, using aegyo. “Noona, teach me your ways.”

“Oh—” she threw the ball at him, “—fuck you!”

His laughter echoed in the courtyard, warming her heart.

Her smile was contagious, reminding him of what happiness was.

IN THE COMING weeks, these are the things that will occur:

Na Jaemin will make an effort to make progress and deal with his anger, and other unresolved but heavy emotional baggage. The wall, which had already cracked, will crumble and he’ll strive to be a better person. Even after leaving the clinic, he’ll visit the few friends he made; the people he promised to support.

Ryu finds that talking about her experience helps her strengthen her resolve. She helps those that have found themselves contemplating suicide; she supports them and secures resources for the clinic through her brother. She and Jaemin maintain contact. It will bloom into something wonderful.

Jeno will donate his manga collection to the clinic. Letting go is one of the things he learns. He and Jaemin become roommates. He’ll be exasperated for the next four years until he ultimately decides to live with his penpal, a Chinese lad with artistic aspirations.

Everything will eventually be well.

[thenamesseven]

Pairing: Jongho x reader

Genre: Romance, angst, jail au!

Warnings: Angst, a lot of angst and mentions of blood.

Word count: 4.3

A/N: IM FINALLY BAAAACK! My internship is over and I finally had the time to finish writing this chapter! Sorry for taking so long, I promise I’ll be around for more often now! ^^ Enjoy this chapter!

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Blood. 

When Wooyoung opened the infirmary door and watched the scene in front of him, his surroundings started spinning around at a fast pace. The male gripped the door handle tightly, breathing shortening to avoid smelling the metallic scent that filled up the room.

There was blood everywhere on the floor. It would be impossible to get to him without stepping into the sticky bloody puddles that were forming around his body.

Wooyoung had seen all kinds of things while working in a jail. Fights, attempts of murder, suicides, death wasn't a stranger for him. This time however, there was something different about the situation he just encountered. The one laying on the floor might be a criminal, Mingi's hands were stained with blood, with theft but under all that, behind all the things he did, a good person hid. Wooyoung knew Mingi wasn’t bad, life just brought him to this place but he would have surely made better choices in his life if he had the chance to in the past. 

Time slowed down when reached for his walkie-talkie, panick was blocking all of his senses like he couldn't even hear himself as he called for help and medical assistance. Wooyoung rushed to the inmate's side, almost falling down onto the floor when his shoes stepped on the blood that surrounded Mingi's body, the red liquid made the surface slippery and Wooyoung would have to be careful if he didn't want to make the situation even worse by hurting himself too.

"Mingi?" His voice was rushed, tense and shook with hesitance as he reached out to shake his body "Mingi'' Wooyoung's voice turned stern, trying to see if a stricter voice would bring him back to consciousness. "Mingi'' He tried again, kneeling down onto the floor, staining his uniform pants with blood as he reached out to gently slap his face. 

He needed a reaction. Anything. 

Desperate to get any sign of life from him, Wooyoung's eyes scanned the inmate's body, quickly finding where the open wound that was covered by blood and stained clothes was. It was near his stomach, more on the side, the amount of blood looked bad but he knew Mingi would survive if the knife hadn't touched any vital organs. His hands flew to the wound, pressing as hard as he could in order to stop the bleeding. 

Mingi groaned loudly in response, probably in pain due to the sudden pressure on his side and Wooyoung felt as if the heaviest weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

There was still some life in him, everything wasn’t lost yet.

Despite Mingi not enjoying the sensation of Wooyoung’s hands pressuring his side, the male kept doing it as hard as he could, ignoring the awful sensation of his hands becoming wet and sticky with another man’s blood. He was not good at this, if it hadn’t been a life or death situation he would have probably passed out already, Wooyoung was never a fan of blood.

“Mingi stay with me” He muttered looking down at the inmate, watching how the slightly older male struggled to keep his eyes open, his vision becoming blurry as he didn’t even know who was the one hurting him “Don’t fall asleep alright?  You have to stay awake” 

“Jaehyun…” He whispered, ignoring everything Wooyoung was saying. If he was going to die the last thing he was going to do was drag that fucker down with him. He probably wouldn’t pay the consequences, Jaehyun had made sure to get along with the high ranks of this jail but he would try at least, he just had to.

“I know it was Jaehyun, I know” Wooyoung looked at the door when more guards stumbled inside, instantly stopping as soon as they saw the scene in front of their eyes. One of them ran out and the sound of his gagging as he threw out echoed in the busy hall loud enough for the people in the infirmary to hear.

“Mingi” Wooyoung gently slapped his face when he saw him closing his eyes, his body temperature was unbelievably low and his muscles were too relaxed for Wooyoung’s liking “Mingi stay awake, the ambulance is coming” 

“Jongho…” 

Wooyoung shook his head, motioning for Mingi to shut up and save his energy in order to stay conscious “He’ll visit you later, stay with me Mingi, safe your strength”

“Take care of him” He insisted, not listening to Wooyoung “Don’t let him get in trouble, no matter how stubborn he is” 

“Mingi-”

“I know you don’t hate him that much” The smile of Mingi’s face caught Wooyoung so off guard, that he opened and closed his mouth like a breathless fish, not knowing what to do or say to his most recent words “I know you’ll help him, I know you’ll get him out”

After saying those words, Mingi lost consciousness. Wooyoung knew it because his eyes closed and his muscles relaxed so much that Wooyoung started panicking. “Mingi” Wooyoung repeated his name, gently shaking him in order to wake him up “Mingi?” His tone, more urgent than before, alarmed the cops outside that were waiting for the ambulance and paramedics to arrive “Mingi!” 

But Mingi couldn’t hear him anymore.

Hospitals are commonly disliked by people. It was a word that brings bad memories to people, a synonym for death and illness which is why most humans try to avoid this place. This is totally understandable though, you don’t come to a hospital to have some fun. Sure sometimes happiness filled the rooms due to recovery or births but that feeling usually got drowned by the sadness and desperation that filled the rest of the patients around.

You’ve always wanted to work in a hospital though, the idea of taking care of people, watching them recover and helping them through their illness always got your attention. You’ve been the kind of person that put others before yourself, Jongho usually scolded you about this but it was your nature, you just couldn’t help it. 

Today was different though. 

Today you hated this place as much as a normal human being did.

You rushed out of the taxi that drove you here from your apartment as soon as the driver stopped in front of the entrance. Placing some money -that would surely be more than enough- into his hand, you grabbed your purse and closed the door, half walking, half running to your destination. Pushing the double doors open, a wave of sickness and nausea hit you hard as soon as the characteristic smell of antiseptic mixed with medicine filled your nose, you ignored it though, as well as the serious yet worried glance the woman at the front desk threw your way. The brightness that only became stronger by the white walls and floor surrounding you made your head spin but you somehow managed to keep walking forward, taking step after step closer to where Wooyoung had told you they were waiting.

All kinds of thoughts ran through your mind.

You should have been there with him, you should have been there to stop it cause Jaehyun wouldn’t have acted the way he did if you had been there with Mingi, you shouldn’t have left him alone, this would have never happened if you had been there instead of hiding at home like a coward. Blaming yourself wasn’t new, you’ve always had a tendency of being a bit too hard on yourself when something happened, Jongho knew this better than everybody but this time he wasn’t around to silence the mean voice that whispered in your ear, that haunted your mind.

Standing there in the waiting room were Wooyoung along with Hongjoong, Yunho and San, who sat nearby the doors that led into the different operating rooms. You were the only ones there though, hopefully Mingi was getting as much help as the doctors could provide right now. Wooyoung stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed on his chest, tension evident in his body. He was still covered in blood and the sight of him made you gasp so loud that they all turned their heads towards you curiously, worried. Pain and distress obvious in their features.

This is all your fault.

“(Y/N)” 

Before you could say something, Wooyoung opened his arms and welcomed you into them, wrapping them around your fragile body gently and comfortably, soothing the pain and heaviness in your chest for a few seconds. The blood was dried in his uniform so it didn’t stain your clothes but the metallic yet disgusting scent surrounding him didn’t let it go unnoticed.

“What happened?” You asked quietly, still with his arms around you “How is he?”

“By the time I got to the infirmary to check on him he was already on the floor” Wooyoung explained quietly, running his hand up and down your back “He was conscious so I tried to keep him awake, try to stop the hemorrhage but there was too much blood and he stopped talking and-”

“What I can’t understand is how things like this can happen in a place where inmates should be watched throughout the whole day?” San’s hard yet cold voice brought silence to the room, you dragged your eyes towards them, acknowledging their presence for the first time since you got here.

The three of them looked miserable.

Wooyoung let you go and turned around to face them. He was tense but you knew him well enough to know he would attempt to stay calm in order to not let the situation get out of hand. “Some of them manage to find the right times to get away from us and-”

“So you admit you guys are not doing your job well?” Yunho joined his friend, glaring at Wooyoung as he crossed his arms on his chest. Hongjoong limited himself to look down at something that was displayed on the screen of his phone. Probably business? Whatever it was seemed to be important.

“I mean, that wasn’t even the place I was watching” Wooyoung replied hesitantly, not liking the accusations that were suddenly being thrown his way.

“Guys-” You tried to stop the upcoming argument, to help them relax a little but San glared at you, shutting you up immediately.

“Why were you going to the infirmary then?” He asked, curiously looking at him. “Were you involved in what happened?” He pressed further, willing to pressure him even more.

“What are you trying to say?” Wooyoung stepped forward, hating how they were trying to blame him for what had happened while he had only wanted to save their friend.

Yunho stood up and took a step closer to Wooyoung, taking the same threatening stance Wooyoung had and before you could get in between them, Hongjoong that had stayed quiet during the entire exchange and who you thought wasn’t paying attention to any of the words that were being said finally looked up.

“This is not the place nor time to discuss this” He said, seriousness evident in his face as he looked between Wooyoung and Yunho. None of the males moved, still staring into each other’s eyes right before their leader spoke up again. “Officer Jung did as much as he could Yunho, now we just have to trust Mingi”

“He better get out of this one alive” San scoffed besides him as Yunho sat back down, your blood freezing when you saw how much hatred, how much pain shone in the male’s eyes “Because I’ll make all of their lives a living nightmare if he dies” 

“He will” You whispered quietly, rubbing your eyes as Wooyoung sighed taking a seat besides you “He will get out of this one”

The room Wooyoung had guided you into was similar to the ones you’ve seen in movies before, it felt as if you were about to get interrogated by someone, that wasn’t the case though and unfortunately, you were just waiting to deliver some news. Something you couldn’t believe yet.

The ticking of the clock was the only thing that could be heard as it echoed in the empty room, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie as you stared down at the table, nervously waiting for Wooyoung to arrive. The tissues filling your pockets were starting to break into small pieces from how much you’ve been fidgeting with them and your swollen eyes burned from all the tears you’ve shed during the last few hours. Your nose was surely as red as Rudolph’s but that was not the thing the worried you the most.

Your current biggest worry opened the door and snapped you out of your thoughts, his eyes full of concern landing on your face as soon as he entered the room.

“Twenty minutes” Wooyoung said from behind Jongho, eyes on you to make sure you wouldn’t surpass the time limit he was putting on your little reunion “That’s all you got”

“Thanks Wooyoung” You whispered quietly, not trusting your voice too much. Wooyoung just threw 

a small smile your way, eyes scanning your face briefly before he closed the door behind Jongho, going to wherever he would have to go to make sure nobody else would notice Jongho wasn’t in his cell at this time of the night.

You were sure he had heard what happened, news flew fast in this kind of place but you still wanted to be the one to tell him, you wanted to be there for him even if that meant seeing him break for the first time in all the years the two of you had been together.

He deserves to be told by you that Mingi was dead, that he wasn’t coming back anymore.

Jongho still stood by the door, ignoring the empty chair that was placed on the other side of the table waiting for him to take a seat. His hands were in his pockets, eyes down on the floor as he moved his weight from one of his legs to the other, not even knowing how to stand.

Letting out a shaky sigh, you gathered as much strength as you could and stood up, feeling his eyes on you while you walked around the room, picked up the empty chair and placed it down in front of the one you’ve been sitting on all this time. Jongho needed to be closer, he would need you to comfort him as soon as you confirmed the awful thoughts running through his head right now.

“Sit down” You told him, motioning to the chair you’ve just moved.

Jongho looked up at you, making your eyes meet. Time stopped between the two of you, the broken glance in his eyes broke your heart even more and you knew that even though the words hadn’t left your mouth yet he still knew what you were about to say. He wasn’t stupid after all and if Mingi had recovered from the attack he suffered in the infirmary the two of you wouldn’t be here, looking at each other, beating around the bush since none of you wanted to say it out loud.

“Listen to me” Jongho was the first one to break the silence, sadness dripping from his tone as he reached out to grab one of your hands, holding it gently.

“Jongho wait” You cut him off before he could keep talking, the sound of his voice giving you the little push you needed to start talking about what you planned to said “I need to tell-”

“I know” He nodded, eyes staring into yours as his grip on your hand got tighter. There were tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, pain written all over of his face but like always, Jongho kept his mask up and acted as if he was feeling nothing, as if this was just one of his usual days “I know (Y/N) and you need to listen to me”

“But-” Just thinking about Mingi being gone brought a thousand tears to roll down your cheeks, your hands shaking as he gently pulled you against his chest. It was unbelievable how you had come with the intentions of comforting him but it ended up him being the one comforting you. Jongho’s pain was surely stronger than yours, Mingi had been there for him when you couldn’t, he had been the one that kept him safe in this hell and now that was gone.

“I’ll cry his loss when this is over, when we’re safe and sound” He said gently, one of his hands caressing the back of your head while the other kept you close to his body. “You need to listen to me attentively, alright?” Jongho moved back enough to look into your eyes, both of his hands cupping your cheeks now so you could only look at him, not allowing you to look away. “Things are getting really bad for me” He said honestly, wiping your endless tears with his thumbs as they fell “Jaehyun is coming for me (Y/N) and let’s be honest, he has more friends than I do in here” Everything Jongho was saying made perfect sense, Jaehyun’s freedom was getting out of control and he could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted unlike Jongho. That scared you to death, his next target would be Jongho for sure and the thought of losing him like you lost Mingi only increased the pain in your chest.

“I’ll get you out of here” You said almost immediately, heart pounding against your chest “I’ll talk with Hongjoong and we’ll speed up the process and-”

“(Y/N)” Jongho’s voice lowered, his hands squeezing your cheeks a bit tighter to get your attention “I know you will baby, I know you want to get me out of here” The small smile on his lips broke your heart, something told you he was saying goodbye to you, that there were plans in his head that wouldn’t end the way you wanted to.

“You can’t leave me” You begged, shaking your head.

“I never will Treasure, I will never leave you” Jongho’s voice trembled and the alarms in your head rang louder “Listen to me alright? Just listen to me and you can say whatever you want when I’m done” Taking a deep breath you nodded, stomach twisting nervously, anticipation killing you “Something might happen to me, we both know that (Y/N), there’s nothing Jaehyun wants more than killing me” Your lower lip trembled when you nodded at his words, you also knew that and you hated yourself for not being able to do something against it “I’ll obviously try to avoid that though, it’s not like I’m going to wait for him to attack” His smile was full of sadness and he looked at you desperate, helpless “But if something happens-” 

“No”

“If something happens” He repeated caressing your cheeks, one of his hands leaving your face to move into one of his pockets. His hand shook with emotion and nervousness “I want to do this if, unfortunately, I don’t have the chance to in the future” Before you could process what was going on, Jongho went down on one of his knees right in front of you, looking up at you with a look of love and adoration you’ve never seen in his eyes before. His mask was coming down, he wasn’t hiding his emotions from you anymore.

“Jongho-”

“I know you’ve imagined this way differently” He said with a small smile, tears still present in his eyes as he reached up and grabbed one of your hands “Because I was there when you talked for hours about how you’ve always wanted your wedding to be” Your heart was beating so fast at this point that it wouldn’t surprise you if it suddenly broke your ribcage and got through it “And definitely getting proposed to in a jail was never your number one idea but this is what I’ve got, I’m tired of waiting and I’m not taking the risk of losing my last chance” Jongho squeezed your hand tightly, a tear slipping from his eyes “Treasure, (Y/N), I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you” His confession squeezed your heart, you’ve always known Jongho and you had feelings for each other but hearing him say it hit you way differently “It’s surely not a surprise because let’s be honest, I’ve always made sure you knew you were and still are the most important thing in my life” His touch got gentler and his eyes softer, he couldn’t believe he was finally doing this “And if I get out of here, I promise I will give you the world baby, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted, we’ll have that wedding, you’ll have that house you’ve dreamed of and I’ll hopefully help you create the most beautiful family in the entire universe” You bit down on your lower lip, seeing how more tears started rolling down his cheeks “But if something happens, I don’t want to….To die regretting not doing this, regretting not making you mine” He suddenly stood up, pulling you closer to him, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’ve always been yours” You whispered quietly, letting your tears mix with his as they fell down your faces

“Marry me (Y/N)” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a proposal, he was begging you to do it, dying for you to accept him not as your best friend or as your lover but as your husband. Jongho wanted to be your other half, the person you would spend the rest of your days with, the one you would die for if it came to that “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, the reason I’m still alive fighting against all chances, the fuel that keeps my heart beating” He was whispering these words, voice shaky as if he was scared to say this too loud. Jongho has never been good when it came to feelings but he was opening himself up for you and only you tonight. “Be mine forever, you’ve already stolen my heart….Why not steal my last name as well?”

His last sentence made the both of you smile quietly, this cheesy side of him would have been truly funny if you weren’t in the situation you were in right now. He was asking you to marry him but deep down, it still felt as if he was saying goodbye to you.

“On one condition” You cleared your throat and looked at him, serious as ever “You have to get your ass out of here” You said holding back your tears, hearing your own voice breaking almost a thousand times during the same sentence “And prepare with me the wedding of our dreams” His smile got bigger, his head automatically nodding at your words “And you’ll have to wear a tuxedo” He hated them, Jongho always complained of how uncomfortable they looked but you knew he would look incredibly handsome in one of them.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to see you walking down the aisle” He whispered, staring down at your lips, his hands holding one of yours as he slid a ring down your finger, the cold metal turning your skin into goosebumps “I know it’s ugly as fuck but it’s what I’ve found around, I’ll get you the prettiest ring ever when we get out of here” The two of you laughed softly as you looked down at the bland stripe of silver metal around your finger. 

“I love it” You mumbled happily, making him laugh a bit louder this time.

“You do huh? Choi (Y/N)?” The sound of your name along with his last name made your hearts simultaneously skip a beat, both of your smiles getting undeniably bigger as you looked into each other’s eyes. “So tell me”His lips brushed against yours temptingly, hungry for kisses. “Will you marry me? I swear I’ll wear a tuxedo” You giggled against his lips, nodding quietly at his words.

“Yes Jongho, I’ll marry you”

Outside in the parking lot, Wooyoung leaned back against a black car, cigarette between his lips as he breathed in the smoke that released some of the stress in his body.

“Thanks for the help today, we wouldn’t have been able to do it without you” Wooyoung shrugged at the words. Keeping his eyes up on the moon that shone above them.

“I just did the right thing, it was time for me to finally do something” He replied, kicking a stone near his shoe, watching it get lost in the darkness that surrounded the parking lot.

“You’ve been doing the right thing for a long time Wooyoung, without you, who would have watched Jongho’s back all these years?”

“I won’t feel like we succeeded until all of this is over” He simply replied, pushing himself away from the side of the car as he stepped on the cigarette he just threw down onto the floor.

“We’ll get him out of there alive, just hold on there a little longer” 

“I think we’re running out of time” He turned around to look at the male, eyes serious and voice tense. Things were getting too complicated, the plan wasn’t going how it was supposed to. Getting Jongho out of jail wouldn’t be as easy as they thought it would be.

“Have I ever lied to you?” The other asked him, smiling a little when Wooyoung shook his head “Trust us, Jongho and (Y/N) will be out of here as soon as possible” 

“Better hurry up though” Wooyoung insisted, not afraid to pressure the other male “It will be better if you guys get them out of here alive rather than Jaehyun getting them out of here in plastic bags”

“Patience is the key to success” A sigh was heard, the engine of his car revving alive since it was his time to go. He had things to do, plans to discuss with the rest of his friends. “Pleasure working with you officer Jung”

“As long as you keep (Y/N) safe, the pleasure was all mine Hongjoong”

Taglist: @guess--monster @cometoceantrenches @miatsubaki23 @lovelyvitamin @heroesfan101 @daintysan @t-tbinnie @shyshybabyy @little-precious-baby @bebetiny @mirror-juliet @btrombley13 @yukine-smx @wavetease

[hotchley]

when death finally comes

Surprise lovelies!!

I had the sudden urge to kill Hotch, so here we are. I killed him. It’s not happy at all and there is no comfort and I kinda hate it and I’m not sure most of it makes sense, but I wrote it and I am proud of it, so now I’m subjecting all of you to it :)

A special thank you to @whump-town for encouraging my writing and saying that killing Hotch kinda cleans your palate. I will hold onto that information.

Trigger Warnings: major character death, blood, child abuse, implied suicidal thoughts

read on ao3!

In the end, it is not merciful. 

It is not expected or beautiful. 

It is not poetic. Nor is it peaceful. 

It is not what he deserved.

Because what he deserved was old age. 

A hospital, where the lights would convince him of a better future. Where he knew what was coming and could prepare his final words and one last smile, if only to comfort the family that would definitely be stood until the last possible moment.

He deserved a care home, so Jack would not ever have to associate the apartment with the feeling of death. He deserved a care home, because it would imply that Jack was older and had his own family. It would mean that Haley's life could be celebrated with a smile that was more accepting than sad.

He deserved Virginia, the only home he had ever known. Because when Haley exploded into his life in a flurry of costumes and dances that he could never quite master, that place became his home. Her embrace felt like the love he had never received.

And even when her embrace morphed into avoidance and hesitance, she had been home. The only person that could see him human. When she died at the hands of a serial killer, he thought that was it. He thought he would never recover. But he did, and Virginia started to warm again as the team started to find reasons to see him and Jack.

He deserved love, safety. He deserved a long life that he would be proud of. He deserved to see Jack's college graduation, Henry's highschool graduation, Penelope's daughter, Spencer's wedding. He deserved to witness everything that just wouldn't be the same without him before he was laid down to rest one final time. 

He deserved to be held.

He deserved so much more. He always had. But happy endings were not made for people like him. 

They were not made for heroes that could save everyone but themselves because nobody ever taught them how to. They were not made for men that could look everyone but themselves in the eye. They were not made for fathers that wished for their son to be better, without ever realising that they themselves had been better.

They were not made for the terrified little boy that had grown into the scared man. Because that little boy had never been taught what it meant to be happy. That scared man had never understood the difference between safety and joy. 

Mercy did not come for those that had scars that would never quite heal, no matter how much surgery was carried out. It did not come for those that believed the blood of so many innocent people still stained their hands. 

It did not come for people that had been forgiven by everyone but themselves.

What Aaron Michael Hotchner- and god, he still hated his middle name, forever tainted by the memory of his father and all the pain he inflicted on those he was supposed to protect- deserved was peace.

What he got was as far away from that as the universe could manage.

He was still a few years shy of his sixtieth birthday when it happened.

It was a basement in Seattle. Seattle, which he had always loved, with everything he was, until David Rossi came to find a serial killer that would get away and only cause more and more pain after he was found.

It was a basement in Seattle because even after all these years, he was a hero. He had never learnt how to walk away from anyone or anything. He had never stopped believing that good would trump bad, even when the villains and the unsubs just kept winning.

It was dark. Because he hadn't seen the mans' face before he was taken, and they certainly would not risk him seeing it now. Not now they had worked out who it was. The former Agent Aaron Hotchner, who had beaten a man to death with his bare hands. Who had come back from everything the killers he fought had thrown at him. 

Who had stared into the abyss and not even flinched.

It is slow. And painful. And he is aware the whole time that the life is leaving his body, and no matter how hard he tries to fight it, he can't. He is frozen in place, terrified as the scars he tried so hard to never look at are reopened. The blood drips onto the floor beneath him and he feels his eyes flutter shut behind the blindfold.

He was so tired. It would be so easy to give in. But it would've been easy to give in as Foyet plunged the knife in. Too easy to stop fighting as he fell down the stairs after finding Haley. Even easier to resign after Peter Lewis made him watch the family he had always vowed he would die for be murdered right before his eyes.

So he tries not to give in, but eventually, it becomes too difficult and he is forced to let go.

When Aaron Hotchner dies- is brutally murdered for trying to protect a young woman from being mugged- he is alone. He is alone and he's not old enough to get his state pension. The EMTs can't even try and attempt to revive him. His son is unreachable because his phone died whilst out at a party, even though he told his dad he was studying.

Jack never recovers from the guilt that the last thing he said to his dad had been a lie. The team had been on a case. Jack couldn't make the phone call. He hadn't processed it himself. He kept expecting his dad to walk into the apartment and offer to make pancakes or complain about his knees, even though he refused to use the cane.

Jessica lost her brother, and wondered when it would finally be her turn. The only family she had left was her nephew. Everyone else- her mother, her father, her baby sister and her little brother- was gone.

The team couldn't even pretend that his death had been swift and painless. They had seen enough murders and studied enough signatures to know what caused immediate death and what dragged things out. Derek identified the body. It had taken him longer than he cared to admit. Because the body on the ground was not the Aaron he had known.

And they never caught the culprits. Even with their sloppiness and poor skills, the team never managed to find them. It was like they had just vanished into thin air. But none of them ever stopped searching. Their newest profiler- a woman already hardened by life and its horrors- worried that they would all eventually become Jason Gideon. 

Haunted by the one person they should have been there for but failed to save until every victim with soft brown eyes, or messy black hair, or a broken son, or so many different things, started to look like him.

Dave's eulogy was beautiful. Derek's was a testament to the Aaron that had existed before everything fell apart. Jennifer's reminded everyone that he had always been a father, even before Jack was born. Penelope spoke of the side he was so careful with- the one that held onto her presents like they meant everything to him, and in some ways they did. Emily's poked fun at him the way only she could, even though tears were falling onto the paper. Spencer spoke of the trust Aaron had placed in him, and the man he had taught him to be.

Jack couldn't read his. He was so angry. At his father for always needing to be a hero, instead of being a father. At the team for not finding the killers. At the world for leaving him an orphan, even if he was close to college graduation. At George Foyet for not killing them all that fateful day, if only so he would not have to live without his parents.

Aaron Hotchner died, a hero, a father and a friend, without ever realising just how much he was cherished and adored.

It is not what he deserved.

It is nonsense. It is chaos.

It is unexpected and destructive.

In the end, it is cruel.

It always is.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 128

This is another chapter that I started with one intention and it kind of dragged me the other way. I started with what Miys says at the beginning as a kernel, and...

Yeah, avoiding spoilers, you get...*waves frantically* this.  Which I am excited about seeing where it goes.

Kudos to @baelpenrose​ and @mustachebatarts​ for this chapter. You’ll both understand when you read it :)

Tyche nodded sleepily as Alistair handed her a cup of coffee, mirroring my own struggle to wake up.  It was the beginning of Alpha shift - roughly 6:30am Terran Pacific NorthAm time - and we were starting our week with an extremely rare mission brief. Parvati and Hannah seemed either anxious or excited - possibly a combination - as the last brief they had received was ship-wide when we announced the lighting changes. Neither of them had ever been in one of the Council-only meetings that preceded such announcements.

Due to the growth on the Council - both among administrators and among Mentees - it wasn’t feasible to hold this meeting face to face in the room ordinarily used for such things. As a result, each Councilor was joining from their respective office, along with auxiliary staff who needed to be privy to the information discussed. For someone like Grey, that would be themself, Antoine, and their current admin, Nora. In my case, it was everyone who reported to my office.

“Has everyone joined?” I asked in my role as Parliamentarian for this meeting.  No one liked the position, so it rotated.

“Still waiting on Huynh, Charly, and Ivan,” Eino replied.

“We’re here!” an entirely-too-awake voice greeted.

Ignoring the laugh that Alistair and Hannah were suppressing, I forged ahead. “That’s everyone then. Good Morning, Council. Today is January 23rd, 2051 Terran-relative time, 45th day of Von cold season Year four Pre-Colony. We are currently two Terran years from Von. Miys has requested that we gather this morning for an important mission update so that we can prepare. Miys, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, Wisdom. Good day, Human Council.” I couldn’t tell if Miys had practiced or was operating on multiple minds, but the resemblance to a human public-speaker was startling. “As stated by Councilor Wisdom, the Yjq is currently two Terran years from your destination. We requested to address you in order to advise that navigational adjustments will be necessary within one Terran year of the planet you call Von.”

Murmurs erupted on the conference, but no one actually interrupted, so Miys continued. “Due to the density of systems in this portion of the Galaxy, the final Terran year of the journey cannot be made at our current speed.  The Yjq will need to drop out of relativistic space and complete the remaining leg in realspace.”

“How does this immediately impact the human population?” Grey asked first, hardly letting Miys finish their statement.

“With the sensors operational, there should be no noticeable difference in the transition,” came the answer. “However, there will be the introduction of potential physical hazards once we are in realspace.”

After a pause of silence, Xiomara spoke up. “Are you talking about the potential of being attacked?”

“Galactic law prohibits acts of violence against aide or rescue vessels.”

I heard an explosive snort before an extremely dry voice joined in. “Miys, that is the opposite of an answer,” Evania argued. “And we all know that criminals are famous for their adherence to the letter of the law.”

An alert chirped on my data band, and I almost choked when I saw Arthur’s message: “Oh, I LIKE her…”

“Once we are no longer in relativistic space, the Yjq is due to rendezvous with an Ekomari escort within thirty Terran days.”

“And what is the tactical benefit of that escort?” Evan pushed.

Rather than Miys, Charly responded. “Ekomari are very aggressive, but even more bound by a code of honor.  They view preying on the weak - including rescue and aide vessels - the most disgusting behavior imaginable.  This extends to the point of stopping their own attacks once the enemy is considered defeated.”

“Only an extremely overconfident or suicidal crew would try to go up against an Ekomari squadron that is escorting us,” Arthur finished.

“That is satisfactory. No objections.”

Approval in her tone, Xiomara launched the next question. “What about the thirty days we won’t have an escort? What is normally done on that leg of the journey?”

“Optimally, there is no such period during such a relocation.” I heard every person in my office inhale with dread at that statement. “During this time, there is always an increased concern that pirates and scavengers will attack in an attempt to be the first beings with artifacts from the newly present species.”

“Souvenirs… They want us for souvenirs…” Tyche muttered.

“We will discuss our options once we have all the information,” I stated loudly, trying to keep the meeting going before everyone panicked. “Miys, what other information do we need to know about the final year of the journey?”

“Once we are in realspace, long distance scans and data mining operations will begin for more accurate information regarding Von.  This information will be communicated to the entire Council so that any changes or updates to colony plans may be adjusted and finalized.  That is all for now.”

“Thank you Miys. You may remain in the meeting, as we may need your input regarding Galactic regulations, statistics, or laws.”

“Of course, Wisdom.”

I nodded and took a deep breath. “Xiomara, I’m pretty sure that you and Evan have a lot to say on the matter at hand.  Are there any objections to Health and Safety taking the floor?”

After a round of negatives, I conceded the floor. “Thank you, Sophia. Council, clearly there is a pressing matter in our future, here at the end of a tumultuous era, just as our goal is in sight. We cannot allow thirty days of risk to derail us now. For all that we have striven to show humanity as capable of peace and change, we now need to reach down to the roots of our very existence and ensure that we will not be undefended in that month.”

“Miys, the Ark is equipped with scouting probes and evacuation shuttles,” Evan followed. “What are the chances that we can repurpose those into our own small squadron for defensive purposes.”

“Doing such would invalidate the protection the Yjq is afforded by Galactic Law.”

“Excuse me, what!?” I sputtered, completely caught off guard.

“Hospital ships are only protected so long as they are incapable of defense, to prevent opposing forces from attacking each other under the guise of aide,” Charly explained in a mournful tone.

Evan and I groaned heavily. “At least tell me that the odds of any attackers completely blowing up the ship are low?”

“They would only be able to do so by detonating our drives from the inside.  To do so from the exterior would require more force than a coronal ejection from a white dwarf star.”

That was reassuring at least.

“So we would be safe as long as they don’t board the ship,” Arthur acknowledged.  I could see where his next question was going, but Evan beat him to it by a mile.

“Since we are not Hujylsogox, and are only the cargo of the Ark, there are no prohibitions against us defending ourselves in the event of a forced boarding, correct? Only you, yourself, would not be able to fight back.”

“This is correct, Commander Josue. I am not allowed to interfere in such a matter.”

Interesting wording.  Noah was telling us, as officially as allowed, that it would not fight the intruders, but also would not stop us from any actions we took. I smiled as I felt a confirming nudge in the back of my mind.

“Well, those weapons demonstrations were certainly not just for fun,” Huynh growled.  I could hear Charly cackling in the background before he confirmed to her that, yes, she can play with the construction exos.

“Let’s be organized about this,” Xiomara insisted. “For those comfortable with helping defend, we need to set up anti-boarding drills to start six months out at the latest. For those on the ship who are against violence, sort them into who can provide medical aid and who needs to do evacuation drills.  Eino, Arthur - can you assist Sophia’s team with that?”

“We can,” Eino confirmed, echoed by Arthur.

Parvati and Hannah glanced at each other silently before the former jumped in. “I recommend that at least one person with weapons training is assigned to each evacuation group, as a worst case defense.”

“I second that,” Xiomara agreed in a clipped tone. “Any objections?” A brief, silent pause. “Good. Add that to the strategy.”

“Miys, we need a list of what species are most likely to be found on pirate vessels.  Knowing their biology will go a long way to developing defense strategies,” Arthur requested.

“I like it,” Evan approved. “Ekomari may be honorable, but humanity has survived this long because we aren’t ashamed of taking cheap shots.”

“It is safe to assume that boarding parties will not have electromagnetic vision, as it has been advised that it is quite rare in the galaxy,” Grey pointed out. “We can use this to our advantage, most likely.”

“If we’re lucky to be in the light part of the cycle…” Tyche muttered.

“Administrator Reid has a point,” Pranav admitted, startling her. “If we are in the dark part of the cycle, we will be at a distinct disadvantage.”

“The lights are artificial,” Huynh sighed. “We can turn them on.”

“If I may interject,” Miys responded. “It is not as simple as you seem to believe to increase the light emitters on the entire Ark, Councilor Huynh.  The drain on the ship engines could permanently damage them.”

I could feel Charly’s eyes rolling in my soul when she picked up from there. “We can try to make some plans for that contingency. Pranav does have a point.”

“So that’s anti-boarding drills, evacuation drills, aid teams, threat assessment, and at least a start on evaluating where we stand from a defensive perspective. Once Sophia, Eino, and their offices coordinate who is which group, we’ll pull back up to determine who will be leading which initiatives,” Xiomara recapped. “Sophia, anything else we need to cover?”

“I think that’s the priorities right now,” I confirmed, effectively ending the meeting.  Once I closed out the channel, I turned to those in my office. “So, how do we feel about this?”

“Like you are going to be in one of the evacuation groups, stuffed as far back in the ship as possible,” Tyche stated drily.

“If we get boarded,” I pointed out. “It may not happen.”

“Madam Reid, you are on this ship.”

I scowled at Alistair before turning to Parvati and Hannah. “Reach out to Arthur and Eino to schedule that meeting.”

Hannah looked unsure. “Why are they being loaned to us for this? Eino’s a Councillor.”

The door of my office hissed open and the rhythmic thud of boots walked in. “Because your office, specifically Tyche, handles all ship staffing, while I am being used for physical ability assessments, and Eino literally has nothing to do as head of Education in all this.” Arthur nodded his head in thanks when Alistair handed him tea.

I just pointed at him and nodded. “Besides, this way Xiomara is indirectly involved.” I glanced at Parvati before winking. “It was a clever move, I have to admit.”

Parvati smiled and shook her head. “I can’t even say you’re wrong. That’s exactly why she did it, honestly, on all counts.”

“And that is part of it, too.” Tyche waved. “Work more closely with your fellow future Councillors, and you learn to read what they aren’t saying.  Our office works very closely with Xio’s and Grey’s, so we have to know how best to keep that going.”

Arthur just held his arms wide and shrugged. “I have to respect Xiomara’s tendency to keep her fingers on all pulses.  She’s almost as bad as Sophia that way.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true,” Alistair sighed. “You are profoundly nosy.”

Hannah groaned and threw her head back. “We are never going to be on the Council at this rate.”

“Excuse me?? That’s the point of all this!” I gestured around my office energetically.

“Yes, because you will totally retire,” Hannah said slowly, nodding her head like I was a toddler. “Of course you will, Sophia. We all know it…”

Parvati snickered, covering it badly. Arthur gave me a pointed look, and I could hear him repeating ‘obsessive, compulsive perfectionist’.

I was saved, for certain, weird values of salvation, by Tyche.  She just glanced down at her nails, studying them, before calmly glancing at me. “Charly is dangerously close to getting approval from Sebastian for her proposal of kink night at the Undine.  Think really hard if you want to be on the Council for that, Sophia.  It would be an event, meaning it would come to this office.”

“Yep, retiring soon,” I squeaked.  Laughter erupted around me as my face heated up. “I’m all for sex positivity, but I just can’t fathom the logistics of that. Nope. Not gonna be me. Y’all have fun. Enjoy. All yours.”

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[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences

Words: 2.2K~

Summary: A series of shorts detailing what might’ve happened in the moments after I Am My Monster, told from six different points of view.

Greg apparently had a LOT on his mind, because this was supposed to be short and instead it’s over 2000 words, ahah. Final chapter!

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

Chapter warning: Allusions to past non-canon character suicide.

____

Chapter 6: Greg

Hours pass.

Bismuth makes quick and quiet work of replacing the cracked slider door in Steven’s room while he sleeps, and secures a thick tarp over the open front of the house to keep the coastal breeze somewhat at bay until she can finish her repairs to the windows and siding. She warns that might take a day or two. Garnet, meanwhile, busies herself the rest of the afternoon and evening fielding all of the Diamonds’ frazzled calls, and reassuring them of the boy’s current stability. Pooling their knowledge, Dr. Maheswaran and Peridot make sure to confirm that. Beyond some minor scarring, neither his organic or Gem half seems to exhibit any serious physical health conditions in consequence of what happened today, news which works to ever so slightly lift the air of the household. With no other concrete tasks to complete, Pearl, Amethyst, Lapis, Connie, and Greg all rotate between sweeping debris off the floor, wandering the beach to mentally recuperate, and dutifully sitting at Steven’s side as he rests. It may not sound like a lot, but alas the level of emotional labor demanded by such a situation is immense.

All in all, the sun’s long since dipped below the horizon by the time Greg finally collapses onto the mattress laid out in the back of his van, craving if but a moment of privacy and respite from all the chaos. It’s been... an insufferably long day, to put it lightly. Busy. Tons of cleaning, and intercepting nosy neighbors, and bedside monitoring...

He offered to take the first night shift watching Steven a few minutes ago, but Pearl must’ve noticed the dark circles creeping ever wider under his eyes, because she proceeded to gently overturn his offer and remind him of humanity’s daily sleep requirement. And she’s right, of course. He can’t stay up as long as he used to in his twenties anymore. Plus, he probably deserves some time to himself after everything that’s transpired. There’s plenty of Gems left in the house who can keep watch, after all. Steven will be fine for a few hours. Surely nothing else can happen when he’s asleep, right?

 Right??

Exhaustedly slumping against the side wall, Greg offers a glassy, vacant stare at the contacts list of his phone, roughly wiping the damp from his cheeks with his other hand as his thumb hovers over one of the numbers. Does he dare drag someone else into this whole situation? Surely the kinder solution would be to refrain from widening the circle any more, from letting anyone else learn about today’s harrowing events. And yet if he fails to find a proper outlet for the raw emotions all of this has violently hauled to the surface, he fears he just may suffer a mental break himself, repressed memories bursting like a vicious flood through the dam he desperately tried to seal them behind all those years back. Much of this is just... far too familiar.

His phone slips right through his trembling hands as the cruel reality of what he witnessed today finally begins to carve its indelible presence in his mind. A strained sob leaking from between his tightly pursed lips, he buries his head between his knees, clutching at the worn bottom hem of his jean shorts like an infant to a parent’s finger. Small. Vulnerable.

Helpless.

His son... oh stars, his only son, he—

He can’t talk about any of this to the Gems; they wouldn’t wholly grasp the uniquely human nature of his concerns. And he doesn’t feel comfortable discussing these matters with Dr. Maheswaran, especially not after the stern words she dealt to him back at the hospital. He’s burdened her enough already, by this point. No, there’s only one fellow human he feels close enough with to engage in this sort of conversation.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he reaches for the phone he dropped on the mattress. Turns it on. Nervously clamps down on his bottom lip as he selects his cousin’s contact and dials.

The passing heartbeats slamming against his ribs are almost nauseating in their needy clamor as he waits, his calloused fingers tapping against the thick rubber of his phone case. Andy’s never been a particularly tech savvy guy, so honestly, it’s well within reason he might not even carry his phone on his person to answer. And that’d be fine, really. In fact, he might even prefer it, since he’s still not confident he’s emotionally prepared to discuss any of this at this precise moment, anyways. But just as he’s beginning to undergo mental preparations for what on Earth he might leave as a voicemail message, his older family member finally picks up.

“Greg?” Andy’s gravelly voice rings through, sounding somewhat tinny through their connection. “Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s the ol’ Universe family unit doin’?”

“Not great, honestly,” he narrowly manages in response, his throat constricting tight. “That’s kinda why I’m calling, if you have the time to listen?”

“Heh. I’m a drifter, you know I ain’t got no schedule. Carry on.”

“Well... geeze, how do I put this. There was, uh... a bit of an incident today. With Steven.”

“An incident?” his cousin questions, marked worry immediately painting his tone. “The kid okay??”

He falls silent for a few seconds upon this question, threading his hyperactive digits through the split ends in his hair on automatic, a stress-induced habit. “Unclear,” he says, a slight quiver making itself intimately known in his words. “I mean, physically, at the moment, yes, but—“

He cuts off once more. It suddenly occurs to him that little of today’s events would make sense to Andy without providing the appropriate context. Or, at least, what little context he’s capable of giving as a father. It’s still terrifying to admit the truth to himself— that he doesn’t possess the full story. That he hasn’t been paying close enough attention. That, in many ways, he willfully blinded himself to all the troubling events transpiring around his son throughout the years, foolishly believing that if he didn’t involve himself... that if he simply stayed out of the Gems’ hair... everything would go to plan, and Steven would finally receive the training he needed. He didn’t expect things would grow so complicated.

He didn’t expect that his teenage son would have to march into battle carrying nothing but his wits and a shield time and time again.

With a weary sigh and a quick apology, to which Andy brushes off, Greg begins to weave a verbal picture of everything that’s transpired across the last few days. First, the hospital call. Rushing home from tour, only to find his son giant and flushed pink, literally filling an entire room with the sheer volume of his trauma. The shattered x-ray in his chart, hinting towards hidden hurts that— before all this— even Steven seemingly hadn’t processed or quantified. Then, the road trip. The unwanted reminders of his childhood. That blasted CD. His expression sobers as he describes the fateful argument they had on the road home, one which lead to his son accidentally breaking the steering wheel and flipping the van. Next... his disappearance. No texts for four whole days, which is so unlike him. He was worried sick. And the next time he saw him, he was eight feet tall, glowing, and painfully manic in behavior, with each new sentence spilling from his mouth revealing an even more heartbreaking picture of the sort of poor mental state he’d spiraled into. It was nothing short of a father’s worst nightmare, propelled into horrifying, vivid reality.

Nothing in this corner of the galaxy could’ve prepared him for the primal surge of terror and anguish he was engulfed within when that nightmare distorted and transformed even further.  

His only son... colossal and coated in thick scales and spines, sclera black as night... roughly clawing at this unfamiliar form, smashing his skull against the cliffside, roaring with an inner pain so primal that the sound now haunts the depths of his very soul—

“I- you remember what happened with cousin Jo, back when we were young?” Greg says softly once he’s caught Andy up with the details of situation, his voice frail and unsteady, the tone of a man helplessly marooned amidst his anxieties. “Before she was sent to that mental rehab place? Well, I’m... with the addition of Gem magic, it almost felt like that. I mean, h-he’s fine for now, we have him resting, but... but I’m just so scared he won’t come out of this, like her, a-a-and that one day he’ll—“

A mewling sob bubbles up in his throat, swiftly severing that train of thought. N-no. No, he refuses to even utter that horrible idea out loud! After all, a world without Steven in it isn’t worth envisioning.

Andy’s eventual response— albeit tinged with a justified shade of awkwardness, given the emotionally charged nature of this conversation— is filled with genuine compassion, and for that he’s dearly thankful.

“Aw, hell... Greg, I’m- I’m so sorry. I, uh- I could fly over, if any of ya’ need me? For emotional support, or whatever?”

Upon this kind offer, he inhales deep to steady his breath, and wipes away dewy beads of moisture from the corner of his eyes, desperately hoping that he can mitigate the pitiful wavering of his voice over the phone. He’s gotta fight to reliably keep some form of composure in front of other people, damnit. His kid can’t have his dad breaking down around him too, of course.

“No, you’ve got places to be,” he replies evenly, pressing his thumb and pointer against one of his aching temples. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You ain’t asking,” he retorts, the eye-roll evident in his tone. “I’m offering. Listen- family takes care of family, y’hear? And I’m only about a day’s flight away, anyways. It’s really the least I could do.”

He sighs. Absentmindedly tugs at a thick strand of his hair. Offers a long, contemplative stare at the rickety age-worn handle affixed to the inside of the van’s back doors. Truth be told— ignoring his deep-seated guilt at dragging Andy into all this to begin with— he’d love having another family member around to embrace, especially a human one who can more deeply understand the crux of his anxieties about this delicate situation. But in the end, he shouldn’t be prioritizing his own feelings and comfort. He’s not the one in crisis, his son is.

Desperately hoping he’s making the right choice, Greg flexes his fingers, and acquiesces to the offer, on one condition: only if Steven consents to having visitors, once he’s awake.

Andy hums in approval. “Understood. Don’t wanna overload the poor guy with any surprise visits, or whatever.”

“Yeah. The last thing I want to do is push him too hard, too fast.”

He pauses, braving waves of parental grief to spend a moment to reflect on Steven’s emotional progression over the past few months... a stray negative comment here, an unusually forlorn mannerism there... All of them events that, in isolation, wouldn’t point to anything more than your standard ‘teenage angst,’ but when observed in strong, unceasing patterns, begin to reveal deeply harrowing truths about the state of an individual’s self-image. How did he never notice? Why wasn’t he there to catch him in his fall?

“I think he hates himself,” he says quietly, his voice hitching up at the end. “He didn’t say so directly, but- but I can sense it. And I don’t know how to help him, I-I... I don’t know if I can.”

“Nonsense,” his cousin scoffs, “‘course ya’ know what to do! What does any good father worth their salt give their sons?”

Unable to evade the momentary temptation of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, he slumps back against the wall, giving a weak shrug that his current audience would never see.

“I dunno, maybe a stable, safe childhood? Not growing up poor as dirt in a van?”

“No, you numbskull,” Andy immediately cuts back, “you love on ‘em and support ‘em just as much as you always have! Y’ show him that you’re always gonna be there for him, and that he can trust you with anything.”

“But I haven’t always been there for him,” he exclaims petulantly. “That’s the whole problem! That’s one of the reasons he ended up like this.”

“Greg,” he says, his voice softer this time. “Listen to me, ain’t nobody perfect, okay? We’ve all made our mistakes with people. Me? More than most. But what we can’t do is let those mistakes cloud what’s happening right now. Y’know, that’s one of the hard lessons I’ve had to learn over the past two years, that you can’t always make things about you. Because right now, it’s about him. He’s dealin’ with some hard feelings, and he needs all of our help. So, let’s help him. Together. We’ll start with one foot in front of us, and we can take it from there. All right?”

Closing his weary, exhausted eyes and pressing his thumb firm against his still-aching temple, Greg Universe gives a long sigh and finally concedes to the reality that— just as he’s not solely responsible for the decline of his son’s mental state— no man should be an island when it comes to the task of supporting one’s journey towards recovery. As with everything, the extended Universe family unit will face the future together, hand-in-hand. Step-by-step.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I think that’s do-able.”

[earthfire-75]

What Is and What Should Never Be

(A great big thank you to @brownskinsugarplum76 for being my beta for this fic)

Chapter One

I don’t know how I got here, on this plane, or even how I came to be curled up in the arms of a man I barely knew. So much had happened in such a short time, starting earlier in the week.

Monday, my friend asked me to go to a concert with her. It was to see Led Zeppelin. She had introduced me to their music a year ago. I could admit that I liked their music, but concerts weren’t really my thing. Too much of a stick in the mud, as she would say. But I knew how much it meant to her to go, so I agreed.

Tuesday I went in for my scheduled check-up appointment and found out I was pregnant, to my surprise. My boyfriend and I had been careful, or so I thought. To make matters worse, said boyfriend of two years, I might add, broke up with me then and there. Even had the balls to accuse me of sleeping around.

Wednesday and Thursday I was crying my eyes out still, to the point of making myself sick no matter how much my friend tried to comfort me. Friday afternoon saw us driving to the hospital when I started having contractions and I had a miscarriage. After a couple of hours of observation, I was sent home with a prescription for pain medication in case I needed it.

The rest of Friday was spent arguing over whether to still go to the concert the next night or not. My friend argued it was probably too soon for me, and she didn’t want to leave me by myself. I argued that she should still go because she had been waiting so long to see her favorite band play live.

Eventually, I proposed a compromise. We would both still go together, rationalizing that she would still get to be there, and she wouldn’t be abandoning me in the process. She was reluctant at first, but eventually gave in. We picked our outfits for the concert and set them out and then listened to Houses of the Holy as we got ready for bed.

Saturday morning was spent getting ready for that evening. Once there at the concert, though, my mood seemed to shift for the worse. Sadness, depression and the occasional thoughts of suicide, something I hadn’t told my friend about, shifted to a fight or fuck instinct. I was hoping to fuck more than fight, but things don’t always work out how you want.

I was eyeing the frontman like he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen before. And I had been drinking for quite some time by that point, despite my friend’s efforts. I was swaying my hips to the music, finally forgetting the past few days and losing myself to a desire I wasn’t expecting as I watched the frontman dance around the stage.

“Give it up, sweetheart. You’re never getting a piece of that.” I heard another female voice from my left side, and that was all it took for fight to take over. Before I could think about the consequences of my actions, I turned and took a swing at her, hitting her square in the nose. Security separated us before it could escalate, but instead of dragging me outside, I found myself plopped down on a couch next to my friend.

I was vaguely aware that there were others in the room as well. Three, actually. One was on the couch with us, talking to my friend. Across the room at a table were two others talking among themselves though they would look over now and then. My eyes had gone blurry, either from being that drunk or because I was starting to tear up again and trying to hide it, I wasn’t sure.

A few minutes later and the door opened again and two more figures entered. Even though I couldn’t make out any details, I could tell one man was large and intimidating. It made me curl up into a ball and hide my face in my friend’s back. I heard hushed arguing, or maybe my hearing had been affected by the alcohol too? But then I felt the couch dip on my other side and a hand gently rubbed my back. I couldn’t help melting into it and began to relax.

The next thing I knew, I was curled into a hard body, my head resting on a shoulder and my fingers twisted around ringlets of long golden-bronze hair with hints of copper. I smiled briefly as I was somehow reminded of a beach where I often played at as a child; a place that always brought me comfort. I took a moment to take in the rest of my immediate surroundings and found an expanse of golden tanned skin, a chest, with a smattering of dark blonde hair.

Slowly, I looked up, following a path up his bared chest and up his long neck until our eyes met. Such beautiful stormy blue eyes they were. He was looking at me with a kind of fascination and I know my breath hitched when I realized who I was now staring at. He looked so much younger than he was at that moment. When I tried to disentangle myself from him, he held me in place with a gentle arm around my waist and pulled my hand back towards his hair as if he wanted it there.

“Don’t go, darlin, please. Stay.”

How could I deny those pleading eyes? Swallowing hard, I returned to my previous position in his lap and curled his hair around my finger again. I was at once grateful for the comfort he seemed to provide me and afraid of it. Because I knew if I relaxed enough, everything from the week up to this point would catch up to me. Point in fact, I was already starting to feel the prick of tears behind my eyes. Just when I thought I was all out...

Inhaling a shaky breath, I curled myself further into the man beneath me, burying my face into his chest, as if trying to crawl inside him to hide from the world. I felt his other hand come up to cradle the back of my head, and he made a confused, helpless sound at the back of his throat. I tried to voice that my tears were in no way his fault, but sound wouldn’t come. My throat was too tight to speak and I didn’t trust my voice not to shake, and tremble anyway.

“Anjelika?” I heard my friend call, then felt the surface behind me dip as someone sat down behind me. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I thought this would help you get your mind off of things.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know if she’d be ok with me saying. I do know her enough to know she wouldn’t want to be crying in front of everyone. Is there somewhere more private?”

“Yeah, in the back.” I felt his arms shift, one remaining on my back while the other slid under my legs, just behind my knees. He stood, taking me with him and carried me down a small hallway; moments later I was placed on a rather soft surface. A bed, from the feel of it, too soft to be anything else.

I still clung to him as if it might save my life and he lay down beside me. “It’s alright, darlin’, not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.” He wrapped an arm around my waist, as if to prove his point.

My friend sat on the bed behind me, rubbing my back comfortingly. “Is it alright if Jimmy stays?” She asked. I lifted my head up and turned to look back, seeing the dark haired man who she had been fawning over standing by the door. I nodded in agreement, more for her sake than my own. Jimmy sat down next to my friend and I turned my attention to the man holding me.

“We never did get to make proper introductions, did we, darlin’? I’m Robert.”

“Anjelika,” I introduced myself through a sniffle.

“Angelic,” he whispered reverently, brushing my hair away from my face. “Do ya know how appropriate your name is, darlin’?”

I blushed despite myself and smiled weakly up into his gorgeous blue eyes. “You’re too kind, Robert. Which is also rather appropriate for you.” My tears were starting to subside because this man made me feel better about myself. Because he made me feel wanted.

He laughed, “I suppose it is!” He took a moment to gently wipe away the tear tracks from my cheeks with a feather light touch. He kissed my forehead then, though the kiss was soft and lingering. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” He asked softly.

I didn’t really, but acknowledged that if I did, it might help somehow. Taking a deep breath, I explained what had happened earlier in the week, the pregnancy, the breakup, losing the baby just the night before... everything.

“Are you alright, love?” The accent was thicker than Robert’s, so I assumed it was Jimmy.

“Oh, darlin’. Anjelika, I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Robert held me tighter then, pressing another soft kiss on my cheek. A few more tears escaped my eyes, but I didn’t break down again.

Desperate to change the subject, I asked Robert, “You’re a fan of Tolkien, yeah?” I recalled my friend telling me that.

He smiled in response. “I am. Even have a book or two in my bag. Did you want to borrow one, darlin’?”

I bit my lip to suppress a shy smile. “Read to me?”

“Great, now I gotta listen to him talk the entire flight! He never shuts up as it is!” Jimmy mock complained.

“Quiet you,” Robert teased back, “everyone loves the sound of my voice! Besides, how do you expect me to deny the beautiful lady a request?”

“Willpower?”

Robert just rolled his eyes and shook his head before he got up to retrieve one of his books. When he returned to the bed, he sat with his back against the headboard and found where he left off in the book. With the invitation of joining him with a slight tilt of his head, I sat up as well, finding my place pressed against his side with his arm holding me close. As he read to me from the book, his voice so soft, lulled me back to sleep.

I woke up briefly, looking up at Robert. He was still reading from his book, so I probably hadn't been asleep long. I reached up and traced the lines of his cheekbone and jawline, thinking how much his features were feline-like. That and his wild hair, reminding me of a lion’s mane. “My lion,” I whispered softly, making him stop and look down at me, but I had already fallen back asleep.

I was woken again by the feel of Robert’s fingers running through my hair. “We’re about to land, darlin’. Time to wake up.”

[jawritter]

The Arrangement

Part 13

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Dealing with suicide attempt! heavy discripion of suicided attempt! angst, sick reader, this one is another heavy y’all, if things dealing with suicide or death bother you, you might want to skip this one, I’m sure there is some lanuage in there to.

Word Count: 1843

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

Death was easier than you imagined it would be. Nothing was there to hurt you anymore. Just inescapable blackness. 

The last thing you remembered before your eyes closed, was Jensen's face shining on your phone. 

Then it was all quite, all black..

"Y/N!! Baby come back to me please!!" 

Jensen? Why can I hear Jensen, he's not dead.

"Please... My wife... I need help.. She wont wake up..  I think she's..."

No.. No.. This can't be happening.He sounded hurt, he was crying too much, he wasn't supposed to be upset that you were gone. 

You tried to open your eyes with every fiber of strength you had left in your body, but your body won't respond. Jensen’s voice seemed to get further and further away from you as everything faded back to that inescapable blackness.

The next time you sort of became conscious  there was an excessive amount of noise. Were you in a car? There was no way to know, because you still couldn't make your eyes open. You could feel someone holding on tight to your hand, Jensen?

"Sir, we need you to calm down. You're not going to help her by going to pieces. Everything is going to be fine."

Next flash back to yourself, nothing made sense. You could hear an annoying beeping coming from somewhere you couldn't pinpoint. Warmth wrapped around your body. Someone laying next to you in a very small space. Brushing your hair with their hand. Had you died? Was all this a hallucination?

Once everything fades to black again, it seems to stay that way for a long time. You couldn't make sense of the flashes of 'reality' that seemed to flash before you. Then just as quickly get taken away. 

Or were they just a dream?

The first thing you really know is that everything hurts. Your throat feels like it was ripped to shreds.Your muscle ache as if you'd been in a fight, and even though you have slept for God knows how long you feel exhausted. 

Oh and you're still alive... That much makes sense now...

"Baby? Baby, are you going to wake up for me?"

Jensen's voice sounded really close to you.You could feel his body heat wrapped around you in the uncomfortable hospital bed, and you wanted more than anything to just melt into it and stay there. 

He kept brushing at your hair and moving you around, attempting to wake you up, so you forced your eyes to open. At first, all you could see was a blur, then everything started to come into focus. 

Looking over next to you, you find Jensen's face. He looked horrible laying in the bed next to you. His eyes were red, very red and swollen. He looked pale, his hair was a mess. There were big black circles underneath his eyes.The freckles that dusted over his skin stood out more than they normally did in the crappy hospital light. He looked like he’d been through hell.

Putting his hands on the side of your face as your eyes meet his.Tears started to streak down his face before he pulled you tight to him.

"Oh my God sweetheart, I'm so, so, sorry!!!"

You couldn't make your voice work.Your throat was too sore, so you just laid there in his arms crying with him. You couldn't believe he'd come back for you.You couldn't understand what had happened, or how you got here.

One thing stuck out to you , more than anything else at that moment. Jensen cared. He cared or he wouldn't be here with you right now, and for now that's all that matters. For now that would be enough.

You don't know how long the two of you laid there just clinging to each other. Him apologizing over and over for not coming home to you sooner, telling you how big of an idiot he was for leaving in the first place, that he loves you and only you. 

You wanted more than anything just to make all this go away. You felt so foolish for doing what you did. You felt horrible for slapping him, you felt horrible for not believing him obviously, he cared enough to stay right now, when he had every reason to walk away, he came home.

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

Two days later, after many test, a 48 suicide watch, and a doctor requirement to go through therapy, you where finally in the car with Jensen on the way home.

You still hadn't said much to him, just sat quietly, going through the motions. Jensen's eyes would often divert from the road to the passenger side of the car to look at you. He'd tried to start small conversations with you, you just didn't feel like talking,you were too trapped in your own thoughts.   

You were ashamed of what you had done. In hindsight you felt foolish for being so weak. You didn't understand why your mind seemed to be at war against you. You didn't understand why Jensen had left, just like you didn't understand why he even came back.

You had slapped him, he had every right to abandon you, yet here he was; constantly worrying and checking on you.

You feel his hand slip over and grab yours, pulling it tightly into his grip and bringing the back of your hand to his lips like he'd done a thousand times since you'd woken up in the hospital. 

You'd never known Jensen to be so clingy, or affectionate. Not saying you didn't like it, you just didn't know how to receive it.

Then it hit you.Your real problem sitting right there in the passenger seat of your husband's car was you didn’t know how to accept love and affection from someone. That's what your problem was, that's what was wrong. 

No matter how much you loved your mom and dad you didn't have it. 

They groomed you to be a wife and mother, but showed you very little love, just trained you. Training that in the end did you no good, because you weren't prepared for a relationship like this one. Jensen didn't hold to the rules of the church, and what they expected a marriage to be like.

Taking a deep breath, you try to hold back the dam that threatened to spill over at any given moment. 

Poor Jensen had been trying to show you he loved you for months, and you just pushed him away. You didn't trust him and you had hurt him deeply. That's why he left you that day.The problem was you didn't know how to fix it.

Jensen turned down the driveway to the house, and your heart immediately  seized up in your chest, pounding  a steady rhythm in your ears. Your breathing came as shallow breaths, anxiety thick in your chest. Like a thousand pound weight pushing down on you.

"Y/N? Baby? You okay?

You didn't realize that you were holding your breath until you heard him speak directly at you.

"I don't know.” you said in earnest, not sure how you felt about being back here.

Jensen leaned over, and pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you the best he could in the confined space of the car.

"If you don't want to stay here I can back the car down the driveway right now, and we can go stay in a hotel until we can find us a new place." he said gently, letting you bury your face into his neck. 

Clearly he already thought this might be a problem, and had already thought about getting a motel.

Pulling away from him you look back at the house. You didn't know what you wanted. You didn't know if you wanted to run away. You weren't really sure what you even wanted to run away from. In the meantime, you didn't know if you wanted to face the demon that is yourself you were sure would be standing on the other side of the door, waiting for you. 

Licking your lips, and pulling your lower lip into your teeth, a nervous habit you'd picked up from Jensen over the last three months, you sat there staring at the front door like at any moment a monster would come out and drag you to hell where you really felt like you deserved to be.

Jensen's grip tightened on your hand again, drawing your attention to him. He was staring at you, trying to read what was going on inside your head, wanting more than anything to make the best decision for you.

Shaking your head, you push your fears down in your gut. This was foolish, and you couldn't let fear of the mental illness you just learned that you evidently had, according to doctors anyway, rule you. You had to get past this, for Jensen's sake. You hated the way he looked at you right now, like you were so fragile. 

"No... There's no need to go and buy a whole new house. I'm sure I'll be just fine."

Jensen leaned over, and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before leaning his own against yours. 

"If you change your mind at any moment, even if it's in the middle of the night, we're out of here okay? I'm not going to make you stay here. I'd never do that. We can always find somewhere else to live." 

You nodded your head, but said nothing, thankful for the out if you needed it. Once again, Jensen provides the security blanket you needed.

Getting out of the car before your emotions can get the best of you, you start walking up the driveway. Jensen was quick to catch up with you, putting his hand in yours as he unlocks the door. 

You stood there in silence, and stilled your nerves as he opened the door, walking in behind him. He stopped and watched every move you made, ready to rip you away from here if you couldn't handle it. 

Everything that you had left had been properly cleaned and put away. There were no dishes.Everything seemed to be in order. 

"I hired someone to come and clean up everything while you were in the hospital. I didn't want you to come back to all that." he said, as if reading your mind. You just nod and half try to smile at him. 

He wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you tightly to him. You didn't know how all this was going to work. Your trust was broken, not in Jensen anymore. You felt really stupid for ever believing he would cheat on you in the first place. It was yourself you didn't trust anymore. You felt like you were at war with your own mind and insecurities. 

This wasn't going to be easy, and you hoped more than anything you could come back from this, and be stronger for it.

I mean, they say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger...Right?

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Tag List: @deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​ @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278​ @lyss-dw79​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @justanotherwinchester​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​ @lyarr24​ @amandamdiehl​

[somuchcolour]

WIP fic rec list

So I have a shit ton of important things to do so I was like, so what better time to make a WIP rec list of fics that are currently (hopefully) updating.

I know wips get a bad rap but I personally enjoy feeling like I’m in 1830s paris waiting for the next chapter of illusions perdues to drop. Also these authors are giving us sweet sweet entertainment and they deserve the hype. All stories deserve love no matter their completion status.

In no particular order:

A Brief History of Sex by Letzi

Never let it be said that Castiel Novak is not a passionate man. He doesn’t seem like he is at first glance, he’s willing to admit that. But what he does in life, everything that he does, in fact, in life, has been in the pursuit of passion.

He’s not sure how it landed him night after night sitting inside a cramped closet in a brothel’s bedroom, watching a prostitute get fucked from behind by one of her clients through a peephole, but that’s where he finds himself these days.

He has to make do with what he has.

--

ABO AU based on the TV Show Masters of Sex and the life and work of Virginia Johnson and William Masters, the pioneers of sex therapy.

A Priori by K_K_TiBal, whelvenwings   

Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are headed to Hogwarts.

Castiel, as a member of the old Novak wizarding family, is fully expected to be sorted into Ravenclaw, like all of his ancestors before him. Dean, as a Muggle-born, has no idea what the Houses even are. With a surprise sorting and classes starting soon afterwards, they're both pitched headfirst into the unknown - and they find themselves in competition with each other almost at once, both of them needing to prove themselves to the people they left at home, and the people with them at Hogwarts.

Over the course of their seven years at Hogwarts, Dean and Cas learn what it means to prove yourself, what it takes to discover who you are, what it feels like to fall in love, and what it is they'll fight for - what matters most of all.

And Death Shall Have No Dominion by ForeverShippingJohnlock    

Castiel Novak is a zombie. Or rather, a "partially deceased syndrome sufferer." Treated and on medication, Castiel is deemed fit to return to living society. Whether society is ready to accept him or not is another matter entirely.

Dean Winchester is an active member of the Human Volunteer Force, a group determined to eliminate the undead. With his father as the leader of the HVF, Dean has spent years learning that PDS sufferers are scum, treated or not, and Dean wants nothing more than to make his dad proud.

Against all odds, the two boys form an unlikely friendship that makes Dean question everything he knows and believes, while Castiel thinks that maybe his second life isn't such a curse after all.

A story of love and loss, life and death, and everything in between.

Beyond Our Waking Eyes by abbythebollix    

Dean Winchester is troubled, Sam Winchester is growing up and Castiel Milton is too fucking hot for his own good.

Cupid's Fiery Shaft by ChasingRabbits               

When Gabriel Milton is forced into working on the school's annual Shakespeare play, he finds himself drawn to one person in particular--a techie named Sam Winchester.

While waiting on numerous universities to dictate the next major step in his life, Sam has been blowing off steam with his friend, lab partner, and (unknowingly) Gabriel's stepbrother, Castiel Novak.

Castiel Novak: a swimmer and one of the school's resident oddballs, who finds himself in a quandary upon meeting Sam's older brother, Dean.

Dean Winchester: gruff-voiced automechanic by day and culinary genius/MegaNerd by night, who might not be as heterosexual as he lets everybody believe.

If it sounds complicated, that's only because it is.

Now That's Comedy by CaptainMercy42     

Comedy. It's what Winchester's did. Winchester's, and about a million other dumb fucks with an iPhone and 140 character witticisms about their first world problems. It was not supposed to bug him when no-talent "wordsmiths" got highlighted in a bit on Ellen or Bob and Tom. But it did.

His dad, well he was great at it. It was dark comedy. It came from a dark place; the loss of a wife and the life of a morally bankrupt single dad, almost innocent in how thoroughly unprepared he was for fatherhood.  Substance abuse in itself provided jokes for days. The material actually outlasted his dear old dad. This surprised no one. What was surprising was Sam's decision to ditch college and do his own act, despite his lingering bitterness.

The first night Dean saw Sam perform was also the first night Dean saw Castiel perform.

Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by linoresearch   

The year is 1722 and across the oceans merchant ships are hounded by pirates. Killing and stealing their way to infamy, the Winchesters plague the trade-routes to the New World, leaving a trail of death and devastation across the Spanish Main. They are villains, and every ship that sails under the colours of the Royal Navy has been tasked with bringing them to justice; sentenced to hang by the neck until dead.

When the lookout of the navy frigate, the Lady Mary, calls ship-ahoy from the crow’s nest, first-mate Lieutenant Castiel Novak has no idea how his life is about to change. In a swash-buckling adventure across the high-seas, Castiel faces sea-monsters, ghost-ships, and much more, in the race to secure a valuable and dangerous prize. Thrown in among the pirates aboard the Black Impala, he also learns that Captain Dean Winchester can be hard to resist.

Number 1 Crush by Duckyboos                

Dean, Benny, Charlie, Garth, and Cas are old college buddies. In their thirties now, they meet up once a year to shed their adult responsibilities for a week. This year it's Garth's turn to choose where they go and he's still as obsessed with horror and weird shit as he was back in college. He ends up picking a supposedly deserted hotel in the friggin' mountains. The place is creepy as hell and as night falls, two things become increasingly apparent. One: the place isn’t as deserted as they first thought, and two: Dean’s college stalker is back from the dead.

Dial 'M' For Monster by Duckyboos    

By day, Dean Winchester bakes cupcakes. He owns his own bakery (Stairway to Leaven) and people come from all over state to try his delicious vegan red velvet. By night, he’s a fighter of supernatural evil.

Castiel Novak owns the small town's only motel (The Resting Place). He has a problem; he thinks rooms 6 & 11 are haunted.  It’s not like he can just look up a local ghost hunter in the phone book though, now is it?

Oh, he can? Sweet.

All The Other Places by Englandwouldfall                

As is usually the way with this crap, nothing is that simple. Part 4 of Beach House       

Shades of Mediocrity by Englandwouldfall               

Dean needs to rearrange his life all over again, regroup, restart and work out what the hell to do next.Castiel needs to learn where to channel his heart break, among other things.   Part 4 of Home            

The Taming of the Dudes by Englandwouldfall  

They've been doing this long enough and successfully enough that Dean kind of feels they shouldn't be arguing over something as serious as the mortgage. Part 5 of As you like it       

Two and a Half Sheets to the Wind by Englandwouldfall        

The whole point of working on a cruise ship was to escape everything, so the last thing he needs is to run into a guy who makes him a little too honest on the first day of a month long stint around Europe.

With Interest by everandanon     

In which sought-after bad boy Castiel Novak agrees to make awkward, nerdy sophomore Dean Winchester fall in love with him for a bet, and quickly finds himself in over his head — but by the time he realizes his mistake, it’s too little, too late . . .

Fast-forward 11 years, and as guilty as Cas still feels, he has bigger problems to deal with. Grieving his twin brother and struggling to provide the care his niece deserves, Cas finally sucks it up and moves back home in an effort to hold things together.

Of course, it's only a matter of time before he runs into Dean - Dean, who's all grown up and even more beautiful than Cas always suspected he'd be. Dean, who says he wants to be friends, and is clearly much better at a game Cas hasn't played since he broke Dean's heart.

Dean, who might not be the forgive-and-forget type, after all . . .

Quarantension by everandanon  

In which Dean and Cas weather quarantine together like any Good Friends would — by developing outstanding skills in self-deception and providing all the casual affection and strictly platonic* orgasms the other could possibly need to make it through.** *Really not platonic **Spoiler: They need a lot.

Fortress by imogenbynight         

Five years ago, a malignant mass removed from John Winchester's temporal lobe left behind a quietly ticking bomb that nobody noticed until it decimated everything. Five years ago, John dragged Dean away from everything he'd ever known, hellbent on rescuing him from an imagined threat that felt more real to him than the blood on his hands. Five years ago, Castiel let Dean's hand slip through his fingers as he rescued Sam from what he'd thought was a more immediate threat.

For five years, Castiel has wondered if there was some way he could have saved Dean, too.

Now, with a phone call that he'd all but given up hoping for, Castiel has a chance to try again.

It's Kind of a Funny Story by deathsteel    

After an aborted suicide attempt lands Castiel Shurley in the hospital, he meets Dean Winchester, a charming damaged young man who is much more than first meets the eye.  Not being able to deal with the stress of growing up may have gotten him here and being hopelessly in love with his best friend's girlfriend probably didn't help, but Castiel soon learns that sometimes it takes  going a little crazy to find the path you were always meant to be on.

Loosely based on the movie/book by Ned Vizzini 'It's Kind of a Funny Story'.

Just A Schoolboy Crush by Zombiecat    

Castiel has a cliche crush on the highschool football all-star, Michael Ashton. Even though he's fully aware he's doomed to longing looks and pining in silence, it wouldn't be so bad if his best friend, Charlie, hadn't told Dean. Dean Winchester never seemed to miss a chance to get under his skin but for some reason he starts acting odd when he hears about Castiel's big secret.

God, Make Small by komodobits               

The last plane into McMurdo before the six-month winter brings a new face, an astronomer on transfer from one of the inland observatories. Truthfully, Dean doesn't know shit about neutrino particles; he's just the guy who gets paid to move the equipment from A to B and tries to keep it from getting broken and/or frozen solid. Castiel Novak's awkward, endearing smile is an additional bonus. However, the relentless blue night is brewing coldly for a storm, and it's starting to look like Dean and Castiel might be the only ones left out on the ice.\

Legacies by vanishingact    

Castiel Milton's uneventful life as a Massachusetts lawyer gets a little strange in the fall of 1887 when he is assigned to handle the late Henry Winchester's estate and his client's distractingly handsome grandson arrives to take up residence in the old manor house. As an unlikely friendship (with a side of pining) develops, the house slowly coughs up its secrets and reveals a whole world of trouble that Dean never knew his grandfather kept hidden.

The Game of God by seperis           

You can't win a war for humanity by sacrificing all of your own. Part 4 of Down to Agincourt        

Sequins and Spirals by euphemology  

Dean Winchester is a world-renowned figure skater who hails from the “good old U.S. of A.” He is well on his way to the 2014 Winter Olympics, but there’s one small problem: so is his arch-rival, Polish skater Castiel Novak. Competition is definitely not going to be easy, but it gets even harder when the two men get assigned to the same room in the Olympic Village.

Show Me How To Love by universalromance    

A new family of kids at Lawrence High School brings a new perspective to Dean's life, especially when he becomes inexplicably drawn to the youngest of the siblings, a severely autistic boy who has never spoken or touched anybody in his entire life. Rating will possibly go up later. Possibly upsetting psychological subject matter.

The Process by Soupernabturel           

“Dean, hands to yourself please.”

The man in question straightens up in his chair, turns his flirty smile from the man two seats from him and onto officer Novak. “Sorry, Cas.”

“Cas?” Hannah asks.

“We get some regulars. They come to know a few of the officers, the patrol officers, especially.” Novak explains, the look on his face, almost slightly bored, slips a little. “As you know, I’m usually the one monitoring the Strip.”

 Police!Officer Cas is being filmed at work (A-la: Jail Las Vegas) for a reality TV show. Meanwhile Dean is a sex worker, not only familiar with the Strip’s booking process, but with a certain blue-eyed officer.

Start With a Name by cumberbellins, frickenapplepie (cumberbellins)    

Waking up in a stranger's living room with a blue eyed man staring down at you isn't the most pleasant experience ever. Dean Winchester can tell you that. Another thing Dean Winchester can tell you is that whenever you have to break into your brother's apartment, you should make sure that you got the right window.

starving in your gravity by alullabytoleaveby   

Dean has enough on his plate. Really.

There's his job as a paramedic for the local hospital and, while he loves it, loves getting to help people, the hours are long and the pay leaves much to be desired. There's his definitely-not-a-relationship with Castiel, the hot ER doctor, where's he's completely out of his depth emotionally. And then there's his brother, who's just dropped out of law school and has no idea what he's going to do now.

So what he definitely does not need is his alcoholic deadbeat dad stumbling back into his life.

Make Damn Sure by SurlyCat      

Dean Winchester is not thrilled about taking an office job at one the most powerful media corporations in the country. His work has always been hands on, but when Charlie tells him about the job opening and its comfortable salary, the temptation is just too great to turn down. And really, it wouldn't be too bad if it weren't for the blue-eyed man that also works there.

Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have crossed paths far too often over the last 12 years, with an unsavory outcome nearly every time. This time though, walking away is just not an option as they're forced to collaborate on a project and learn to navigate each other like civilized human beings. For Dean and Cas though, nothing ever goes quite according to plan.

...In Bed by SurlyCat                

Dean Winchester and Castiel Milton met on a rainy summer day over a broken down car. Even though Castiel is nosy and seems to have no filter, Dean still finds himself drawn to the man. Over time they become friends, and over time, Dean falls for Cas, certain that Cas is uninterested. What Dean doesn't know is that his friend hasn't always been quite so tame, and Cas is careful to keep it that way. Who would've thought that a fortune cookie and a childish game would be responsible for bringing out the truth?

Tag, You're It! by Kitmistry   

Five months after the case that almost claimed their lives, what started as blowing off some steam during a high-pressure situation and continued as a mutually-beneficial arrangement is getting out of Special Agent Castiel Novak’s control. Falling in love with his partner is doomed to end in disaster, especially when said partner is Special Agent Dean Winchester—cocky, infuriating, and the biggest playboy Castiel has ever met.

Still on medical leave, Dean is bored out of his mind, and worst of all - once Castiel gets sucked into the investigation of a new case - without enough distractions from his inner demons. When he stumbles upon a small, seemingly risk-free case, Dean jumps at the chance to get involved, but the lies he has to tell could be catastrophic for the already shaky foundations of his relationship with Castiel.

With a new threat trying to take over the underworld of DC, Castiel and Dean have to find a way to work past their problems or risk losing each other forever.

Part 2 of The H Files       

The Supernatural Edification of Dean Winchester by OverlordoftheBees   

Based on TV Series “Afterlife”. Professor Castiel Novak (MA Berkeley, PhD Harvard) is an academic who has staked his credibility upon his ability to decompress and deconstruct the mythology surrounding mediums, clairvoyants and all things "new age spiritualist". That is, until a routine trip with a graduate class brings him into contact with medium Dean Winchester: uniquely gifted, supremely abrasive and desperate for a way out. When Dean touches on the tragedy marring Castiel’s past, his neatly constructed worldview is decimated. There is only a veil between life and death, as both well know. And as Castiel finds himself increasingly drawn to Dean, the fragility of that barrier is strained to its limit.

These Are the Nights by vintagenoise         

After a sudden tragedy, Castiel Milton and Dean Winchester reflect back on their youth in the beachside town of Sileas, Oregon, and all the lessons they learned on the path that led them to each other.In the Winter of 2008, Castiel visits his boyfriend, Dean, for Christmas. Despite all the big issues he and Dean have dealt with in the past, they've never had the chance to sort through the little things. Castiel is sure that their plans, from embarking on a road trip together, to spending time with the Winchesters, can only be good for their relationship. There's just one little problem that needs to finally be confronted: sex, and Castiel's difficulty with it.In the Summer of 2009, Dean and Sam visit their estranged father and his new family, who reluctantly allow Castiel to visit through Independence Day. All Dean wants is for his family and his boyfriend to get along, but between John's struggle to accept his son's sexuality, and his wife Kate's strange attitude towards Castiel, he's not sure he'll be able to make it work. Part 7 of Young Volcanoes                

[khiphop-discussions]

Chillin Homie got hospitalized AGAIN due to depression and panic disorder. (I know this made me easily upset everytime I saw upsetting things while I am recovering but I had to tell this urgently.) I hope he will apologize truthfully for his past mistakes because I am so worried. I don't know what's next and I don't want to get much worse than this. Anyway, how's your past weeks going? ~Queennie (from the deactivated Tumblr account @heart-bleeding-autism-angel)

OK so here are some facts (some of this might be WILDLY triggering so definitely tw:suice tw:suicide attempt tw:suicidal ideation tw:drug abuse and I will put these in the tags as well):

1. Chillin Homie DID apologize for the whole live that he did. He made a whole apology as well as explained why his mental health has been declining. His label Groovl1n apologized as well.

2. Chillin Homie was ALREADY overdosed on that live! He had already taken AT LEAST 35 pills. There’s translation that say that by his own admission he took at least forty (I don’t 100% trust this for reasons I’ll explain in a bit). He only took like...5 on the live (DEFINITELY less than 10). As soon as he spoke on that live, you could hear his slurred speech. I don’t think I’ll EVER forget it. And it’s one of the most prominent things I remember from that live. Slurred speech is a symptom of overdose. I originally thought he might have been drinking heavy but after putting all the pieces together it was the pills. He was OVERDOSED already. He was damn near dying in that live, ok? Had he not posted that story, done the live, and then posted the ig post after the live (not the apology but the one before that that has since been deleted) I’m almost 100% sure he’d be dead right now. Pretty scary. For people who did not watch that whole thing go down (I DEFINITELY did from the story post, to the live, to the ig timeline post, to groovl1n’s update, to his apology), I don’t think you guys understand. This was SOOOO serious.

3. Number 2 isn’t just to garner sympathy because at this point it you don’t feel it then you just won’t. It’s to drive home a point. All of what he said was A) under the influence of drugs B) under EXTREME mental distress C) while he was on the verge of dying. To put this in perspective if you still don’t understand, if he had committed a crime the law would have trouble figuring out what to do with him. He’d likely be committed to a mental health institution of some sort. After that IDK what happens. They can either prosecute once he gets out or drop the charges. But it will probably depend on the severity of the crime and the mental stability after they are out of the mental health facility. Not to say I 100% agree with the law, but I kinda agree here. I don’t know how much accountability I can really give someone who was going through the bolded. This is not like someone getting on IG live fully sober and saying whatever crazy shit. This dude was not in his right mind that night. So I’m not about to keep harping on this someone said during a whole suicide attempt where they were overdosed and tried to take even more because...I guess they weren’t dying fast enough?

4. Back to why I don’t know whether to 100% trust the forty pills figure he gave out. Well, I kinda explained why in number 3. He wasn’t in his right mind so IDK if he knew how much he really took. He may have miscalculated and took even MORE or less or he could be right on the money. Regardless of how many he took, he was definitely overdosed.

I’m gonna be honest. This situation was upsetting for me. Like I said the WHOLE day after that happened I could see his face from that live in my head. I was worried af and I really didn’t know what was gonna happen. This happened at around 11-11:30AM PST. We didn’t get an update until around 6 or 7 PM PST. I wasn’t sure if I had watched his last moments before dying or if he was gonna be disabled in some way or what. That was WILD. Luckily he was relatively ok.

My thing is this, it’s OK to just leave him alone right now. IDK why people keep saying shit? Like why KEEP poking at someone who is suicidal and severely mentally ill. It’s like people won’t be satisfied until he actually dies no matter what he says or does. It’s crazy that people are still trying to bring negativity but then in the same breath are like “I hope he gets well BUT...” no but. Either hope he gets well or not. That “but” implies you don’t truly give a shit (which by the way that’s fine. It’s your right to like or dislike whoever) so just shut up or own the fact that you wanna keep piling on this dude.

My thing is, there’s people in Khiphop that I don’t like but you would never see me keep picking at them during/immediately after suicide attempt. Even in “normal” times I say my piece about whatever happened and then move on. I don’t particularly like to keep dragging it on. It’s not even really productive or useful to keep up with all the news of someone I dislike and think are misogynistic or racist or whatever the fuck. 

tl;dr: The man was suicidal, overdosed, mentally ill, and damn near dying. I don’t know if I can truly hold him accountable for much? Plus, he apologized. We can’t even get those from people when they are SOBER and in the right head space these days. It’s cool if people don’t wanna fuck with him cause of his comments about feminists and don’t accept the apology, that’s their business but just leave him alone. What do you get out of keeping on picking at him? 

(final thoughts) Overall, I REALLY hope he’s okay and overcomes this. And I’m glad his taking his mental health into his own hands and really trying. Despite ALL this shit going on, he’s REALLY trying. He gave an APOLOGY after one day out of the hospital. When he should have been resting!?! It seems like he’s being responsible as shit for a 21 year old (starting from dropping out of SMTM9 instead of pushing on for the money. That’s a mature ass decision and thought process to know that health > wealth). And he’s truly trying his best to get a handle on all this shit. I’m not gonna lie, I’m kinda scared for him. Especially after being in that live. But I TRULY hope he recovers. He has already beaten anxiety before but now it seems he’s struggling mentally so much worse now.

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

Hell and Back Pt. 2

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader 

Peter Parker x villain!reader 

Warnings: Language, hospital mentions, mentions of drug abuse, allusions to suicide, allusion to self harm, self deprecating thoughts, a gun, mentions of knives, mentions of the dead, anxiety, signs of abuse, abusive and toxic relationships, and fainting.

Word Count: 6.1k 

Songs: Pleaser-Wallows, 505-Artic Monkeys, Sweater Weather- The Neighborhood, Daddy Issues- The Neighborhood, Paper Planes- M.I.A, We come running- Youngblood Hawke, Young dumb and broke- Khalid, Do I wanna know- Artic Monkeys, Break the Rules- Charli XCX

“I smiled, I know as much as we get into petty arguments or try to annoy each other on purpose but I’d go to hell and back for those girls. And that’s exactly what I was going to do.” 

A/N: There might be some typos and grammatical errors sorry for those, I you want to be added to the Taglist just message me about or comment it. I’ll have a google form for it soon. 

Series Masterlist   Previous Part   Next Part

When I saw my little sisters, that all went away. Sure I still called them a lot but nothing could compare to actually seeing them in person. Sapphire launched herself into my arms and I stumbled back a bit.

“I missed you too,” I said.

I hugged Aaliyah too. When I entered the apartment I heard voices. My dad’s and some feminine voice. 

I walked in to find some woman who couldn't be older than 25 in my kitchen. Talking and laughing with my dad. I didn’t want to assume anything or start a scene so I just went into my room to catch up with my sisters. 

We were talking about some kid who gave me a DMT pen once and I was tripping balls which I probably shouldn’t be talking about, but I want them to feel comfortable enough to come to me. Makes it easier to keep them safe. 

Our dad opened the door and hung in the doorway.

“Hey… Y/N do you mind coming here for a sec?”

“Yeah sure…” 

I stepped out of the room. 

“Is something wrong?” It wasn’t often that he initiated a conversation that would end positively.

“No,no, not at all, I just want you to meet someone,” 

When I entered the kitchen the same woman from before was still there. My dad walked over to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. 

“This is my girlfriend, Camilla” 

I knew it . I knew it! I was trying not to be hostile toward her every problem I had was towards my dad so I smiled and waved to her.

“Camilla this is Y/N,” he pointed to me. 

“Well I’ll let y’all get acquainted,” He said before leaving the room.

I sat on the kitchen island and waited for her to say something first. 

“Look, I would just like to put it out there that I’m not trying to replace your mom in anyway.”

“Thanks I appreciate it,” 

“Also, are you okay now?” She asked in a low voice.

“Huh?” I questioned.

“Your dad said you ran away,” Of course he did “and I saw the news with your school at the Washington Monument.” So I guess she knew more about me then expected. Not surprised she was the one to ask me and not my so called dad.  

“Thanks for your concern but I’m fine, and sorry to cut this conversation short but I’m drained.” 

“Oh, okay, have a nice night,” 

“You, too,” 

I didn’t have time to think about anything. I just made it back to my room and face planted onto my bed. My whole being was sore including my brain. I didn’t have the energy to change my clothes, to shower, to think about my dad being a pathological liar or anything else that happened today.

I was awoken by my dad. I didn't know how long I slept but the sun was out. I can’t remember the last time I was able to sleep while the sun was up. 

“Hey we’re going out, for family bonding and I want you there with us,”

Family.

We ain’t ever been a family before why start now. Is what I really wanted to say but I sucked it up because again I hadn’t seen my sisters in a while. 

The movie was really boring. If we’re being honest. 

I pulled Aaliyah and Sapphire aside as my dad and Camilla were deep in conversation. 

“You know how I was staying at Wade’s house right?” 

They both nodded.

“What did dad tell you about this,” 

Sapphire just shrugged and Aaliyah was the one to post.

“I dunno he didn’t say much like usual he just kinda said you just left,” 

I felt my jaw tightening as I processed her words, my fist clenching by my side. 

“Oh, oh okay,” I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth a couple times “Well I just want you to know I’d never leave y’all without a very good reason, and I never won’t come back,” 

By the time we got back to the house it was around twelve since we watched another movie and went to a restaurant. Then got ice cream. This is the most money my dad could’ve possibly spent on me in a long time. I mean he didn’t because I didn’t get anything and bought my own ticket. I didn’t want him to be able to use the fact he bought me stuff against me. I’d gotten tired of the “after I’ll I’ve done for you,” excuse. 

I couldn’t sleep. No matter what I tried I couldn’t sleep. I tried NyQuil, melatonin, and even tea. The tea really did more harm than good. 

This was an extremely stupid thing to do so don’t follow my lead but I was bored. 

I grabbed a lot of useless shit from the floor of my room and made my way to the roof. I poured hand sanitizer on it and set it on fire. Putting aside the fact that it was really weird the fire was oddly beautiful. I sat there watching it for a minute before stomping it out. 

I was going to text my friend Carmen but I realized she was supposed to be asleep and I didn’t want to get her in trouble. 

I ended up scrolling through Zillow for a while then that turned into me applying for like four jobs. In which turned into me making spamming multiple friends saying we needed to hang out.

While I was on Zillow there was a relatively cheap apartment in Queens. Which was close to my school. It kept drawing me in for some reason. I bookmarked the tab.

Before I knew it the sun was up. I figured if I couldn’t sleep I would go on a walk to the park. 

When I got back to the complex everyone was still asleep except my dad who walked outside like he was waiting on me. He grabbed my arm, squeezing it tightly. 

He basically told me I looked like a prostitute. I was running so my sports bra and leggings were actually pretty appropriate. He said that I was probably going out to fuck people and that’s where I always was. I opened my mouth to defend myself.

“Actually I was just going to the-“ I was cut off by a sharp sting on my cheek. 

He fucking slapped me. Hard at that. He then grabbed my arm even tighter than before dragging me into the house.

 I don’t know what hurt worse my face or that fact that I wouldn’t be able to blame him being drunk on all the times he’d hit me before. He was just an ass.

  By the time I made it back to my room it felt like my body was burning itself from the inside out. My face was red and so was my arm from my elbow to almost my wrist. To try to cool myself down I took a cold shower and took some Tylenol. 

I still couldn’t sleep but tonight it was because it was so hot. I really needed a fan in my room. It was already 6 so I just decided to get a head start at the school. Not without taking pictures of my bruises before covering them with green concealer and foundation. I wore a hoodie for good measure. 

I felt dizzy and decided it was probably best not to skate at the moment and I’m 90% sure I fell asleep on the subway.  Apparently we had an art project due which I had no idea existed in the first place so I wasn’t going to that class today. Even though I did truly love Ms. Kramer. I was just gonna skip and go to Bri’s class. Which just happened to be chemistry. 

I wasn’t surprised Mr. Cobwell asked no question when I walked in. I ate lunch in his class a couple times, he was chill. He continued on talking about Quantum Theory. 

I made Flash move from his seat next to Bri which he immediately did. I guess he was scared of me now. 

“Hey,” I said, placing my non bruised side of my face on the desk.

“Hey,” She whispered back. “What class are you supposed to be in?” 

“Art,” 

“Why are you there? You love art,” 

“I’m not feeling it today,” 

“Alright,” she nodded.

“Lemme use your AirPods,” 

She reached into her bag handing them over going back to taking notes. That didn’t last long.

“What ya watching?” She asked.

“Bad Girls Club,” I smiled knowing she liked this show. 

“What season?” 

“7,” I whispered because now I felt too weak to waste my energy on speaking. I placed the phone on my lap and she took the other AirPod and before I knew I class was over with Tasha throwing trash everywhere.

I figured I was feeling sick because my blood sugar was low or something so I drank some Apple juice at lunch and called it a day.

Now time for Physics. I hate physics. Why would science ever require so much math? 

It was so hot. Like on the face of the sun, hot but I couldn’t take my hoodie off because I felt like I’d sweat my foundation off. 

“Are you okay?” Peter asked me “You look pale,” I swear if he doesn’t learn to mind his business.

“I’m fine,” I told him, not sure if I was trying to convince him or myself, I gestured to his notebook. “Do your work,” 

“Alright fine,” he said reluctantly, glancing at me once before getting back to writing whatever we were supposed to be doing down.

 I pulled my hoodie back over my head and sat up in my seat about to try to do my work again. But it was so hot and I was so dizzy that I couldn’t focus.

The world began to swirl and I knew the switch in my brain was going to flip off. I just didn’t have time or enough energy to tell anyone. 

When I woke up I was in a bed in the nurse's office and the first thing I noticed was I didn’t have my hoodie. Shit. I used to make fun of people for passing out because how does your own body clock out on you? Until it started happening to me like last year. 

I went into the bathroom and sure enough the giant bruise on my cheek and arm were kinda visible. 

Again shit.

I patted my forehead with a cold paper towel because the nurse’s bathroom actually had paper towels unlike all the others, before the nurse came back. 

“Hello, Are you feeling okay?” 

I nodded. She smiled down at me before giving me water and checking my temperature. 

“You have a fever,” she said after looking down at the thermometer “We called dad to come and pick you up but we got no answer. Is there anyone else that can come and take you?” 

I shook my head, not trusting my voice. 

I drank some more of the water before speaking up. 

“I have a friend who’s at this school she could maybe drop me off?” 

“I’m not sure if that’s allowed,” she said. 

“You know what? Go back to class, get your friend and come right back.”

I pushed off the bed and headed out of the nurses office surprised to find Peter sitting on the bench outside it. 

“Are you okay?” He asked me again 

“Yes I’m okay” I nodded. Apparently I wasn’t as okay as I thought because I almost tripped over my leg trying to move. But Peter immediately reached his hand out to stabilize me. And I don’t know why that made me as angry as it was but I said “I don’t need you to help,” harsher than I need to. 

“Sorry,” I said calmly almost immediately after. 

“It’s okay,” He said scratching the back of his neck.

“If you don’t mind me asking where’d these bruises come from,” 

“I fell,” was all I said. He looked skeptical but that was all he was going to get, I didn’t need CPS all up in my business. That’s also payback for him lying to me about “cat scratches”. 

“Can you do me a favor?” I asked.

“Yeah, anything,” he said. 

“Can you go get Briana from Mr. Dell’s class for me?” 

“Yeah I’ll be right back,” he said before sprinting down the hallway. I giggled at his giddiness. It was still extremely hot everywhere my body was tingling. 

Bri ran towards me 

“Oh my god are you okay,” 

“I’m fine, I just need you to talk to the nurse with me real quick,” 

She apparently didn’t have her car with her today so she was a no go. 

“I’m sorry girl,” she said, pulling me into a hug. 

“It’s okay, go back to class now,” I said.

“Alright feel better,”

I walked back out of the office to find none other than Peter still waiting there.

“So what happened?” He asked.

“Looks like I’m walking home,” I smiled sarcastically. “Yay,”

“I can walk you home,”

“No, thank you” 

“I insist,” I laughed again 

“I still think that word is funny,” I said.

“Okay, now let me walk you home,” 

We were walking in no general direction. No one but MJ and Bri know my address and  I’d like  to keep it that way. 

“Wait, you need food,” He claimed.

We ended up at this place called Delmar’s Deli. I’d passed it a couple times while walking home and during my less legal “hobby”. I really wasn’t hungry at all. I took all of like two bites from my sandwich claiming I’d take it to go before throwing it away. It wasn’t bad, it was quite good, actually I just wasn’t hungry. 

“My aunt is a nurse at an emergency room, she can check you out,” I hate anything that's anything like a hospital at all brings terrible memories, but I didn’t want him to know where I lived so I agreed. I’d ditch him then.  

It took us a while to get there but by the time we did I had to stop and catch my breath. He offered to walk me home and got me food. What a Spiderman thing to do. I’d say I had much solid proof to go on by now.  

“Peter!” The gorgeous brunette woman came over to the waiting room “What are you doing here don’t you have school?” 

“Yeah but my friend-“ When her eyes ghosted over to my face she cut herself off. “Oh my God are you okay,” she referred to my bruises “What happened to you?” 

“Did Flash do this to her?” She asked Peter and I had to stifle a laugh at that. I wish he would try to lay a finger on me. 

“No, she just told me she fell, we’re here cause she fainted and I don’t know if the school nurse is very capable of actually helping,” 

Is this a new thing Peter just decides to randomly worry about me for no good reason and forces me into taking care of myself. Because I hate it. 

“Oh, ok,” She nodded her head. “Grab one of those questionnaires over there,” She pointed to the sign in table. “Are your parents going to come too?” She asked and I shook my head. 

She and Peter moved over to the side and started talking about something I had no interest in. I grabbed the questionnaire and sat on the edge of the closest seat.  

1. What’s your age?

That’s easy 15.

2. Specify your race 

African American of course.

3. Select your highest level of education

Some high school

4. What’s your marital status? 

Single never married. Unless you count that un-ordained wedding I once had.

5. Specify your employment status

A student. 

6. Have you ever been treated in an emergency room (specify age)? 

Yes, as a child. 

7. Have you ever been rushed to the hospital? If yes, do you remember why?

Okay wow. Yes. 

I sat on the cold bathroom floor, vision blurry from tears forming in my eyes. 

“Y/N, you okay in there?” I heard my brother ask after lightly rapping his fingers on the door. 

“Yeah, I’m okay!” 

No I wasn’t. I wasn’t okay at all. In fact I was the farthest thing from okay. I glanced down at my thighs, you could see cuts from the night before and scars peeking out from underneath my shorts. I was sobbing at this point. 

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure if it was for myself or to everyone I knew I’d hurt by this. I already had the headache. I was just waiting for the rest of the pills to kick in. 

I was holding onto the sink for support when the left side of my body started to feel tingly. The whole situation felt hazy. I was shaking hard before I fell, taking almost everything on the sink with me. 

My head hit the bathmat and I could feel my heart slowing and hear my breath become shallow. I heard the doorknob jingle and that was the last thing before a feeling of true bliss and peace took over my body. 

I could hear screams and sirens and I knew I was in an ambulance. Slowly I awoke with wires all over my body and an IV in my wrist. My limbs were dead weight, I couldn’t move. 

A single tear fell from my eye alerting me off my surroundings. I quickly came back to myself. I made up the excuse of a family emergency and left.

I ended up halfway across the city. Then in Brooklyn visiting a friend. 

I knocked on the window of Aaron’s apartment. I could see Miles sitting on the couch.

“How’ve things been over here?” I asked once I was settled on the couch as well. 

“Uh, pretty tame, and you?” 

“There was that whole elevator stunt and I almost fucking died which was fun.” 

“Forgot you never take anything seriously,” He rolled his eyes. 

I laughed in response “Well one of us has got to be fun for us since it’s clearly not you,” 

“In celebration of me not dying I’m making sundaes,” 

“Alright,” He said leaning back on the couch. 

“Hey uh, When’s Aaron coming back?” I asked, getting the whipped cream out of the fridge.

“I’m not sure,” 

This is actually like really fucking dangerous. Like it could kill me. It’s just I was already in pain and had a headache. I also wasn’t thinking. I’d already made the sundaes. I turned around so Miles couldn’t see what I was doing before I- Okay I’m not going to do this. Get it together God you’re acting like an addict. The amount of people who’ve died from inhalants were insane. There it is again death. 

“Drawn anything new lately?” I asked, wanting to get my mind off of the topic of death that seemed to be plaguing my brain lately.  

“Some small sketches,”

I got the text that’d I been waiting for. I’d been talking to Aaron for the past few days. I’m not sure how Miles would feel about that. So I haven’t said anything. 

But I got the text. 

Staten Island Ferry 3pm

I immediately popped up from the couch.

“I have to go like right now, it’s an emergency,” 

I sprinted towards the door almost running into the punching bag in front of me. 

“Y/N-“ 

It’d been a week and things were looking up. I had a great day yesterday without the use of any drug. But nothing good ever lasts too long. I didn’t have to worry about that now. What I needed to worry about, was getting Peter to stop falling on his ass. 

I tried not to laugh at him and failed. 

“It’s not funny,” he said, pulling me down with him as I reached out to pull him up. Soon he was laughing too. 

I felt a vibration in my pocket and saw that Aaron texted me. 

hey the results from the search came in.

what???? don’t play with me I’m on my way right now. 

“Uh hey I gotta go sorry,” 

“No it’s fine I probably should get home too,” He pushed off the ground reaching down for me. 

“Do you wanna do this again tomorrow?” He asked a hopeful glint in his eye once we were both on our feet.

“Yeah sounds nice,” I smiled.

“Okay,” He nodded.

“Okay,” I echoed heading off. 

Ned was being fucking stupid.

“NO!” I slammed my hands down on the table “You don’t stab anyone especially if you plan on using bleach to clean up the blood. At least use vinegar and lemon,”

“Okay, jeez,” he said reeling back, “How would you do it then?” 

Before I could say anything MJ spoke up

“You could just use a needle full of air in between their toes, Their heart would fail” 

“Orrr,” I said spinning around on top of the table towards Ned. “You could overdose them on potassium and by the time the police get there the potassium in their blood is back at a normal level,” 

“Yeah that works too,” MJ stated going back to whatever she was drawing.

“You guys scare me,” Ned muttered making me smile. 

“Where’s Peter?” I asked and Ned pointed across the room. 

There he was sitting by Liz. It was cute I knew about his little crush on her. I’m sure the whole school did. Glad it’s working out for him. However that did not stop the pain in my stomach. 

I got up from the table because suddenly I did not want to be at school anymore. 

“Where are you going?” MJ looked up at me.

I shrugged. In all honesty I had no I idea where I was going. Somehow I always end up at Wade’s house when I don’t know where I want to go. He wasn’t home but I had a key. I can’t remember if he gave it to me or I stole if we're being honest. 

Clearly I hadn’t passed by a mirror in a while because damn. I look terrible. 

My eyes were red and circled with a dark hue from lack of sleep. I still had a yellowing bruise on my cheek. I was pale. I looked to be on the verge of death. 

I looked frail, like at any second I’d just fall apart. 

It was so unfair. My bones dragged down my body. The pieces of my soul that were mined out and removed from my mind. There’s a hole leaving me forever longing and I cannot fill nor feel. Hiraeth, a beautiful word for a ugly feeling. longing for a home that I never truly had, a home in which I’d never return. I would like to drift to where my spirit lies. It’s in the eyes of you and me and everyone in between. Drifting on a small boat in the sea. Viridian. Yes! That's the place I would like to be, that's where my soul lies yes you see.

 I kept punching his punching bag over and over again. Until I was on my back on the floor begging my lungs to allow air into them with Time (Is) by Solange playing on loop. Something put it into my head that I had to kill Vulture. I’d never directly killed anyone but that was gonna change. Having people killed or knowing someone was going to kill someone and not doing anything about isn’t killing anyone in my book, but I’m sure it would be in Spidey’s

That’s literally Liz’s dad though…

Okay maybe I’d just get him locked up. Great now I gotta be a snitch. That’s new. I showered not even caring about my hair now my curls were sticking to my face. I was freezing now though. I didn’t know whether to be glad that my body wasn’t on fire anymore or be upset that I was covered in goosebumps. 

Wade’s laptop was sitting right there on his bed. I was only taking a shower but, I think I should be allowed to watch Netflix and he wouldn’t mind, I was already on his account anways. 

After like 3 episodes into this random show there was a folder that was calling to me for some reason. 

It’d be okay to take a sneak peek. I thought to myself. 

I clicked on it and it was locked. I guessed the password in like three tries. He’s really gotta up his password game. It opened to multiple folders, one with my mom's name. Okay I had to click this then. 

I opened it which opened to more folders one titled ‘In Case of My Death’. 

Okay, okay cool my mother has had a video of what to do all if she died all along. This would’ve come in handy five years ago. 

There were three videos with the names of myself and my sisters. I clicked on mine then paused it. 

Then unpaused it again. 

I couldn’t do it. Okay, yes I could. I played it again. As soon as I heard the beginning of the word “hi”. I shut the computer off. I couldn’t do this. Couldn't do it because I was weak, I couldn’t handle myself. I was stupid and weak and a fucking disappointment. Guess my dad had been right all these years. I knew there was always some truth to the words he spoke only a matter of time until I started acknowledging it. 

I don’t remember coming home to the apartment. And I definitely don’t remember writing all over the walls of my dad’s room. But I had a marker in my hands and it looked like a toddler had gone to town. 

Holy Shit 

He was actually going to murder me, in cold fucking blood.  I trashed, the living room area, his room, and then mine. I was not coming home tonight. Looks like I’d need to find a new home now. At this point that sounded like a pretty solid plan. 

I text my sisters a quick text ‘stay at grandma’s house tonight dad is going to pissed like Super Sayian mode’ before grabbing my go-bag which was: a bag of the essentials, like hygiene a couple shirts, shorts, hoodies, pants, and of course the flash drive can't forget the flash drive. 

The flash drive that’s driving me crazy. I’d yet to open it though.  I knew I was crazy because I did all this while fucking sobbing.

I wandered around for hours. Making my way to Brooklyn, Manhattan, Harlem, AND actual New York City.  

Somehow I still ended up at Olivia’s door at the end of the day. I honestly believe we were soulmates. Most people don’t know you get many soulmates in a lifetime. I think Olivia and I would be the karmic kind. A karmic relationship is meant to help you grow, but it is never meant to last—it's often playing out a bad experience from a past life. I’m guessing I hadn’t grown yet because here I was.

She opened the door after a second. I’m surprised she did because I used our special knock so I knew she knew it was me. 

“I can’t fucking do this anymore,” I screamed in her face. 

“You're the one going off and being secretive and shit, like you’re scared I’m gonna hurt you or something,” she yelled walking up the stairs. 

I followed after her, 

“Maybe you would hurt me. I don’t know you are insane,” I said, tears brimming my eyes. 

“Just because you have fucking daddy issues, doesn’t mean you have to carrying them into every part of your life,” 

“I have daddy issues?” I screamed soon turning into me choking on a laugh making an unhinged noise “Oh, I have fucking daddy issues, now? Oh, okay,” I nodded. 

“Your parents didn’t even fucking want you,” I pointed at her. “At least my mom stuck around before she died,” 

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” 

“Yeah well right back at you,” 

“You’re fucking psychotic! Literally you’re so much like your dad and you don’t even know it, You’re trying to please him and he doesn’t give two shits about you, Wake up Y/N! Wake up.” 

“I’m hard on you because I love you so much,” She claimed, but her love was suffocating. 

“Oh yeah? I asked “Well i don’t know how much more of this ’love’ I can take,” 

“Fine then,” She screamed. 

“Fine,” I said before she slammed the door in my face leaving me standing out in the cold crying. 

That wasn’t even the worse we’d said to each other. It was the first but not the last time we’d break up either. I do believe we loved each other though in our own twisted way. Well at least I know I loved her. 

“Hey,” She said softly as she could sense I was due to break at any second. My cheeks were probably tear stained. 

“Hey,” I whispered back. 

“Are you okay?” She asked. 

“No,” I shook my head. One thing I liked about her is I didn’t have to fake it around her, because masking my real emotions was so draining. At least I didn’t have to do it with everyone. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“No,” 

“Okay,” she said softly “My parents aren’t home, so you don’t have to worry about them,” not surprised. 

I nodded before she grabbed my hand bringing me inside.

“I missed you,” she said stroking my hair as I laid on her bed, my head in her lap. 

“I missed you too,” I wasn’t lying my head drifted to her from time to time. It wasn’t that I wanted to get back together I just missed her presence.  

She smiled sadly at me running her finger over the bags on my eyes. 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” She quotes.

“Yeah well, ’m not queen or princess and definitely don’t have a crown, so we don’t gotta worry ‘bout me,” I said. 

“You’re a princess to me,” I gave a genuine yet tired smile at that.

“You can go to sleep, it’s okay,” She said.

That was the first time I was actually able to fall asleep and without medicine or having to go on a walk or do anything really. 

I woke up in the bed alone only to find Olivia sitting at her kitchen island eating spaghetti. 

She smiled when she saw me coming into view. 

“Sleep well?” She asked.

“Yeah surprisingly,” How long had I been asleep for I wondered.

“It’s 10 pm,” She said, still being able to read me. 

I made my way over to her and sat across her.

“So what’s really going on with you miss Y/N?” She questioned. 

I shrugged “I don’t know, nothing,”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Cause I’m not buying,” 

I explained to her how my dad was being weird and how I wanted to move out now. How I had pretty much vandalized the house. How I found the video of my mom. Just everything. Well maybe not everything I didn’t tell her about Vulture because I feel like she’d try to do something and I didn’t want her to get hurt. 

“Oh wow, damn... holy shit. Are you gonna watch your moms video?” She asked. Huh I hadn’t thought about that.

“I mean of course I will, yeah,” I nodded “Probably, I don’t know I’m scared,”  

“Wouldn’t you rather just push the fear back and watch then wonder the rest of your life what it says.” 

I sighed. Can't argue with that logic.

“I’m assuming you came here because you need a place to stay?” She said. 

“Yes, I need a place to stay just for a while but I don’t want it to seem like I’m just using you I can find somewhere else,” 

“Now it’s fine stay as long as you need but my dad gets back at the end of the month and we both know he doesn’t like you,” She chuckled at the last sentence and I laughed too. 

I was on the ferry heading towards Staten Island now. I knew the sale was for these weird alien shits but that's pretty much all I knew. I figured I’d sort of “out bid” the buyers then get rid of everything. By outbid I mean straight up steal. Some guy in a white pickup truck is officially my target. Thorn was still on hiatus. Meaning no knives unless you count the pocket knife I always had on me, no suit. I did have a trejo though, you know just in case. I couldn’t help my mind from drifting to Pop Smoke’s “I got it on me”. I let out a small laugh.  

I was hiding behind some car waiting for a crack in the plan to slip in. 

That was until Spiderman showed up. It’s like he had a sixth sense to ruin all of my plans. 

Shit 

Well abort mission. Just as I started walking around to get to the side of the boat. The van I was next to had Vulture literally coming out of it. I knew it’d looked familiar. 

I made it up to the top deck looking down on everything unfolding. So a quick rundown,  the FBI was here, meaning Tony Stark or someone with government clearance probably did something because I highly doubt that Spiderman, the Spiderman that I’ve seen hit a window like a bird while swinging, had any government clearance. 

See now I was looking to find a good time to make my escape. That was until that purple alien shit started spewing stuff beams of light through the ship. And fuck, I look away for one second and the new Shocker guy was gone. I turned around and saw he was running in another direction. I chased after him the rubber of my sneakers squeaking on the deck. 

I jumped down onto Shocker’s back sending us both to the floor before he pushed me off. I was definitely going to be sore tomorrow and I’m pretty sure I heard something pull in my leg. 

He jumped off onto the Vulture and I knew I couldn’t do anything anymore. Not like I was just going to shoot them down in public. I saw the light shooting down the middle of the ferry. I was gonna make a run for it but the loud squeal noise was so loud I fell over. Soon I was slung back into what I think was a bench not entirely sure I just knew it hurt like a bitch. 

I’m pretty sure I feel unconscious for like 30 seconds. 

But that was enough because the boat had already split in half and I couldn’t get to the deck or a lifeboat. However Spider-Man was frantically trying to get it together. 

I was trying to be hopeful because everything was looking up, as the parts of the ship got closer together but I think we all know the saying ‘what goes up must come down’ 

Over the ringing in my head I could assume that things were fixed because people were cheering. One thing that comes from cheering is movement and if I learned anything from the elevator it’s that moving in a very unstable metal death box is not a good idea. 

The ship was falling apart again until it wasn’t. It was pushed back together by I could only assume would be our government clearance guy Tony Stark. I looked out the window and yep there he was. 

As soon as I got on solid ground I called my sisters.

“Hiii!” I exclaimed. “Where are you, are you okay?” 

“Yes we’re fine, and where at grandma’s house like you told us to go to where else would we be,” I could almost hear the eye roll in Liyah’s voice. 

“Okay little Miss attitude stay there until I can feel everything out with dad,” 

“Alright,” 

“Okay I love you guys,” I said, getting a small “love you too” from Sapphire. 

“I know,” was the response I got from Liyah. I almost gasped the audacity of this child. 

“Say it back,” 

“Say it back,” She mocked, evoking laughter from both sides of the call. 

“Okay love you too byeeee,” She said hanging up. 

I smiled, I know as much as we get into petty arguments or try to annoy each other on purpose but I’d go to hell and back for those girls. And that’s exactly what I was going to do.

Taglist: 

@tomdiddlyumptious

[echo-bleu]

FIC PROMPT: Kyle or Liz wanting to talk to Alex about his suicidal ideation.

There it is Beth! I couldn’t figure out a way to make this related to what Alex told Michael in 2x10, not without dealing with the whole kidnapping thing, but then I realized it didn’t have to be related. I’m not sure why this wanted to be post 2x06, but it is. Or, a slightly different version of 2x06.

My headcanons for Alex’s background here are the same as I used in setting fire to our insides (for fun).

[suicide ideation, mentions of suicide attempt, mentions of bullying and child abuse, vague description of a dead person, stab wound, vague mentions of the 2x06 scene]

spinning like a weathervane

“Hey,” Alex opens the door, blinking hard at the light. He squints and looks away from Kyle to wave him in, feeling like his head is going to split open. “Sorry.”

“Hangover?” Kyle asks.

“Yeah. It's fine, it'll go away.” Alex hops back on his crutch awkwardly, unstable. His left shoulder is too painful to take his weight, or he would have grabbed both crutches. Hangovers mess badly with his balance.

Kyle follows him into the living room. “I'm guessing that's not why you called me?”

“No. I, uh, I kinda got stabbed?”

“You got what?” Kyle stammers.

“Yesterday was...complicated,” Alex mutters. He sits down on his piano bench, both because it allows him to face away from the eastern windows and because he doesn't think he'll be able to get up again if he lets himself get comfortable in an armchair. He leans his crutches against the keyboard.

“Are you bleeding? Show me. When did this happen?”

Alex sighs and starts trying to takes his shirt−Michael's shirt−off. It was easier to put it on. Or maybe he just ignored the pain when he rushed to get dressed this morning, Michael and Maria's eyes on him and discomfort seeping into his bones. It's harder to ignore, now that his brain doesn't register any immediate threat. Plus, both his head and his leg are killing him. He spent the whole night with his prosthesis on, almost twenty-four hours of walking and riding in a car and fucking getting stabbed, and it did a number on his stump.

“It was cleaned up and treated, but I'm pretty sure it needs a couple stitches,” he says.

“What did this?” Kyle asks, coming to kneel down in front of Alex, setting down his medical bag. “Who did this?”

“Doesn't matter.” Alex grits his teeth as Kyle carefully rips off the bandage. Sure enough, the injury is still seeping blood. “He's taken care of. And it was an ice pick. Before you ask, yes, I'm up to date with my shots. Not my first stabbing.”

“That is not reassuring. Did you lose a lot of blood? Felt lightheaded?”

Alex shakes his head. “I, uh, fainted, but I think it was just the pain. The drive back was not fun.”

Kyle prods at the wound, making Alex hiss in pain. “This definitely needs stitches. I need you to give me a timeline here. When did you get stabbed?”

Alex watches him start to prepare his kit. “Around midnight.”

“Eighteen hours ago. And why didn't you call me right away?” Kyle asks without looking up.

“It wasn't that bad. Beside, we were in the middle of nowhere. Maria called Michael to tow us back.”

“You were with Maria and Michael,” Kyle states flatly.

“Well, just with Maria. We were tracking down a lead on Mimi's kidnapping. Guy attacked me, chased Maria, she knocked him out, and his twin shot him. Michael showed up and drove us back, and they patched me up.” Alex leaves the rest out. The awkward hours in the car, trying to breathe through the pain and not watch Maria only have eyes for Michael. How his heart broke in a million pieces, again, watching Michael so scared for Maria, watching them kiss. How he still couldn't take his eyes away from him, couldn't stand up and leave, call a ride-share or something, anything, anything not to have to watch this.

How Maria kissed him. How she grabbed his hand and put it on Michael's thigh. What could have happened, if Michael hadn't inadvertently elbowed Alex straight into his wound and Alex hadn't nearly passed out from the pain.

He will always wonder, probably. Call it morbid curiosity. By then, he was already floating far out of his body, his brain incapable of processing things. Disappearing, like he's always done when it gets too hard. Michael's shock brought him back hard, harder than any pain could have.

“And when was that?”

“We got back at dawn. Michael−” Alex pauses to grit his teeth as Kyle starts to stitch him up, “−drove me back here.”

“And none of you thought to call me? Or, you know, do what most people do when they're injured and drive to the nearest ER?”

Kyle's tone is sarcastic, but his worry is real. And that's exactly why Alex hoped until now to avoid having to tell him. “I was fine,” he says. It took him almost fifteen minutes to convince Michael that he didn't have to stay out of guilt, that he could go back to the Airstream where Maria waited. It took him almost a full hour to decide that the only way he was going to forget about that and finally sleep was the bottle of Patron in his liquor cabinet.

“That's when you decided to get hammered?” Kyle asks, finishing his last knot.

Alex shrugs. “Seemed better than just offing myself at the time,” he jokes.

Kyle's response is very much not what he expected−not that Alex knows what he expected. Kyle's face goes slack with shock and he stares at Alex for a solid thirty seconds, bloody hands and needles forgotten. At least he's already finished the stitches, Alex thinks a little hysterically.

“Alex,” he says slowly, deliberately moving his hands into Alex's sight so he doesn't come off as a threat. “Do you mean that? What you just said.”

Alex replays it in his head, quickly, trying to figure out where the hitch is. Oh. Right, regular people don't react well to that. He forgot, again. Last time Karl dragged him straight to the base hospital and he had to argue for half-an-hour with the on-call therapist that it was just a joke. And Karl knew way more than Kyle does about gallows humor.

Alex goes to deny it, go back on his words, but the thought of Karl−of his body sprawled on Alex's, eyes unseeing, heavy, so heavy, so still−makes him grimace against his will. And the moment has passed, it's too late to just wave it away. The concern is anchored in Kyle's eyes now and won't just leave.

Alex works his jaw, hesitating. “I'm not going to do anything.”

“But you think about it.”

Alex doesn't deny it.

“You know what it is, right?” Kyle asks, biting his lip. He's clearly unsure how to proceed, but he's not going to let it go. Alex wishes they could have this conversation at another time. His head feels far too heavy for his neck, and he wants to support it with his hand, but Kyle will be looking for any sign of distress, now. Which means that Alex won't get any respite. Fuck.

“Yes, Kyle, I've been to therapy. Still go. I know what suicide ideation is. Always had the thoughts. Never tried anything, beside the once, and I won't.”

Kyle's face shifts. And...fuck. Alex's brain-to-mouth filter is fucked, he's still half drunk. He didn't mean to let that slip.

“You attempted suicide?” Kyle asks carefully.

Alex swallows. “I was fourteen. I thought I'd hit rock bottom. I was pretty naive. Look, just because I think of it doesn't mean I actually want to do it. It doesn't work like that. It's just...thought patterns. That's where my mind goes when I feel bad, that's all. It's a coping mechanism.”

Kyle doesn't answer, and he goes back to treating Alex's wound, slowly and deliberately. More disinfectant makes Alex screw up his face at the sting. Kyle covers it in gauze and tapes a bandage over it, cleaner and better than Michael's was. Alex watches him, wondering if this will change everything between them. Once they got over their history, Kyle has been pretty good at respecting his agency, not mothering him because of his disability. But things changed with Karl, when he found out. It was just a few weeks before−

Alex shakes his head to get rid of the thought. He focuses on his wound instead, because physical pain is always easier to deal with. He rolls his shoulder to check his range of motion. Good enough, though using a crutch on that side will hurt for a while. Hiding it at work shouldn't be too hard, at least.

“Fourteen,” Kyle says suddenly. “That's when we stopped talking.”

Something cold settles inside Alex. “Don't you dare think it was your fault,” he snarls.

“Okay, okay,” Kyle physically backs off. “I just−I think about what I did to you a lot.”

“Look, you were a dick, but you were also just a kid. If you want to blame someone, blame my father. Not yourself.”

“As long as you remember that that's valid for you, too,” Kyle says with a raised eyebrow.

Alex looks away. He won't admit that Kyle hit a nerve, but this rings far too true.

“I'm done here,” Kyle changes the subject. “You hurt anywhere else?”

“No. Spent too much time on my leg, but that will heal on its own.”

“You need rest. I don't want you at work for at least two days. I'll write you a note, or whatever form you need to get medical leave.”

“Kyle, I can't afford my supervisors finding out what I'm doing with my free time.”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “Then taking a couple sick days because of your prior injury is better than showing up sleep-deprived and with a sore shoulder.”

“Fine,” Alex sighs. He could really use the sleep, he knows, but two days of running circles in his house thinking about Michael and Maria is not appealing. And that's if his brain doesn't decide that a little stabbing calls for a rerun of every trauma he's ever had.

“And Alex? Please at least call your therapist?”

“Yeah,” Alex breathes. “Yeah, I will.”

He doesn't see her regularly anymore, but he knows this is the right call. At least Kyle isn't trying to get him to do more, like seek inpatient help.

“Thank you,” he adds, without looking at Kyle who is zipping up his bag.

“You want me to stay?” Kyle offers. “Get some pizza, watch a movie or something?”

“You're just off your shift, you must be dying to get home,” Alex says.

“Nah. No one there waiting for me. I'll just do the same at my place. Feel like some company?”

Alex hesitates for a moment. “Sure.”

“Then get comfortable,” Kyle smiles, kicking off his shoes. He gestures at the TV. “You got Netflix on this?”

[justsomewhump]

Tight Hold (4/4)

Continuation and finale of my shamelessly self-indulgent Krakillian non-con thing (there is no smut in this last part, so). Read from the beginning.

Warnings for this last part: Vague mentions of rape and non-consensual bestiality, blood, a bit of vomit, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

Word count: 1.7k (10k in total) AO3

~

This last part is from Emma’s POV.

~

Emma froze as Killian seemed to realize what was going on. His eyes barely widened, but he looked at her as if she was the last person he expected to see.

"I'm here," she said, stroking his hair. It was damp and felt stiff and coarse.

Tears filled his eyes at the gesture. He'd told her before how he loved that, and she hoped it was grounding him now, bringing him closer to reality.

"Emma?" he breathed so softly and so low she wasn't sure she had heard it.

She smiled, still brushing her fingers through his hair. "It's me. I'm here. You'll be alright."

He looked at her for a moment, then moved his arm from under the blanket, but couldn't move his hand past her shoulder. She dragged him higher, closer to her chest, and Nemo helped him wrap his arm around her. His arm was nearly limp, but he was leaning into her.

"Why didn't you come for me?" he whimpered against her.

The pain and worry of the last couple days were nothing to the heartbreak she felt now at the tone of his voice. Nemo covered him again with the blanket, which had fallen a bit from his movement, but Emma had already seen everything; the suction marks, the scratches on his torso, the bruises, God, the bruises...

The blood between his legs. The proof that he had relieved himself right there. The vomit on his beard.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, too shocked to say anything, to explain that there was a magical barrier that hadn't allowed them to cross, that she could hear his screams from inside the cave, that she'd spent all these days trying to break the barrier, that with the help of Regina, Zelena, Alice, Elsa, and the fairies, she'd barely managed to open a hole just wide enough for one of Nemo's mini submarine things to cross, that the others were still there, ready to open a hole again for them to go back.

"I'll take him," Nemo said, but her arms were stuck tight around Killian's visibly thinner body. There was a mangled raw fish a bit to the side. Had he attempted to eat that?

"Let me, sweetheart." Nemo said again, softly tugging at her hands.

Emma relaxed her hold just a bit, but a whimper from Killian had her grabbing at him again.

"Don't," Killian breathed.

"I'm here, I'm not leaving you," she said, then looked up at Nemo. "Perhaps I can just transport him to the submarine?"

"Are you sure you've got enough magic for that? We still have the barrier..."

She kept brushing at Killian's hair. "At least he'll be somewhere warm and safe until our magic fills up."

Nemo just nodded.

She still had to struggle; the barrier had zapped enough of her magic to exhaust her, but they were immediately back in the mini submarine, with Nemo quickly closing the hatch and preparing to submerge. Going in, she'd been sitting on the seat next to Nemo. Now she was sitting down on the tiny space behind the seats, Killian still clutching at her like a lifeline.

He was so cold, he was still shivering, and though she had dived into the cold water herself in a hurry to get to him, she and her wet clothes were still noticeably warmer than he was. She held the back of his head, softly pressing it against her chest. She was nearly shaking herself; she knew it wasn't just his physical state that scared her.

"You'll be alright," she whispered to him.

It took them longer to manage to pass through the barrier this time, Emma's mind too preoccupied with her trembling husband on her arms to focus properly on her dwindling magic.

She sighed tiredly when they made it through. She wouldn't have the energy to heal him.

They reached the shore, Nemo and then David offering to get Killian out, but her arms stayed locked around him. It was only when she looked up to see two paramedics standing over her in the small space that she relaxed her grasp. Killian whined, but she only leaned forward and caressed his face.

"I'll be right here, I promise. Would you like to sleep? Just for a bit?"

"Don't leave..." was all he said.

"I won't. I promise you." She leaned forward to kiss his hair, ignoring how rough and salty they felt. She then nodded to the paramedics, who managed to sedate him while Emma was still cradling him.

And then she had to let him go, resorting to just holding his hand.

The rest of the night became a blur, as the ambulance drove to the hospital, where doctors and nurses took him and examined, prodded and hooked him up to IVs and machines, talking about his status and state and recuperation.

He was going to be okay, they said. He had three cracked ribs, massive bruises on his torso and ankles, an irritated throat, and he was dehydrated, fatigued and slightly hypothermic.

And he'd had anal bleeding and infection.

Though every thing the doctors told her shook her, it was the very last that had her mute with shock. She was in his room, holding onto his hand, the skin rough. They hadn't yet washed him, too mindful of his injuries and putting priority on stabilizing his temperature. It was just then that she remembered she was also covered in salt, her clothes still slightly damp from her dive, but she couldn't care less.

He started moving just a few minutes after they'd settled; his first move was to grasp at her hand before he even opened his eyes. He whined softly.

"Killian," she said. "It's alright, I'm here."

She reached out to touch his cheek, but then he opened his eyes and cringed away, and she snatched her hand back instinctively.

"Sorry." She wrapped her hand over his, which was still grasping her other hand.

"I'm cold," he croaked, then licked his lips and swallowed hard.

"I can ask for another blanket," she said, looking at the door, then at the nurse button. She couldn't imagine leaving him now. "Maybe something warm to drink?"

He didn't reply. Instead, he looked at her for a few silent seconds, then said, "Where were you?"

This question was more quiet, more controlled, so much unlike the desperate outburst he'd had as soon as he realized he'd been back in her arms. Still, the reminder made her stomach twist into knots. "There was a magical barrier around the cave. We couldn't cross, but I... I heard you..."

His expression darkened, but he seemed to be waiting for more.

"I had to gather as many magic users as there were quickly available. Breaking through the barrier took so much of our magic, I can't heal you, I'm sorry..." She bit her lip and lifted her hand to touch his cheek again, but saw how he recoiled and let it drop on the bed.

"The... the beast?"

"We only saw it when it came out from the cave. I don't think my magic has any effect on it, so we- we had to wait until it left, before we came in to get you out."

"So it's still out there?" He breathed in uneasily and pursed his lips.

"I won't let it harm you again.” She could barely think of the way it had used to harm him. “I'll... I'll find a protective spell, so that it can't cross into Storybrooke, or come any close to your ship."

She was getting desperate. She stood up and leaned slightly towards him.

"It may hurt someone else."

"We'll tell them to stay away from water. Don't worry about anyone else now."

She leaned in closer, longing to hold him close, but he winced and recoiled back into the mattress.

"Emma..."

"You'll be alright. When my magic comes back, I'll heal you. Whatever that thing did..."

"It's not what it did." His voice sounded broken, and tears appeared in his eyes. "I mean, it is, but..." He shook his head. "I gave up. I wanted to die."

Emma's blood froze. She knew him well enough to know how hard it was for him to give up, how far he must've been pushed to reach that point.

"It's okay," she said. "We'll- we'll figure things out."

"Emma, what it did to me..."

A sob broke through her. "Can I hold you?"

As if on cue, he started sobbing too. He just nodded.

She lay carefully at the edge of the bed, on her side, and brought her arm around him, leaning her head on his shoulder. They were both sobbing now, and with her arm against his chest, she could feel how much he was trembling.

"I know," she whispered. "The doctors told me... but you don't have to say anything, if you don't want to. I... I failed at saving you, before it took you. But I promise, I won't let anything else harm you. I promise."

"I'm sorry."

"What?" She raised her head to look at him. His face was devastated. "What for?"

"For giving up. For not believing in you..." His voice trailed off, and he sniffled.

"No, no, don't do this now," she said, lying back down. "You were... don't... don't think about this now. We're together, and you're safe now. That's all that matters now."

"Safe," he whispered so softly she wasn't sure if he had intended to say it out loud.

She tightened her hold just so, remembering the bruises hidden by the blanket. And the suction marks, a horrible voice in her head reminded her. She sobbed silently. It felt like days ago that she'd found him passed out on the damp rock, naked, bleeding, with so many marks covering his body as if he'd come out of a horror film.

It didn't feel real. But she knew it was, and that in more ways than she was willing to imagine, Killian would be reminded of that for a long time.

She leaned her head closer to his and closed her eyes. If she could just help him relax and rest for now.  

Tomorrow would be the time to deal with everything.

~

~

I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for following this little self-indulgence of mine <3

[whatiswhump]

I thought that- Chapter 1

Hi hi! So I haven’t had any motivation to write lately But I did just reread a 50 page story that I wrote six years ago and I was pleasantly surprised with it. I think I will publish it in a series of chapters. It is a departure from my usual writing style and the beginning is more humorous and sardonic than anything (in fact I find the first chapter to be pretty cringey) but if you’re at all interested, I recommend sticking it out for the whump to come... because not only does the writing get much much better but it gets..... dark™

CW: suicidal ideation, death, attempted suicide

P.S. please let me know what you think! I love comments!

-

I thought that when I finally died, it would be more remarkable than all of my other experiences. I’d come close countless times before but I thought that it be more. I guess I was wrong. Because that night, nothing felt different, nothing was remarkable. I didn’t die like Erin, in a messy tragic fashion. I didn’t die like my dad in a drawn out scraping sort of way. Instead, I was alive and then I wasn’t. Executed before I even knew what was happening. What a fucking bummer.

The night was deep, so deep that I felt as if I could walk into it and it would never end. The water washed against the shore like india ink and the fog threatened to entirely swallow me. I held an old flashlight that flickered in my bruised hand and waited. I was feeling more patient than usual that night actually. Too bad death didn’t feel the same. The fog felt like cotton in my ears and I was fairly content to let my mind wander in the peacefulness while waiting for the shipment to arrive. I was thinking of Erin in her blue dress on the day that she led me away from the picnic and we slept in the wildflowers. I almost felt the sun on my fingertips when the trigger was pulled. By then I was dead. One moment, Erin was in my head and the next, a bullet was instead.

Unluckily for me, the day I died so unceremoniously was not even my last.

Waking up in a morgue is an experience I would not wish upon anyone. Particularly confusing not to mention just exceptionally creepy. Plus being hit from behind is not what one needs after they've been shot in the back of the head at close range. But I don’t blame the mortician. He was only doing his job when I scared the living fuck out of him.

I didn’t care to be alive again once I knew I had died. The man that showed up and dragged me out of the basement of the hospital was particularly annoyed that I didn’t appreciate my newest chance at life. He was especially not happy when I jumped in front of a bus directly outside of my resurrecting place.

Hospital security officers and the odd off-duty medical personnel witnessed said unstable behavior and I was immediately whisked away from the mystery gentlemen and back into the hospital where I was provided with bed restraints. I admit it wasn’t my best plan of action, but I was feeling desperation in the way that people do when they try to bargain for another day to live.

So for the third time in twenty four hours people had control of me in ways I did not wish them too. I suppose I didn’t wish to die but I didn’t want to live again now that the proverbial trigger had been pulled and I certainly didn’t relish being a mental patient. I lay in the bed and looked out the gated window in silence when they first hauled me up there. When I didn’t feel like talking to a doctor and quite possibly a little hostile, they injected something that felt like syrup in my veins. Despite my better (sober) judgement, I started yelling about being resurrected and that ordeal. It was at least a more immediate route into a drug induced sleep.

-

When I opened my eyes I was dismayed to see the fellow with the grey hair again. His face was directly above mine and the first thing I groaned, “fuck”.

He snickered a bit at my friendly greeting and next thing I knew I was dizzy and I was sticking my feet in the way of the doorways we went through at what felt racing speed in a wheelchair. 

“Your name’s John.” I slurred and tried to look back at the stranger maniac.

“Yes, and you’re Clarence.”

“Spot on!” I cheered in my drug induced glee.

“Now do me a favor Clarence. Number one: stop sticking your feet in the way of doorways and number two: stop trying to die. You make my job very difficult.”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say,” I started as I began to close my eyes and then I remembered the revival and took immediate action in the best way I knew at the moment.

“Dammit Clarence!” He hissed at me under his breath as he lifted me back into the wheelchair.

I was not as fast at running as my plan required, nor as capable of getting up off the floor as I assumed I would be.

The commotion of me flinging myself off of quickly moving wheelchairs made enough noise to invite a few people to the hallway. I looked behind me for Mystery John but he had vanished. I tried to explain myself. I don’t think I did it very well.

There was a prick in my arm and radio silence fell over my battered brain again.

-

The next time I surfaced, there were two men in suits staring down at me.

“Um hello?” I said when I realized they weren’t going to speak first.

“Clarence Granger, correct?”

I cracked a coy smile and responded in a manner that didn’t seem appreciated. “May I know who is asking?”

The speaking man’s partner sighed in exasperation. He clearly didn’t want to be interacting with me.

“The FBI. Sound familiar?”

I nodded my head and then tried to conceal an involuntary wince. It still hurt.

“Clarence, we are here because yesterday we found what we presumed to be your corpse on the shore of the Atlantic Sound. You had been shot in the back of the head, point blank. We were investigating further into your murder when we received a phone call. Apparently a very spooked mortician said you weren’t very dead at all and what was a bullet wound on your skull was a mere scar. You were reportedly kidnapped and then proceeded to jump in the way of a bus right out front? Now you’re in the suicidal wing of the hospital?”

“Can you explain any of this?!” The impatient one interjected with a wave of his hands.

I’ll admit it did sound a little odd. I can attest to being dead… and to being alive.

“This isn’t the answer you guys are looking for, but…. No.” I just tried to give a little defeatist wave of my hands but it wasn’t complete with the restraints. 

Mr. Impatient squinted at me for a moment and then turned and walked a few steps away, “Great! Just great! The crazy one doesn’t even know why he is no longer murdered! We saw the bullet wound! He was cold. Stone cold. As dead as they come! You were an ugly corpse!”

“Garrett, Garrett. Let’s just do our jobs alright?” Mr. Even-keel-in-the-face-of-crazy, er, Mr. Even-keel looked at me then and whispered, “Pardon, just a moment.”

“Where am I going to go?” I responded amiably as I rattled the restraints.

He led Mr. Impatient to the corner and there was a little bit of whisper arguing, Then Mr. Impatient straightened his already straight suit jacket with a hough and strode back over.

“Hey guys, guys, could you maybe get these undone?” I gave my wrist and ankles another shake and produced a stupid smile, “I promise I’m not crazy.”

Mr. Impatient’s mouth gaped a little before he remembered to respond, “Did you not just hear everything we just said? Fat chance.”

“What he means to say is that we don’t have control over that, that’s the hospital. Maybe after we finish speaking I can talk to them.”

“Well okay, just thought it would be the decent thing to do, guys. It’s hard to feel comfortable talking to you with them on!”

“Can we just get back to the matter?” Mr. Impatient fumed.

I shrugged my shoulders, “I’d like that.” 

“Okay, what do you remember from that night?”

“Nothing.” (That’s not true.)

(But why would I tell them? I was up to illegal activities!) (See, I can be Mr. Even-keel too.)

“Who do you know that would target you?”

“Mmm.. no one.” (a lie)

“Who kidnapped you from the morgue?”

“No idea.” (All I know is that he is a maniac named John)

“Alright. Why did you jump in front of a bus.”

“Oh I know the answer to this one, I didn’t see the bus before I walked into the street, funny story, really, on that part-”

“There were ten witnesses that said they heard you yell at a man that you didn’t want to live and that you were going to jump in front of the bus.”

“Oh. Did they say that? Are you sure they heard right?” 

“Look kid, are you gonna answer straight or not? You’re wasting our time.”

Wow, Mr. Impatient, that was a little rude. 

From there on out I decided not to speak again. I’d talk when somebody let me off the bed or at the very least brought me a poptart. 

At one point Mr. Impatient grabbed my collar in frustration but Mr. Even-keel cooled him off. I wonder if Mr. Impatient’s wife cheated on him last night? I would if I were her. Honestly I think he should really pick up his attitude. That’s better than being murdered and unwillfully resurrected. Get some perspective, pal.

So. After they left a lot more pissed off than when they had arrived I did a little extra curricular activity and picked my way out of the locks. The only problem was the hallway did happen to actually have a lot of staff members in it and I didn’t get far. Some buff guys in tight white kindly escorted me to a new room with no furniture but really plush walls. Oh. And I started talking about being resurrected again because of another shot to get me there... I may or may have not throw a few elbows at first. I don’t think it really helped my ‘I’m-not-crazy’ case. 

So. Yeah. This week was already fucked and it was only Tuesday.

[lukatheselkie]

HMC - Candle in the dark (2/2)

@hetaliamondaychallenge

Pairing: Possible future South Italy x OC Alrik; Fika

Warnings: Fighting drowning, attempted suicide, serious conversation about attempt, characterized depression, brief mention of a previous death

    Lovino feels like he’s drowning. Maybe he is. It wouldn’t be a surprise to him, honestly. It’s been a weird few days. Weeks. Months. Years. Life. He sighs, letting out as much air as he can into the water on purpose. The people in his life would be better off without him. Of course they would. He only ever gets in the way. But there’s a tiny voice in the back of his head that tells him maybe, just maybe, someone cares about him. But that’s preposterous. ...Isn’t it? Whether he believes it or not, his mind catches on the words. Maybe somebody cares about you. It’s enough to get him to start fighting.

    First, he needs to get as many clothes off himself as he can. He can feel them dragging down on his body harshly. He kicks off his shoes, pulling his shirt over his head at the same time. His pants are going to have to stay, but he thinks he can toe off his socks. He struggles with that as he searches for the surface with his hands. One pops out for just a moment, but it’s enough to give him a goal. He stops trying to remove his socks since it’s not working well anyway, and focuses on struggling toward the surface. Toward air he can breathe.

    Both his hands are out now, but for some reason he can’t lift his head out. Just as he’s about to rest his flailing arms, his hand scrapes against something large and solid. That gives him a small energy boost, and he grabs hold of the thing. He tries pulling himself out using the solid object, but the waves around it are particularly choppy. He bangs his head into it quite a few times, but does eventually manage to drag himself up it. He pants heavily as he splays himself across the somewhat flat top. It occurs to him that he’s laying on a boulder somewhere at sea before his vision goes dark.

~

    Blinding white. That’s the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. Within a second, two familiar faces pop into his vision as well; his brother and his crush. “Oh thank goodness! You’re finally awake! We’ve been so worried! I told you to be careful around the cliffs!” Cliffs? ...Oh. That’s right. He jumped off a cliff into the ocean as a sucide attempt. Why had he changed his mind? He closes his eyes tightly. “Did you trip on a rock or something?” His stomach twists painfully. He doesn’t want to tell them the truth. “Ah, it doesn’t matter! What matters now is that you’re awake.” Feli hugs him tightly. It’s almost crushing. It’s oddly reassuring. Someone squeezes his hand, and he opens his eyes to see which one of them it is. It’s Alrik, and his heart leaps into his throat at the sight and sensation. His eyes are filled with sorrow. Lovino wants to touch him, reassure him, maybe even say something. But when he opens his mouth to speak, nothing comes out.

    “Please don’t strain yourself.” His voice lacks its usual energy. He grips his hand tighter. “You’ve been in a coma for two months. Don’t try speaking yet. Let the doctors check that everything is alright.” He releases his hands, and shrinks into a corner. Lovino longs for the warmth of his hand back. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. Now he knows why he stayed. It’s such a selfish reason. Seeing Alrik for even a second is worth all the pain of existing. All the pain of being overshadowed by his younger brother, who seems worried to death about him. He doesn’t deserve a dead brother, especially since he’s not overshadowing him on purpose. It’s just something that happens. He nods, focuses on the sounds of the room, and eventually the sound of the doctors checking on him.

    When they finally leave, he moves the bed into a sitting position. Most of his injuries healed during the coma, but he got a concussion that’s still affecting him. “Lovi.” Feliciano pulls him into a gentle, loving hug. “I was so worried!” He crawls onto the bed with him. “We were worried.” He motions at Alrik, who’s still tucked into the corner. The Swede nods, then looks away. He’s acting strange. Why? “Does your head hurt? Do you need a drink? Maybe more medicine?” He nods, pauses, nods again, then shakes his head. Feli practically launches himself out of the room in an effort to get him water as soon as possible. Lovino looks over at Alrik.

    “Tack for not dying,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around himself. There’s tears on his cheeks.

    “Are you okay?” His throat is a bit scratchy, and his voice comes out mostly hoarse. Alrik nods solemnly. “Come here. Please.” He scoots over a bit, so the man has a place to sit if he wants to be that close. He doesn’t, as he drags a chair to his side. “Can I wipe away your tears?”

    “I’d rather you not.” Alrik bristles slightly. Lovino sighs heavily.

    “What’s wrong?”

    “Nothing I want to talk about.” He wipes at the tears on his face hard enough to agitate the skin. An awkward silence falls between them. A few minutes pass before Alrik lets out a groan. “Fine! If you want me to talk, Feli, I’ll talk! And I know you’re out there, listening! Go away. Please. I only want Lovi to hear this.” He presses his forehead into the bed, and lowers his voice to a whisper. “I’ve lost someone important to me before. I thought I did again.” He lets out a bitter, shaky laugh. “Opposite elements,” he mumbles. This leads Lovino to believe that maybe there was fire involved in the last one, and it breaks his heart a bit.

    “I’m alive. I promise.” He lifts up his hand. “Can I run my fingers through your hair?” When he doesn’t get a response, he slowly lowers his hand into Alrik’s hair. He plays with his hair a bit, trying to be soothing. His breathing evens out after a few minutes, and he chuckles. “Feli, you can come in.” Feliciano pokes his head in, then walks over with a cup of water in his hand. He holds it out to Lovino, who gratefully downs it. “Thank you. That feels much better.”

    “Sounds better, too. You’re welcome.” He looks down at Alrik. “Is he asleep?” A nod. “Then I have something to tell you.” He doesn’t like the sound of that. “I know you love him.” Lovino stiffens immediately. “Relax. Please. There’s much more to be tense about.” Of course there is. He forces himself to relax, though he doesn’t want to. “I think he’s in love with me.” He feels his heart drop. “However, he spoke with me about growing feelings for you.” His head snaps up to look at his little brother. “When you were found, he mentioned that he would have thrown himself after you had he been there to see it. He would have tried his hardest to keep you from those injuries, and from the coma. Even if it meant putting himself through it. He seemed to surprise himself with those words. He told me he’s only ever felt like that two other times. One with a human lover, and another with one of us. Since the one of us is much more recent, he compared that to what he’s feeling for you. He’s the protective type. He couldn’t look at me anytime he was speaking about this mystery person, so I feel like it must be me. He loves us both. He didn’t realize his feelings for you until you went into a coma.”

    “Of course he loves you, Feli. Everyone loves you.” Lovino sighs.

    “Not everyone. But that wasn’t my point. He cares about you too.”

    “And he’s going to choose you. Go ahead and ask him out.” Feliciano shakes his head.

    “I’m not interested in him. I realize now I may have been leading him on, but I never meant to. Besides, the two of you fit together better. I want you both happy.” Silence. It’s so thick it almost seems to dull the sounds of the hospital. It stretches out for a few minutes before he can’t take it anymore. “I know this was a suicide attempt, Lovi. Someone saw you jump off. Why did you change your mind? Why did you do it to begin with?”

    “Sometimes it’s hard, living in your shadow. And I always seem to mess everything up. I just thought… Maybe without me, things would be more smooth.” He blinks rapidly, forcing the tears back. Felciano wraps his arms around him tightly.

    “Please don’t think that. I love you. You’re my brother. You’re so so so important to me! And our people! And others. So many care about you. I’m sorry I never noticed your distress.” Lovino takes a deep breath.

    “I’m sorry for not realizing the support and love I have. Or for seeking out help. I know it’s uncommon for us to…”

    “You don’t have to say it. I know what you mean. And I promise, we’re going to get help. For both of us. I didn’t know you felt overshadowed. There’s probably more to that. So much more. But we can tackle that another day. Was he the reason you started fighting the waves?” He shakes his head slowly.

    “Not entirely. I thought that maybe someone cares even a small amount about me, and it gave me enough hope to fight. I wasn’t thinking about anyone in particular. But he’s been the reason I’ve gone out before. Just seeing him for a second lights up my day.”

    “I’m happy for you. Not everyone finds their light.”

    “Their light?”

    “You’re at a dark point, right? But he, and I suppose to a lesser extent I, are lit candles in that darkness. There will be others. We may light them, or others might come to. It doesn’t matter either way. The most important part is that more and more candles are being lit, until you can’t see the darkness anymore. If you think he’s going to light more of those candles, I think it would benefit both of you to date. At least consider speaking with him about it when you’re released.” He smiles reassuringly. “I love you. So much. Try not to forget that. I’ll say it as often as I have to. Believe it or not, I love you.” He buries his face in the crook of his neck. “Others do, too.” Lovino rubs a bit of Alrik’s hair between his fingers thoughtfully. Maybe Feli’s right. He should at least give it a chance.