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ricksroaches · 3 years

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Y/N part 1 - Dysphoria ch. 5

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Y/N has an accident at a Halloween party that sends her further down the wrong path.

notes: Occasionally I'll make some grammatical errors on purpose for emotional emphasis so that's why. Also sorry this took so long I'm kinda going through some stuff right now.

word count: 16.9k

warnings: language, drugs, self harm, mental hospitalization, shitty parents, near drowning, anxiety attack, overdose, hospitalization, miscarriage, sedation

“Do you know why you’re here, Y/N?”

“Spare me. I’ve done this before.”

“I know you have. I’m simply asking if you understand that you need this.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t understand?”

“No, I mean that I don’t need this.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I’ve already accepted that this is how I feel, and how I’ll keep feeling ‘til I die. No amount of talking it out and coping skills will change that.”

“Well, that’s not a very healthy way to look at it.”

“Yeah, no shit, but it works for me and I’d appreciate it if people didn’t waste their time trying to fix me so they can feel better about themselves.”

“I understand.”

“Obviously, you don’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I do. I’m not here to tell you what you're doing wrong. I’m here to figure out how and why you got to where you are.”

“What, you gonna pick apart my life and tell me where everything went wrong?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“Well first, I’d like to go back and discuss your experience at St. Joseph’s.”

“I don’t really feel like talking about that.”

“Y/N, these sessions are mandatory. No matter how much you resist, we’re still stuck here, so you might as well take advantage of the time we still have.”

“…”

“Or, we could just here in silen-”

“Fine. Anything but that.”

~~~

8TH GRADE

The cold classroom was silent except for the steady tick of the clock on the wall. It was only third hour and Y/N already wanted to jump out a window. She’d long finished her classwork and homework, so she buried herself in her sketchbook. Drawing was always her safe place. She found it meditative being able to just turn off her brain and let the pencil map out her mind.

Everyone jumped a little when the intercom released its usual loud beep. “I need to see Y/N L/N in the office.” Her stomach fluttered at the chance to get out of class. “And tell her to bring her things.” She halted. What? She didn’t have any appointments that she knew of, and her parents weren’t the type to check her out for minor things. Her head pounded while she stuffed everything in her backpack with everyone, including her teacher, watching her.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, she made her way down the bland cream and blue hallway that she’d spent the last three miserable years in. Jimin was her best friend all through elementary school, but he switched to a private school, leaving her to fend for herself in a new school of unfamiliar faces. He didn’t want to leave her, but the school she was going to didn’t have a dance department, and his mom had convinced him to go. By the time she found out that the school in question had the best arts program in the district, it was too late. There was no way her parents could afford to send her there anyway.

She’d be lying if she said she was happy he was pursuing his dream. Making friends wasn’t an easy task, Jimin was always the one that did the talking. So she settled for whoever cared enough to give her the time of day. There was only one person she was actually close enough with to hang out outside of school, Abigail. To say she was the dominant one in their relationship would be an understatement. Whatever Abi said, went. Whatever Abi wanted, she got. Whatever she wanted to do, Y/N was dragged along whether she liked it or not. She didn’t mind that much. It was better than no one.

The office door came into view, and she ran over every possible circumstance in her head before opening it. Her parents stood by the front desk. Her dad was clutching her mom’s trembling hand. “Mom? Dad? What’s going on? Did somebody die??”

“No, everything’s fine. We’ll explain on the way.” Her dad took it upon himself to answer.

“Uh...o-kay?”

The second her dad pulled the car onto the road, her mom turned around to face her. “I don’t really know how to start this, so I’m just going to say it. I was cleaning your room last week and found something.”

“What?” She pulled an old DVD case from the glove box and set it in Y/N’s lap. Every single defense mechanism in her body went off at once as she gawked at the image of a black bobbed Uma Thurman laying on a bed with racey magazines, puffing on a cigarette. Her favorite movie. But she knew it wasn’t the inappropriate film that her parents were concerned about. She slid the plastic sheath off to reveal-. They weren’t there.

“Looking for these?” Her mom held up her palm stacked with the razor blades she’d tucked behind the cover. Y/N’s face turned a sickly white, her mouth opening and closing to think of something to say. Her mind was moving so fast her words couldn’t keep up. She had nothing.

“Really? You have nothing to say for yourself?” She subconsciously pulled down her sweater sleeves. Her mom snatched her wrist and yanked the knit fabric back. “How could you do this to yourself?” She turned her arm to make her look at the pale pink and red lines that peppered all the way up her arm. “This is going to stay on you forever. What do you expect people to think when summer comes?”

Y/N dropped her head against the headrest and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. Of all the scenarios she thought of, this wasn't one of them. This had to be a dream. It had to be. She tried to pull her arm away and her mom let go, letting it fall to her side. She turned to her dad with a look that screamed, Say something! He simply shook his head in disappointment.

The car was silent for a long time before she finally mustered the strength to open her mouth. “W-where are we going...?”

“A Catholic youth center.”

“A youth center?”

“Yes. They offer great adolescent counseling.”

“But I don't want to.” She crossed her arms defensively.

“Y/N, we just want to get you help, but we can’t do this on our own.” Her dad finally spoke up.

“It’s a nice place. Sister Adrianne from church volunteers there.” Her mom added.

They turned into the parking lot of an old fashioned brick building decorated with stained glass and white molding. She could smell the Catholicism from here. A black suit, white collared man was waiting for them at the entrance once they’d found a parking space. His wire rimmed glasses caught the late morning sun, shining it right in Y/N’s eyes. That alone was enough to make her scowl. “Hello, I’m Father McCarthy, you must be the L/Ns.” Her parents exchanged pleasantries with him before he led them into the lobby.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of the room was a marble statue of St. Joseph, patron saint of children. Y/N scoffed to herself. She hated this place already. The priest spun on his heels to face the family. “If you don’t mind, I was hoping to have a word with Miss Y/N before the tour.” They looked at each other, shrugged, and nudged the poor girl out to him. “It won’t take but a minute.” He said before cupping her shoulder and steering her through the lobby to a set of backdoors.

Outside was a meditation garden that spanned farther than she could see. Cobblestone paths twisted and turned around rose bushes and vines of ivy. The steady flow of the fountain at the center gave the air a calming ambience. Y/N was anything but calm. “Why are we here?”

“I thought maybe a look at the garden would suit your nerves.” He caught her confused stare and laughed lightly. “Your mask is thick, strong, but I can see deeper than most.”

“I appreciate the effort, but it takes more than some pretty flowers to make me feel better. Are we done?” He sighed and checked his watch.

“I suppose. Right this way.” He placed a guiding hand on her back and steered them to the path out of the garden and inside. Her stride slowed when she saw her parents standing in the lobby, a suitcase in her dad’s hand. Her suitcase. A man in white scrubs took it from him and carried it in the other direction. Everything clicked.

¨No…” She breathed, her head mindlessly shaking. She stepped back and bumped into something firm and whipped around. Another man in the same white uniform towered over her. His face was gentle but his jacked body told a completely different story. His hand clamped onto her bicep. “No, no, no, nonoNONO!” She frantically looked to her parents, who were standing at the exit with pain stricken faces. Her mom buried her head into him while she heard her daughter being dragged away kicking and screaming by two nurses. She’d never forget the final words she caught before she disappeared behind a set of swinging doors.

“I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”

~~~

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you ever forgive your parents?”

“I tried, but she ruined it.”

“How?”

~~~

Y/N followed her screaming, cussing mom through the house as she took trips from her room to the porch, tossing her belongings out onto the lawn.

She’d found her stash.

“Mom! Stop it! This is childish!” she stopped in her tracks and whipped around to face her daughter.

“CHILDISH?!” She took an aggressive step forward. “I’LL TELL YOU WHAT”S CHILDISH! STEALING FROM YOUR OWN PARENTS TO BY DRUGS!” Y/N threw her hands into her hair and tugged at her scalp.

“It’s just weed! And I bought it with my own money! It’s not like I’m doing crack!” She looked to her dad sitting in his chair in the corner of the living room, observing the whole debacle. “Dad? Help?” He gave her a look of surrender. Not my call. Her mom disappeared back into her room.

“IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” Her mom shouted as she threw another handful of clothes out the door. “AFTER ALL THE MONEY WE SPENT ON YOU AND YOU GO AND BUY DRUGS?! IT’S LIKE YOU CHOOSE TO BE MISERABLE!” Y/N pounded across the floorboards and got nose to nose with her.

“OH, I’M SO SORRY YOU HAD TO PAY TO THROW YOUR OWN DAUGHTER IN A PSYCH WARD BECAUSE NOT HAVING A NORMAL KID WAS TOO HARD FOR YOU! AND I’M SORRY YOUR HUSBAND WAS TOO PUSSY TO STOP YOU! AND YOU KNOW WHAT’S MAKING ME MISERABLE?! YOU!”

“THEN GET THE FUCK OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Her mom shoved her by the shoulders into the wall.

“FINE!” Y/N stomped to her room and grabbed her backpack, stuffing in as many necessities as she could. She threw it over her shoulder and blew past her still fuming (and still cussing) mom. “Good fucking riddance!” she shouted over her shoulder. She swiped her car keys from the bowl and slammed the front door behind her so hard she heard a line of books topple to the floor inside. The lock on the door clicked and the curtains at the front of the house were hastily drawn.

She lividly gathered her clothes and suitcase strewn about the grass and crammed them into her shitty grey Corolla wherever they could fit. She dropped into the driver's seat and ripped the car out of the driveway and down the dimly lit street.

She crashed at Jimin’s for a bit while she looked for a place. Abi was long gone by then. Back when she was at St. Joseph’s, she’d called Abi for comfort, but what she didn’t know was that she happened to be at a sleepover, and that she’d put her on speaker. It didn’t take long for Y/N to hear a muffled giggle from the other end, and it was safe to say their friendship died the second she slammed the hospital phone receiver back onto its hook.

She didn’t need her anymore. Not with Jimin coming back for high school. He begged his mom to let him go to public school so he could be with Y/N again. What managed to convince her was the impressive dance team the school boasted.

Within the first week away from home, a packet of government documents for her emancipation arrived in her parents’ mail. She was surprised to receive a phone call from her attorney the next day, saying he already received the pettily signed forms and that they’d been filed with the district court. That was it. In a few months, she would be legally on her own. Sixteen years old and on her own.

~~~

“Good. That was good. I know that wasn’t the easiest thing to say, just know that it’s a step in the right direction.”

“Whatever. Are we done?”

“I suppose.”

~~~

Y/N sat on Yoongi’s lap while she painted his hairline into a V and thickened his sideburns into a more boxy shape. His hair was slicked back and he sported a suit and bolo tie. It didn’t take much to convince him to dress as Vincent and Mia from Pulp Fiction for Halloween. She bit the inside of her red painted lips while she cleaned up the edges of his widow’s peak with a steady hand.

It was a lot weirder than Yoongi expected to see her in a wig. The silky black bob made it feel like a complete stranger was parked on his thighs. Her unbuttoned white blouse and wide-bottomed slacks the complete opposite of her usual style. The only thing about her that was the same as he always loved were her eyes. He admired the e/c orbs that flicked back and forth in concentration, oblivious of his gaze.

“I think I’m done.” She leaned back and moved his face side to side to make sure his sideburns were even. “Yeah, you're good to go.” She gave his cheek two solid pats and climbed off his lap to get her shoes. He stood from her bed and checked himself out in her full length mirror. His hair had grown out quite a bit. Long enough to brush the back of his neck when he turned his head. He didn’t think he’d like how he looked with this hair, but it was quickly growing on him.

Y/N came up from behind and wrapped her arms around his torso. She peaked her head around his shoulder to admire his look put together. “If I didn’t know a better word, I’d say you look hot right now.” He caught her eye in the mirror with a smirk as he smoothed back his hair once last time.

“I think,” He pulled her in front of him to see her reflection, “I should be the one saying that.” He slid his hands up her shirt and adjusted the black bralette hidden underneath that had been wrinkled from her hunching over him. Her skin tingled under his large, warm hands. That asshole. He did that on purpose. He dipped his head to be even with hers. “Now, we should go before I mess up that lipstick of yours.”

~~~

Jin leaned against the kitchen counter and surveyed the frat house filled with college and high school students alike. Cobwebs stretched over every corner and fog machines gave the air a dark, heavy look. He always loved throwing his annual Halloween party. It was his favorite holiday other than his birthday. Couples cutely matching, friends coordinating costumes, comedians in gag outfits, and almost every girl wearing a sexy version of what we all dressed as kids. He loved any excuse to dress up.

He wore a loose white tunic and black slacks, his defining piece was the pink and blue diamond printed coat hanging from his shoulders. Howl from, only his favorite movie ever, Howl’s Moving Castle. He watched that shit like it was his job.

“Damn, do you need a maid? I’m not an old lady, but I can cook and clean.” He spun and met a smirking Jimin. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, black tie loosened, hair tousled, and red lipstick marks trailed from his chest all the way to his cheeks. Jin eyed the scene with visible concern. “Relax, this is my costume. I have a little class.”

“Oh, thank God.” Jin laughed.

“Although some of these are courtesy of some lovely ladies here tonight.” He turned to show the words “KISS ME” written on his back in big letters.

“How did you even get them to agree to do that?” Jimin flashed a proud smile.

“It was easy. Girls aren’t threatened by me. Being part gay is great, you get the best of both worlds!” Jins phone buzzed in his pocket.

Thing 1: Me and Yoongi are about to pull up

Jin smiled at his screen and typed a quick response.

“Who’s Thing 2?” He turned to the younger looking over his shoulder.

“You.” Before Jimin could offer a rebuttal, Jungkook squeezed out of the crowd and nested at his side, beer in hand.

“There’s my Ponyboy!” Jimin gave him a slap on the back. Jungkook's hair was greased back with a single curl hanging on his forehead. His white t-shirt and jeans matched well with Yoongi’s leather jacket that he lended for the occasion. “Doesn’t he scream Ponyboy vibes?”

“I’ll admit it,” Jin added, “he does.” Jungkook took a sip of his beer to hide his embarrassment. He never liked being the center of attention.

The front door burst open to reveal Taehyung, clad in a full face of clown makeup, green hair, and a purple and yellow suit. “WHAT’S POPPIN’ ASS WIPES!!!” He marched inside and made a beeline to the three with Jiwoo in tow. Her skunk stripes were in pink and blue pigtails and her black and red corset top and tights hugged her slim figure. “GUESS WHO HAS A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND!” He laced his fingers with hers and lifted her arm triumphantly in the air. She hid her face bashfully with her free hand. Jimin gasped.

“Shut. Up. You're joking!” Tae flashed a boxy grin.

“No, I’m Joker.” Jiwoo slapped him in the arm.

“Yes, he’s for real.” She answered on his behalf. Jimin and Jin exchanged dramatic, wide-eyed looks and threw their arms around the new couple.

“We did it! He’s off the streets!”

“He’s off the streets!”

“I’m off the streets!”

Jiwoo watched the three jump in circles with their arms linked like a bunch of kids who were told they’re going to McDonald’s. Yeah, she made the right choice.

The front door opened again, not flying off the hinges this time, and Y/N stepped in with Yoongi flush against her back. She spotted the group in the kitchen and threw her arms up. “Heyyyyy!!!!” Taehyung turned with an ecstatic smile and bounded over, pulling her off the ground in a big bear hug.

“Y/N GUESS WHAT! GUESS WHAT! GUESS WHAT!”

“What?” she gasped under his grip. He dropped her and gripped her shoulders.

“I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!” Both Yoongi and Y/N’s faces lit up.

“WHAT?! TAE, OH MY GOD YOU'RE OFF THE STREETS!” She clapped her hands together giddily and threw her arms back around his neck.

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHAT EVERYONE ELSE SAID!”

“Okay, okay, break it up.” Yoongi pried the two children apart and steered them to the kitchen. On the way, he leaned into Tae’s ear and whispered, “I trust you, but I’ll say this anyway. You hurt her, I hurt you.” He snapped out of his scary tone when Jimin came and pulled Y/N into a hug and kissed both her cheeks.

“Ahh! You two look so hot together! Best couple costume ever!” Yoongi never minded how close they were. He knew about their brief fling before he came along, but he trusted her when she said it was all in the past.

Y/N’s excited squeal broke through his thoughts. She booked it for Jungkook to gush over his costume. “Kookie! You look so friggin’ cute!!” She played with the piece of hair hanging on his forehead and fixed a few loose strands. He smiled at his feet and fiddled with his jacket zipper. “Come on, gimme a spin!” He sheepishly did a 360 to give her a full look at his outfit.

“I’ll be damned,” Yoongi added, “you almost look better in that jacket than I do.” Jungkook hid his face behind his hands. He couldn’t control the big ass grin plastered on his face.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him all night!” Jimin cut in, fists on his hips. She squeezed past him and Jungkook to say hi to Jiwoo and Jin.

The eldest boy pulled her into a sweet hug, his coat draping partially over her back. He leaned back to catch her eye. “How are you? You doing okay?” Jin, ever the mom.

The truth was, she wasn’t. Her situation with the pills was getting out of hand. What started out as a party topper, became a full blown addiction. She hated the person she had become. If she didn’t get her fix, she’d turn into a monster, snapping at anyone and everyone if they rubbed her the wrong way.

The moment she realized she had a problem was when Jungkook tried to approach her at school on one of her bad days. She ended up punching her locker with enough force to turn heads. The cold, unsympathetic eyes of the complete stranger that took her place bore into him before storming off. Tears welled in his eyes and he was frozen in place. All he asked was if he could help.

She scared him, and she'd never forgive herself for it. Even after he did.

She put on her best convincing smile and patted Jin’s chest. “I’m fine, you shouldn’t be worrying about me.” He searched her eyes for a crack in the facade, but he saw none. A warm smile played on his lips and he gave her a kiss on the head before turning her loose. She immediately pivoted to Jiwoo, trying to change the subject.

“Now I’m no DC expert, but I’m pretty sure you two are from different movies.” She gestured to the couple. “Tae, I know you’re from the Dark Knight, but I've never seen Harley in this hot ass outfit before.” Jiwoo chuckled and shuffled in her knee length boots.

“I’m actually Harley from Arkham Knight, a video game. It’s my favorite look of hers.” Y/N gave her another up and down, nodding her head.

“It’s great ‘cus Harley wasn’t in The Dark Knight, so she could be any version she wanted.” Tae commented.

“Except Suicide Squad.” Jiwoo added.

“Except Suicide Squad.” He echoed. “That movie was a disgrace.”

“Hey,” Y/N slapped Jimin on the arm, “Is Hobi here yet? I need a little...” She tapped the side of her nose. He giggled and pointed to the loft on the second floor.

“He was up there last I saw him. Have at it.” She made her way back to Yoongi and went on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck.

“Go ahead and make yourself a drink. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” She said seductively in her best Mia Wallace voice. Her index and middle fingers walked up his chest and dragged across his shoulder as she walked past him.

The loft was surprisingly hard to get to being that it was clogged with partygoers. She finally managed to squeeze through and fall to the floor, her face inches from a pair of sharp-toed dress shoes. She followed the white suit up to the face peering down at her. “The floor is no place for you, Mrs. Wallace.” A hand gripped her forearm and hoisted her to her feet with ease. At the other end of the arm holding her, was Hoseok’s beaming smile. The pointed collar of his black dress shirt was folded over the lapel of his suit.

“Saturday Night Fever?” He nodded. “Yay, now I have two John Travolta’s.” She took her arm from his hold and fixed her bangs.

“I think I might know why you’re here.” He inquired

“You would be correct, sir.” He chuckled.

“Follow me.”

He led her to a couch at the edge of the loft that overlooked the sea of costumes below. There was so much smoke in the air it was impossible to tell if it came from the fog machines or someone’s lungs. They plopped onto the cushions and he went to work cutting lines on a mirror laid on the coffee table. “So how’s life?”

“Eh, I've been better.” She let herself slip a little. Talking to Hoseok was easy. She liked being able to tell him some heavier things because he never pressed for more information. He accepted what he was given and took it in stride. She leaned forward and grabbed an almost empty bottle of cherry vodka and finished it off.

“I feel ‘ya. Soccer practice is really starting to get to me. Just gotta take it day by day, my friend.” He slid the mirror to her side and handed her a rolled up bill. “Here.”

“Thank you, good sir.” She plucked the makeshift tube from his fingers and dipped her head to sniff up the pristine white line. The feeling hit her instantly. A huge smile spread across her face and her whole body felt like it was floating among the smoke clouds.

“Good?” She couldn’t find the words, so she gave him a simple thumbs up. Their moment was cut short when Taehyung’s booming voice cut through the music and conversation.

“EVERYONE! OUR BELOVED QUARTERBACK, NAMJOON KIM, IS OFFICIALLY OFF THE MARKET!”

“WHAT?!” They shouted in unison. With a quick shared look, they scrambled down the stairs and through the cheering crowd. Taehyung was standing, red cup in hand, on the thick mantle of the fireplace at the head of the room. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She mumbled as they watched Jiwoo weave through the mob to pull him down.

“There he is!” Hoseok pointed to the head of brown hair that poked above everyone else. He pulled her along behind him, using his strength to cut through the congestion. When they broke through the wall of bodies, the entire friend group was gathered on the massive sectional couch at the center of the room. She picked the couple from the cluster and her jaw dropped.

“No fucking way. Cheyenne?!”

“Yes way.” Jimin chimed. The girl in question was perched on the arm of the couch next to Namjoon. Her amber eyes lit up when she recognized Y/N standing there.

“Y/N?!” She jumped up and crashed her body into hers with a crushing embrace. “Oh my God you grew up so much!! You’re not a little shrimp anymore!”

“I haven’t seen you since what? Fifth grade?” Cheyenne’s smile flashed white against her sepia skin. They were rather close in elementary until she moved away before middle school. She was the extrovert that found her and acted almost like a mother to her. Cheyenne was the one that cracked Y/N’s shell.

“I know, girl! We moved back and I’m going to Westview!”

“Westview?! I go to Westview!” Her eyes widened.

“What?! How come I haven’t seen you at school?” Y/N chuckled.

“I make myself very hard to spot.”

“She’s right,” Yoongi added, coming to stand beside her, “took me forever to track her down to talk to her for the first time.” He handed her a solo cup of vodka cranberry and she gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. Cheyenne’s hand flew to her chest.

“I’m gonna cry. My baby’s all glown up and she got herself a man!” She dramatically fanned her eyes. Her long false lashes almost reached her brows when she looked to the ceiling. Her box braids were twisted into space buns on either side of her head and her long, flowing white dress cinched at the waist and had a slit running up to reveal her muscular leg.

Y/N peaked over her shoulder at Namjoon. His long sleeved, tan v-neck and black vest made everything click. “Oh my god! Han Solo and Leia! That’s so fucking cute!”

“Can you guess whose idea it was?” Cheyenne cocked an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder at him, who blushed and gave a little finger wave. What a man baby. She took her seat back by him and Y/N and Yoongi sat on the couch across from them.

“So how did you guys meet?” The couple shared a humored look.

“Remember that bloody nose I said I got in P.E. a couple weeks ago?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah?” Cheyenne proudly raised her hand.

“That was me. It was girls vs boys in dodgeball and I nailed him in the face.” Y/N would expect nothing less from her. Even in elementary, Cheyenne was the best softball player she’d ever seen. That girl had an arm like a cannon.

“She walked with me to get ice and we kinda just got to know each other along the way.”

“Awwww~” Jimin and Taehyung swooned.

“As much as I hate to break up the moment, I'm trying to get fucked up tonight.” Y/N finally said once the conversation died down. “Chey, do you,” She put her thumb and index finger to her lips and puffed on an imaginary joint, “partake?”

Cheyenne raised an eyebrow at her. She wasn’t surprised Y/N had turned to drugs. That girl had issues from the very start. “Of course I do, who the fuck do you think I am?” Smirks cracked the pair’s lips and they shared a mischievous look for the first time in a long time.

~~~

Y/N, Yoongi, Cheyenne, Namjoon and Jimin gathered on the sofa by the swimming pool filled with splashing guys and girls stripped down to their underwear. Which was insane given that it was basically November and the water was 70 degrees at most. Yoongi placed a thick blunt between his lips and flicked his Zippo lighter, casting a brief warm glow on his face. He expertly cupped his hand against the flame and got a good burn going, then snapped the lighter closed against his thigh. The blunt cherried bright orange when he took a colossal hit, letting the smoke roll out of his nose in plumes before passing it to Y/N. She gathered a thick cloud in her mouth and let it float out to inhale through her nose. The milky reverse waterfall flowed into her nostrils like a yellow tinted nebula. The THC hit her already intoxicated brain, sending her further into the couch.

Jimin took his two puffs quickly and passed it on. On her turn, Cheyenne blew a single smoke ring and ran her finger down the middle to make it a heart, sending it floating into Namjoon’s face.

“Cute.” He said sarcastically as he took the blunt from her manicured nails and drew a long hit. “I don’t know any tricks so you’re just gonna have to deal with my boring ass.”

“We’ve been dealing with your boring ass for years.” Y/N deadpanned, earning a series of laughs from the group.

The blunt made its way around the circle back to Yoongi for the third time, and it was starting to reach its end. “Have you two smoked together before?” He questioned the new couple. They looked at each other and shook their heads. “Well then,” he clapped his hands together and plucked the blunt from his lip, “it’s customary that new couples christen the relationship by shotgunning.”

“What?” Namjoon’s brows knit together in confusion.

“Come on Joon, you’ve hung around us this long and you still don’t know what shotgunning is?” Y/N spoke up. He threw his hands up in defense.

“Hey! I’ve only ever heard it mentioned. No one ever told me what it actually was!” Yoongi huffed a chuckle.

“Watch and learn.” He puffed on the blunt and trapped the smoke in his mouth. His hand went to the back of Y/N’s neck and pulled her into a kiss, slowly delivering the cloud to her lungs. They parted, and white fog poured from her lips. “Now you try.” He handed him the blunt. Namjoon pocketed a good bit in his cheeks and cupped Cheyenne’s jaw. He pressed a light kiss on her full lips, transferring the smoke to her.

“Like that?” Yoongi and Y/N gave him an approving nod with a shared smirk.

“Consider us properly christened.” Cheyenne quipped. Before anything else could be said, a guy popped out from the sliding doors leading inside.

“AYE! WE GOT JELLO SHOTS IN HERE!”

“Oh fuck yes!” Y/N lept up, not giving herself time to ride out the head-rush that blacked out her senses and made a beeline inside. Yoongi watched her stumble through the glass doors and disappear in the crowd with visible torment.

“You good?” Cheyenne’s robust voice broke through his inner turmoil.

“Yeah.” He kept his gaze on the spot he lost sight of her in, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

~~~

Six Jello shots, two shotgunned beers with Taehyung, another rip from Hoseok, and a bonus sniff of crushed oxy in the bathroom later, Y/N was completely, totally, and utterly wrecked. She had to hold onto the walls and furniture for dear life to make her way outside. It had been almost an hour since she left Yoongi, so it was about time she found him.

The pool was a little less crowded and she could see her reflection on the surface. It’s hair was wild, clothes wrinkled, lipstick faded. Stars twinkled across the ripples, drawing her gaze up to the sky. She walked along the edge of the pool as she admired the lights that dotted the heavens. Her feet stopped their ambling to match the two sets of pictures in her vision back in place. The luring abyss of the sky gave a sharp contrast to the glimmering lights. Everything in her peripheral melted into the darkness that blanketed her view, and the frigid water rushed up to meet her.

It sounded like any other splash. Yoongi didn’t think anything of it. People had been jumping in and out of the pool all night.

“Hey, wasn’t that your girlfriend?” He turned to see a random girl standing behind his seat. His brows furrowed.

“What?” She pointed behind her to the steady bubbles that rose to the surface of the water.

“She was walking on the edge and just keeled-” He rocketed out of his chair and shoved her out of the way. He stripped off his coat mid sprint and dove head first into the jarring water without a second thought.

The water blurred his vision, but he could make out Y/N’s body steadily sinking to the bottom of the pool. He kicked as hard as he could and propelled himself deeper and deeper until he could reach her. His hand gripped her fuzzy wrist and pulled her up to him. Arm around her waist, he swam towards the light with powerful strokes from his three free limbs.

They broke the surface and he swung his head side to side to rid the hair from his eyes. He hooked an elbow over the edge for support while he lugged her unconscious figure out of the water.

“What the fuck?” Taehyung stood dumbly at the sliding door looking out, joint hanging between his lips.

“Get her, get her!” Yoongi grunted. Taehyung rushed over and hooked his hands under her shoulders. With one big tug, he dragged her onto the cement. Her upper body rested in his lap while Yoongi hauled himself out of the pool and scrambled to her side. He pressed his ear to her chest, listening for a pulse in agonizing suspense. The breath he was holding exploded out of his chest when he heard the familiar beats. Taehyung held his finger under her nose.

“She’s breathing.” The adrenaline left Yoongi’s system, taking every ounce of his energy along with it. He collapsed onto his back next to her, gasping for air. The sliding door opened and closed.

“Tae? Why’d you- holy fuck!” Jiwoo came rushing to his side and looked over Y/N’s soaked frame. The black wig was long gone, leaving her h/c mane splayed on the wet cement. The water turned them into a dark mass of limp waves, dulling their natural brilliance. “What happened?!”

“Fell…” Yoongi huffed, “…didn't hear...splash.” His heaving breaths spaced out his words into incoherent fragments. By now, a few heads turned to watch the scene, but most everyone else was too drunk to notice there was even a problem. Jiwoo jumped up.

“I'll go find some towels.” She disappeared back inside and came out not long after with Jin and Jimin carrying thick, blue towels in their arms. Jin immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping it around her soaked body and hugged her to his chest like an infant.

“Is she okay?” He asked apprehensively.

“Yeah. I think so.” Taehyung answered for Yoongi, who was tweaking and on the verge of an anxiety attack. The first one in nearly two years. His heart clamped in his chest and despite the biting cold, his trembling body was drenched in sweat.

Switching to mom mode, Jin snapped his fingers at Jimin, who was staring at the scene before his wasted eyes. “Jimin, wrap Yoongi up and try to calm him down. You,” he pointed to Taehyung, “go find Jungkook. He’s the only one who’ll know if she’s actually okay.” The three, Jiwoo following Taehyung, jumped to work on their tasks.

Jimin draped the towel over his figure as best he could given he was laying flat on his back and there was no getting him to sit up. Yoongi’s eyes darted back and forth, pinballing against his peripheral in all different directions. “Yoongi? Yoongi, I need you to look at me okay?” He sandwiched his face between his hands and tried to catch his eyes. Yoongi shook his head rapidly, eyes still all over the place. “I need you to listen to me. If you can’t look at me then close your eyes.” He squeezed them shut in hopes the roaring panic in his system wouldn’t be able to find him. “I’m gonna press on your chest, and I need you to push back, okay?” He didn't show any kind of response, so Jimin went ahead. He placed both palms against his hyperventilating chest and applied a gentle pressure that compelled him to take longer breaths. “You can breathe, it's okay. Feel that pressure? That’s air filling up your chest. You’re not suffocating, you have plenty of air. You’re okay.” He repeated the affirmations like a mantra. “Deep breaths. Push against my hands for as long as you can.” His chest pressed against his hands again and again, each breath growing deeper and longer. “There you go.”

The sliding door ripped open and Taehyung had Jungkook by the elbow, all but dragging him across the ground. Jungkook yanked his arm free. “What the hell is happening?!”

“You didn’t tell him?!” Jin shouted. Jungkook’s frustration disintegrated when his eyes landed on Y/N wrapped in Jin’s arms and Jimin bent over Yoongi splayed out on the ground.

“I was in a hurry, okay?! I couldn’t think of the words!” Taehyung retorted. Jungkook pointed a shaky finger at her, flashes of a life without her sent his anxiety through the roof.

“Is...is she?”

“No, she’s not dead.” Jin answered his unasked question. “We need you to check her and see if anything’s wrong that we didn’t catch.” Thank God. He could live again.

“Why me?” A stupid question, honestly.

“Because you’re the closest thing we have to a doctor, now get your ass down there and do your thing!” Taehyung gave him an urgent nudge. Jungkook hesitantly knelt by Jin’s side. It almost felt wrong seeing her in such a vulnerable state.

“U-uh...okay. You found a good pulse, right?”

“Yeah, but you need to be the judge of that.” He swallowed hard and pressed two fingers to her neck. “Well?”

“Her pulse is fine, and from the looks of it, her brain is getting enough oxygen.” He pointed at her lips, which were coming back to a healthy peach. “If she wasn’t, her lips and fingernails would be blue.”

“Is she okay?” Yoongi’s raspy voice was barely audible over the din of the party. Jimin managed to wrap the towel around him and his breath was nearing back to normal. The occasional twitch jolted his muscles from the lingering bad high.

“Yeah, just keep her warm and she’ll be fine.” Yoongi’s head fell back against the ground in relief. “Just make sure she stays on her side all night so she doesn’t aspirate.”

“Aspirate?” Jimin inquired.

“Suffocate on her own vomit.”

“Christ. That doesn’t happen a lot does it?” Taehyung asked.

“Enough to have a word for it.”

The door slid open yet again and out came Namjoon, Cheyenne, and Hoseok. “Jiwoo told us what happened. Are you sure she’s okay?” Hoseok spoke first.

“Jungkook said she should be.” Jin replied. “I’m gonna take her home and watch her for the night. Just in case.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

Namjoon carried Y/N in his arms to Jin’s car and laid her down in the backseat, taking care that she was propped on her side. Yoongi and Jin came to the car soon after, the latter carrying a hastily packed duffle bag.

“Yoongi, sit with her in the back and keep her from rolling over.” Jin ordered. The younger gladly climbed into the backseat and readjusted her head on his lap. Jin dropped into the driver's seat and hooked an elbow over his rolled down window. “Joon, I trust you can handle things while I’m gone. I might not live here, but it’s still my party so make sure everyone gets the fuck out by 6.” Namjoon gave him two thumbs up and headed inside when Jin started the car.

~~~

Jin slid his copy of Y/N’s house key into the lock, and the deadbolt snapped open. He pushed the door in for Yoongi, who was carrying her up the steps. The clock on the microwave read 3:45. Surprisingly early for leaving a frat party. “I’m gonna change her into some dry clothes.” Yoongi said.

“Okay, make sure you guy’s hair is dry so you don’t catch a cold.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and disappeared into her bedroom. Jin helped himself to the closet of sheets and blankets and grabbed a pillow from the bottom shelf. Once he was happy with the nest he made on the couch, he slipped in the tiny guest bathroom to wash his face, change, and take his meds. High blood pressure. His mom always said it ran in the family.

A few minutes later, he emerged in a pair of Totoro pajama pants and a grey t-shirt. He eyed the kitchen cabinet that was always stocked with ramen. Yoongi’s gonna be starving when he’s done with her. He set out a pot on the stove and grabbed three packages from the cabinet. “Hey Yoongs,” he padded to her doorway, “I’m making ramen do you want beef or-” His voice quieted when he peeked inside and saw them both in bed. He’d changed her into one of his hoodies and tied her hair in a bun. He laid behind her, arms seatbelting her to his torso, fast asleep. Without context, it was a heartwarming scene. Jin's lips formed a small smile and he eased the door shut, careful not to wake him. “Goodnight guys~”

He plopped onto the couch and plugged his phone into the charger that ran across the floor to reach the coffee table. The second his head hit the pillow he felt himself being pulled under by the current of sleep. He wondered to himself, what was going on in Y/N’s head that was so bad she nearly died just to get away from. She’d never lost control like that before. At least not bad enough for Yoongi to have a whole anxiety attack over. Whatever it was, he prayed it was nothing too horrible because he knew no matter how much he’d try to help, there was no getting anything out of her. That scared him. Hell, it terrified him not two hours ago. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being, and let his lids droop until sleep overtook him.

~~~

NOVEMBER 9TH

“Haaaaappy Biiiirthdayyyy tooo youu~! Haaappy Birthdaaayy tooooo youuuuu~! Happy Biiirthday dear Yoongiiiiiiii~!” The birthday boy buried his face in his hands out of sheer embarrassment while the group drunkenly sang around the cake in front of him. “Happy Birthdayyy toooooo yooouuuuuuuuuu~!” A birthday party, his worst nightmare. He was never one for birthdays, his family didn’t have the money for that kind of luxury. Every year, his dad would just gift him a pack of cigarettes, grab him by the collar, and give the same drunken speech about how he needs to toughen up if he’s gonna survive in the real world. Y/N carded her fingers through his hair to get it out of his face.

“Make a wish, Yoongi.” Her gentle touch was enough to coax him back to reality. He lifted his face from his hands and studied the three joints stuck into the frosting as candles. He thought for a minute then leaned in and blew the tiny flames out in one breath. Their cheers bounced off the old, bare walls of the abandoned house. Everyone was there, even Cheyenne.

“Finally!” Taehyung and Hoseok pounced on the cake and plucked off the “candles” before ash fell on the frosting. The cake was white with colorful piping on the edges and pink flowers dotting the sides. It was obviously for a kid, which was most likely the reason Y/N and Jiwoo chose it. The room quickly filled with wispy clouds of smoke courtesy of Tae, Hobi, Jimin, and Cheyenne.

“Holy shit!” Cheyenne’s hand flew to her mouth to cover her grin and pointed at Yoongi and Y/N.

“What?” She asked.

“Yoongi’s 18 now! You guys can’t fuck!” Y/N turned bright red and hid her face behind her hands.

“2 months, 17 days and...” Yoongi checked the time on his phone, “10 hours.” He sighed. The time until her 18th birthday. She got held back a year in kindergarten after a nasty case of pneumonia. So, technically, she should’ve been a senior by now. But then she never would’ve met Jimin. Or Cheyenne for that matter.

Y/N leaned her cheek on her fist and observed the spectacle. Her natural smile slowly faded, and corners of her lips grew heavier and heavier. She could feel the curtain of despair lowering over her, suffocating the enjoyment out of the otherwise jubilant moment. The all too familiar mentality settled in her mind that she’d never be happy again, or see life as anything more than some sick joke. Not now. Not now, not now please… She tried to keep it together for everyone’s sake, but the tears were coming any second now.

Under the cover of the noise, she slipped away and into the bathroom on the other side of the house. She eased the door shut with a tiny click. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. The harder she pressed her lips together, the wetter her eyes became. She leaned against the sink, staring into the abyss of the rusty drain. Five hours. Five hours of sobriety and she was already a sobbing mess. She tried. She really did. She wanted to be sober for Yoongi’s birthday so she’d have the memories and not need to rely on pictures and stories the next day. Her and what little self preservation she had left were fighting a war against her demons. And she was losing. Five hours would soon turn to four, then three, then... She stopped from scaring herself any further.

She hurriedly fished out two Zoloft tablets from her black skinny jeans pocket. The bulge of the baggie was covered by her oversized, snow white sweater. Using her phone case to crush them and credit card to scrape the dust into a neat line, she bent down and snorted the powder in one quick sniff. Her head jerked up and she stared at the person in the mirror. Slowly but surely, her face relaxed, her smile returned, and everything felt okay again. She wiped the runny mascara from under her eyes and stepped out to return to the joyful madness.

~~~

DECEMBER

The heated architect’s office provided a welcome contrast to the biting cold outside. Y/N sat behind the receptionist desk, filing the last of a client’s paperwork so she could finally leave. Everyone else had left for the day, leaving her the task of locking everything up. After her emancipation, Jimin’s mom couldn’t have offered her a job at her office fast enough. Hell, she even offered for her to live with them permanently. The work was boring, but it paid better than any other part-time job ever would.

“Y/N!” Jimin quacked from the employee lounge down the hall. He’d tagged along after school to study for midterms with her in the downtime.

“WHAT!”

“ARE YOU DONE YET?!”

“ALMOST!” Were they yelling louder than necessary? Probably, their dynamic accepted nothing less. He popped his head around the corner, his body following suit. There wasn’t anything good to raid from the fridge, so he had nothing else to do but watch her lock up.

The phone on her desk rang, breaking the silence. “Fuck a duck! Do people not pay attention to business hours?!” She huffed aggressively and ripped the receiver off the hook. “Mijeong Park’s office, this is Y/N, how can I help you?” Her voice took a hard right to a bright, singsongy tone, and he had to bite his lip to not laugh. Hearing her speak in such a way he knew she hated brought him pure joy. On busy days it was like watching two personalities fight over their host. “Oh, I’m sorry she just left. Would you like to leave a message?” She grabbed a pen and jotted something down on a sticky note. “Uh-huh. Mhm...Alright, thank you!” She hung up and her face immediately fell back to its usual resting bitch face. She slipped on her coat and threw her messenger bag on her shoulder. “Okay, let’s go.”

~~~

The euphoric ring of the bell signaling that school was over washed over Y/N’s senses. She did it. Midterms were over. Granted, she didn’t study that hard, so she wasn’t expecting the best results. Oh well. C’est la vie. Now all she had was another week before winter break and she was home free.

Yoongi had work, Jimin had dance, Namjoon had football, Jungkook was with his family, and pretty much everyone else seemed to be busy when she texted each one to hang out. Whatever. She’d treat herself to something special.

The clock on her nightstand read 8:50 by the time Y/N stepped out of the steamy bathroom. She did everything; shave, exfoliate, lotion, face mask, hair mask. She scrunched her hair with a t-shirt until the curls were almost dry, leaving the rest of the water to soak into her roots. Yoongi’s Kendrick Lamar hoodie with the word “DAMN.” across the chest in big red letters kept her warm in the chilly apartment. She never used the heat system. It was cheaper and more comfortable to just bundle up. Her black sweatpants had the RIPNDIP cat giving the one finger salute on the side of one of the legs. There was no contest. They were her favorite pair.

The only light that filled her room was from the moon that poured through her open blinds. Long black shadows were projected over the space, giving it a strange yet aesthetically pleasing contrast. She shimmied under her bed to grab the shoe box shoved to the very back against the wall and tossed it on the bed. She climbed onto the mattress and sat legs crossed. The box was full of various paraphernalia she’d collected over the years. Digging to the very bottom, she pulled out a tiny baggie with two white tablets. They were bought a few weeks ago, but had been saved for a special occasion such as this.

She’d always been interested in trying Fentanyl. Just once. To satiate her curiosity. The pills crushed into power nicely. She cut and scraped a small line -- much smaller than the usual line of coke -- on her makeup mirror. This stuff was fifty times stronger than heroin. She wasn’t a complete idiot. Come on.

The line stared back up at her with a silent urgency. Now or never. She put the straw to her nose and snorted up the dust.

She waited.

Nothing.

She waited some more.

Still nothing.

A frustrated huff left her and she reached for her phone to cuss out the plug who had the audacity to sell her fake shit.

She reached for the phone.

The phone.

Get the phone.

Get the fucking phone.

Her mind completed the action time and time again but her body moved at a snail's pace. The last of her strength gave out and she collapsed onto the bed, only to realize, she’d been laying down the whole time. Woah.

A sedated smile spread ear to ear and a string of lazy, incoherent giggles made her diaphragm flutter. At that moment, the entire world shut the fuck up, and she was alone. Truly alone. It was just her inside her head. No depression, no anxiety, no trauma, no mommy issues. Nothing. Just her. It was like walking around in an empty mall. She had the entire world to herself. You know what would be great right now? Music.

She inched for her headphones.

Didn’t move.

She tried to focus on that singular action as hard as she could.

Didn’t move.

Okay...this isn’t really funny anymore.

She tried again.

Her muscles didn’t even flinch.

Tears pricked her eyes and her back broke into a cold sweat. Panic began to make its entrance as her eyes darted around the room for something, anything, that could help her. Her lungs struggled to replenish her oxygen leaving her chest in agony. She regressed back to the terrified, helpless little girl that she ran so far to lose.

She almost didn’t hear the knock at her door over the internal cacophony. She tried to listen for it to happen again. Maybe she was just hearing things. Sure enough, another knock split through the roaring static in her ears. Help! Please Dear God! I'm here! I’M IN HERE!

“Y/N?”

Jungkook.

Oh shit. No. No, no, no, no! Anyone but him!

“Y/N?” Every emotion that she’d freed herself from was dumped over her head like a bucket of ice water when, out of the corner of her eye, the door eased open. Jungkook’s silky head of black hair reflected the moonlight streaming through her window. He almost didn’t spot her from the glare. “Y/N? Are you okay? I felt bad that you were alone today, so I thought I’d stop by and check on you...” She made a barely audible, unintelligible sound. Attempting to raise her voice above a teensy whisper was an exercise in futility. His heart sank at her response. “Oh, you’re in the middle of something. I-I’ll just come back tomorrow.” He turned back around. Wait! No! Please don’t go! Forget what I said earlier! Help me please!

“..d-n’t g-o…” She scraped all the energy left in her body — from the top of her head to the tips of her toes — to say those two words.

Jungkook turned and stared at her stagnant figure. Wow. She must be really high. “Alright, come here.” He sat on the bed next to her and helped her sit up. Her head rested on his shoulder. His arm was the sole thing keeping her upright. He took a deep breath and thought about what he planned on telling her when he got there. He might as well practice now since she wouldn’t remember anyway.

“So uh...about me being with my family… That was a lie.”

“Mmm..?”

“I went on a date. Well, not really, but I really like her and I think she might like me too..” His cheeks blushed a little at the thought. “She’s a great friend, so if it doesn’t work out I hope we still have that.” He grew more confident with his words the more he talked about her. “I think you’d like her. She smokes weed and stuff for pain, but she does it recreationally too.” Her silence finally caught his attention after the mention of weed. He giggled a little. “Did you fall asleep?” When he turned to look down at her, she slipped past his shoulder and slumped onto the bed. The impact of the mattress didn’t stir her in the slightest. “Y/N?”

He shook her shoulder.

Nothing.

He shook harder, the familiar fear germinating in the pit of his stomach.

“Y/N?”

Nothing.

Fear festered into horror as each attempt failed. Tears blinded him while he turned her on her back and roughly patted her cheeks. “Y/N?! Y/N, wake up!” His heart dropped past his stomach and onto the floor. Her lips and fingernails had turned an unhealthy shade of indigo and her breathing was dangerously shallow. No. This wasn’t real. It had to be a nightmare. It had to be. “Please wake up!!” He couldn’t stop saying her name in hopes that it would somehow magically awaken her. Her declining state said otherwise.

“Don’t leave me!” He pulled her onto the floor and straddled her hips, pulling his phone out to dial 911 in the process. His hands lined up with one another over her heart and jumped into action pumping her heart for her.

“Just stay with me! Please!”

“Blood oxygen at 60%!”

Jungkook had to be ripped from Y/N’s body as the team of EMTs swarmed around her. One of them lifted her lid with a gloved finger and flashed a penlight in her eye.

“Pupils are constricted! I need 2mg of Narcan!”

He was shoved out of her room and forced to watch from the doorway while the first responders stuck her with needle after needle. They slipped an oxygen mask over her lifeless face. The world seemed to slow with every jagged breath he took. His eyes unfocused and his hearing grew fuzzy except for the faint sound of his hammering heart. All was quiet in the eye of the storm. Then, the air left. Every atom of oxygen was sucked from the world with no regard for his existence. He fell to his knees gripping his throat and chest, his lungs screaming for air.

“..........d!……..id!……..Hey, kid!” He was snapped back to reality when large hands pressed into his shoulders. He darted his red, watery eyes to the paramedic restraining him to the floor. “You need to calm down!” His kicking, screaming and crying had been silenced by the ringing in his ears. A sharp pinch pricked his side and before long, he stilled as a wave of serenity washed over him. It was like someone flipped his off switch.

“What… what did you give me..?”

“Just some Valium to help you relax.” He felt his body sink into the floor, being pulled further into the abyss of slumber. He fought his lids open despite their growing weight, but it was no use. They drooped closed and all the chaos and fear gave way to darkness.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital pierced Jungkook’s lids pulling him back into consciousness. He was stretched out on a firm sofa with a simple heart monitor clipped to his fingertip in what looked like an ICU room. The soft beeping of an EKG drew his attention to the bed next to him. He got to his feet as fast as he could with the Valium still lingering in his system and raced to Y/N’s bedside. The bittersweet excitement of getting to see her went completely sour when he took in her state. She’d never looked so frail and delicate before. Dark circles sunk in her eyes with rings of yellow on their border giving the illusion of two black eyes. Her lips were chapped and bleeding. Countless tubes and IVs protruded from her body which only stressed the severity of her condition further. Yet, despite her broken appearance, she never looked so peaceful.

“Good. You’re up.” He spun around. The voice came from a doctor standing in the doorway clipboard in hand. “I’m Dr. Lobrano, I’m the one in charge of your friend’s case.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s stable, but the stress overload caused her to slip into a coma so her body can heal itself to its full extent.” Jungkook’s face paled. “Now, I’m not saying it’s 100%, but most opioid coma patients wake up and make a full recovery. Physically, that is.” “How long will that take?” He took in a calculating breath.

“It’s hard to say. It could take three days or three weeks. Every case is different” His heart sank for the nth time that night. He looked over his shoulder at her motionless figure under the sheets. The only thing that told she was even alive was the soft, steady beep of the EKG. He could hardly bear to look at her. It was like seeing Superman fall from the sky. She was his Superman. Whether she believed it or not didn’t matter because it was true. “I hate to bother you during such a stressful time,” he pulled a pen out of his pocket protector, “but I need you to answer a few questions about our friend over there.” He pointed the end of the pen at her.

“U-um, okay.” Dr. Lobrano took a seat in the chair facing the sofa which Jungkook had retaken his seat on. He clicked the pen against his knee and held it at the ready.

“Next of kin?”

“Her parents, but she’s emancipated.” He nodded and silently jotted something on his clipboard.

“Siblings?”

“No.” He looked up.

“Extended family?” Jungkook opened mouth to answer when he realized -- she didn’t. She had no one. From what he’d caught over the years he knew her mom was an only child and her dad’s only brother died when he was in college. No aunts, no uncles, no cousins. No one.

“Not that I can think of. No.”

“Okay...any other significant relationships? We need someone to sign off on her paperwork and consent forms in case anything happens.”

“But it won’t, right?” He clicked his pen.

“As a medical professional, I’m legally obligated to tell my patients and their loved ones the truth. And the truth is, your friend over there took an almost lethal dose of Fentanyl. And with her age and weight? I consider myself a man of science, but that’s a miracle if I ever saw one. However, just because she made it past those first critical hours doesn’t mean there’s zero risk of other complications that may arise later on.” Jungkook nodded, trying to take in the information as stoically as possible. He didn’t want the doctor to see how he really felt on the inside.

“How old are you?”

“I’m sixteen, sir.”

“Do you have anyone you can call who’s at least eighteen that can sign for her?”

“Yeah, her…boyfriend” The weight of his circumstances hit him like a bus. The thought of anyone else hadn’t even crossed his mind until now. How the hell was he supposed to tell Yoongi that the only person keeping his life together was in a coma from almost killing herself?

“Then I suggest you give him a call as soon as possible, and if you don’t have any other questions I should finish making my rounds.” He gave a distant nod and was left alone with Y/N once again. His eyes were drawn back to the subtle rise and fall of her chest. A long sigh of anguish left his lips and he buried his face in his hands.

“What am I gonna do?”

~~~

Jungkook stared at Yoongi’s contact in his phone. His thumb hovered over the call button. He knew he was about to hurt him worse than anyone ever has in his life. It was going to kill him. He forced his thumb down on the screen. The dial tone counted down the seconds before the heartbreak. It stopped after three rings.

“Hello?”

“....”

“Kook?”

“Yoongi…” His voice began to quiver, “Yoongi, something bad happened.”

~~~

Jiwoo laid in bed on her stomach with her feet swishing in the air. She held her phone to her ear with her shoulder while she painted her nails their usual black chrome. “You should listen to Never Know by Bad Omens. I bet you’d like it.”

“You think?” Taehyung’s voice came from the other end. Before she could answer, she heard Yoongi in the living room on the phone.

“Woah, woah, calm down. What happened?” Silence.

“Jiwo-?”

“Sh!” The silence stretched for a good four seconds. She jumped when Yoongi came barreling down the hall to his room like a bat out of Hell and came back out with his jacket slung over his arm. The front door opened and slammed shut. Within seconds, his car peeled out of the driveway. The roar of his engine quickly dissipated in the distance.

~~~

Jungkook bounced his knee in anticipation. It had been almost ten minutes since he called Yoongi and there was still no sign of him. He was beginning to worry something might’ve happened to him on the way when the door swung open sending the doorknob colliding into the wall. Jungkook shot up and immediately broke down in tears when he laid eyes on Yoongi’s familiar face. Yoongi rushed to catch his crumpling body and hugged his head to his chest. Jungkook sobbed like he never sobbed before. Every emotion he’d kept bottled up since the moment he found her in her room spilled out onto Yoongi’s grey hoodie.

His heart — along with every other function in his body — stopped when he saw Y/N. She’d never looked so broken and it tore at his insides to even look at her. It didn’t feel natural. It didn’t feel real. There was no way this was the girl he loved.

When Jungkook’s cries diminished to a sniffle, Yoongi gingerly took him off his chest and approached her bedside. He tentatively placed his hand over her cold one. IV needles were sunken into each of her wrists and one on the back of her hand. He drew a shuddery breath. “What-....what did she take?”

“Fentanyl.” Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut trying not to dwell on it.

“Is she gonna be okay?” He knew it was a stupid question. Of course Jungkook couldn’t answer that.

“I don’t know.” Jungkook muttered.

“Did they say when she’d wake up?” Jungkook winced at his question. He must’ve been in shock to assume she even would.

“Yoongi,” the older turned to face him, “Y/N’s in a coma.”

~~~

Yoongi and Jungkook stayed the night in the spacious ICU room with Jungkook passed out on his little couch and Yoongi pulled up a chair next to Y/N’s bedside. He stayed awake all night watching her. It wasn’t that he thought something would happen if he fell asleep, he just couldn’t bring himself to leave her. Even if he may have still physically been there.

Breaking the news to everyone the next day was hard. Hearing their reactions over the phone was harder. ICU patients were only allowed to have three visitors per day —excluding Yoongi—so he was forced to decide who would get to see her first. He decided to just go by age.

Jimin and Taehyung arrived within five minutes of getting the call. Yoongi was waiting outside her room when the two came flying down the hall. They skidded to a stop and Yoongi had to hold them back with his palms against their chests. “Hold on, hold on. You can’t see her just yet.”

“Fucking why not?!” Taehyung shouted.

“Yeah, what the hell?” Jimin added.

“The doctor said that it helps to talk to coma patients, so we’re taking turns visiting her alone. Jungkook’s in there right now.”

~~~

Jungkook sat in Yoongi’s chair beside the hospital bed. His fists balled against his knees trying to think of something to say.

“Y/N…..I’m…. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took your pills. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I watched this happen and didn’t get you help.” Tears pooled in his eyes. “I’m so sorry...You're my hero Y/N….You probably don’t think so, but if I never met you...” He choked, “I don’t-...I don’t think I’d be alive right now.” His lips quivered trying to form the words. He’d never said anything like that out loud before. “You’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m not alone. I’ve never felt more loved and wanted than when I’m with you. You’re the strongest person I know. You always make sure I get all of my work done and eat right even when you can barely take care of yourself. It sounds useless, but it’s those reminders that reassure me that someone actually cares. If you go I-...I don’t know what I’m gonna do. But it’s not gonna be anything good.” He put his head down on her thigh and cried. “I need you, Y/N. I need you so much it hurts.”

~~~

The three in the hall jumped to their feet when the door finally opened, and Jungkook stepped out. His eyes and nose were puffy and red from hours of stop and start tears. Jimin pulled him into a soft hug which he gratefully accepted. “Okay Tae, you’re next.” Yoongi said. Taehyung thought for a second.

“No. Jimin should go. He’s known her longer than I have.” Yoongi looked from Taehyung to Jimin who looked up in surprise.

“That’s fine.” He said. Jimin gave Taehyung a thankful look and entered the room.

He drew a hard breath when he saw her. Her hospital gown washed away the color of her cheeks that once gave her a youthful glow. “Oh, Y/N…” He put his hand to his heart and sat down. “What happened to you?” The dark circles under her eyes popped against the blank canvas of her face. He slipped his hand under hers and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “You can’t be doing this to yourself. You scared me. You scared us.”

He spent a long time just looking at her in silence. He couldn’t find a way to put his emotions into words. “God, you’re so gorgeous. Even when you're wearing a paper gown with bags that rival a panda’s.” He reached and twirled a piece of her hair in his fingers — something he did a lot when they relaxed together. Her usual bouncy coils laid in dull, limp waves against her shoulders. “You almost left me. You can’t do that, because you’re stuck with me. And there’s nothing you can do to change that. Wherever you go, I’ll follow, whatever you do, I’ll copy. We’re in this together, so your ass better wake up so we can fuck shit up until we’re old and grey, scaring kids on Halloween together.” He giggled, but it slowly turned to whimpers. He wiped tears from his cheeks with his sleeves. “You’re my best friend, N/N. I don’t know if I can handle it if you go.” He took a sniffly breath. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you. Even if it was in different ways, but I always have.” He sniffed and his voice cracked under the emotion. “You deserve the world, you deserve someone who loves you the way I know you should be loved. That’s why I was so happy when you met Yoongi, because I knew he was perfect for you. He worships you, Y/N, kisses the ground you walk on. And I can rest easy knowing you’re in the best possible hands. Don’t worry about me though, I’m happy loving you in any way I can.” Tears patted on the bed sheets when he leaned in to give her a lingering kiss on the cheek. “Please come back to us.”

~~~

An hour passed, and Jimin emerged from the room. “Finally! I was starting to regret giving up my turn.” Taehyung stood. Jimin and Jungkook held hands and Yoongi stripped his leather jacket off. The extra layers were starting to get to him. He looked up and saw Taehyung still standing there.

“What are you lookin’ at me for?”

“C-can I go now?” Yoongi chuckled a little.

“Of course you can.”

~~~

It took a while for Taehyung to eventually gravitate to the chair beside her. He mainly stood near the door and stared at her for the first five minutes. Another twenty went by of him just sitting in the chair with his hands clasped between his knees. “Listen uh...I’m not good at this whole sentimental thing, so if it’s true that coma patients remember what they hear, don’t judge. I know I get on your nerves a lot and tease you, but I do it ‘cus that’s just how I show love.” He looked down. “Truth is, you’re like a sister to me, Y/N. I always wanted an older sister to annoy, and when I met you it felt like I’d found my missing piece. Nobody in my life ever stays long, but you’re the one constant that I could hang on to. No matter which girl left me or friends I lost, I knew I could always count on you to be there, ready to go along with whatever I wanted.” He chuckled at the tears brimming in his eyes. “Look at this shit. You got me cryin’.” He roughly wiped his eyes with the collar of his hoodie. “Well, that’s my spiel. Wake up soon. I need somebody to roll their eyes at my jokes again.” He stood and wiped his palms on his sweats. His fingers twitched at his side as he peered down at her. Hesitantly, he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. “Get better, sis.”

~~~

The next day was Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin’s turn. Namjoon, unsurprisingly, got there at the exact time Yoongi texted him to. He came in carrying a to-go cup of coffee with the Starbucks logo on the sleeve. Immediately, he pulled Yoongi into a quick hug before he could protest. “Here, I know you’re not sleeping.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi took it with a small smile. Namjoon wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t slept a wink since he got there, and it was starting to show. His raven hair hung in glossy clumps and he was starting to develop his own set of dark circles. “You can go in whenever you’re ready.”

Namjoon stepped in and closed the door gently behind him. “Hey, N/N.” He sighed and took a seat in the chair that he dwarfed with his long legs. “I know you probably could care less, but I’m gonna take care of your homework for you until you get out of this. That is, if you don’t wake up by Monday. Anyway, uh, Cheyenne couldn’t make it. She’s at a tournament in Las Vegas, but she sends her love. Maybe when you wake up, you can FaceTime her. She’s really worried about you, y’know. Even if you guys haven’t seen each other for years.” He gazed at her almost as if he was waiting for her to respond. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Normally, I always know what to say, but….with you there’s just so much to be said I can’t think straight, so I thought,” he fished a small book out of his coat pocket, “I’d read you some poetry instead. I know the guys have probably talked your ear off, so it should be a nice break from it all.” He cracked open the book to one of the pages he’d marked with a sticky note. “I’ll start with this one, since I know it’s your favorite.”

Life is unpredictable,

It changes with the seasons,

Even your coldest winter,

Happens for the best of reasons,

And though it feels eternal,

Like all you’ll ever do is freeze,

I promise spring is coming,

And with it, brand new leaves.

- Erin Hanson

~~~

Hoseok was already in the hallway when Namjoon finished up. “How’d it go?” He showed him the book in his hand.

“Just some reading. She always likes that.” Hoseok gave him a nod and circled around him to take his place.

He took a seat and rested his elbows on the mattress. “Hey...God, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to do this. I’m not used to one sided conversations.” He gave a tiny chuckle. “I was a mess when I heard about your accident...I mean, Fentanyl, Y/N? Fentanyl?? I know how bad that shit’s reputation is and when I heard you ODed on it, I was certain you were dead. It took five minutes for Yoongi to calm me down and say you were alive.” He eyed all the tubes and machines she was hooked up to. “Although it doesn’t really look like it….Fuck you scared me, Y/N. Don’t you ever do that again.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You hear me? You’re the only one who knows how bad my coke problem really is. In fact, no one else even knows I’m bipolar. Only you. Because you’re the only person I feel comfortable talking about it with. So please, don’t scare me like that again. I don’t expect you to come out of this clean as a whistle. Hell, I don’t even expect you to stop snorting your prescriptions. That’s why we need each other. We can work on ourselves together. I know you’ll wake up. I just know it. And I’ll be waiting with a big ass bag of all your favorite candy and movies when you do. So, you just focus on healing that body of yours and get back to us as soon as you can.” He gave her a kiss on the hand and another on her forehead. “Love ‘ya.”

~~~

Yoongi eyed the book Namjoon had set on one of the chairs lining the hall. He picked it up and leafed through it. “Hey, Joon?”

“Yeah?”

“You think I can borrow this for a bit?” He looked over to see what he was talking about.

“Yeah, of course.” Yoongi continued to flip through the pages when Hoseok stepped out and shut the door behind him. His eyes were misty and his voice was a little nasally.

“That was a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be.” He scanned the hallway. “Is Jin coming?”

“He’s coming around six after he gets off work.” Yoongi said, not looking up from the poem he was in the middle of.

“Oh, okay. Well, I have practice later so I’ll try to come visit again as soon as I can.” Hoseok gave each of them a hug and took his leave.

“I can stick around if you want, Yoongi.” Namjoon offered.

“No, no. I’m okay. There’s really not much you can do here. I’ll call you if anything comes up.” He stood again and Namjoon gave him another parting hug. “Thanks for the book, by the way.”

“No problem. I’ll see you later.”

Yoongi took his spot in the chair by Y/N’s bed and delved back into his book. As he went along, he wrote poems that reminded him of her on the hospital stationary from the bedside table. He didn’t read them aloud. He found it hard to believe that talking would actually help. His life hadn’t been fortunate enough for him to believe in anything more than cold, hard facts. He wasn’t one for talking anyway, and he knew neither was she.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed until Jin came knocking with a duffel bag in his hand. “Who’s that for?” Yoongi asked.

“You.” Jin said as he tossed it at him. He dropped the book and caught it against his chest. “Now go shower while I talk to my baby because I know you haven’t. You don’t want Y/N to wake up and have you smelling like ass.” He had him there. He stood up with a sigh and took the duffel to the connecting bathroom.

Jin turned and felt his heart sink at the sight of her. It hurt to see her like this and not be able to do anything to help. “I hope you’re feeling okay in there.” He sat on the edge of the bed by her thigh. “I can’t stay as long as I’d hoped, so I’ll have to make this quick. I know you probably don’t want me boo-hooing over you, so I’ll try to keep the tears to a minimum.” He rubbed the smooth tape securing the IV in her hand. “I’ll never forget that time I found you curled up on the floor, in the middle of your living room, so depressed you couldn't walk. I had to bathe you and tuck you in bed. I even fed you soup even though you said you could do it yourself.” He smiled softly. “I know I have to take care of you sometimes when you can’t do it yourself. And that’s okay. It’s okay to ask for help every once in a while. That’s my job. We always joke about how I’m your guys’ momma, but it’s true. You’re the reason I realized how much I want to be a dad one day. Believe me, if I could take care of you for the rest of my life I would, but I don’t think you’d care for that too much.” A small tear slipped past his guard and dripped down his cheek. “Sorry,” he wiped it away, “but you can’t blame me. I’m worried about you, Y/N. I don’t know what drove you to do this, but I know you tried your hardest to fight it.” He squeezed her hand. “I want you to know that I’m not mad, I’m not disappointed. You were trying to take your pain away. I just wish you could’ve told me how much you were suffering. Even if you want to spare me the stress and heartbreak of it all, I’d rather know you're in pain so maybe I can help you. Please don’t hide like that again. I need my little gremlin around to give me grey hairs before I hit thirty.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the head. “And you’re worth every single one.”

The door to the bathroom opened and Yoongi stepped out rubbing a towel over his hair. “Sorry, I tried to take as long as possible.”

“It’s fine, I need to be going anyway.” Jin stood and gave Y/N one last glance. “I’ll be waiting for you, kiddo.” He turned to Yoongi. “You gonna be okay here by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Have you talked to her yet?” Yoongi paused. “You should. Even if you think it doesn’t do anything, you’d be surprised what comes out.” With that, he took his jacket off the chair and closed the door behind him.

~~~

The clock read 11:50 by the time Yoongi finished his book. He set it on the bedside table with a sigh. Over a dozen notes were taped to the railing in a long line of comforting messages. It was surprising how much it helped him take his mind off the worst. But now, he had nothing to do but wait. He let out another long sigh. “I’m sorry I haven’t talked much. It’s just hard not being able to hear your voice...I figured if I tried to say anything I’d fucking lose it, but it feels like I already am.” He rested his forehead in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus...what am I gonna do? If you go, I don’t know what I’m gonna do to myself. It scares me...One of the nurses told me you’d be going to a better place, but I don’t care if you’re going to a better place, I need you here.” He sniffed. “And I know that’s wrong, but I need you in this shitty ass world because I can’t survive without you.” He tried to blink the brimming tears out of his eyes, but it was no use. “There’s no one else in the world I’d rather be with than you. I don’t know how you made me like this, but I don’t ever want to change. I love you. I love you so fucking much I don’t know what to do with myself. I love the little things about you the most. I love that one curl that you hate because it goes the wrong way, how you’re not afraid to eat twice as much as me, how you grab my shirt in your sleep, how you walk in the grass with a flashlight during the summer so you don’t step on any frogs.”

The steady beep of the EKG was the only response he got. “Please don’t leave me. Please? No one’s ever made me feel this good before. And if you leave...if you-...” His head sank as he tried to hold back his tears. “It’s just- It’s easier to smile with you because when I look at you, I can feel it. And I-I look at you and I-....I’m home….Please, I don’t want that to go away.”

~~~

Yoongi didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up with his head resting against Y/N’s hip. He blinked away his sleepiness and tried to read the clock. 6:20. He groaned. Stayed awake two nights in a row and didn’t even get so much as six hours. Despite his suspicions, he did feel a lot better having talked to her. It seemed to bring her a little closer to him in these God awful times.

She was looking better. The dark circles were fading and the color was returning to her lips. It lifted his spirits to see she was visibly healing. He called Namjoon to bring him another poetry book. The stuff was really starting to grow on him. Of all people.

Other than a visit from Jungkook, Jiwoo, and Jimin, the day was pretty uneventful. A few nurses came in to take her vitals and stretch her joints, but he wouldn’t necessarily consider that an event.

“Here’s a good one.” Yoongi leaned forward in his chair for her to hear.

I don’t think you will

Ever fully understand

How you touched my life

And made me who I am.

You are the keeper of my dreams,

The man who holds my heart,

The one I want to spend my life with,

The one with whom I will always stand.

Stand beside through thick and thin

Through all that life throws our way

Knowing that this special love we share

Will guide us each and every day.

I don’t think you could ever feel

All the love I have to give,

And I’m sure you never realize

You’ve been my will to live.

- Stephanie Schiavone

~~~

The light of dawn shone through the thin curtains that billowed in the breeze coming from the open balcony door, casting the spacious bedroom in a golden glow. Yoongi shifted under the white, linen sheets and stretched out his spine like a cat. He cracked an eye open and took in the view of Y/N’s bare back on the other side of the bed. The fabric only came up to her hips and was pulled around to her chest with her sleeping hands. Her hair swept over the entire pillow scattering her curls every which way.

He ghosted his knuckle down her spine and back up again, repeating the action until her slender shoulders stirred. She let out a small, airy groan and dug herself further into the mattress. Birds chirped in the lush trees swaying outside with the coming morning. Yoongi scooted closer until her back was flush against his chest. The heat between their skin was a welcome sensation that seemed to fill his heart with even more love. If that was possible. He slipped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She wriggled again when he started peppering her with kisses up and down her neck and cheek. He finally brought his lips to her ear. “Wake up.”

~~~

Y/N’s eyes drifted open and fluttered against the cold lights of the ICU room. She looked down at her IVs and around the room groggily. Yoongi was asleep on the edge of the bed with his head resting on his folded arms. It broke her heart to see how tired he looked. Dark bags marked his red, puffy eyes from hours of vigil. Tears welled in her eyes and her lips drew into a pained frown as the memories of her night flashed in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to silence her hiccups. Her head sank back into the pillow and hoped it would just swallow her whole. There was no way she’d be able to face anyone after what she did. Oh God. Jungkook. Instant guilt and shame washed over her when she realized what she put that poor boy through.

When her eyes cleared enough to see, she noticed the dozens of messages littering her bed and side table. She took one off the railing with a shaky hand. It was in Yoongi’s handwriting.

When I first met you

I remembered you

From a hundred different dreams

And there you were

For me to love

All over again

For the very first time

- Atticus

A smile crept onto her lips as she read each one.

Your eyes.

Your eyes hold everything

My soul thirsts for.

- Paul Perry

She read another.

You gave light to my soul

You helped me to be whole

I have felt love for you before

And it will be more and more,

You are mine, my dear

You are the angel from above

Who taught me how to love.

Please, forever keep me near.

- Anonymous

~~~

The feeling of his hair being carded through slowly coaxed Yoongi out of his dream. He peeked an eye open. Y/N was mindlessly playing with his hair while she intently read one of his notes. “Oh my God!” He jumped onto the bed and cupped her head in his hands as he attacked her with kisses wherever he could land them. “You’re awake! Holy shit, you’re awake!” He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I thought I lost you.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Her hoarse voice was like music to his ears. He let himself laugh for the first time in the longest three days of his life. She looked up at him and he finally got to see those e/c eyes that he missed so much. Another wave of kisses washed over her that concluded with a final long, heated kiss on her lips.

“I’ve been waiting to be able to do that again.” She giggled and pushed against his chest.

“Get off, creepo. If the nurses saw you like this you’d get kicked out so fucking fast.”

“Oh shit,” he jumped off, “I need to tell them you’re up!” She watched in amusement as he ran out the door, then frantically popped back in.

“I’ll be right back!”

~~~

Everything that happened next flew by in a blur. She nearly suffocated under the hugs and kisses and gifts she was bombarded with. She was transferred to a standard room where she was allowed to have as many visitors as she wanted. Her entire day consisted of catching up with everyone, watching movies, and lots, and lots of Jello. Most of her IVs were removed which allowed Yoongi to curl up beside her that night.

The next evening, Jungkook was visiting her when Dr. Lobrano stepped in with his usual clipboard and pen. “Hey you two. If you don’t mind, I need to speak with Miss Y/N for a few minutes in private.”

“Oh..okay.” Jungkook reluctantly got up and left the room, stealing a glance on his way out.

“So?” She asked. The doctor folded his hands in front of him and looked down for a bit.

“I’m afraid there’s one thing about your condition that I’ve yet to mention.” She sat up straighter, her stomach churning.

“What is it?”

“When you first arrived at the ER you had major vaginal bleeding, so we did some tests...” Her heart stopped. “You were pregnant, but I’m afraid the shock of your overdose also caused you to miscarry.” It felt like she got punched in the stomach by Mike Tyson. All the air was sucked out of her lungs.

“P-pregnant..?”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to give you some time to catch up with loved ones before I informed you.” Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and her eyes darted back and forth trying to make sense of it all.

“H-how far along was I?”

“About three weeks.”

“Does...does Yoongi know?”

“I’m leaving you the choice to decide that. Once again, my deepest condolences.” He left her to process the news in privacy.

She collapsed onto the bed, her sobs coming out in hiccupy squeaks. Her hands gravitated to her stomach and tried to imagine the little being that used to be there. Three soft knocks sounded from the other side of the door. It slowly opened and Jungkook peaked his head in. “Y/N? Are you okay?” She only stared up at the ceiling. He approached her bedside. “....Y/N?” Her eyes eventually found him and filled with more tears.

“Can you hug me?” He immediately sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her up into a hug. Her shoulders quivered and she gripped desperately at his shirt.

“Hey, it's okay. It’s okay…” He stroked her hair and rested his chin on the top of her head. She cried, and cried, and cried until nothing else came out. Jungkook held her until her sobs faded, and her body leaned against his chest. He gently laid her down, taking care not to wake her up. Her peaceful face was a stark contrast to the tears that wet her cheeks and reddened her nose. Whatever the doctor told her must’ve been pretty damn bad to have her asking for a hug, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

Y/N was still asleep when Yoongi stepped out of the shower. Moonlight that came from a small window lit his path to her bed. She stirred when he climbed in. “It’s me. Go back to sleep.” He whispered. The sheets were pulled over their bodies and she rolled onto her side with her back to him. He took the opportunity to pull her closer. His face nestled on her shoulder and he let out a long sigh of contentment. She clenched her muscles to suppress her whimpers, but it was no use. He lifted his head to look down at her. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Her eyes clamped shut and a choked sob escaped her chest.

“I killed our baby.”

~~~

It took a long time for Yoongi to wrap his head around what she told him the night before. When he finally put two and two together, he immediately turned her around so she was facing his chest and pulled her in as close as he possibly could. He was absolutely distraught, but only a few silent tears of shock came out as she sobbed into his shoulder all over again.

They slept late into the afternoon until they were woken up by a beaming Jimin. “Wake up, sleepyheads! It’s your discharge day!” Yoongi scowled at the unwelcome noise and lazily swatted at him. Jimin grabbed his wrist and pulled him to sit up straight. “Come on! Don’t you wanna get out of here?”

“Gimme a minute before I punch you.” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. Jimin circled around to Y/N’s side and played with her hair.

“Y/Naaa, wake uuuup~” She cracked an eye and glared at him. “Oh, don’t give me that look too. It’s noon, and you’re supposed to check out at two. Let's get a move on.”

They spent the better half of an hour watching TV while Yoongi packed up the duffel Jin brought him. Y/N brushed her teeth in bed and spat the toothpaste in a cup when she was done. “Here.” She handed it to Jimin who took it and rinsed it out in the sink.

There was a knock at the door and Dr. Lobrano stepped inside. “How’re we feeling today?”

“Fine, I guess.” she shrugged. “I’m just ready to go home.”

“About that. It’s come to my attention that you have a history of suicidal behavior, and while it’s not my position to judge, I also can’t rule your overdose out as a suicide attempt.” “What?” She was dumbfounded. How could that be any of his business? “I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”

“But did you or did you not have any concern for your safety when you took that Fentanyl?” She pressed her lips into an angry thin line. She was angry because she knew he was right. She knew the risk and she did it anyway.

“What are you getting at?” Yoongi stepped in.

“According to California law, overdose victims are required to participate in a mandatory 28 days of rehabilitation. And since you’re also a danger to yourself, your treatment will have to be in a psychiatric facility.”

Y/N, Yoongi, and Jimin’s jaws dropped. There was no way he was serious. Right? Her heart beat faster, and faster, and faster with every memory of St. Joseph’s that flashed in her mind. “No….no, no, no!” She clawed at her IV and yanked it out of her hand. She threw the sheets up and made a mad dash for the door, but two male nurses stood ready to catch her. “NO! NO! NO! I’M NOT GOING BACK!” They hauled her back on the bed and tried to pin her kicking legs down. Her screams brought another team of nurses rushing in with a set of bed restraints.

“What the hell are you doing to her?!” Yoongi shouted. One of the nurses turned and put her hand to the boys’ chests.

“You two need to leave, right now.” They were shoved outside the room and forced to watch the crowd of people struggle to hold Y/N’s thrashing body to the mattress so the restraints could be slipped on. Jimin held his hands to his mouth and stared through wide, teary eyes.

“NO! NO! NO! NO! I CAN’T GO BACK! YOONGI!” It felt like someone stabbed him in the heart when she desperately called out to him. He could hear the terror in her voice.

“YOONGI!”

Pain filled his entire body and he bit the inside of his lip, visibly restraining himself from lunging forward and ripping her from the restraints that she jerked so furiously against. “YOONGI! PLEASE DON’T LET-'' A nurse sank a syringe into her hip and her legs quickly ceased their kicking. Y/N fell silent.

Yoongi stood like a statue and stared at the only half of her that he could see. “Yoongi, I-” he ripped his shoulder away when Jimin placed a hand on it and stormed away. He didn’t stop until he got all the way to his car in the parking lot. The door slammed shut behind him and he was left in silence. His forehead fell against the steering wheel and he let out a long breath.

A single whimper escaped his chest.

Then another.

And another.

Loud, hiccupy sobs wracked his whole body as he white-knuckled the leather wrapped wheel. One especially aggressive wave had him hugging himself in a bawling heap. He hadn’t cried like this since he was little, hiding in the closet from his dad’s drunken rage. It was scary how quickly he lost control, and he knew there was nothing he could do to get it back.

#bts x reader #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #namjoon #bts seokjin #yoongi #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts sad

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falcqns · 3 years

Text

Kiwi

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Direct sequel to Medicine, spread out over a few months.

Warnings: smut, angst, mentions of childbirth and pregnancy

A/N: Hope you enjoy!

Kiwi

She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect

You woke up the next morning to the feeling of Henry trailing kisses along your neck. You moaned slightly at the feeling before rolling over to face him.

“Good morning,” You whispered, and he smiled at your tiredness.

“Good morning, angel,”

You snuggled in to him closer, relishing in his warmth.

He smiled, and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “I’ve been wanting that for so long,” He said.

You giggled. “Me too. I just got tired of watching you be flirted with, and you unconsciously flirting back.”

Henry chuckled once more before pulling the blanket off of your body, and climbing on top of you once more.

“Mmm, well,” He started. “I thought that you didn't like me like that so I had direct my feelings somewhere,”

You giggled, and kissed him. “I’m glad I made a move, then,”

Henry broke out into a smile.

“Me too, my love. Now, I am starving, as I am sure you are, so let’s go get food.”

And all the boys, they were saying they were into it Such a pretty face, on a pretty neck

“Kal, you gotta stop bugging me buddy, I’m trying to make dinner for your daddy, who should be home any minute,” You said, glancing between the very excited Akita and the clock.

Henry had been on set all day filming, and since your next film hadn’t started pre production yet, you didn’t have anything to do.

Instead, you had taken up babysitting Kal whenever Henry couldn't bring him to set.

It was a Friday, and wanted to cook Henry a nice meal, but was having trouble due to Kal wanting to be involved in everything you were doing, even if it meant following you to the bathroom.

You managed to plate the chicken parm and veggies just when Henry entered the kitchen.

“Hey baby,” He said, before pulling you into his arms. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, and embraced him tightly.

“Hey, how was filming?” You asked, handing him his plate before walking into the dining room with yours in hand.

The two of you sat at the table, and Henry told you about his day.

As soon as the dinner dishes were cleared away, you were hauled up and over Henrys shoulder.

“Henry, what are you doing?” You asked, while trying to free yourself from his grasp.

“What? It’s dessert time!”

She's driving me crazy, but I'm into it, but I'm into it I'm kind of into it

“You should just ask him already!” Freya said. You were on FaceTime, during Christmas, and your conversation had quickly turned to talking about Henry.

“I don't think he’s even looking for anything serious, so why should he care if I go out with another guy?” You said, while opening a fruit snack for your little brother.

“Well, he shouldn't, but he’s pretty serious about you, Y/N,” She answered.

You watched as your brother walked away from you, back to his tablet to play Roblox while you thought of what to say.

“I’m serious about him too, we’ve just never actually had the talk about what we are, and I don't know how to approach something like that with him,” You reasoned.

“Well, I would do it soon, because Lucy is starting on set next week, so I’d bag that man while you still have the chance,”

“Yeah, you're right. I’ll talk to him.” You resolved, and Freya cheered.

“Thank god because if I had to deal with Lucy fawning over him again for a whole year I’d pull a Calanthe,”

it's getting crazy, I think I'm losing it, I think I'm losing it Oh, I think she said "I'm having your baby, it's none of your business"

You were fucked. Royally fucked.

You were pregnant. Specifically, with Henry’s baby.

You two weren't even dating, and you were going to have his child. You understood now why Kal was being so stubborn, and wanting to be with you 24/7. He knew you were pregnant, and was trying to protect you.

You were going to set today, to surprise him, so you decided to tell him.

You didn't know how he would react, but you were hoping it would be good, so you went out and bought a Superman onesie, and put it in a gift bag with the sonogram and one of the many pregnancy tests you had taken.

You were excited to tell him, but that excitement died down when you had gotten to set, and entered Henry’s trailer. He was sat on the couch, with Lucy beside him.

The two of them were sitting very close, and was laughing about something.

Henry’s eyes widened immediately when he saw you enter his trailer.

“B-baby, what are you doing here?” He stuttered.

“Well,” You said, anger bubbling up inside you. “I was coming to surprise you, but obviously you're busy, so I’ll just leave,” You said. You placed the gift bag on the table next to you and stormed out.

“Fuck,” He said, when you slammed his trailer door shut.

Lucy cleared her throat. “Well, I’m just gonna go,” She said.

“I didn't realize you had a girlfriend, I’m so sorry,”

Henry shook his head. “She’s not my girlfriend, yet anyways, but it’s okay. You didn't know.”

They two of them said goodbye, and Lucy headed out. His eyes drifted over to the gift you had brought him.

He grabbed the small bag, and opened it. He pulled out the onesie and his heart dropped.

You were coming to tell him he was going to be a father, and he broke your heart.

He pulled the sonogram out of the bag, and sat back down on the couch, tears escaping his blue eyes as he stared down at the pictures of his baby.

It's New York, baby, always jacked up Holland Tunnel for a nose, it's always backed up

He put the sonogram and the onesie back in the bag, and grabbed his car keys.

He needed to see you, and make sure you were okay.

He ran out of his trailer, and off set, only stopping to let Lauren know what happened and where he was going.

He sped to your apartment, where he knew you'd gone.

He hopped out of the car, and raced to your apartment door, the bag still in tow.

A loud pounding came on the door, and you managed to muster enough strength to get out of bed and pull yourself to the door.

The second you opened the door, you saw a large black wall come right at your face, and before you knew it, you were wrapped up in the warmth and scent of Henry.

“I am so, so sorry,” He sobbed out into your shoulder. “Please, baby. Please believe me,”

Your hands came around his waist, and you began to cry again.

“I’m sorry too.”

He immediately pulled back and looked you in the eyes. “Don't. Don’t apologize. I should have asked you that morning to be my girlfriend and I didn't. Now you're pregnant, with my baby, and I just broke your heart.”

You looked up at him once more. “I just want you to be happy. If you're happier with her, I understand. I don't expect you to be involved if you don't want to.”

He didn't say anything, but shut the door, scooped you up, and carried you over to the couch.

He sat down with you on his lap. He hiked your shirt up, and laid his hand on your slightly bloated stomach.

“I only have eyes for you, and I want to be involved. I mean, you know how much I want kids.” He said, his eyes not leaving your stomach. “Please, be mine,” He begged, finally meeting your eyes.

You smiled. “Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend,” You whispered, before pressing a kiss to his lips.

He shook his head when you pulled back. “N-no. I want you to be my wife.”

Your eyes widened, but a smile spread across your face.

“Yes, of course.”

When she's alone, she goes home to a cactus In a black dress, she's such an actress

Your hands were played on Henry’s chest for support, your diamond wedding ring sparkling in the daylight. He had one hand on your hip, and the other over the small bump that had begun to show while you rocked yourself over his hard cock.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” Henry groaned. He was absolutely loving your changing hormones, especially right now, as it meant you were alway horny for him.

“Mmm,” You whimpered out, your hips moving even faster above him as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“Such a pretty baby,” Henry cooed at you, spurring you on. “Making me feel so so good,”

You cried out as your orgasm surged through you. Your back arched, legs trembled, and your walls squeezed Henry.

You felt Henry grip your hips even harder, and flipped you onto your back. He braced his arms on either side on either side of your head, before drilling his cock into you intently.

“Fuck, baby,” He murmured as he dropped his head to your neck, and trailing kisses down your neck. “Wanna keep you like this all the time baby, so full of my baby,”

You groaned out, and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down for kisses.

“C’mon, baby, I know you're close,” You breathed in his ear, and he was sent over the edge. He pushed all the way in, and shuddered as the waves of pleasure washed over him.

He pulled out of you, and rolled onto his side.

He pulled you close to him, and placed his hand on your belly.

“5 more months,” You whispered in your ear, and he smiled.

She sits beside me like a silhouette Hard candy dripping on me 'til my feet are wet And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it (cha-ching) It's like I paid for it, I'm gonna pay for this

Henry knew from the moment that your daughter entered the world, that he had, 100%, made the right decision by taking you home a year ago.

It had been a long journey to get here, but he had a wonderful wife, and a beautiful little girl named Cirilla, and that’s all he could ever have asked for.

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry!holmes #thewitcher #geralt of rivia

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rebellconquerer · 3 years

Text

My insomnia is paying off, though it really could focus on any of the 4 WIP I have instead of writing random one shots. In any case, a little ficlet of Bucky and his haircut.

He’s not sure when he makes the decision, really.

Sometime after he realizes that he lost another 5 years of his life to not living, sometime after Steve comes back looking his age for once, sometime after the US government makes it clear that while he may be about to be pardoned, his life will not be his to live.

He’s been in Wakanda more than in the United States because he’s safe there and he’s familiar with life there, and because it’s the last place outside of Steve’s company that he knows he’s wanted. But his days are numbered, he knows that. T’Challa can only keep the government at bay so long, and so he knows with a certainty that aches in his bones that he will be leaving soon.

He could wait to go back.

Once the decision is made, the when and where and how don’t really matter all that much. Hell, he’d probably have more luck in the States (very few people look like him here), but he doesn’t know when he’ll feel comfortable having someone have a sharp object behind his back and the longer the hair stays with him the more he feels like he’s dragging around the corpse of the Winter Soldier.

So he goes to Ramonda out of some innate instinct in him that shouts that she is a mother and capable and will not turn him away. His own mother cut his hair until he was almost 22, and yes, Ramonda is royalty and probably has no experience with any hair like his, but it’s the trust that matters.

She smiles at him when he shows up at her official office, still cobwebbed and dusty from the time away, but her immediate expression of pleasure at seeing him helps soothe his jittery thoughts.

“Mahlubandile, it is good to see you, come in, come in,” she says lightly, stepping away from her door.

He hovers in the doorway only momentarily before he shuffles inside.

“I know you are probably busy, I don’t want to take too much of your time, but I-” suddenly the words get stuck in his throat. He doesn’t know how to ask for things anymore, much less things for himself (much less ridiculous things that the Queen of a country wouldn’t want to, or care to, do a vicious voice spits at him from the back of his head.) He finds himself frozen, mouth open and eyes wide, unable to go on but unsure how to go back.

“Yes?” Ramonda asks, face clouding with concern. When he still says nothing, she frowns at him. “You look just like him when he wants something, so go ahead and ask,” she says kindly.

He grimaces uncomfortably at being read so easily, but if there is one thing he is good at, it is following instructions.

“I want to cut my hair.” he manages to get out all in one breath.

Ramonda frowns at him, dark eyes clouded with confusion.

“Ok. You do not require permission to do so, Mahlubandile. We can try and find someone here who would be able to-”

“No, I… I would like you to cut my hair,” he says softly. Her mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ of surprise as her eyes widen minutely. He watches carefully for any signs that she is uncomfortable with his request, but he sees only concern and kindness.

“I do not know if I would be the best person for this, I have never done it before,” she says gently. It’s not a no.

“It doesn’t matter what it looks like when it’s done, just that it’s gone. Please, Ramonda,” he says clearly, trying to convey with his expression, the words he cannot bring himself to say. She seems to understand, brow furrowing for a moment before she purses her lips.

“See, you say that, but Shuri will have lots of thoughts and opinions on what it looks like after,” she mutters and Bucky can’t help the small smile that curves his lips even though that thought hurts. He’s going to miss them after he leaves.

“Come to the palace this evening. We will get it done, though I cannot promise you will not have an audience.” she proclaims, with an air of finality. Bucky huffs out a breath of laughter, knowing she means Shuri, and nods. She’ll be a good distraction anyway.

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

“This is going to be amazing, seriously, I have so many style options.” Shuri greets him as he walks towards one of the guest bathrooms.

“No style options. I have watched a few videos and I think I can make do with scissors and clippers. Styling will be out of my repertoire,” Ramonda says honestly, her eyes solemn and on him. He nods, as he said before, he doesn’t particularly care what it looks like, just wants it gone.

“The only style thought I have right now is - short,” he reassures. Shuri groans with all the drama of a 19-year-old.

They have a little area set up for him. A stool over some sort of colourful sheet, a full layout of scissors of different types and multiple clippers. He barely speaks, focused mostly on breathing through the bubbling panic rolling his stomach and an uneasy sense of fear, though he doesn’t know of what.

Ramonda says nothing, for which he is grateful, and Shuri perches herself in the corner of the room, talking mostly to herself about some projects she is planning to start working on. He doesn’t think she realises yet that he will likely be forced to leave, but Ramonda knows. He can see it in her eyes.

He settles easily on the seat, closing his eyes and thinking of anything else but what is about to happen. He focuses on the sound of Shuri’s voice, the tired but easy cadence of it that had become so familiar throughout the process of his deprogramming.

Ramonda sprays his hair with water, dampening the strands, then he feels her hand rest on his shoulder for a moment. She doesn’t ask if he’s sure, for which he is thankful because he doesn’t know what his answer would have been beneath the hummingbird beat of his heart, but he needs this done. Needs it gone.

He doesn’t flinch at the first cut but it’s a near thing. And it gets easier and easier with each successive snip until his muscles aren't tensing at Ramonda's every move.

It takes her almost an hour, between her getting rid of most of the length and then her and Shuri bickering goodnaturedly over which clipper to use at which length with some additional time to stop and consult YouTube, but eventually she taps him in the shoulder and whispers 'all done' in a voice that's almost choked with emotion.

He brushes the strands of his hair that are caught on his shirt slowly, delaying the inevitable of looking at himself in the mirror as long as he can in case it's not enough, in case no matter the change this has made, he'll still see the Winter Soldier staring back at him in his reflection.

But he can't delay forever, especially with Shuri and Ramonda hovering, clearly waiting for a reaction. So he takes a steadying breath, walks over the mirror and counts himself down from 3 before he looks up and meets his own eyes.

It makes him look younger somehow. The short hair provides no distractions from the blue of his eyes and the sharp contour of his cheekbones. He reaches up and rubs his hand through the soft bristles at the back of his head, taking in the difference.

He doesn't look like the Soldier, that's for sure, but he also doesn't look like Bucky Barnes. It's not even something he realised he was dreading until he feels the relief in his chest.

Bucky Barnes was a good looking boy who prided himself on having a swell haircut with just the right amount of brylcream shine. He'd have never been caught dead with hair this short. Bucky isn't that boy anymore, and looking like him would just give him another ghost to outrun.

"Well? The United Nation deliberates for less time." Shuri grumbles and receives a short, sharp word in Xhosa from her mother.

Bucky actually laughs, the sound feeling more at home in his mouth than at any time in the last 70 years.

"It's very good." He pronounces and turns to face Ramonda who's hovering behind him.

He gives her the most honest, warm look he can muster.

"Thank you" he says, feeling the strength of that statement tug at whatever is left of his heart.

She smiles.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky in wakanda #bucky barnes fanfic #rebellwrites #The winter soldier #black panther #ficlet

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iwantitiwriteit · 4 years

Text

Love Lockdown - Part 5

Back to December - Part 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: In the December prior to the pandemic, you spend Christmas with Chris in Boston, a first time meeting between you and his extended family. You struggle with implications of seriousness this milestone has on your relationship with Chris.

Warnings: Angst, Pandemic backdrop, Profanity, healthy dose of Fluff, sprinkle of Sexual suggestiveness

Notes: So much was really working against me getting this up for y’all lol, but nothing worth having comes easy, right? Anyways, tried some new stuff I learned in some articles I read, more showing, less telling. Allusions and metaphors. We’ll see how it comes across. Christmas in October anyone? Read the previous part here!

The ding DONG of the doorbell echoes so exaggeratedly, it had to have been your imagination. No, I’m really here now. With your blood pumping loudly in your ears, you stare straight ahead at the barrier to entry, and seemingly to your happy future.

A Christmas-covered front door shouldn’t cause you this much stress, but here you were, feeling mocked by smiling snowmen and delicate, origami snowflakes.

You try to focus instead on one of the many thoughts flurrying your mind.

What if they hate me? Valid question, but sooo not the vibe right now. You go for another.

What if I hate THEM? Nice. None of these thoughts are stilling your rapidly beating heart.

“Ow! Loosen up the vice grip, will ya?”

“Oh,” you look down at where yours and Chris’ glove-clad hands are joined, releasing them almost instantly. “I’m sor—“

“It’s alright, babe,” Chris chuckles. As if you could muster a strength close enough to hurt this man. He’s sure not to let your hand get too far, taking it back into his and bringing it up to his rosy lips for a chaste kiss.

You wish you could feel it, the warmth of his lips on your knuckles, but that would mean braving the Boston blitz without a piece of your knit armour. You’re not sure you’re ready for that. You’re also not sure how he does it. He’s wearing significantly less layers than you, yet he’s perfectly content as if it’s a Summer’s day, while you are, quite literally, quaking in your boots.

He notices your shivering shoulders, knows it’s not just the cold getting to you. With his right hand in your left, and his left hand wrapped around a gift, he nudges you with his words.

“Hey,” he starts, but sees the opulent wreath on the door still has your attention. “Hey you,” he tries again. You finally look up at him. You lock your widened eyes with his ocean calm ones as he scans your face. Your brows could almost touch with how deeply furrowed you have them and your lips are fixed in a tight line.

“Typically it takes a lot to get my girl all nervous and whatnot,” he states, but you knew it was more of a question of what's up with you.

“Yeah, well… I’m not nervous, Chris.”

“Really? Cos the bruise on my hand would say otherwise,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes at him trying not to laugh. “Even if I was nervous, which I’m not, could you blame me? This is a lot. This is big. This... This is your family.” Your features soften and voice drops in volume. “I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“Impossible.”

“You sure? Think I already did by taking this long,” you mumbled. You look away, unable to hold Chris' intense gaze anymore. Being in front of his childhood home, for the first time since you’ve started dating over 2 years ago, you can’t help but feel… guilty.

No use in taking the conversation there at this moment. Especially knowing that lately it led to some sort of shouting match. The ‘I can’t’s’ and ‘next time’s’ didn’t suffice anymore.

Chris only responds with a sigh as he rings the doorbell for the second time. He looks back over to you, a snowflake floating then landing on your lash. You’re unaware of how whimsical you look to him. How well you’re going to fit in with his family and friends.

He takes his thumb to brush the snowflake off and cup your cheek. Watching as you swallow thickly, Chris moves his thumb to your throat to massage away the lump you try to move on your own. You relax into his touch, and he flicks his eyes down to your gently smiling lips then back up to your eyes. You know what he’s silently asking. Placing your hand on his wrist was your silent answer. He leans in slowly, and you wish you could stay like this, just for a little while longer. But all good things...

“Uncle Chris!” a youthful voice exclaims as the door swings open. Chris swiftly removes his suggestive hand from your neck and himself from your personal space. He prays there’s some mistletoe hanging inside.

“Hey Kiddo!” Chris huffs out as he picks the child up, replacing her spot on the floor with the present in his hand. She goes to wrap her small arms around his neck as he asks her, “Did you grow since just last night?”

“No!” She giggles as he pinches her cheeks. “I missed you Uncle Chris! You weren’t here when we woke up,” his niece pouts. You look at Chris to see him with matching puppy dog eyes and poked out lip.

“Oh, Kiddo, I’m sorry. I--”

“It’s ok,” she cut him off, causing you to chuckle at her brashness, “I saved the gift from you and your special friend to open last!”

“Well, speaking of...” Chris pulls you in closer to him by your hand, “This is her! I went to get her from the airport,” he beams down at you. The little cutie in Chris’ arm has turned more shy when speaking to you as you exchange names and a quaint handshake.

In a not-so-quiet whisper, she tells Chris, “She’s really pretty. Good job,” with an added thumbs-up and shoulder pat. You can’t fight your giggle and the heat that rises to your face, and Chris can’t fight the laughter that erupts from himself.

Chris is joined in a chorus of laughter, the foyer now filled with Evans’ of all ages, tickled by one of their youngest and no doubt happy that Chris is home… and brought company. This is it… you think.

It’d been a long while since you’d ‘met the family’, having not made it that far with the relationships leading up to this one with Chris. You wonder if it’s like riding a bike, or if you should’ve read an article on how to during your last minute flight.

In the crowd of smiling Evans’, you spot Chris’ mom and brother. You’ve met them on numerous occasions, all in L.A., and know them pretty well. However, everyone else you knew from a picture, a story or would be meeting for the first time this afternoon. There was going to be a lot of meeting, greeting, questioning, explaining…

You steel yourself for the day ahead. Chris looks at you and gives you a reassuring smile and squeeze on your hand. You reciprocate, tension releasing only the slightest as you look at his sunny face, your reminder of why this must go well.

——————————————————————————

The first couple hours you were sure would be the hardest. It was a time of first impressions, and you only get one of those. Tasked with making the rounds to about 30 or so aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, in-laws, childhood this and that, Chris wanted to make sure you met every. Single. Body. And as soon possible.

“That way, we get you comfortable faster!” He rejoiced. Chris’ excitement was always infectious so you try to let wash over and enthuse you.

You lost count of how many times you fake laughed at ‘Chris has finally brought you home! We were starting to think you weren’t real!’. But with Chris by your side, the worn out joke was just bearable. He found new ways to respond each time, no doubt to at least keep you entertained. ‘Who do you owe money, then?’ or ‘When you find a treasure, you try to keep it to yourself as long as possible *wink*’ or ‘She’s not even here… she’s a hallucination’ never failed to make you laugh or make your cheeks burn.

It’s actually really endearing to know that there was some anticipation for your arrival. Unbeknownst to you, Chris had been hyping you up to his family. Telling them your accomplishments and aspirations in your writing career, which apparently impressed them. He told them your hobbies and other passions that sparked conversations about their own, and prompted advice on your life trajectory.

All in all, breaking the ice was more delightful than you thought it would be, and hoped that by sticking by Chris’ side the rest of the day would go in that way. But the universe had other plans.

At one point, you get whisked away to the kitchen by Chris’ mom, Lisa, under the guise of needing help with some dishes for dinner. You quickly realize that it's a set-up of sorts, with most of the women of the Evans family gathered around the island putting finishing touches on their dishes and slyly sipping spiked eggnog. These are the people who you feel you have to impress.

Their chatter and laughter came to a halt as they eyed you cautiously crossing the kitchen to the spot Lisa designated you. It was only a matter of time before the interrogation began.

“So… we’ll cut straight to the chase: why is it we’re just now meeting you? You’ve been with our Chris how long now?”

“Vicky!” Lisa smacks her arm warningly. “Have you no filter? You’ll scare the poor girl off before dinner!”

Chris has told you about his infamous Aunt Vicky. “A true cream puff; soft and sweet… once you get past the tough outside,” you remember him telling you.

“It’s fine,” you start, not willing to cower from the inquiry, “Chris and I have been together 2-½ years— 3 in June. And we’ve been happily taking things slow.”

“Good on you for taking things slow. Most women would— and do— jump at the chance to lock down our Chris. But not you, you’re a woman with her own sense of self. We like that,” you’re affirmed with a wink.

Whew.

“You are as pretty as our kid spy said; thought she was exaggerating.”

“Um thank you…?”

“She’s pretty, but can she cook?”

“Carole!” Lisa warns another woman and apologizes to you with her eyes. Chris also told you about his aunt Carole, Vicky’s ‘side kick’. The two of them made for a dubious duo.

“Yeah, what’s Chris’ favorite dish of yours?” Aunt Vicky prodded.

“I can cook, but not that often for Chris,” you respond, to which you’re met with crickets and cock-headed looks. You add, “He’s out of town a lot, and when he is in town, he’s the one doing the showing and proving of why I should stay with him,” you joke (kind of), and to your relief, they find it funny.

“Oooo I like her!” Vicky and Carole say in unison, causing the kitchen of women to laugh. You really did try to keep your expectations low for this visit, not necessarily wanting to seek Chris’ extended family’s acceptance, but you can’t help the relief you feel in this moment.

The next couple hours pass of helping out with dinner dishes and dessert, giggling over glasses of cocktails and family stories. You’d narrowly avoided questions about marriage and babies, but that’s to be expected. For the first time today, you’re able to forget your worries and your boyfriend and actually enjoy yourself. Speaking of...

“Hey you,” Chris is waiting by your seat that’s next to his which he pulls out for you when you arrive at it. An early Christmas dinner is about to be served, and you and Chris are reunited at the table for the first time in hours. “Missed you,” he says with a kiss on your temple. “Can’t wait to hear about your day,” he adds. But there wasn’t much talking between you two throughout the meal, though.

No, the Evans’ family theatrics don’t allow for it. All of them talk with complete genuineness, laugh with their entire beings, opine with their whole chests, and you see where Chris gets it from. Turning to your boyfriend, you find him smiling and laughing along with the rest of the table, looking full of warmth and love. Completed by his family. Your heart gets a little heavier thinking about how he doesn’t have these moments as often as he’d like. In part by his job, yes, but a small part of you feels like you may also have something to do with that. A thought that pains you to wade in too long.

After dinner you try to help with the dishes, packing away leftovers and to-go plates. You don’t get too far, instead get shooed out of the kitchen by the elders, being told to ‘spend the rest of the evening with your man’. You oblige, realizing you barely talked to each other since earlier in the day. In your quick scan of the house, you couldn’t find him, so you shoot him a text.

Some of the kids and teenagers were gathered around some games in the den. Their antics and wittiness remind you of your nieces. They happily let you join in, and at one point, you acquired a little one on your lap as your game partner. The two of you bond over beating her cousins in these games as you school them in a few rounds of Uno, Connect Four, and Jenga.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you smile as you check it.

“Oooooo is it from Uncle Chris?” she cheekily asks as you get up, setting her on your spot on the floor.

“They’re probably gonna go make out under the mistletoe,” one of the older kids teased. The room of adolescents erupt into a fit of giggles and chorus of ‘ews’

“Are you two gonna get married?” the little cutie randomly asks you. “I heard my Grandma and Aunts talking about it!”

“Oh, wow, um… I gotta, I’ll see you all later.” With that you dash out of the room, as symphony ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G…’ fading behind you.

——————————————————————————

The sky was shades of baby blues, pinks, purples and oranges. It’s a beautiful backdrop to the snow and ice kissed tree branches and lawns. The road had been freshly salted and freed of winter obstacles making it easier to stroll along as you and Chris often did after a meal.

It’s even more beautiful than he said, you think to yourself. For a second you wonder why you were ever hesitant to come here. There was no real reason, yet you used a million excuses. But this time around, you finally ran out.

Not that you weren’t tired of your fear. That was it. The real reason… was fear.

You look down at your boots, the ones you dust off just one week a year now. Striding beside them are a larger, more expensive pair; they too only see the snow on rare occasions. Your eyes follow up the long legs they belong to, taking in the nice slacks and chunky cable knit sweater under a heavy, well-made piece of outerwear. Your eyes finally land on the face of the man in the fine threads.

Looking at Chris right now, you’ve never seen him fit in so perfectly somewhere. But why wouldn’t he on the roads he cut his teeth on. He could make you forget every fear and every doubt you’ve ever had. Hell, he could make you forget your name on a good day. And on those days, you didn’t know what to do with all of that, what to make of it. But it’s the most wonderful time of the year, so

“Come here,” you say just above a whisper, tugging on Chris’ hand causing him to turn to you. You bring your hands to his broad shoulders, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles there. You languidly drag your right hand over to his chest as you notice a red stain on the light colored knit. “My love…” you humoredly drag out as you tap on the food stain.

“I know, I know. My mother already beat you to the scolding,” he chuckles.

“You’d think by this age you’d have learned to be more careful.”

“Hmm, now what fun would that be…” his sultry tone didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your eyes on his tailored, dinner party clothes, hoping to find a relief for your emotions somewhere between the stitches. You never know where to begin with your feelings. Surely it would be to start with the easy stuff, but it all seems hard.

You rub your hands on his chest, not quite meeting his eyes. “What’s up? Whatcha thinking about?” Chris asks with a lopsided grin, resting his hands on either side of your waist. You smile at him nervously. Before you could say anything, there’s a gust of sharp, cold wind. You clutch on to Chris’ sweater, burying your face in his chest seeking refuge and warmth.

“M’thinking about how you got me out in this damn cold! You know my southern bones can’t take it,” your whines muffled by his sweater. He chuckles at your antics.

Chris slowly drags his large palms up from your waist, and this just ensures that there are goosebumps on your skin under your layers if the wind hasn't done so already. He rests one hand on your shoulder pulling you apart just enough for you to look into his hazy blue eyes. His other hand continues it’s trek until it’s rested on the side of your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw. “I know of a way to get you warm…”

“Was this part of your plan?”

“Mmmm… maybe…” Chris leans in close, surely to kiss you, but you have other plans.

“How’s it feel to be back home?” you inquired with faux aloofness, slipping out of his hold and continuing your walk towards his mother’s home.

Chris hesitates for a second, wondering if you really just swerved a kiss from him. He clears his throat, “Uh… yeah it’s great! There’s nothing like family, I know you can agree to that. Even if they are loud… and crazy,” to which you both chuckle. “So…” he starts as he wraps his arms around your middle causing you both to waddle up the front lawn. “How do you feel? Not so bad, was it?”

“No! Far from it! I really, really love your family Chris,” you say as you crane your neck to look at him briefly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Although, I strongly disagree with some of their choices in best music of all time, but I’ll learn to get over that. I got over it with you,”

Chris spins you around in his arms, hands firmly on your waist. “I don’t care what you say; Joel is the best music Billy of ALL TIME!”

“Yeah, ok.” you retort with an eye roll to his amusement.

“I’m glad you had a good time babe. They’ve been hounding me to meet you for a while now. I’m happy we made it happen.”

The words are right there on your lips. I’m sorry it took so long. I’m sorry I acted silly. I’m sorry I was scared to take the next step. But what if I’m not ready? What if we get it wrong? Your throat is dry, as it often is when it’s time to bare a little of your soul. At least Chris always has something to say.

“I can’t wait for you to see me this nervous when I meet your family…” You don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse. Chris looks into your eyes expectantly, lovingly. His features are soft and tender, and you think it’s the most beautiful sight on a man, on this man. Your man.

Chris looks at your lips then at your eyes. There goes that silent question again. You’ve never been one to give Chris what he wants when he wants it. He’ll never admit, but it’s one of the things he loves most about you. So, in true you-fashion, you make a run for it.

He’s baffled, but doesn’t waste much time in playing into your little game. You’re laughing hysterically as you look over your shoulder to see him bounding after you on the front lawn. You high tail it around the side of his childhood home, kind of hoping he catches you. Not even you, as stubborn as you are, would want to be running forever.

Chris walks into the backyard cautiously, but not cautiously enough as he’s met with a snowball in the temple. And your maniacal laughter.

“Oh, you’re in for it now!” Chris sneers as he scoops up the most perfectly compacted snowball.

“Oh shit!” You slowly make for the backdoor, walking up the deck stairs backwards, hands up in surrender “C’mon babe, you don’t have to do this,” you plead.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Cos all I wanted was an innocent, sweet kiss.”

“I’ll give you a kiss! Just put the snowball down.”

“It’s too late, sweetheart.” The look in his eyes is sending butterflies straight to your heat. As much as you wouldn’t mind ‘losing’ this game, there’s too much at stake.

“Think of my hair!” You whine to appeal to his better nature. That gave Chris pause, but only for a moment.

“It’s in braids; you’ll be ok.” When Chris takes a step towards you, you take a step back, but instead of eating snow as you anticipate, you slip on a patch of ice and fall flat on your ass.

Chris is quick to race over to your side. “Babe! Are you ok?” he’s slightly panicked as he lifts your torso in his arms, checking your eyes for consciousness.

“Got the wind knocked out of me, but I’m fine, yeah,” you say through a dry laugh.

“Oh, thank god.” He says with a sigh of relief and a wide smile. You smile back at him as he strokes your cheek and says, “Now I won’t feel bad about this.”

“Wha—“ You see white as your face freezes over. Chris is dying of laughter as you sputter the snowball out of your mouth.

“Ha ha ha. Keep laughing... you won’t get that kiss you’re wanting so bad.” He immediately stops laughing, deflates, and pouts, causing you to giggle. “Oh my goodness! Is it that serious?” you teased him a little further. Chris was done playing, though. He stood up and folded his thick arms over his chest to show you he was serious.

You stood up too, and began to tap and poke at his shoulders, chest and stomach. Chris wouldn’t look at you, trying his best to stand firm and not smile. “Look up, dummy!” you say eventually. He acts as if he’s doing you a favor, but can’t hide his giddiness at the sight on the ceiling.

A leafy green plant, with a cluster of red inedible berries, secured with a red ribbon.

You take his face into your hands, lightly grazing your fingers over Chris’ full, trimmed beard. The world is out of focus as you and Chris are now eye to eye. Neither of you can hide your eagerness. You rub your thumb over his plump bottom lip and wonder why you would ever deny yourself this man.

Pulling him into you, the gap is closed between your mouths. The kiss is gentle, shy even, after first. It dawns on you that you’d only shared a quick peck at the airport, and before then, had gone a couple weeks missing each other’s touch.

The neediness and desire within you is heightened at the thought. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer. You start to get lost in him, in his warm taste and touch. You feel the yearning in Chris too. He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly to himself. His hands start to travel to places you desperately want them to be, but he catches himself, remembering where you are.

“Let’s go say our goodbyes,” he says through an out-of-breath smirk. You bite your bottom lip and reply with a quick nod of your head.

The pair of you head inside to make your last rounds for the evening. Chris keeps it pretty brief with everyone, the both of you promising to see them again sometime soon in the new year. Early Spring seems to work for most everyone; the kids will be on spring break, Chris will be home before jetting off for a press tour, and you’ll have settled in to your new writing job, that isn’t exactly your dream gig, but a step in… a direction.

As you got into Chris’ car to head for his Boston home, waving to his family as you backed out the driveway, none of you could predict or prepare yourselves for the very different, sordid world that waits in the months ahead. How drastically it would change on grand and small scales.

You look adoringly at Chris from your spot in the passenger seat, unaware the beginning of your relationship’s treacherous slope was just a few days away. Had you known, you wouldn’t have left that kiss so soon, would’ve cherished his heated embrace a little more later tonight.

But it’s already been written.

——————————————————————————

What’d you think?

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans series #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans fan fiction #love lockdown series

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wulfies-kpop-fanfics · 3 years

Text

Savior → Kim Namjoon

↳ Pairing: Namjoon/Reader

↳ Word count: 3,757

↳ AU: Police Officer!BTS

↳ Warnings: Mention of rape, conception caused by rape, violence, captivity, involuntary bondage

⁙ Summary: While investigating a crime ring, officer Kim Namjoon advocates for the rescue of the final living captive, who has just fallen pregnant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Stop screaming!”

Your voice went quiet, your lips closing as best they could over your tightly bound ball gag. You tasted metal, lapping up blood that trickled into your mouth from your cracked lips. More drool trickled down your chin, the replacement for your long dried up tears of pain. Your throat felt even rawer once you had stopped screaming, to the point that you wished you were still doing so. After being yelled at, you knew it was a bad idea. So, you decide to follow the instructions of the distant voice and silently endure the burning pain searing your throat.

You honestly had no idea how you came to be in this situation. For as long as your memory could recall, you’ve been chained to this bed, existing in the darkness, a small room. A hospital cot, small and narrow, covered by a thin and ratty mattress with only a moth-eaten pillow for you to lay your head-on. Ankles bound to the posts by handcuffs: the skin bound, bleeding and scabbing over from your struggle against the restraints.

Sometimes you would be wearing a straitjacket, white and scratchy cloth. It was old, yellowed and rank, tattered and ripped. Your arms would be bound across your chest, perfect braces for missionary. You could have laughed at yourself, feeling the draft through the hole that was cut into the crotch whenever someone entered the room. Sometimes the hole was covered up by a metal chastity belt, most likely to bar you from touching yourself. Not that you could, anyway.

Sometimes you would be nearly naked, everything out for the world to see, hands bound by rope, zip ties or more metal cuffs against your back and only the belt to cover you. Perfect for being taken from behind, face shoved into your pillow. One thing that always remained was your ball gag, only taken out for 5 minutes each day to feed you. You could not speak words, swallow what was left of your saliva or bite your tongue. If you tried to kill yourself when the gag was removed, you would not be fed, your captors instead deciding to whip you. You knew there were scars all over your back, more recent wounds still bandaged and itchy.

This was the horror of being trapped, wherever you were. Your room was extremely small, only large enough for your bed, a humidifier and a desk where a doctor would sometimes sit. You would never leave this room except for when you were allowed to use the restroom or when the doctor needed more room to examine you. Men would come in here to remove the belt, but you often forced yourself into unconsciousness to deal with whatever happened when they were there. Still, you knew what happened. The wetness and aches between your legs told you as much whenever you awakened.

That was life, and you could do nothing but deal with it. You were at the mercy of these people, no matter what you could plausibly try. They fed you, treated wounds they inflicted, rented you out. There was next to no light coming into your room despite the large window across from your bed on the opposite wall, so you could enjoy nothing. Sometimes your doctor would turn on the desk’s lamp, but you were often blindfolded so that your eyes wouldn’t become irritated - therefore you couldn’t even remember what real, yellow light looked like.

The smallest amount of artificial light came through the large window connecting your room to the hallway most likely from a ceiling light located further down the hall. It was minimal, blue, dim and barely noticeable, but it did give you the ability to see if people were looking in on days you weren’t blindfolded. Often you would see drooling, scruffy men with unkempt facial hair and moth ate clothes. Other times you would see handsome and young men in sleek and expensive-looking outfits, and finally, you would even more often see a security guard peering in with his arm resting up against the glass.

His facial features were hardly ever something you could see through the dim light, but you could still feel his intense gaze through the darkness. He never smiled, never said anything through the window as the scruffy men would, would never stand with both hands extending downwards to where you could not see as the men in suits. The only thing that was uniquely his was the hat he was always wearing, adorned with a golden badge that would at times catch what little light there was and glint brilliantly on the ceiling.

If you had been staring at the ceiling, like you were right now, you could watch the little light show. That would indicate that he was standing there, silently watching you. Sometimes you would wonder what his purpose was. Since you were so weak and restrained, there was no way you were going to escape or scream loud enough that someone would come to rescue you. Sometimes you wondered if he had a weapon on him. He most likely did, there have been times when you’ve heard distant gunshots. Sometimes you wished that he would just shoot you and end your suffering: you had figured out a long time ago that you weren’t going to leave alive. You thought being shot might be the best way to really get out.

No matter what you speculated, you were most likely wrong. He would just stand there, arm pressed against the glass. All he did was stare in. He never entered the room or even attempted to communicate through the glass. While his stares didn’t make your skin crawl like everyone else you’ve seen here, it didn’t make you feel any better.

“How long does this have to go on?” Namjoon whispered through his phone, hidden outside the facility in a small nook where he could make his phone calls without being suspicious. He looked over his surroundings, the night only lit up by the numerous light posts littered around the field. They would go out soon, indicating that Namjoon would either have to leave for the night or retreat into his excuse for a room. Not that he could complain about his situation, you had it far worse than he did.

“Not much longer. You’re sure that (Y/N) is the last girl alive in there?” The voice on the other line asked. Namjoon sighed, nodding even in the knowledge that his superior could not see him.

“I’m sure. They’ve moved Crystal, but I was never given access to any of the girls’ files other than (Y/N)’s. She’s the last one alive in this place specifically. Either they’re starting to catch on, moving them all to other facilities, or worse… leaving them to die of malnutrition as they move onto different products.” Namjoon sighed again at the use of the term. “Please… I just want to save at least her.”

“We first need to make sure that we have enough of an advantage against the ring that’s orchestrating it, to begin with, special agent. If we can’t take them down, saving (Y/N) will be for nothing.”

Namjoon clenched his free hand into a fist, the other one holding his phone so tightly that it might break, “Chief, please.”

The man on the other line sighs. “Wait until tomorrow, at least. I’ll think about it more tonight, go over it with your team. Get ready to take a call around midday.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come, dear, I’ve got to check you again,” Dr Woo calls softly from the door, closing it and sitting down at the desk the top of your head is currently facing. You can’t respond, and perhaps that is the doctor’s personal way to torment you like the others that come in. He places a few things on the ground by your bed, but you can’t muster the strength to sit up or lean far enough over to look at what it was.

Dr Woo moves from the desk to stand over you, a clipboard in his hand. From the board he picks up your blindfold, watching your reaction, eyes widening as you see it. You hate that blindfold. It smells like you do after the men come in before the doctor comes in to wash you and put your belt back on. The cloth, however, is a different story from you. You don’t believe has ever been washed. It was once white, you think, but it has since been tinted with stains that even you could see in the minimal light. It goes over your eyes despite your whines of protest, your vision was stolen away from you once more.

Dr Woo wipes the drool from your cheeks and chin, soon moving away to place the clipboard on the desk. You hear the tapping of the board against the surface, waiting for Dr Woo to grab you and sit you up straight. But, it doesn’t come.

“(Y/N), sweetie, I need you to answer some questions,” he cooed at you. You would spit on him if you could. You hated how patronizing he was, how condescending he was and how he pretended to be kind. “Nod for yes and shake for no. Understand?”

You nod. You have no choice but to answer, and if you lie, you know that whatever came after that was worse than telling the truth.

“Have you vomited within the last 24 hours?”

Shake for no. If you did, you’d probably have choked on it.

“Have you been experiencing any abdominal cramps recently?”

Nod for yes.

“Okay,” you hear a pen scratching against paper. “Have your breasts felt sore or tender recently?”

Nod for yes.

“Have you been feeling nauseous?”

You try to scoff, but it sounds more like a gargle than anything else.

“I have no patience for sass, (Y/N). Nod or shake.”

Nod for yes.

“Okay, one more question. Have you been feeling more fatigued or sluggish than usual?”

What was that supposed to mean? You’re almost never moving. You feel tired all the time. You try to sigh, and nod.

“Alright. Thank you, (Y/N). Now, I’m going to need you to sit up for me so I can undo your buckles.” You hear Dr Woo move again, the cuffs on your ankles being taken off, but you don’t bother to try and kick him. You’re too exhausted. You don’t move at all until Dr Woo’s hands are under your head and your back, lifting you into a sitting position.

He scoots you until you’re at the edge of your bed. “I’m going to remove your pyjamas, okay?”

Pyjamas? Yeah right. Soon enough all the buckles of your jacket are removed, as well as your belt. His hands are on your breasts briefly, nothing you’re not used to, but you were sore, so his examination of you was more painful than before. He’s then taking your blood pressure and examining your lungs with an ice-cold stethoscope.

“(Y/N), I have a little bucket here for you, it’s right in front of you, so none of it will get on the floor or on your bed. Can you please urinate for me?”

Was someone else in here with the doctor? He’s never had you relieve yourself in this room. Whatever. If he wasn’t going to get you to stand up and escort you to the bathroom, you guessed that this was your only chance to let go today, so you do as he asks.

“Good girl,” Dr Woo praises. Something small is placed against the desk, you can hear the small tap of it hitting the surface of the desk. You’re soon laid back down with your belt and jacket on, your ankles returned to their place in the metal cuffs chained to your bed.

Usually, after his examination, Dr Woo either gives you a shot, wipes lashing marks (if any) and your ankle scabs, or just leaves. However, you know that he hasn’t left the room. He’s waiting for something. You tense up, wondering what his motive could have been. It would be unlikely that he’d tell you, but you wished that today was an exception as your curiosity outweighed your pain.

After what you assumed was a few minutes, a faint ‘click’ sounded in your right ear, coming from whatever the doctor placed on the desk. You heard him pick it up with a quiet “hmmm”. He stood, pacing across the room a few times before turning off the lamp, removing your blindfold and exiting the room.

There were times when you could hear faint conversations happening outside your room. Hoping that Dr Woo would meet with someone just outside, you strained your ears and tilted your head toward the window with attentiveness. In a stroke of luck, two people appeared before the doctor, standing just inside your field of vision. Their faces were of course obscured by the darkness, but their silhouettes were mostly visible.

“We’ve got a problem,” you hear the doctor’s faint voice from outside. It was muted, but still discernible. More drool dribbled its way down your chin as you attempted to swallow out of nervousness.

“What is it, Woo? Is she?” Another voice came. It’s lighter than Woo’s but more harsh and sharp.

“Yes, she’s pregnant.”

Your eyes go wide. There’s another person inside of you? Inside this hell hole? Your chest tightened and you felt like you could cry, but you had long since wasted yourself of tears and the general dehydration barely kept your eyes from drying out in the first place. A choked breath leaves you. Why did this have to happen now?

“What are we going to do about it?” The third voice asked. It was deep, smoother, and much calmer.

“Either I take out her reproductive organs, remove the fetus which could damage her groin, I give her the shots I’ve been developing, or we kill her and find a new girl.”

“We can’t remove her ovaries or anything of the sort. Fixed girls don’t pull nearly as much money as she does. No damage to the groin, I don’t even want to risk it. How far along are your shots?” The second voice asked.

“I have to admit, not far, especially with the resources we have. It could kill her.”

“Fuck. I don’t know if we’ll ever find another girl as durable and as profitable as her...” Voice number two complains.

“But we might just have to.”

“Backup’s almost there, Namjoon. Are you sure that’s what they said?” Chief Jin asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. I was standing there with both of them as they talked about it. Right outside her room, too. I saw the test and everything.”

Jin sighs. “Then we really do have no choice. Do you have the key to (Y/N)’s room?”

“I don’t, but I know how to pick it.”

“Close enough. Get in there, get her out. She is the first priority. Your team will take care of the rest,” Jin instructs.

“10/4.”

You were startled out of sleep when the knob of your door began to jiggle wildly. “Fuck!” you heard over and over again in the seconds following. Your breathing became ragged. Did they decide to kill you? Where was Dr Woo? Isn’t he the one with the key? You turn your head towards the commotion, not bothering to move the rest of your body. Your neck pops uncomfortably, but an impromptu adjustment is the least of your worries. You couldn’t die, no matter how much you wanted to before. Not now, not while you had another life to protect.

When the door finally flew open, your body jolted in surprise. The silhouette of the security guard was standing in the doorway. Not exactly the executioner you were expecting, but you were getting ready to fight him regardless. He stares down at you, something you’re familiar with but still not exactly used to. The light coming from the hallway illuminates him a little more this time, revealing a round face, thick lips and teardrop-shaped eyes laced with concern.

“We don’t have much time, (Y/N),” he says, walking over to the end of your bed to pick the locks of the metal cuffs. You whine in confusion, wishing that the gag in your mouth was gone. Then again, did you even remember what it was like to do something other than scream? Did you remember how to talk?

“I’m special agent Kim Namjoon. I’ve been undercover here for almost a year, and it’s about time that I get you out,” he explains. “My friends are coming to get the bad guys while I carry you away.”

You sniffle in relief but stay still as your ankles are freed in the slight disbelief that this was actually happening. You’ve been here for a long time. You couldn’t even tell if it was daytime, night or even what day, month, or year it was anymore. Why would someone come for you now? Let alone the person who had been constantly staring at you in silence?

Namjoon slowly moves his hands to your head, raising his eyebrows and waiting for a nod before lifting your head and undoing the clasp that kept the gag in your mouth, successfully allowing you to breathe properly and put your jaw back in the position it was supposed to be in. You lick your dry lips, swallowing in satisfaction and moving your jaw side to side to pop it.

“Can you speak?” He asks, his hands now moving to your back and under your knees, lifting you into his arms.

You shake your head. There was no point in trying.

“Okay, let’s get you home.” He leans to something attached to the pocket on the chest of his jacket. “I’ve got her. Let’s go.”

It wasn’t long after that Namjoon broke into a run, effectively but not intentionally jostling you around. The movement began to hurt your head, eventually causing you to pass out.

When you awoke, you found yourself in another dark room, still brighter than the one you had just been occupying not long ago. Your surroundings weren’t exactly identifiable, you were once again living in little more than the place where you were held captive, but it didn’t feel or smell like death and sex.

You licked your lips. No ball gag. You lifted your leg as best you could. No ankle cuffs. Your arms were resting at either side of your body. No straitjacket. You rolled your head from side to side. A fully fluffed and warm pillow was beneath you. You wiggled your hips. No belt. A wave of warmth and feathery softness washed over you, indicating that a thick blanket had gently been spread over you.

“So, you’re awake,” a voice softly calls from your left. When you spot Namjoon, he smiles. “Don’t try and talk yet, Dr Summers says your throat is still raw.”

You nod.

“You’re in the General Marine Hospital if you’re wondering. How are you feeling? Alright?”

You nod again. He continues to smile.

“Good. Here, I have something for you.” From his lap, Namjoon hands you a teddy bear, fuzzy and soft. He places it in your hand, allowing your fingers to weakly curl over its hand and feel the fabric. “His name is Ryan. Take good care of him, okay?”

“Okay,”

“Shh, I know you will.”

Namjoon continued to sit with you, through the occasional visit from Dr Summers and the filing in and out of his team of police officers. Officers Kim Taehyung, Kim Seokjin, Jung Hoseok, Min Yoongi, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook were all very sweet, determined to bring justice to the men who hurt you. They would bring small bowls of jello and little popsicles for you along with cups of coffee for Namjoon whenever they visited. They would ask the occasional yes or no question before taking their leave again. But Namjoon stayed.

He would fall asleep in his chair, sometimes with his head leaning back, sometimes with his forehead pressed against the edge of your bed’s mattress. Somehow, you didn’t mind. You felt grateful to him, having saved your life and all. You wondered if he had a family, and what they would think about him never leaving the side of a beaten, nearly dead pregnant girl. You wondered if you had a family, but somehow, you felt that the doubt in your chest was telling you the truth. If you had a family, they’d be here.

Over time, the investigation ended and six months later you attended the trial of your captors through a video call, still only able to answer yes or no questions, Dr Summers’ fear of you never being able to speak again rendering you from answering any complicated questions. But even when Namjoon was assigned to other cases, he would still come every day to see you, to make sure you were okay and if you were taking good care of Ryan.

He would hold your hand, stroking the palm gently with his thumb as he smiled down at you, his former intense gaze relaxing into something you might have been able to see as affection. That alone was something that made your smile return. His stories were things that motivated you to eat. His encouragement and help also gave you the determination to learn how to walk again.

Perhaps after all this, you find it in your heart to feel something other than pain.

On the day you gave birth to Jihoon, you were finally able to speak. You had to have a C-Section, and you spent another three days in a medically induced coma. That was nothing, and you knew it was to keep your son safe. You felt as if Jihoon blessed you, somehow not loathing the fact that the biological father was some stranger who was a part of your torture. To you, little Jihoon’s father was Namjoon, the man who saved your life, the man who gave you life, the man who cured your doubts. The man you fell in love with.

“You know,” Namjoon said after you reawoke, little Jihoon cooing in his arms, “he already looks like you.”

“If…” you try, Namjoon shushing you. “If,” you persist, “if he looks like me, then… he’s going to be brave and smart like you.”

Namjoon smiled down at you. “I hope he’s as brave as both of us.”

#kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #fanfic #reader insert #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop angst #bts #kim namjoon x reader #bts scenarios

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mimicteruyo · 3 years

Text

Threshold

[Touhou Ship Week Day 5: Overwhelmed. ReiSana, 1.7k, angst]

---

"Here." Unsure of what else to say, Sanae held out the plastic bag. "I wasn't sure about your size, but..."

Reimu's reaction was more animated than any Sanae had seen from her since the disaster. This time, she actually raised her head for a moment before letting her chin sink back down. She still looked like she wished to curl up into a ball on the porch but couldn't quite muster the energy to move.

Sanae chewed her lip, wondering if she should just leave the bag next to Reimu, only to be freed from the decision when Reimu's hand shot forward and snatched it. One of the thin handles tore with an audible rip, but Reimu seemed deaf to it: the next moment, she was already rummaging through its contents.

"I hope you like them. Later we can—" Sanae's eyes shot wide open as Reimu put the bag aside and began taking her top off. "You're going to change here?!"

"Why not?" Reimu's voice was so flat the question barely counted as one. "There's no-one around to see."

"I guess, but..." Sanae averted her eyes. Reimu was right, of course, and it shouldn't have mattered in the first place, but this really wasn't the time for blushing.

To distract herself, she walked to one of the torches lining the courtyard and looked into the distance. Most of the trees nestling the shrine had survived the transition, had in fact grown more numerous, shielding the buildings on the hill from view. They also prevented Sanae from seeing all that lay around it, but then, she had already stood with Reimu by the torii watching the distinctly modern town and its rhizome of roads sprawling through the land beneath the steps.

"The handle broke."

Reimu had stood up and was frowning at the bag on the porch, now bulging with her old garb. The fit of the new clothes was adequate, although the sleeves were obviously too long. Sanae had chosen red and white — red skirt, white shirt, red and white varsity jacket — in hopes the familiar colours would be a comfort. She now realised they might have been a stab, too.

"It's fine. We can recycle it." Sanae picked up the bag and took the opportunity to survey Reimu from a modern day human's perspective. The hair decorations still marked her for an outsider, but she looked more outwordly than Sanae had ever seen her before. She would likely pass for a former Lolita fashion enthusiast clinging to her old ribbons, and as long as Sanae coupled her new hoodie and pleated skirt with her own hair charms, they would at least share the stares. They would be fine.

Things didn't seem fine as Reimu simply stood there, arms slack, staring at the trees past the courtyard but clearly seeing nothing but fog.

Sanae settled the bag in the crook of her arm and choked on half-formed condolences. She wasn't any more prepared to utter words acknowledging the destruction of the Great Hakurei Barrier than Reimu was to hear them. Instead, to hide her rising panic, she focused on the practical side of things. "The train goes twice an hour until eleven o'clock, so we don't have to worry about running late for it. How about we eat something first? I saw a nice little restaurant on the way— or maybe you'd just like something sweet? We still have some—"

She stilled. Reimu had turned to gaze at her, her eyes as vacant and hollow as they had been while staring at the foliage.

"Um. Or if you'd like to rest here a bit longer, we can do that too."

Reimu continued on with her impression of a member of the walking dead.

"I could bring you something to eat here, too. Is there anything you'd like?" Sanae's legs already ached from walking — how quickly she had begun to long to be able to fly again — but honest physical pain might have been better than watching this slow winding down that felt like death. "Reimu?"

When this elicited no reaction, Sanae hazarded an approach, then placed her hand on Reimu's arm. This gesture was accepted with the same stoicism as a statue accepts falling rain.

Sanae thought she understood. The evaporation of Gensokyo had been a blow, a physical sensation like someone had punched out her internal organs and replaced them with water. But she could cope. She knew the Outside World, had grown up in it, and she still felt Lady Kanako and Lady Suwako lending her their strength. Reimu had only ever known Gensokyo. Even now, she was probably...

Reimu's head jerked. The movement heralded a sudden release of tension, so complete she began at once to collapse. Sanae caught her just in time and hauled her back upright.

She didn't expect Reimu to clutch onto her and practically drape herself over Sanae until they were hugging each other. Sanae held on, stunned, but not so stunned she didn't catch Reimu mumbling against her shoulder.

"I failed."

"No." Sanae pulled Reimu closer, once again scrambling for words. Reimu felt too small and too brittle, as though her loss had transformed her into a bird. "It wasn't a fair fight to begin with, and you came so much closer than the rest of us."

"And I failed."

The words were uttered with leaden certainty. Sanae saw now that attempting to counter them would only bolster them. She let silence shroud them instead and focused on trying to transmit her body's warmth to Reimu, trying not to think of the fatal wound she was certain she had seen Reimu receive while she herself had lain on the Hakurei Shrine courtyard, too exhausted and stunned to even think of getting up, and which appeared to have simply vanished alongside the barrier.

For a brief blessed moment, things seemed fine. It lasted only until Sanae tilted her head and saw that Reimu's eyes were filled with tears.

And just like that, for the second time that day, something in the universe tilted quietly off-centre.

While Sanae had spent years viewing Reimu as a friend and rival alike, she could now admit to herself that there had always been a dash of hero worship blended into her sentiments. For all of her foibles, the other shrine maiden had been so attuned to her craft, so determined when the situation called for it, and sometimes almost as supernatural as the youkai roaming the land. She had been someone who obviously never really needed help from Sanae, and so Sanae, living goddess or not, had been just overawed enough to keep the exact nature of the blossom in her heart to herself.

Holding Reimu in that moment, watching her weep, hearing her stubbornly steady heartbeat so close to her chest, Sanae finally truly felt like she was human.

"It's going to be okay." It wasn't a mere platitude; one way or another, Sanae would make it happen. "They won't take this lying down. Yukari and the others, I mean. They're going to fix it somehow. And even if they don't, we'll figure something out. They need shrine maidens in this world, too. And you don't have worry about getting identification papers or anything. Lady Kanako and Lady Suwako will be waiting at the shrine, and I'll just miracle you into a family register if you want, and we can go stay at my old home and—"

She was interrupted by a snippet of strangled laughter. It was mirthless and half choked, but there was no mistaking it even before Reimu straightened up and proved that her tears were now accompanied by a thin smile.

"You never give up, do you?"

"You don't, either." Sanae didn't quite feel like smiling, but she did so anyway and felt it become genuine as Reimu tried to match its wideness. "I can't lose to my rival."

Reimu absorbed this with due consideration. Finally, she extracted herself from the embrace, leaving behind a lingering chill and a faint floral scent from the detergent on her new clothes. "Maybe I should eat."

Energised by this twinge of hope, Sanae clapped her hands together. "Great! Wait here and I'll get you something good!"

She hadn't made it even a single step before Reimu grabbed the sleeve of her hoodie. As she halted, Reimu took the opportunity to wipe her eyes before nodding. "I'll come as well."

"Are you sure?"

"I can't lose to my rival."

Was it normal to feel a rush of warmth at mirrored words? "In that case, we'll go together."

Hand on arm turned into hand in hand as they marched across the courtyard.

Once they reached the torii, Reimu faltered. Sanae turned, prepared to say that it was fine, that their departure could still wait, that even if they missed the final train they'd still manage, when Reimu raised her chin and stepped underneath it.

They halted there on the top step, just past the torii. Reimu stared blankly at the vista ahead, showing neither pleasure nor disappointment at the wealth of buildings and cultivated land. She took a deep breath. "There."

Sanae squeezed her hand. "I knew you could do it."

"Of course I could." How Sanae had missed hearing that particular note of smugness. However, the thought was quickly forgotten as Reimu faced Sanae, no longer despondent but instead intense. "The real challenge comes now."

That was the only warning Sanae received before Reimu leaned forward and kissed her. It was as imprecise as it was abrupt, only brushing the corner of Sanae's mouth. All the same, it lit her blood on fire.

Just as quickly as she had leaned in, Reimu pulled back and began walking down the steps. She would've dragged Sanae along with her if Sanae hadn't shaken off her daze and followed at her own volition, just barely holding onto the bag of Gensokyoan clothes.

The back of Reimu's head yielded no answers. Later, there might be time to ask if the kiss had been a whim, a momentary madness brought on by overwhelming loss. Or perhaps, if it had meant what Sanae hoped it meant.

Until then, Sanae would follow and try not to be too awed by the full bloom of her heart.

#thshipweek #reisana #mimic fics

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calligraphist-artemisia · 3 years

Text

Guiding the Way

Written for the Kidge Spring Event!

Prompt 5: Fern and Oak | Shelter and Strength

Years ago, @uraraaaaaaan mentioned wanting a Kidge Sentinel/Guide AU and I wrote down the idea, always intending to go back and write it. Finally, I have.

Summary: Sentinel/Guide AU. Pidge had long given up on meeting a Sentinel who would be strong enough to provide the balance she needed. It wasn't until her first day at the Galaxy Garrison that she began to see a glimmer of hope that maybe they were nearby.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

The first time Pidge felt it was during her tour of the facilities of the Galaxy Garrison.

It began as a low ringing in her ears, a sensation that was immediately brushed off as nothing unusual. She automatically tightened her emotional control as a foreign feeling of loneliness and hopelessness began to creep over her, pushing it away so she wouldn't become overwhelmed. She looked around and watched as a few others in her tour group, as well as a few cadets who were roaming the halls, began to shift in unease, some of them rubbing their ears or gingerly massaging their temples, as though hoping a physical reaction would ward it off.

The ringing intensified with a single pulse that drowned out all other noise.

One minute Pidge was standing and the next she was on the ground, slumped against a wall with her head in her hands, struggling to breathe. There was a hand on her shoulder and, as her hearing returned, she could begin to make out someone coaching her through a breathing exercise.

“Sh-Shiro?” she gasped out.

Takashi Shirogane smiled softly at her. “I'm here, Katie. Don't speak right now: just breathe. You'll be okay.”

As she lifted her head to look around, Pidge saw that not everyone was affected by the sound. If she had to guess, around one out of twenty people were affected the same way she was. She waited until her breathing had mostly evened out before speaking again. “What was that?”

“A Sentinel suffering from Overload,” Shiro said, sounding apologetic. “Commander Holt never mentioned that you're a Guide.”

“It's not really important,” Pidge lied. She knew he was curious about why she chose to keep it such a secret, but she was much more curious in learning why a Sentinel who was suffering so badly was kept in a place like the Galaxy Garrison.

“So, who's this Sentinel you mentioned?” she asked.

“Keith,” spat out a nearby cadet with brown hair, who was being helped to his feet by a girl with short blonde hair.

Shiro stiffened. “Cadet Hawkins is--!”

“Well, they can't keep him hidden forever!” snapped the cadet, jerking his head to look in their direction. His face paled as he got a look at who he had yelled at. “Lieutenant Shirogane, I'm sorry! I didn't know it was you!”

Shiro ignored him and instead helped Pidge to her feet. “Officer Johnson, I'll be taking Cadet Holt from here. I'll be sure to return her to her dorm by curfew.”

The woman clutched her clipboard to her chest and pursed her lips together in a thin line, but in the end, she didn't voice her dislike of the breach in protocol and allowed Shiro to whisk Pidge away. She ordered the remaining new cadets to reform a line and continued with the tour.

Pidge trotted after Shiro and waited until they were a suitable distance away before beginning her questioning anew. “Are you going to tell me what's going on? Who's this 'Keith' guy anyway?”

Shiro ushered her into an unoccupied room before answering. “Keith is an exceptionally strong Sentinel. Strong enough that we've been unable to find a Guide who is capable of bonding with him. I... That is, myself and some of the other high officers thought it would help if we moved him away from the Garrison, but it doesn't seem to have made a difference.”

Pidge's jaw dropped. “He's not even on the grounds? Just how wide is his range?”

“Immeasurable,” Shiro said with a grimace. “As you can tell, there are those who are unhappy with the way we've handled things, but they also believe that he's still within Garrison grounds. They cannot know how far away he is. There has already been talking of sending him to a... specialized facility to try and help him regain control.”

There was something about the tone Shiro used that made Pidge think that moving Keith to such a place would be the worst thing they could do. What kind of facility could help a Sentinel who was suffering from Overload, anyway? People had studied it for years and couldn't find an artificial way to prevent it or the Guide equivalent of Apathy.

“The only thing we can do is keep him as comfortable as possible and hope we find a Guide who is capable of bonding with him,” Shiro said.

Pidge remained silent as Shiro led her back out into the hall and picked up her tour where Officer Johnson had left off. All the while, she thought of the mysterious Keith and wondered if maybe, just maybe, he was the Sentinel she'd been searching for.

She came Online as a Guide at the age of 8 – much earlier than most and to the great confusion of her family, who had never considered preparing for such an event. It took years of talking to older guides, of being pulled out of school, of emotional outbursts, of failed attempts to find a Sentinel for her to bond with, and a very near-slip into Apathy before she was able to control her abilities enough to go out and be around crowds again.

As Sentinels and Guides were two sides of a single coin, so were Overload and Apathy.

For Sentinels, who were most well-known for their inhuman strength, excellent eyesight, and an enhanced sense of smell, Overload was the result of being overwhelmed by those physical senses in a way that was difficult to turn off without help.

For Guides, who were known for their sense of empathy (and who historically had been accused of reading minds because of the way they could sense emotions of those around them), Apathy was what happened when it all became too much. First came the maelstrom of emotions around them, followed by them overcompensating to try and regain control, which inevitably led to a full emotional shutdown.

Bonding was beneficial to both parties – and could be considered necessary for them to live long and healthy lives.

Because she came Online at such a young age, Pidge was an uncommonly strong Guide. She had to work harder than most to try and block out the emotions of those around her, as well as to keep her own under control. It also meant that she needed a Sentinel who was capable of providing the balance she needed.

“I want to meet him,” Pidge stated, interrupting Shiro in the middle of his description of the Gymnasium and the courses offered there. She stopped walked and gazed up at him, a stubborn glint in her eyes. “I want to meet Keith.”

Shiro hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Tonight. After dinner.”

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

Keith's morning began on a high note.

There was no bright sunlight streaming in from the windows where the heavy curtains couldn't quite cover. The temperature inside the house was just right – not too hot and not too cold. Better yet, his blankets and clothing didn't feel like sandpaper grating against his skin. He got up slowly, taking the time to enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasted.

It never lasted for long.

He knew that from experience.

He shuffled across the floor into the bathroom where he took care of his usual morning ablutions before heading into the kitchen to prepare a breakfast of plain oatmeal, which was typically bland enough that he wouldn't become overwhelmed. It was when he uncapped the milk to begin heating it up that things went wrong.

Keith gagged, immediately fighting the bile rising at the back of his throat. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the milk, which Shiro had bought the day before, but the smell of it was still too much. He managed to twist the cap back on and shoved the carton into the fridge (which was missing a lightbulb to avoid agitating his eyes) before he dropped to the floor as his Overload kicked in and made his senses go haywire.

Suddenly, everything was too much.

His head throbbed in agony and Keith clenched his teeth, trying in vain to hold on, but it was all too much and darkness soon rushed up to meet him.

Keith didn't know how much time had gone by when he woke again. The house was still dark and quiet, but all of him ached from passing out on the hard kitchen floor and it took him a few long minutes to slowly stretch and try to alleviate that pain before he felt well enough to stand up and try to cook again.

The oatmeal was as bland and tasteless as ever, especially when made with plain water – Keith didn't want to risk opening the milk again – but it was inoffensive enough that he could force it down and truthfully tell Shiro that he'd eaten something. There wasn't much else for Keith to do after that. His head hurt too badly to do anything productive, though he knew he should, at the very least, attempt to meditate again.

It was something Shiro was always getting on him for; his friend was convinced that meditation would be the thing to help him, but how could it when he couldn't concentrate long enough to do it? How could it when it only seemed to amplify his senses?

Keith laid down on top of his makeshift bed and stared at the dark ceiling.

Hours passed.

Keith slipped into a state somewhere between being awake and asleep and only jostled free by the agonizingly loud sound of the front door unlocking and then squeaking open. Out of habit, he kept his eyes closed to prevent being blinded by the rays of the setting sun and because of that, his only indication that Shiro wasn't alone was the sound of a second set of much lighter footsteps following along behind him.

“Who's with you?” Keith asked, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

He heard the door shut and only then dared to open his eyes, focusing immediately on the young woman wearing the familiar orange uniform of the Galaxy Garrison. He couldn't muster up the energy to ask again and turned his head away in dismissal.

“Keith, this is Pidge,” Shiro said softly. “She's a Guide.”

Keith couldn't bring himself to react to the news. He'd tried to bond with so many Guides over the past few years that he had given up on ever finding the right one. He was too tired to keep trying.

Someone shuffled closer and Keith could hear Shiro saying his name, but it was as though he was speaking from a great distance. Was that... bad? He couldn't fully bring himself to care. What did it matter? Nothing mattered. There was nothing that could help him. Nothing.

A hand. Light and gentle over his own. Warm. Pleasant.

A voice. Soothing and quiet. Refreshing, in a way.

Perfume. Subtle. Soft citrus and something earthy. Like the forest after a thunderstorm.

And in the back of his mind, a tendril of worry unfurled and prodded him until he opened his eyes and he found himself face-to-face with a girl – Pidge, wasn't it? – with golden eyes. He blinked and relief blossomed across her face, echoed by that tendril creeping deeper into his mind.

They weren't his emotions, Keith realized all at once.

A bond. Slow to form, but effortlessly strong once it took root. He could feel it there and instinctively knew that all he needed to do was reach out and accept it. He breathed in and then out, slow and steady, all the while maintaining eye contact. He twisted his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Hello,” Keith said hoarsely.

A tiny laugh bubbled up from Pidge's throat as she smiled, and Keith could feel the pop of joy inside himself, bursting bright like sunshine. “Hi,” she responded, slightly breathless.

Shiro settled onto the floor next to Pidge and Keith tilted his head to look at his oldest friend, taking in the traces of deep concern across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say except: “I ate this morning.”

“Oatmeal?” Shiro guessed with a grin.

Keith nearly groaned. He hadn't meant to say that out loud!

Shiro chuckled as he stood up. “Why don't you two stay put and I'll see what I can make for dinner. Once your bond starts to settle, you'll both need to eat.” He paused a moment, looking down at both of them with a soft expression, and then strode across the room into the kitchenette, where he began searching the cupboards for anything edible.

Keith turned his attention back to Pidge.

Back to his Guide.

And it was as she introduced herself that Keith got the first inkling that everything was going to be alright from that point on. The longer she was there, the more the pain he felt so intensely before was easing away. Things no longer sounded as loud. The room actually appeared dark to him. (Actually, it was a wonder that Shiro could actually see in the kitchen. He should probably tell him he could turn on a light.)

Yes. Things would be better.

#voltron #kidge #kidgemas #kidge spring event 2021 #fanfiction #sentinel and guide AU

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babycracker · 3 years

Note

HELLO 🙌🏽 pls can we have a jordam kith with celebration + in a bar

THANK YOU BECKY!! sorry this took me so bloody long to get to, but i’m killing 2 birds with one stone this month and answering some of my waiting asks for some prompts, i hope this is ok!!

kissing prompt list (always accepting)

Luck Of The Unit - Day 5 prompt from @wayhavenmonthly: Bar

Rating: teen & up Pairing: adam du mortain/f!detective (jordan mills) Word Count: 1147 Warnings: alcohol consumption A/N: i’m so late omfg. but i’m getting started on catching up, so i might spam ppl over the next couple of days until i’m back on track. i have no excuse, just haven’t been motivated, sorry!

Jordan can't pretend that she doesn't care that Adam won't be here to celebrate her birthday. Of course she wants him here, of course she's upset that she's not going to get to see him until she goes into the warehouse tomorrow. But at the same time, she knew with certainty what she was getting into when she started a relationship with him, so she probably doesn't have a reason to dwell on it too much.

"Jordie!"

She can't help but push the thoughts of Adam out of her head when she hears Felix's cheery voice booming out over the noise of the crowd, and she turns just in time for the young vampire to barrel into her, the tight bear hug he wraps her up in the only thing that keeps her from falling over.

She returns the hug, grinning over his shoulder at Nate who is watching the exchange with a smile. At least some of Unit Bravo bothered.

She can't stop herself from casting a quick glance around the room though, just in case Adam changed his mind. Evidently not, though. Felix follows her gaze around the room, then gives her a shrug and a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"His loss, babe," he reassures her, and she waves his concern away dismissively, despite the fact that she knows he's not buying her nonchalance.

She manages to have a decent night, despite Adam and Mason not making an appearance, largely thanks to the amount of alcohol Tina keeps practically pouring down her throat.

Her eyes are somewhat blurry as she stands at the bar, waiting for the rowdy group of guys at the other end to finish ordering drinks for their table, so she sits up on one of the stools to wait, one elbow on the bar and her chin in her hand.

"You bummed that Adam didn't show?" Tina appears beside her, a look of sympathy on her face. If Jordan wasn't already tipsy she might make fun of the way her words are slurring together. But as it is, she barely notices.

"A little," she answers slowly, letting her head fall down onto the bar and pretending not to notice the sticky something that she feels on her cheek. "I'm happy that everyone else is here though."

Tina's barely paying attention, her eyes fixed on something behind Jordan for a moment before leaning over to kiss her cheek and give her a light pat on the back.

"Spoke too soon," she says with a grin before moving away. Jordan rolls her eyes at the weirdness, turning back towards the bar and resting her chin on her hand again, her hand now laid out flat on the surface of the bar.

She startles when a familiar hand rests on the bar beside her, and she eyes it for a moment as she tries to muster the strength to turn and look at who's behind her. Before she can, another hand slides lightly up her back and while she's still trying to decide how to react, she feels Adam's breath on her ear.

"Happy birthday, Jordan."

She grins, but fights the expression away before spinning around atop her bar stool to face him.

"I think I'm annoyed with you," she states, trying to narrow her eyes at him but the amused expression with which he's fixed her is making it difficult to remember why she's annoyed.

"Why is that?"

She thinks for a moment, then lifts a hand to poke him in the chest as his other rests on the bar, boxing her between it and the bench.

"Because you weren't here."

"I am here now. And you are intoxicated."

"Maybe I wouldn't be if you'd been here earlier."

He raises an eyebrow disbelievingly, "wouldn't you?"

They both know it's an outright lie and while she feels significantly less drunk now that he's standing in front of her, she still can't be bothered maintaining the ruse.

"Why are you here, anyway?" she asks instead, and he glances at the crowd around them before leaning in to speak in her ear.

"It was pointed out to me that if I am to be your… partner, I should make more of an effort to be with you on occasions such as this one. Even if the setting is less than ideal."

He is still yet to call her his girlfriend, and she doubts that he ever will. But "partner" is something that he's only recently started, so she's running with it. It probably describes them better anyway. Partners are equal, partners make a choice every day to remain in a partnership, it's not done out of perceived obligation.

"Pointed out to you by who?" She asks, genuinely confused. Felix and Nate have been here for hours already.

"Mason," he answers shortly, and her eyes widen a fraction in surprise before she scans the bar behind Adam.

"So where is he?"

He chuckles and shifts closer to her, coming to stand between her legs, and if she wasn't still feeling a little buzzed she might be surprised by the proximity in such a public place. "Being that he is not your partner he didn't see it as necessary to show the same level of support."

She shrugs dismissively, forgetting about Mason just as quickly as she'd thought of him now that she has Adam here.

"Well thank you for coming."

He doesn't answer, just ducks his head down to press his lips lightly to hers. This time she is surprised by the public display of affection. So surprised that she almost forgets to kiss him back until one of his hands moves from the bar to the back of her neck.

She's vaguely aware of hearing the bartender finally reaching her side of the bar behind her but she doesn't acknowledge her, far less interested in drinking than taking in the fact that Adam is tonight disregarding his own rules around being around a mass of humans socially and publicly being with her, seemingly just to make her happy.

She grabs the lapels of his jacket and uses them to pull herself up closer to him as she deepens the kiss, groaning softly when his tongue slips into her mouth.

"You taste of vodka and… flavoured sugar," he points out, and she shrugs and raises an eyebrow at him.

"Maybe you should have gotten here earlier, then."

He chuckles, not bothering to answer her and instead just kissing her once more, light and quick before straightening back up away from her. She turns to begin her wait for service again, his hands coming to rest on her waist as he remains behind her.

"Happy birthday," he repeats in a murmur against her neck, and she brings a hand up to rest on the side of his face before turning to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, Adam."

tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @admdmrtn @masonsfangs @oxjenayxo @mmerengue @agentsunshine @bravomckenzie @freckles-spangledvampire @mistyeyedbi @kelseaaa @detectivewiseman @amlovelies @forestcreatures @maraudern05 @adamdumorpain @zevorah

#lucky21 #luck of the unit #the wayhaven chronicles #prompt ask #adam du mortain #jordan mills #kat writes

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vintage-brass-tc · 3 years

Text

Band Camp with M - Day 1/3

5/25/2021

So, as I mentioned previously, it’s about that time to have band camp with all of my peers. What makes things even better is that I get to spend the day with M as well.

This turned out longer than expected! So, without further ado, I’ll go ahead and share everything that happened with M and I today.

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When I had arrived, the students began gathering where we were told to. The students entered one by one, forming a line. Almost halfway through my trek, I specifically saw M’s bald head onstage, just past an opening in the crowds’. It had a slightly red-orange-ish tinted shine on it, which intensified his boldness (and baldness🤟) further.

My head was running a hundred miles per minute yet at the same time it felt still. And I was borderline speechless. A few seconds later, we were out in the open, nearing M. He was now six feet away from us, looking down, supposedly mentally preparing himself to speak to the class. As I thought, he was attending the event maskless. He was absolutely STUNNING with the lower half of his face revealed. Way better than I remember. I couldn’t stop looking at him, and to my delight he looked in my direction pretty quickly upon my first entrance.

I lifted my right hand, which was wielding a drawstring bag, to greet him. He seemed to stare at me for a couple of seconds in a daze. After the questioning wore off, he widened his eyes and smiled, bringing his left hand up in the air to wave right back. He cheerfully commented after doing this, “I’m seeing a lot of faces!” I thought it was cute; his positivity was contagious.

I actually had a mask on at that time so HAJDGA he wasn’t talking about me there 😳

I sat down in one of the first rows of the seating with my section. When we got settled with all of our stuff, (I think I decided to put my mask up during the process), I figured I would take the time to look up at M. His face was peering out into the crowd with squinted eyes and furrowed brows.

I giggled to myself quietly at his behavior. “What is he doing??” I asked under my breath, bringing someone else to look at him too. I put my hands out in front of me to emphasize my confusion as I gave him a look mixed with entertainment, judgement, and questioning. He noticed my look quite fast, probably because of my exaggerated gestures.

When we met eyes and he realized my complete bewilderment, he tried to suppress a smirk, but failed. I could still see the ends of his lips curving upwards and his body beginning to tremble lightly, as if he wanted to laugh too. After somewhere around four seconds of eye contact, he directed his eyes back forward, still grinning slightly.

Then he puckered his lips out around thirty seconds later in accompaniment with his scrunched up eyebrows. I think he was doing it to be funny, either to me, or to others who thought his expressions were laughable as well.

Whenever he called my section to raise our hands up for attendance, we were actually the only ones he gave pure complements to. I say this because either the other sections were slow or didn’t raise their hand up straight. “We all here?” Since someone’s body was blocking me in that moment, I perked my head out from their right side, still holding my hand up.

He seemed to be already trying to look past their side for me, and when he finally confirmed I was there he met my eye with a grin. He then jokingly made a statement about our section being brutal and trying to nod people off. Maybe because I was being covered by someone else.

He called on me to answer a question he had, stating it was the final one. “R?” He said my name aloud before I said anything, which I don’t remember him doing with anyone else. I stuttered slightly before answering the question, but he still took it in nonetheless.

I thought it was nice he chose me over a few others to be the last person to answer.

After receiving the signal, everyone got their instruments and headed straight for their designated locations. It took quite a bit before I could adjust to using the contrabass tuba effectively, but after twenty minutes or so I got the basics down. All I needed following that was the strength to suck up the soreness in my limbs and get to work.

In the middle of our section’s powwow, just before we began another exercise, M decided it would be a great time to hop in and see what was up in contracity. He walked in the room, greeted with the prying eyes of students. Before I knew it, one tuba kid was telling M a story about one of their marching experiences. Then boom, another kid was telling M a story about one of *their* marching experiences.

Both times M was looking at them and listening respectfully. During the second kid’s story, M was standing right next to the person speaking, turned towards them, which was opposite from where I was. At some point, the kid said something I found humorous, so I let out a laugh.

As I began to softly rest my head on my hand to continue listening, M turned over his right shoulder to cast a momentary gaze at me. I met the look he displayed with a joyful smile to match his own. I’m glad he did that, it was nice feeling at least a little included when he was around.

A bit later, standing in the same spot next to my left side, he turned towards the center of the room and beamed. “It’s so nice to see your faces again.” This very statement made the class ‘aww’ and smile. I aww’ed as well and replied with “you too”. Soon he left to ‘stop interrupting us’ and allow us to continue practicing. The visit was definitely a nice surprise.

I was walking past M when we met eyes with each other and smiled.

“Are you sore?” He asked me, as he knew very well that I wasn’t used to carrying contras. “A little,” I rotated my hand left and right in the air in case he couldn’t hear me. He replied with a simple yet powerful look radiating happiness instead of using words, seeing that I was currently on my way to do something. Very thoughtful of him.

I feel the need to mention how M would whip his head in my direction almost EVERY TIME the drum major would call for the tubas to get set. He didn’t look at anyone else when he did this. I’m a good percentage sure that he was always just gazing straight at me.

I don’t know why he felt the need to do that so often, but it was definitely a motivator to improve my posture for him. Having M as a director again in general is just a blessing and huge reason to try hard. He’s very motivational. ^^

During our mini-sectional time, we were taking a little break from playing on our instruments. We got through a couple rounds of ‘Two Truths, One Lie’ when M walked through the door.

“Hiii MMMMMMMMM!!” Most of the kids and I gushed in an unsynchronized manner. M looked flabbergasted at the sudden attention, his eyes huge and his face bewildered, but smiling as well. Right away, he went to go and lean against the table closest to me, to my right. It was sort of unreal that he was just...there. Two feet away from me.

“What are you doing? Have you played yet?” He asked us all with a semi-serious expression. We all said yes to this question. He leaned forward slightly. “Have you gotten really good yet?” His tone became more playful. “Slow progress, M. Slowly improving.” I threw my head back to look at him as I stated those thoughts.

A second later, I returned my head upright and turned to him once again, wearing a welcoming face. “Do you want to join us?” I referred to the game of ‘Two Truths One Lie’. It didn’t take long for him to say “no, I don’t.”, but he seemed interested in what was happening anyway.

The entire time he was there he remained right by my side. I got to see him laughing, smiling, and merely being there. It was amazing.

“Hola,” he greeted a tubist and I as we walked past each other. “Hola!” The tubist cheered pretty quickly as they moved past. I was pretty caught off guard because of the Spanish greeting he used for some reason, so I hesitated before mustering out a response to him. “...Hello.”

We then continued going our own way.

Seeing that he was open, I came up to him to ask about the previously mentioned outdoor essentials since we were going outside tomorrow. “So we bring the hat and the sunglasses tomorrow, right?” He looked at me with blank eyes for a second before asking, “..what?” He blinked slow and apologetically while he leaned towards me to listen better.

“Do we bring the hat and sunglasses tomorrow?” “Yeah, you can bring them if you want to.” He looked at me intently and grinned a bit after his simple response. “Cool. Thank you.” I didn’t push the conversation any further. “Sure.”

I turned to walk away and completed a step or two before pausing to look back at what happened in these last eight hours. I brought myself back to the earlier comments he let out that day, revealing how unsure he was of the whole band camp ordeal, and whether or not he would be doing good enough for everyone he taught. He hasn’t regularly taught these kids yet anyway (thanks COVID). I whipped my body around, took a step, then leaned left towards him with a smile. I felt my expression begin to grow sincere.

“....Good job today.” I said aloud, hoping he would hear me.

Luckily, he did. He moved his head over to me and his gaze grew wide in surprise after realizing the compliment I gave out was for him. It was like a little (..!) going off in his head. 🥺 “Thank you!” He beamed at me. I returned his look before turning to leave again.

“You too.”

He added the last part just when I began to walk away with my contra in hand.

My heart absolutely EXPLODED at his thoughtfulness?!??! Like wow he didn’t have to say that...especially since I was walking away and stuff. It was so sweet.

I turned over my left shoulder to look at him again, feeling a lively rush of optimism flow through me. Not only was he already looking my way after his statement; he was granting me the warmest, most genuine smile he could muster. I returned it as equally as I could.

Hopefully he could tell how cheerful the statement made me. I mean, it seriously improved my entire week.

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Whether it be listening to his instruction, laughing at his jokes, making silent eye contact, making physical contact, talking to each other, or just simply being in the same room . . . it’s such a magnificent experience for me. And that appreciation I have for him almost feels mutual. Almost.

I hope you all have a great evening. I may post day 2 later or tomorrow. Stay awesome, and I’ll get back to you all soon enough.

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victimeyez · 3 years

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Buck and Fletcher 2: Electric Boogaloo

Fanfic for @knivestothroats In The Woods Somewhere - click for masterlist

This one is actually so long I had to break it into parts, tags will be listed at the beginning of each chapter for the chapter, and links to the other parts here:

Part 1: X Part 2: X Part 3: X Part 4: Here Part 5: X

Buck becomes the unwilling guinea pig for the trainees while Fletcher is away.

Tags: Captive whumpee, multiple whumpers, electricity torture, waterand electric torture, graphic depictions of torture, the trainees are super fun to write, bondage, being dragged/manhandled, gags, not medically accurate don’t @ me

They made it almost to 200 volts before O’Connor called it. Buck had become largely non-responsive by 120 volts, other than moans and whimpers of pain. A cup of water was pressed to his lips, and with some concentration, Buck managed to take a few sips.

He was surprised when he felt his bindings being removed, but didn’t have the will to even stand up. He was even more surprised when Dayal set a small bowl of scrambled eggs in front of him. He’d thought he might have smelled something, but had only had an idle thought that it might be his chest.

“Eat. We don’t want you loopy for the rest of the day.”

Buck was feeling more nauseous than hungry after his ordeal, but after it was made clear it wasn’t a choice, he stomached a few mouthfuls. With that and a glass of lemonade, he was admittedly feeling a bit better.

“Alright then. Are we ready for water trials?” Dayal rubbed his hands together eagerly.

“We shouldn’t have fed him,” Petrova complained. “If he throws up, I’m not touching it.”

“We needed him to be closer to his baseline, otherwise the data will be off,” O’Connor argued.

Buck could feel sweat beading on his temple. He didn’t know what the water trials were, and he didn’t want to know.

He mustered all his strength to rise to his feet, pushing his chair back, and making a run for it. When he actually moved to do it, his numb legs didn’t work as fast as his brain told them to, and he tripped over himself, falling to the kitchen floor. Before he could get his arms underneath him they were pulled back again, handcuffs clicking shut around his burnt wrists, and the familiar ripping sound of duck tape unspooled all too close.

“Does the tub need to be warm or cold?” De Luca had removed his gloves and had his sleeves rolled up.

“Why would it matter?” Petrova asked snidely.

“I dunno, does the water get hot when you shock it? I feel like it would.” De Luca looked a little sheepish.

“So wait, then let’s start with cold water, right?” Dayal sounded confused.

“Preferably the water would be the same temperature for each trial to establish a constant, is there a thermometer anywhere?” O’Connor looked thoughtful.

“I think we could just kinda measure it by feel, or ask Buck.” De Luca crossed his arms.

“You’re all idiots.” Petrova sighed and grabbed Buck’s shoulders, pushing him onto his side before hauling him to his feet. He stumbled, and his feet felt far, far below him, but Petrova shoved him down the hall and into the bathroom, where De Luca had retreated to and was filling the tub.

Buck thrashed with all his might, but it felt slow and heavy, and Petrova handled him with little difficulty. She gave him a final shove to the bath and he tripped over the side, smashing his nose against the shower wall before falling into the tub with a splash. Dayal immediately grabbed him, turning him onto his back in the water. It was icy cold and Buck felt like he couldn’t force his lungs to take in a breath. After some sputtering he managed, and choked on a painful gasp.

“Same experiment, this time in water. I’m betting it’ll hurt more.”

“I think he’ll be out after the first zap.”

“Care to make it a wager?”

They bickered amongst themselves while Petrova set up the battery beside the bath.

“I can just kind of...dip them in water, like fishing, right?” She held up the clamps by their chords a few feet up.

“I’d wear the gloves anyway, just in case.”

She nodded and slid them on.

“Please don’t do this, please, I can’t take-”

Dayal loomed over him, dangling the dish towel above his face with a wide grin.

“No more of that.”

Buck tried to turn his head away but was gagged again.

“Start super slow, I’m not about to start doing dishes shifts again.”

“Where did we start last time?”

O’Connor flicked back a couple pages on her little notepad.

“9 volts. That should be fine.”

De Luca adjusted the voltmeter again and Petrova lowered the clamps over the water.

“Try to think about if this hurts more, less, or the same as when we did 9 volts last time.” O’Connor instructed, before a nod to Petrova.

“Water trial, take one….action.”

#knivestothroats #captive whumpee #fanfic #torture whump #electric torture #shock torture #in the woods somewhere #sorry i end this the same way i did last chapter i'm tryinggggg

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thewatermelloncat · 4 years

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Pathogen

Summary: Ben gets sick back when they were kids. Doesn’t really have a storyline, so that’s it – that’s the description.

☆ FUN FACT☆ : I started to write this story way back, just after season 1 was released and intended for it to be focused on Five, but I changed it to Ben at the last minute.

Warnings: Vomiting – but it’s mostly implied.

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Swallowing hurt. That is the only thing Ben can think about right now. Not sitting straight at the breakfast table, not listening to his father repeat the training schedule for the day, and not eating the food laid out in front of him. Just that his throat hurt… a lot.

Luther couldn’t think of much either, most of his thoughts occupied by his brother barely touching his breakfast. He looked pale and if Luther concentrated enough, he could see a thin layer of sweat glistening on his forehead. His hands shake slightly, and his eyes are tired, reminding Luther of how he had to wake him up for breakfast that morning – that had been unusual.

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Ben was ashamed to think it, but as he stood outside his father’s office, he debated whether he could run off and hide. He felt far too horrible to train but it was compulsory, and he’d rather not face his father’s reprimanding when he emerged from hiding – he couldn’t disappear forever.

Klaus had tried that once when he didn’t want to be locked in the mausoleum – earned him three extra hours in there. Ben wasn’t willing to face a punishment like that.

Drawing in a deep breath and mustering up what little strength he has, he knocks quietly on the door of his father’s office waiting for the command to step inside.

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Ben had always hated individual training, but especially today. If he were in the midst of the group at least he could blend in and not have his father’s eyes solely on him. But he could feel his piercing gaze fixed on his every move, analysing everything about him down to his posture.

His father sighs deeply as he flips a page in his notebook. “Can you not extend them further?” he phrases the command like a question.

No doubt referencing how his tentacles move sluggishly through the air, barely extending past two metres in front of him. The ends of them droop down like they each weigh a ton, which is exactly what it feels like to Ben.

“Where is your strength?”

Ben wishes he could fabricate a lie but he can’t see the point. Plus, some part of him wants his father to take sympathy on him, he can feel himself getting fainter by the second. “I’m not feeling well, Sir.”

All thoughts of his father showing him compassion are demolished as he hums irritably in dismissal, like it’s Ben’s intention to inconvenience his studies. He’d never had much hope for it anyway.

And so, his training continues. Each second Ben wills the tentacles to extend further, raise them higher, but he’s too weak and they won’t listen to him. When it come times to practice their strength, the weight he tries to lift only makes it centimetres off the ground before it falls back to the floor.

“You’re a disappointment” Hargreeves looks back down to his notebook, missing Ben’s nod of acceptance. Without looking back up from his paper, he walks back to his desk without another word and Ben takes that as his dismissal.

As soon as he steps into the hallway, he throws his hand against the wall for support. When he’d awoken that morning, he hadn’t initially felt sick to his stomach, but the tentacles writhing around in his stomach have changed that. He feels dizzy now that most of his energy has been spent and he stumbles alongside the wall through the hallways with the back of his wrist over his mouth and his other hand across his stomach.

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Unwanted tears stream down his face and his knees feel cold against the tiles on the bathroom floor. He swallows thickly at the burning in his throat and winces at the sour taste in his mouth. His arm goes back around his middle as he tucks himself back into a ball, more tears falling down his face at the pain in his stomach. With a shaky hand he brushes his hair out of his face before wiping the tears off his cheeks. The sooner he can compose himself the better.

He curses his luck when he hears the clacking of high heels sounding from down the hallway. He had thought he was about ready to leave and get up off the floor before his stomach decided to go for round two, and in this moment, he just wanted to be left alone.

Though the hand that rubs soothingly up and down his back isn’t entirely unwelcome, and the soft voice in his ear whispering encouraging things is comforting. Afterward when a glass of water is pressed into his hands to wash the taste from his mouth, he is so grateful that he doesn’t question when he is helped off the floor and led back to his room.

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It didn’t take much for Luther to piece together events after he’d spotted Grace leading Ben out of the bathroom to his room. His brother looked so dreadful that it was a wonder that he had made it ten minutes into his individual training at all. Though it did concern him that Ben had been released – or had to leave – early. They still had group training that afternoon and there was no telling what their father would make him do regardless of how horrible he felt.

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It was a nice day with the sun shining down into courtyard outside, so it was filled with kids running around kicking a ball to one another. Luther had quickly cleared up the questions of where Ben was and why he was missing when they had all congregated down in the yard for their half hour of free time. After that the rest of them had all moved on to kicking around the ball, though Luther’s mind stayed focused on it.

He’d been distracted since then, nearly being squared in the face a few times by Diego kicking the ball to him. Though his reactions had been fast enough to swerve him out of damage every time. It isn’t until Pogo’s voice calls down from an upper window that they have ten minutes left, that Luther mutters something unintelligible to the group before disappearing out of the courtyard.

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“What is it you are here for, Number 1?” Hargreeves asks Luther as he steps into his office after being given permission to enter.

“I wanted to know whether Ben is being excused from group training today” Luther asks as he moves to stand in front of his father’s desk.

“And why would that be?” his father doesn’t spare him a glance.

“He’s sick – uh” Luther hesitates before rephrasing into the proper language they are supposed to use around their father. “He’s not well.”

“It’s only a small virus.”

Luther bites back a scoff at his father’s response, “he was vomiting before.”

“He’ll have to manage.”

Luther widens his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief before turning around back to the door, clear that his father isn’t going to entertain the topic any longer. There is no point arguing with him.

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The clattering of sparring sticks became disorientating after a while and Ben could finally understand why Klaus always complained about it when he was hungover. His grip on his stick is weak with his clammy hands and shaking limbs. Even in his fuzzy state he’s aware that his partner is significantly holding back.

If Five had a choice, he wouldn’t fight Ben at all. Dear he say it. but he actually feels sorry for him as he seems to battle with himself to remain on his feet. Around the room his other siblings have been sparing him quick glances, worry even evident in the eyes of Luther.

Their appointed leader had glared at their father when he had commanded him to wake Ben up for group training. When he’d brought their brother back the glare hadn’t been wiped from his face, and it remained there while their father proceeded to lecture Ben for an ungodly amount of time over him being late and holding up proceedings. Though everyone else knew that it wasn’t his fault, and that he shouldn’t be training at all.

“Pick up the pace, Number 5” his father commands barbarically as Five steps back from his opponent again, lowering his stick to the floor as Ben shields a series of coughs into his arm.

“He’s not enough of a challenge for me” Five says, ever the master of disguising his concern with arrogance.

“Then why does he remain on his feet?”

Five’s heart sinks at the inevitability of what his father wants him to do. He knows with his eyes on him he would have to do it quickly or face punishment. He can’t bear to look at Ben who visibly shakes and is constantly adjusting his footing like the ground is trying to throw him off. As his eyes find the floor, he contemplates refusing his father’s command and throwing down his sparring stick in protest. Though he knows if he does, his father will punish both him and Ben. That was something he couldn’t bear to put him through, though the alternative isn’t fair either.

When Five looks up from the floor, Ben fixes him with a look and slightly nods his head, signalling for him to go ahead. Five shakes his head slightly and sets his jaw, obviously having a hard time making a decision. Though within seconds, much to Five’s horror, the decision is taken out of his hands as Ben’s legs collapse from under him and he falls to the floor.

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Surfacing from sleep, Ben shifts with everything being uncomfortably hot and fuzzy. Distantly he can hear thundering footsteps of his siblings’ endurance training running up and down the staircases. Though it’s only when he hears a sound next to him that he bothers to open his eyes.

Grace sits in a chair next to his bed, humming softly. Mending their uniforms with a needle in hand. She doesn’t look up from her work when his eyes open, and for some reason he doesn’t want her to. Afraid that if she catches him awake, she’ll make him sit up and sip at a glass of water, and he doesn’t want to move. So, he closes his eyes and gives back in to his exhaustion. He’ll take time to sleep while he can get it.

#tua #umbrella academy fanfiction #ben hargreeves #the horror #luther hargreeves #five hargreeves #Reginald Hargreeves #sick

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twixtandshout · 3 years

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Tagged by @pidgeonpostal! And not tagging anyone else because I have SOILED the original template (soiled it!!) in deference to my [brushes off skirt] mostly clean public-facing appearance.

...I’ve been making a lot of Spongebob memes lately for someone who has not seen Spongebob.

How many works do you have on AO3?

71!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

...306,834. Jesus.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Uh. Many! I do a lot of one-offs (and/or start long things I never finish) in many different places. My top three fandoms by fics written are RWBY (29), Undertale (25), Gravity Falls/Transcendence AU (4).

Bet you can’t tell where my hyperfixations have fallen.

I’ve also got some Pokémon and Sonic the Hedgehog fics back on my ff.net account, or I think I still do, anyway, but let’s never go back there pls

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Sweeter Than Honey (Undertale): Taking a Completely unsurprising first place, with over 600 more kudos than the runner-up, the haphazard Underswap fic featuring a post-college self-insert I wrote just after high school! I shake my head some at how overblown and ridiculous the gap between this and all my other stuff is (c’mon, guys, I’ve written way better fics), but this is also the fic which prompted me (and at least one other person!) to start using they/them pronouns. I’ve gotten a lot of really sweet comments about how seen and appreciated it’s made people feel, so I can’t get down too far about it.

2. To Be A Hero (BNHA): I don’t count myself as part of the BNHA fandom, for a number of reasons, but for something that’s arguably the main motivation for the entire plot, Midoriya’s quirklessness is something I’ve never thought has been handled well. This fic marked the first time I (somewhat tentatively) claimed the disability label (thanks again to Sweeter Than for prompting that realization) to hold that lens over canon. It also really shot up my chart, dang! It’s the only thing here I’d consider “recent.”

3. Three-Sentence Shipping (Undertale): Self-explanatory.

4. Brothers Beyond Bonedaries (Undertale): Ah, the way-overcomplicated AU³ I got nowhere close to finishing. One of the things I really like about Undertale is the interface screw, how Toby Fox uses the medium of the video game to pull off crazy things and enhance his game, but most of the fic written for the fandom seems dedicated to explaining it away, grounding it, rather than taking it to the next step and messing with the medium of fanfiction when you keep the story going. I tried to do something cool like that here, playing with questions like narrator and authorship and breaking the fourth wall, even taking the “final boss” fight to a “totally separate” fic reached through the first by link – but, well, then I never finished it, which probably didn’t make anything less confusing for the poor folks who missed the intent.

5. Spirit and Such (Gravity Falls: Transcendence AU): A whole fic written to line out a particular image I had, which, naturally, never made it to the page. I consider it a bit of a cautionary tale for myself when it comes to writing (near-)original content; there’s a lot I look back on and cringe. I still love the characters, though – well, the important ones – and I think just stepping away from the tried-and-true Mizar formula nets it a star sticker here.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

>w>; I try, but a lot of the time I just don’t have anything to say? Like, oh, you liked it? Neat. There’s not much to respond to in comments like that, and then I’m weighing falling down on an ~obligation~ to respond to every message in my inbox vs annoying people with copy-paste fluff responses all down the page. Plus I know I make more of an effort to comment on things that didn’t get the attention I feel they deserve, so if I’m driving up my own comment count with nonsense, am I preventing myself from being in a position to receive more comments later? And then if I do comment, am I being too effusive or running people’s ears off explaining things they don’t actually need to know? Sometimes people just want to express interest or admiration and don’t necessarily want a whole peek and guided tour behind the curtain.

Can you tell I have anxiety? x3;

Anyway, I do respond when I can. And I keep most of the comments I’ve gotten to go back and reread.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hm, hmm. Lots of stuff in the TQ Nonsense series would probably qualify! I’m thinking of Unfixable, Wolfsong, and Ethanol. And there’s Bursting Through A Blood-Red Sky (I Can Live, I Can Breathe), of course, but that was always intended to have a fix-it epilogue. It’s just that I wrote it in a couple of hours day-of, stared at it, and decided I didn’t wanna just then. But now that’s As Long As You’re Still Burning Bright (I’m Still Awake), and that’s probably the best romance I’ve written, so that one worked out.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Now and then! When the urge strikes. Uhhh, I’ve got a series of Doctor Who x Undertale crossovers I actually made a whole dang verse for that never made it to print. Get a couple great comments on that every few months or so. I think the World Trigger x Undertale crossover is probably weirder, though, by virtue of WT being a very small fandom. My enthusiasm kinda sputtered out on that one.

Mostly I just daydream crossovers with whatever happens to catch my eye at any given moment. I have a lot!!!! Though odds are out on whether I manage to remember any of them once the initial thought’s passed, lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Gotten a couple eyebrow-raising comments, but I think mostly I’m just too small a writer to draw that kind of attention.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t? think so? Think my tastes are a little niche for most people to bother ^^;

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone apologize once for any language mistakes in their comment cause they had to run it through a translator! That’s not what you asked (the answer is no), but it’s very flattering to think that someone liked my fic enough to read and comment despite the language barrier.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! :D @pidgeonpostal was gracious enough to agree to co-write Five Nights at Denny’s with me off an idea about shoes. This has fulfilled a long-held dream of mine (collabing with someone, not the shoes) and also introduced me to some lovely people.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Who has time for just one? ;3c Honestly, I care more about the characters and how the relationship – any relationship – between them changes them than I do about ~A Ship~ as a solid, bounded noun-object. I’ve got characters I like more and less and feelings about who does and doesn’t have chemistry in which directions with whom, but finding anything that agrees with those preferences is hard, harder when you take alloromanticism into account. I’ll play in any sandbox with cool toys, especially if other folks have already built sick sandcastles there.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

[kicks every single unfinished fic further under the bed] What nooo no WIPs here, everything on my account is either finished or does not exist

I’ve got a couple extra chapters of Sweeter Than floating around unposted, but 1. that fic’s a mess 2. high school Twixt and post-college Twixt are different people and trying to contort myself into three other me-shapes just cause people Like this fic is not something I’m super interested in 3. it’s headed for an emotional dip and I’d rather leave it where it is than post two chapters, stall out again, and leave folks with a bad end.

As for other fics... it’s looking more and more likely that v7 of my Yellow Brick Road AU will never actually make it out. >w>; I’ve got some really great ideas, but not enough to make me feel like I know what I’m doing, and that’s a big roadblock. Plus trying to engage with RT’s Atlas-Mantle worldbuilding in any serious capacity is... a headache. I can’t recommend the Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe enough, but it leaves some pretty big shoes to follow! And I’ve got small feet. <w<;

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue’s fun, probably as an extension of characterization. I love tearing into what makes people tick, especially against the backdrop of their environment, the story they’re in, and the people they’re up against. Voice is a double-edged sword; I’ve been told my writing is really recognizable and individual, but on the other hand, I’ve been growing frustrated with with the limits of my narrative ability. There’s a strong rhythm I keep when I write (you might notice it here, even) but that leaves me feeling predictable and stale. I’m not sure I’m great at setting as a matter of course, but I’m pretty good at describing setpieces where the need comes up; that comes from my background in poetry, as does the fun I have with sublimating and abstracting complex imagery. And I think I bring some needed nuance to the universal. For good or ill, I don’t do what “everyone else” is doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, writing, for one thing. If I don’t know how something’s going to go and don’t have the urge to write it, it isn’t getting done, which means there’s a billion things that will never see the page and a few hundred more that are never getting finished. I lose momentum easily and have a hard time getting started, and I put way too much standing on finding a foothold with other people; as critical as I am of my work, I have high expectations for the stuff that passes muster, and it never seems to measure up. I’m also really uncreative. Yeah, I can mix up elements and extrapolate events, but coming up with things wholesale is really hard, which is why I avoid it wherever possible and steal/reskin stuff from other places instead.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Something along the lines of “Hoo boy, I am Not qualified for this but hopefully it’s decent anyway.” Maria’s Spanish lines haven’t been a big deal – I’ve used it sparingly and, as a Latin language, it should be easy for English-speaking audiences to pick up on the gist – but I’ve had a harder time with Tai’s Chinese, both because I have Even Less background there and because it is, of course, an entirely different language system. If I write it out in English or Romanized italics, am I colonizing it or changing the meaning? If I write it out in the presumed-original characters (presumed because it’s Google Translate and who knows if I’m even barking in the right forest), am I confusing or alienating my presumed-majority-English-speaking audience? Where should I put the translations? Should I put the translations? And for Frisk’s sign language, thinking back, are the brackets I used instead of quotes alienating/infantilizing? I like that different characters give the text between a different feel, but I’m not an ASL speaker – and I’m pretty sure the word is “speaker,” which would only reinforce that that demographic would rather I didn’t do that. It’s important for all these characters, I think, that they use non-English language where it makes sense; it’s part of who they are. But as a white monolingual English-speaker, I don’t think I can really weigh in.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Thaaaat’d be Pokémon, followed closely with Sonic the Hedgehog. Whether those fics are still on my ff.net account or not (pretty sure I’ve purged them, but you never know) I’ve still got a couple saved to a folder on my current laptop, ostensibly so I can look back and see how far I’ve come and more practically to allow for the possibility of furthering group cohesion through public shaming.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I still like the idea behind The Man Who Is Atlas, and Burning Bright (Still Awake) gets props for being my current fic, though it’s currently in that spot where I’m excited to get new chapters posted but also quietly marking everything up in red pen. I think Harbinger gets the crown here, at least for now.

#answerin' stuff

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stachmousworld · 4 years

Text

Avenge me tomorrow (Ch.3)

The model on the collage is Philomena Kwao. She is so gorgeous and graceful!

Pairing: polyavengers x Black!reader

Previously: Bruce took care of Thea. Mjöllnir reached for her and deemed her worthy. She is transcended by all the knowledge from Mjöllnir.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

Thea woke up alone. Not that she was surprised. After last night, she would have probably had another breakdown if someone had gone in bed with her. She was sore and dirty as mentally than physically.

She braced herself, stood up, wobbling on her feet and worked her way to the bathroom. She stood in the shower naked and turned the water on. The cold water hit her back but instead of shrieking as she usually does, she stood still. The low temperature brought back some images from the Mjolnir true power: Ultimate strength.

She squatted down and washed her private parts thoroughly. Now she was thinking about it, it wasn't the first time Mjöllnir had reached her. There was some times when she’d thought her tinnitus worsened. She was so used to abnormal background noises that she hadn't really paid any attention to the source of the buzzing. Only when she had been in dire need of help, the Hammer had been louder and had came straight to her.

After going through the motion of the memories, she could now understand what Thor meant about fellowship. It’s true that companions were like an only body, fighting, loving and grieving together. It wasn’t like a wife and her husband.

No.

It was a stronger feeling, a link that couldn't be broken, even by death.

It didn’t lessen Thea’s pain and anger. This boiling sensation rising in the pit of her stomach didn't come from her. She barely had enough strength to do her daily ablutions. She surely couldn't muster an ounce of pure anger.

Thea dried herself with her mom’s favorite fuzzy towel. She pressed her nose in it and sniffed the scent of her mom’s washing liquid. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Mom, where are you? I need you, she thought, sadly. Tears pooled in her closed eyes, but she kept them trapped. You are strong, you are strong, she repeated as mantra.

She took a last deep breath, straightened her back and went into her closet. She didn’t want to be her habitual flamboyant self today. She felt so much sorrow an emptiness that she couldn’t bear seeing them looking at her, ogling her like an object. Even though it was her fault in the first place.

As she entered the occupied kitchen, all their conversations came to a halt. Mjöllnir was at Thor’s feet and Thea…God, she had to calm down.

Don't look at the Hammer, don't look at the damn Hammer, she repeated firmly in her head.

“Hey,” she waved her hand and sat on the only empty chair, between Bucky and Steve. Mjöllnir was buzzing, raging in her heart. And just like that, she could hear each sound, each breath, see each molecule, feel the earth under the building. The oppressing feeling stopped as quick as it started. She took a shuddered breath and tried to keep it calm. Would she ever going to get used to its presence in her mind?

“Thea,” Bucky asked worried.

She hummed.

“Are you okay?”

Now, you care, she thought viciously. She blinked shocked by her mental outburst. As she checked her feelings, she finally noticed the anger. It seeped in her mind under the form of a vicious snake in the grass. It was slowly hissing, body moving silently through the grass before it attacked. She contemplated the snake with interrogation. She knew it’d never hurt her. That, she was sure of. Its eyes gleamed in the darkness of her thoughts like two stars in a dark sky.

It hissed before going back into her darkness. She was about to follow it –

“Thea?” Tony asked, concerned.

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times to erase the image of the snake. She admitted her defeat when it wouldn’t disappear. The snake had wanted to tell her something. Its hiss had made sense. It had resonated in her soul like an indubitable fact. But when she tried to remember what it truly meant; the words wouldn’t come.

She shook her head, feeling slightly annoyed, and raised her eyes. They all looked…really worried. Thea sighed and pushed down her unrequited feelings. They didn’t feel sad because they loved her but because she was their ward and Rhodey would kick their ass. She smirked at that thought. He so would. And maybe hers too. At that thought her smile diminished.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked calmly.

“’m fine,” she replied while eating her waffles.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Nat’", she replied, exasperated. Thea met Natasha's piercing eyes. She knew that if she tried to smile, Nat’ would detect the fakeness. She was surprised the other hadn’t already noticed. For superheroes, they were shams.

“Ok,” Natasha conceded, still staring at her.

Bruce also was observing her. After last night, she didn't want to think about his kindness and care. She wanted to stay strong in front of them. She knew deep down that they were not all black or white but a vibrant grey color. They had never really hurt and that’s why she had to take drastic measures. She couldn’t fell into this emotional rollercoaster. There was no place for her in their relationship. That’s why her only solution was avoidance. At first, she had wanted to call that fleeing, but she didn’t want to seem like a coward. Then, a retreat would imply that they had attacked, and she was forced to back off, which was untrue. Only the term avoidance put them on the same level.

She could feel Bucky and Steve’s inquisitive eyes watching her every move. She was starting to feel claustrophobic. Her body was tensed, her movements jerky and her mind ran circles. She willed her body to relax. The last thing she wanted was to set the two nonagenarian Cerberus on her track.

“Anyway, we saw the video and you could have waited for us!” Clint complained, raising his fork in the air. Eggs flew around him. Nat’ sent him a death glare. He grimaced and lowered his fork slowly, mumbling an apology. Only when he put back his fork on the table, Nat’ turned back to her.

“Next time,” Bucky chuckled, somewhat still awkwardly. There was some edge in his voice. Thea pretended to not have noticed his worried glances. She was almost sure that he knew how she really felt or had at least some suspicions.

“Indeed, next time,” repeated Thor. He leaned toward Bucky and kissed him on the lips. Thea recoiled slightly. As she gazed away, she fell on Natasha’s assessing eyes. Instead of trying to engage with her, Thea put a large portion of her waffle in her mouth and focused on eating the rest of her plate, quickly.

A few days prior, she had been more than excited to listen to them talking about her like that, negotiating what they could do, her safewords and kinks. But now she could mostly feel the fear and disgust as she listened to them planning another go with her. She only felt more ashamed when she felt a part of her getting aroused. What was wrong with her?

Normally, her kink laid strongly into that kind of play. But the feeling she had for each of them was more than lust and she couldn’t…she swallowed her sob and teary eyes. She pretended to choke to hide her tears. Steve slapped a few times onto her back.

“Here, here, it’s okay. Breathe deeply now.”

She accepted the glass of water he handed her.

“It happens to the best of us," he said softly.

“Your gag reflex is off, little girl,” Bucky joked, his inquisitive eyes still on her. "Last night you had no problem taking us, right Stevie?"

Steve's face became as red as the rage flowing in her veins. She was used to the lewd comments and would normally be aroused. But today, it rubbed her the wrong way. The snake hissed louder to push her to strike. She dabbed her mouth with a tissue. The triangular head appeared briefly behind her eyelids, remining her of its ominous presence.

"Really, Steven? I arrived a little too late to enjoy the sight of you chasing your relief in Thea's throat", Thor complained.

Thea forced herself to drink and unclenched her hand. She pretended to smile, not looking at anyone specifically. She thanked God for the glass of water. Without she would have never been able to hide her grimace. And if the situation wasn’t already nauseating Mjollnir was singing to her ears, calling her, pressing her to lift it. At the verge of giving in and reaching for it, she quickly stood up.

“Whoa there,” Steve exclaimed, stabilizing her.

“Sorry," she said quickly. "I…have forgotten my meeting. I’m going to be late.” She took her plate and glass and put it in the dishwasher. “I will be out for the day.”

“You don’t have to rush like that. I could tell Happy to drive you there,” Tony offered.

Thea could hear the murmurs between Natasha and Bruce and tuned them out. They had figured you out, you have to bounce, she thought hastily.

“Oh, I thought you’d stay with us,” Thor offered, as if he really cared.

She didn’t hate any of them. But she hated how they made her feel. Hated to feel cared off when Thor was using this soft, caring tone. When all of this was pretense. She hid her trembling fingers in her hoodie pockets.

“We’d take care of you,” he continued, his eyes drifted to Bucky and the rest of them. The lust in his eyes turned into longing, love, which was easily reciprocated.

The Hammer moved a little. Enough to calm her down and reassure her. They don’t care about you. They don’t really like you’d wanted to.

“No,” she said firmly, surprising all of them. “I have things to do. Don’t wait for me tonight. Actually, we’ll probably see each other in two days”, she finished swiftly and took off. She didn’t let them chase her, and she made a beeline to the elevator.

It was working. She was almost free. Jarvis opened the doors and let her in.

She heard quick footsteps and Nat's voice.

It was too late.

Next chapter

#polyavengers #avengers x reader #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x plus size reader #character of color #original character of color #mjöllnir #mcu fics #woc #black female oc #black woman #avengemetomorrow

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alarawriting · 4 years

Text

52 Project #3: Graduation Day

Science fiction, superpowers, inspired by cyberpunk and also anime. Contains violence, gore, lots of made-up future slang.

***

Teal waited silently in her cell, trying to control the vicious excitement that coursed through her. Today is my final exam. I'll see Essell again. They had promised her that if she survived today, she would see her brother again, for the first time in five years-- for the first time since both their lives had been destroyed. Of course, one could not necessarily believe their promises, but they themselves had trained Teal as a killer, and they had to know that if they lied, she'd turn her skills on them. So she expected that they wouldn’t lie, not this time.

The door opened, and a Drone entered. "Teal A-3ß. Come with me."

Teal nodded once, sharply, and stood. She was a tall, androgynous 15-year-old, with short white hair crowning a pale face. She wore black today, a bodysuit made of a tough polymer fabric, somewhat resistant to bullets and knives and with lines of silver shot through it to diffuse lasers. They had offered her body armor, but she'd refused. Teal needed to be as light as possible, especially now that she'd gotten her growth.

She followed the drone down the corridor to the battle chamber. The door opened, and momentarily, Teal was blinded by what looked like sunlight, before the artificial film on her retina darkened enough to let her see. She stepped forward, staring about her in surprise. The simulation today was a replica of the Grove, where she and Essell had grown up. Why? Are they trying to remind me why I want to win? Or of what happened, the last day I saw this place? Do they want to throw me off my guard somehow? I can probably expect a trap of some kind. She breathed the air in deeply. They didn't have the smells exactly right, but close. Very close.

Standing, drinking in the air and the scenery, she showed every sign of fatal distraction. But the moment the door opened and the men with guns charged in, Teal was in the air. She'd been too heavy to fly for some years now-- her teek rating was 5, and she'd long been over 50 kilos-- but she could still boost. From a starting position she leapt, boosting, and flipped out of visibility into tree cover before the gunmen could track her.

Ten men fanned out slowly throughout the grove. All carried jectors, some machine, some sniper rifles. Some packed lasers or knives as well. Teal checked her weapons-- razor claws strapped to her fingers, blades on the edge and tip of her footgear-- and then leapt down on two men, backboosting to control her fall. The first saw her and swiveled to fire. Not near fast enough-- Teal slashed his throat open with her footblades on the way down, landed, and brought her hand down in a chop on the other man's neck, crushing his artery and dropping him.

The other men saw her. They turned and fired, but Teal was gone again.

She crept through the trees, using teek to bootstrap, lightening her own weight so that she could crawl along branches far too thin to take her full 62 kilos. She stayed high in the trees, on the thin branches, hidden by meters of foliage, and reached a point where she could peer down over the Grove. With her lens implants, controlled by her eye muscles rather than any kind of cybernetics, she could compensate for vision that was naturally not very good. She scanned the Grove, looking for the hunters to make them her prey.

By now, her opponents apparently had no idea where she was. In pairs and threes, they roamed, searching behind bushes and in the trees, far lower than she was. Perhaps they didn't realize she could stay up so high. Boosting was an obvious application of teek-- teek rating referred to how many kilos you could lift for a sustained period of five minutes, and anyone could figure out that you could carry more in short bursts of effort. But bootstrapping-- where you used sustained teek on your own body to lighten your weight-- was less evident to non-teeks. They might assume she couldn't be as high as she was, because the branches wouldn't hold her.

Should have done their research.

Three men in a small clump. Teal leapt from the top and waited until she was two meters over one man's head before backboosting to slow her fall. Even still, her momentum drove her into him, crushing his skull and collarbone. She boosted off him for a split second, landed on the ground, and took out the other two's guns with a circle kick. One of them grabbed for her, but Teal wasn't there-- boosting up and over his head, and flipping in back of him, where an elbow smashed down into his collarbone dropped him. The other lunged forward, swinging. She dodged back and kicked, ripping out his throat with the blades on her foot. Then she bent and drove her claws into the neck of the one on the ground. She got no points for disabling-- they all had to die.

Stupid waste.

The remaining men ran at her. Teal boosted up and hid in the trees again. Now they had wised up-- four of them were together, and she couldn't take four at once, especially since they were watching the air. Where was the fifth? Teal started to look for him, and her eye was caught by the ladder trees.

She and Essell had called them that because they were close enough together that you could string ropes around them, to make ladder runs. They'd been constructing a treehouse between the two-- had been working on it for weeks when the black day came. The treehouse had never been finished.

The black day... They'd been playing Air Tag. Teal had weighed twenty kilos less, but she'd had her full teek already, so she could fly and have teek to spare. Essell, also, had been smaller but at full power, able to make a wingspan large enough to fly with. They'd been flying through the trees, chasing each other, laughing...

"There she is!"

Machine gun fire sprayed at Teal's perch. Startled, she boosted up, out of the guns' range. There was the trap she’d expected. Everywhere in the Grove simulacrum brought back memories she hadn’t dared focus on for five years, and now, they were flooding in, distracting her.

I won't let myself think about it. If I win today, I'll be with Essell again... and we can avenge the black day, together. I can't let myself think about it until then.

From a higher vantage point, she searched again for the fifth man. He didn't appear to be anywhere. Maybe she had counted wrong, and there had only been nine to begin with? Unlikely – she wasn’t that careless. She checked the places in a direct line from where she intended to come down. He wasn't in any of them that she could see, which meant she could land and he wouldn't have a clear shot. Good enough.

She threw a broken tree limb down some distance away from her. All the men turned as it landed with a thud. Then she leapt down among them, hands and feet knocking guns out of the way. She inflicted bloody score wounds, but didn't manage to kill any with the first blows. That was all right-- without their guns, they were no match for her. She moved in‑‑

--and from hiding, the fifth fired a sniper rifle at her head.

Teal sensed it before it was really moving. That still didn't give her much time, though. Throwing up the full force of her teek, she caught it, in a split-second burst of power. The recoil threw her backwards onto her butt, as the bullet dropped to the ground.

A big blond man, closer to Teal than his companions, threw himself on top of her and pinned her down with his body, wrapping his legs around hers and holding down her wrists with his hands. He was close to 140 kilos, a big heavy man, and he was tangled with her tightly enough that a teek lift wouldn't work unless she could sustain it, and pry him loose. And of course he was far too heavy for sustained lift. And she had no leverage to use her physical strength. She battered at him with short bursts, trying to force him off her, but she couldn't pry his arms and legs loose-- she hadn't that kind of fine control-- and catching the bullet had exhausted her. She simply couldn't manage a burst of more than 120 kilos lift, max, and that for no longer than a few seconds.

He pulled out a Bowie knife, while she was still struggling to force him off her, and brought it around to cut her throat open. In desperation, Teal focused all her teek on the knife, and knocked it from his hand. He shifted himself slightly, trying to grab for the knife as it went flying, and with a burst of physical force and telekinetic panic, Teal threw him off in a violent spasm. She couldn't throw him far-- he fell off her to the side, a hairsbreath from pinning her again, and so she jerked away and rolled frantically, just evading his grasping hands. She got up and leapt from a crouching position, with no time to stand, boosting up. The force she could muster was almost not enough to reach the nearest tree branch, and when she pulled herself up, she found herself achy and weak, and so overheated she was close to feverish, with a savage headache. She'd overused the TK.

That was the simulacrum's second trap, she thought dizzily. The sniper had been hidden someplace that he shouldn't have been able to hide, that he wouldn't have fit in if this were truly the Grove. There would be subtle, minor differences that could kill her because she didn't expect them. Now she had five men to take out still, and she was weakened from overusing TK.

Teal climbed the tree with hands and legs, not bootstrapping at all. She was drastically overheated-- it was a warm day anyway, and overusing TK generated more heat than she could easily get rid of. There used to be a small lake in the Grove, she remembered, and prayed that it was in the simulacrum as well-- yes. There it was. If she lured them over there and dragged them into the water, she could cool off and recover more quickly from overteeking. Assuming there wasn't a hidden trap in the lake, too.

Teal crawled along treebranches, until she was near the lake, then dropped and began to run. The men, hearing her, pursued. She plunged into the water, letting its coolness close over her head, soothing her fever.

Gunfire sprayed the surface of the water. Teal went down, into the murky bottom of the lake, where she couldn't be seen. It was far easier to teek through water than land-- a relatively minor push could produce as much effect underwater as a big push on land, because of the way water buoyed flesh and clung to itself, and because of the fact that, being a denser medium than air, it was easier to push against. Push on water, and you could see the effects. Teal opened her eyes, trying to look up through the water to find the men on the shore, but no luck. She couldn't see them any more than they could her.

She rose to the surface at the center of the lake and sucked in air. The machine jectors that fired at her hadn't quite the range to reach her, and the man with the sniper rifle wasn't apparently by the lakeshore with the others. One of the men holstered his machine gun and pulled out a laser. Laser range was effectively limitless, but the refractive index of water made it almost impossible to aim one at a person underwater. Teal dove, with the men's positions fixed in her mind.

She needed a low-hanging tree. Her overteek headache was almost gone, soothed by the balm of the water. Once she got out and took her nutrient mix, she should be fine. It was time to finish up here. Fortunately, she knew of a low-hanging tree. She swam over to it, staying deep under, then boosted from the middle of the lake. Water was a better medium for teeking through, but didn't provide the support for leaps that hard land did-- she needed to boost against water for three meters of lake before she had the momentum to shoot up and grab the branch a meter over her head. That took an effort. Once she was up and in the trees, though, she quickly vanished into them.

The men were ranged along the shore, looking for her. None of them were close enough to each other for her to take two at once. The one with the laser, however, was under a tree, and all the trees linked to each other if you could bootstrap along high branches and jump across gaps. Teal reached the proper tree, leapt down on the man, and knocked him into the water.

Momentum and surprise gave her the overwhelming advantage. He barely had time to struggle before she'd slid her hand through the water and sliced open his throat. Blood flowed around her, crimson plumes in the water. She left the body to rise to the surface, as she herself dove for the deep water, heading back for her tree.

Same drill this time. She rose up from the bottom of the lake, six meters deep, and boosted all the way, up to the low-hanging tree, shooting out of the water--

--and a gunshot rang out from the hidden sniper.

Teal pushed against the bullet, but the fact that she was airborne meant she had no leverage. The speed of the bullet made it much more effectively massive than she was. It was Teal's trajectory that changed violently. The bullet went on its way, barely deflected in its course, but it missed Teal because she had knocked herself back into the water with all the force she possessed. She fell on her back, so the impact with the water didn't knock too much of her wind from her-- but she hadn't had time to get a breath, and now she was tired from overteeking again.

Stupid, stupid, going for that tree again-- you know better! Teal snarled at herself. Twisting her body and cupping her hands, kicking and stroking her way up, she broke her downward plunge and headed back up. She broke surface for a second, long enough to gasp a spoonful of air, before gunfire forced her to dive again. Lungs burned, and arms and legs turned to leaden weights, as she forced herself back to the middle of the lake. This time when she surfaced, she was able to get all the air she needed. None of the men left had lasers. The sniper made no attempt to hit her-- which made sense, as being in the middle of the lake she was on the lowest ground in the Grove. If the sniper was hidden in a bush, or on low ground himself, shrubbery and the contours of the land might block him. But he could move, and probably was doing so now. She dove again before he could get a clear shot at her, and swam to the shore, staying deep under. Then she let herself drift upward.

There was one man standing far closer to the lake than he ought to be. Teal let herself float to the surface near him, tucking herself so that her white hair and skin was hidden by her black-clad body, almost upside down. She controlled her ascent, coming up slowly enough that he wouldn't necessarily register the movement if he wasn't looking for it. Then she twisted upright and shot both hands out, grabbing her opponent and dragging him into the water. He screamed and tried to orient his gun, but she had only to yank him hard enough that he fell on his butt, messing up his aim. He couldn't get the gun positioned in time before she'd pulled him all the way into the lake. Teal slashed his throat, grabbed his gun, and leapt out of the water, aiming the jector at the one man within range to hit her.

She and he fired at the same time. Teal used teek to slingshot the bullets away from her, rather than trying to stop them. The other man, with no teek, died quickly.

Two left-- the sniper, and a man on the shore some distance away. The sniper fired again, but Teal was already boosting up, leaping into the trees above the lake.

Once safely hidden, she undid the velcro fastener on the inner thigh of her left leg and took out the packet of concentrates there. The packet was semi-permeable to water, so the lake water had gotten in and turned it to sludge-- but better sludge than powder. It might almost be palatable now. She opened it and dumped the contents into her mouth, gulping them down, trying not to notice how much the concentrates tasted like chalk. There were simple carbohydrates for energy, minerals and nutrients to replaced what she depleted through overteeking, and specialized painkillers for overteek headache. The stuff wouldn't take effect for several minutes, and so she might be overly optimistic in taking it-- several minutes from now, she could be dead. But if she lived, and if she won, she would suffer a terrible reaction to the overteek unless she took the packet now. And she had plans, for what to do after she won. She and Essell had things to do. She couldn't afford a reaction, later.

Only two more, and she would see Essell again... Teal searched for them. The one by the lakeshore had hidden too well-- she couldn't see him. She couldn't see the sniper, either, but him she had clues for. She replayed in her mind the two most recent shots he'd fired at her, and triangulated back from them. Right there, yes.

He'd moved, but not far. Once Teal knew where to look, she found him fairly quickly. Silently she crept through the trees, along branches, until she was directly above him. Then she leapt down.

He jerked with surprise, turning and trying to move back from her. Teal didn't give him a chance. Her claws dug into the sides of his neck and dragged down, slashing both carotid arteries. The sniper died instantly, pitching forward, with blood fountaining from the sides of his neck.

One more. She climbed back into the trees, to look for the last man.

Now that there was only one left, and the test almost finished, she had the time to allow herself to wonder who these men were. They weren't captured Corpsmen, since they weren't psi, obviously. They could be captured mercs from the minics or mils from some nash or another, or they could be Hands of the Bright goons who had failed and were given this as a last chance. They could even be desperate freelancers, gambling their lives on their skill for a huge sum of money. Some people would do that, though Teal couldn't understand how-- money wasn't enough for her to risk her life.

She rather hoped they were gamblers, or at least that they'd been given some sort of choice. That this was the lesser of two evils, for them. It hurt to think she might be killing people who were as trapped as she was. But it couldn't make a difference. They could be sole caretaking parents of six dependent babies, they could be world-renowned philanthropists, they could be saints and she would still need to kill them. It was her life or theirs, and the death she gave them was far easier than the one she'd suffer if she spared them.

Of course, she had some degree of a choice, now. She was skilled enough to run away. She didn't need to be here, committing murder. Except that if she ran, she'd never see her twin again. And she had been punished for Essell's transgressions, enough in the first days of their captivity, that she suspected he would be tortured and killed if she ran. No, she had to stay here, obey her hated trainers, until she saw Essell again. And then the two of them would escape together, and kill those that deserved it, for once.

I'm sorry, she thought to the one remaining man. She wasn't a teeper, but that was all right, since she didn't really want to speak to him. It was an abstract concept she was talking to. I'm sorry, but you have to die. It's my life and Essell's, or yours. I have no choice.

There he was, crouching with machine gun in hand. Teal crept up on him, the same way she'd gone for the sniper, and leapt down.

This one was faster than the sniper. He dodged back, rolled, and came up, aiming the jector. Teal flung herself at him, trying to knock the jector out of his from his hand before he could point it at her. He dropped it, caught her wrists, and flung her, fast and hard, making her smash into a tree before she had time to brake. Then he grabbed the gun again and aimed it at her before she could get up.

There was no time. Teal threw all the force of her teek against the gun, pushing it sideways, but she couldn't seem to knock it from his hands. His grip on it was like iron, and she was still weakened from overteek, her drugs not yet in effect. That didn't matter, though. Now that it was pointed away from her, she had a chance to get up and lunge at him.

He dropped the gun and grabbed her wrists again. Teal focused her strength and her teek on his hands, trying to break her wrists free. For a minute, at least, they were deadlocked-- him trying to flip her, her trying to break away. Then she attempted to bring her knee up into his crotch, but he used his legs to block hers. This changed both their balances. He started to flip her up. She boosted, so she could control the flip. As she went up over his head, she locked the serrated blades on the side of her footgear against the sides of his neck.

He screamed, released her wrists, and tried to pull her legs free. Teal's head fell as the wrists came free. She put out her hands, caught the ground before her head could slam into it, and braced herself, holding her legs tightly against the neck. She began to scissor slightly, trying to reach the carotids. The skin of the man's neck was broken and bleeding, but she hadn't yet hit the vital spots. The enemy managed to pry her legs free, pull them hard over his shoulders, and yank them down, pulling Teal up. What he intended was unclear; what he accomplished was to get Teal's hands in range of his neck, with his own hands locked around her legs. She dug her claws into the vital points and ripped.

As he toppled, releasing her legs, she kicked free of him and fell on the ground in an undignified heap. Quickly she righted herself. Her opponent was still not dead-- dropped to his knees, clutching the sides of his neck as blood seeped around his fingers. Teal walked over to him. He looked up at her with terror and hatred in his eyes.

She wanted to apologize. But apologies were worse than useless, when you were killing someone. Teal drove her claws into his jugular vein and killed him instantly.

Ten dead. How long had it been? She tried to think. About half an hour, and she'd used a gun, and they'd gotten the drop on her several times-- probably a B, possibly a C. But she'd passed. That was all that mattered. She'd passed. She was alive.

Jaxson unlocked the doors and came into the simulator. "Good work, Teal," he told her. His hawklike features were actually somewhat animated for once, though it didn't show in his dead flat voice. "You did well there. I think the evaluators will probably give you an A."

Yeah, and I'm the King of Quebec. She didn't deserve an A, and she almost certainly would not get one. But she didn't say this to Jaxson-- she'd learned to talk as little as possible to her trainers. "Where's my brother?"

"He'll be here in a few minutes. Relax, calm yourself down after your fight."

As if she could be calm. A few minutes! Teal was tired, but the excitement that surged through her dumped out the aches of the past half hour. She turned and ran for the lake-- she was sweaty and overheated, and if she was going to see Essell she would rather drip than stink.

The cool water closed over her head, and Teal fell back into it, relaxing taut muscles and letting the heat and smell wash away from her. Five years...

Five years ago was the black day, when her parents were gunned down by Hands of the Bright, when she and Essell had been dragged away and separated. They had tortured Teal until she learned to stop openly resisting, to accept their training and work to be the best possible assassin she could be. To hide her hatred, pretend she was loyal to those who tormented her. But she'd never given up her hopes for escape, for revenge. Since they'd completed her training, there was no force that could hold her here anymore. She'd mapped out an escape route already. All she was waiting for was to take Essell with her when she ran.

She surfaced and climbed ashore, where she lay on the grass to let herself dry in the artificial sun. Teal forced herself not to tense with anticipation, making a conscious effort to keep each muscle relaxed. She needed to rest, to get back her strength, to force down the waves of excitement that raced through her. Trying to stay calm.

Then the door to the simulator opened.

Teal jumped to her feet and faced the door. The young man who entered... was a stranger, a tall young man with broad shoulders and bronzed skin and a mane of beautiful golden hair. Nothing she remembered. But she knew the blue-green eyes, the color of the sea; and in his face, there were still shadows of the Essell that had been, five years ago.

"Essell..."

He was a golden lion. The sun to her moon, shining and gold where she was pale and white. He always had been.

She ran toward him, and threw her arms around him. "Essell!" she cried, being careful to keep the razor claws on her gloves away from his flesh. "Oh, Essell!"

"Teal,” he said in an amused tone, as he ruffled his hand through her short hair. “You're so emotional. When did that happen?"

His voice was strangely cool. Teal looked up at him. "Well, aren't you? It's been five years!" Urgently and softly she murmured in their private language, the twinspeech of their childhood, "Essell, let’s get out of here, now. I've made a plan--"

"What are you talking about?" Essell asked in English.

Teal blinked. "Essell? Don't you remember Mooganooga?"

Essell shook his head. "You're such a child, Teal. You mean you've been cluttering your brain by hanging onto all that crazy stuff from when we were kids?"

"Crazy stuff?" Teal whispered. She stepped back from him and looked at him, hard.

"Teal, we're Children of the Bright. We're adults now. Why would we need to cling on to things from when we were little kids?" He snorted. “You’d think that after you’d passed your final exam, you’d be mature.”

Children of the Bright. The Children of the Bright were the most loyal, most skilled servants of the Bright, verified by telepathic probe. Teal was a blockpath, and never could be so verified, therefore could never be so trusted. But Essell-- for Essell to be a Child of the Bright meant that he would have to be loyal in truth, no part of him hidden from the Bright. "You're-- a Child of the Bright?"

"Aren't you?"

Five years she had learned to bend without breaking. Five years she had borne everything, plotting secretly to escape and get revenge. Five years, she had only been waiting for Essell... but he was not here. They had killed her brother's mind. It was his voice, his face, but it wasn’t him anymore. Some impostor looked out from behind his eyes now.

Oh, she should have guessed. She should have expected this; she shouldn’t have allowed herself hope. Shapechangers were highly adaptable, and therefore easy to brainwash. And she would never get him back. Essell was a Child of the Bright, loyal and beloved servant of the creature that had killed their parents, stolen their childhoods, mutilated his sister and killed all the children she might ever have. That was not the Essell she remembered. Her beloved brother was dead. This creature only used the same name.

Tears blurred her vision. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, even though it was the only thing that mattered. “I love you, Essell, you know that?”

He shrugged, elaborately embarrassed, but he didn’t try to stop her from hugging him tightly. “I guess I—"

The sentence never finished. Teal drove her claws into his back, turning whatever he would have said into a scream. She slashed through his spine, cutting it in pieces, and continued to rip until she'd torn through his kidneys. Essell's scream cut off, and his body folded. She stepped away with bloody claws.

"Teal!" For once, Jaxson had some emotion in his voice. Teal flung herself at him, boosting, slashing out. He dodged back from her once, but her second swing took his face off, and the third ripped out his throat. Then she ran for the simulator doors and charged through.

She had very little time. They had to have been monitoring her. There were probably guards mobilizing to stop her right now. But she still remembered the escape route she'd plotted. Essell, why? Why did they brainwash you, destroy you? How could you have let it happen?

The Hands of the Bright murdered you. All I did was lay your corpse to rest. I'll avenge you and our parents both, Essell.

I swear.

There would be guards to kill and traps to evade on her way out, but Teal didn't care. They'd trained her to be unstoppable. They wouldn't be able to stop her themselves.

She ran for the exit and freedom, tears drying on her face.

#science fiction #cyberpunk #superpowers #52 project #alara original writing

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cindyburman · 4 years

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and every day is like a battle (but every night with us is like a dream)

ao3

Summary: At school, Cindy always has to be in control: of her emotions, of her powers, or her so-called "friends." If she ever let her guard down she'd be stabbed in the back before she could say, "Et tu, Brute?" So it's only outside of the oppressive confines of Blue Valley High and in the presence of her two favorite people (and the only ones she fully trusts) that Cindy allows herself to relax and truly be herself.

Notes: title is from "new romantics" by taylor swift. the only explanation i have for this spur-of-the-moment fic is that one tumblr post that says something like "fandom seeks to create what the original source material is missing." and i'm just filling the voids of "gay characters/relationships" and "the characters all being happy and safe" recently on stargirl. anyways @ geoff johns make them girlfriends or else. go check out my ao3 for more of me believing that pretty much all of the girls on stargirl (and pretty much any other show) are gay with little to no proof!!!

Cindy drives through the meandering streets of Blue Valley faster than is really necessary, but that's not her fault. The driver that her father created usually drops her off at Courtney's (or at a location nearby that Cindy walks to Courtney's from once the driver's out of sight so as not to make him suspicious about how often she goes there), so it's only when he's busy performing other various nefarious tasks that Cindy is allowed to drive herself. These times are so few and far between that Cindy doesn't even know the speed limit here--she thinks that it ends in a 5, though, so she took a wild guess that it was 45 miles per hour and tacked on another 5 for good measure because everyone knows that going 5 over the speed limit is technically allowed.

She's pulled out of her thoughts by the now-familiar sight of the Whitmore-Dugan household. Cindy slows down to turn into their driveway, grateful that it isn't trash day and that she doesn't have to risk a repeat of last time, and parks next to the grass on the left side. Getting out of the car, she locks the doors and tosses the keys into her purse before striding purposefully toward the front door. Cindy's barely finished ringing the doorbell when the door abruptly opens, startling her and (for some reason) Barbara, who was the one to open the door in the first place.

"Hey, Courtney's mom," Cindy recovers smoothly, pasting on her most charming smile.

"Hey, Courtney's friend," Barbara replies bemusedly, stepping aside to let Cindy into the house. "She's upstairs in her room."

With that, Cindy starts up the stairs, her anticipation already building. At school, Cindy always has to be in control: of her emotions, of her powers, or her so-called "friends." If she ever let her guard down she'd be stabbed in the back before she could say, "Et tu, Brute?"

So it's only outside of the oppressive confines of Blue Valley High and in the presence of her two favorite people (and the only ones she fully trusts) that Cindy allows herself to relax and truly be herself. Speaking of...

Cindy opens the door to Courtney's room and steps inside, immediately spotting Courtney sitting against the headrest of her bed and seemingly studying.

"Hi, babe," Courtney says cheerfully without looking up from her textbook. Cindy frowns at the lack of attention--and for some boring school book?

"How did you know that it was me?" Cindy prompts, attempting to get Courtney to look at her. "Or do you just greet your family members like that too?" Courtney's mouth twitches into a smile, and she finally looks at Cindy.

"My family members knock before coming in," she remarks dryly, watching Cindy set her purse down on Courtney's desk and then turn back towards her. Looking directly at Courtney, Cindy slowly stalks towards her, putting far more sway in her hips than usually would.

Courtney falls for the bait hook, line, and sinker, and Cindy can't help her victorious smirk as her girlfriend looks at her with renewed interest. Unfortunately for her, though, Courtney has one more card to play before she puts aside this facade of disinterest.

"So." Courtney presses her lips together in an attempt to contain her smile, but it doesn't matter--her mirth shines from her eyes, as bright as the sun. "Ready to start studying?" Cindy rolls her eyes but can't help herself from smiling, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, how about we start with chemistry?" she suggests playfully. Courtney snorts at the double meaning before catching herself and scrambling to revert to her faux-seriousness. She pretends to consider Cindy's words for a moment before nodding decisively, shoving her book off to the side.

"Excellent." Cindy grins and scoots further onto the bed, throwing one of her legs across Courtney's hips and settling into her lap. Courtney's hands rest on Cindy's waist almost automatically and Cindy settles her arms in their customary place on Courtney's shoulders, her fingers tangling in Courtney's hair and scratching at her scalp. Ever the tease, Cindy leans down as slowly as she can manage, drawing this moment out as revenge for Courtney's (successful) attempts to rile her up. It lasts for a solid few seconds before Courtney grows impatient and, in a somewhat surprising (because Courtney's deceptively small and lean frame often leads Cindy to forget how powerful she really is) but definitely exhilarating show of strength, flips them over so that Cindy is lying on her back, her legs still bracketing Courtney's hips, and Courtney is leaning over her with a shit-eating grin, one hand holding herself up while the other loosely pins Cindy's wrists against the pillows.

"Did I forget to mention that I'm really more of a hands-on learner?" Courtney murmurs, so obviously pleased with herself for continuing the joke. Cindy wants nothing more than to lunge forward and wipe that self-satisfied smirk off her mouth (preferably with her own mouth), but this time it's Courtney who leans down and connects their lips.

Cindy's eyes flutter closed as she allows herself to melt into the kiss, to feel the all-consuming fire that's been licking at her insides since Courtney showed up in Blue Valley. Being with Courtney is like an roller coaster she never wants to end, and kissing Courtney makes her feel like she can do anything. There's only one other person she's ever felt anything like this around, and she's--

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to this sight." Yolanda's voice breaks through their reverie, and Cindy and Courtney stop kissing and look up to see their other girlfriend, who's just entered the bedroom and is now looking on them both with affection.

"Yolanda! C'mere," Courtney encourages her, patting the bed emphatically. Cindy reaches out for Yolanda as well, giving her the best "come hither" look she can muster, although it's not really necessary--unlike the two of them, Yolanda's less about playing the world's most homoerotic game of Chicken and more about simply being honest and open about her feelings and wants, which is honestly the only reason the three of them finally got together in the first place (although to be fair, it did take Yolanda quite a while to figure out her feelings)--and Yolanda easily acquiesces. She sits down next to them, her knees tucked under her and her hand seeking out Cindy's own to intertwine their fingers.

Wordlessly, Courtney and Yolanda lean toward each other and share a sweet, lingering kiss. Cindy watches them through hooded eyes, worrying her lower lip with her teeth as the bubbling heat in the pit of her stomach rises to a boil once more. She instinctively squeezes her legs together, forgetting that Courtney's still between them.

"Needy," Courtney chides, running her hand up Cindy's thigh as she breaks away from Yolanda, but there's no venom to it. And as both Courtney and Yolanda look at her, nothing but pure, unadulterated fondness in their eyes, Cindy feels more loved than she's ever felt with anyone else and can't help but think, How did I get so lucky?

"I mean, can you blame me? I do have the hottest girlfriends in the world," she replies earnestly. Yolanda snorts.

"Flatterer," she says warmly, flopping down next to her and beginning to pepper kisses all over Cindy's face except her lips.

"I don't know if that's completely true, though," Courtney says with a wide smile, her fingers tracing small, repetitive circles on the skin of her stomach where her shirt's ridden up. Judging by the matching grin Cindy can feel Yolanda pressing against her cheek, it's a buildup to another one of their bad jokes, and she prepares herself accordingly.

"There's this really attractive girl at school, right, babe?" Courtney continues, directing the last part of her statement to Yolanda.

"Oh, yeah, I know exactly who you mean, Court," Yolanda says, hamming it up as she momentarily pulls away from Cindy. "I think her name is Sandy or something?" Ugh, so that was where it was going, Cindy thinks, letting out a loud groan and pinching the bridge of her nose. Unfortunately, her audible disapproval doesn't deter the two at all--in fact, it seems like it only serves to spur them on.

"Really? I thought it was Sydney," Courtney says, faking confusion.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure it's Candy," Yolanda corrects her.

"No way, it's totally Mindy!"

"Close. It's Linda."

"Is it Cindy??" Cindy blurts out exasperatedly. Her girlfriends look at each other and nod with faux-thoughtfulness, muttering yes, that's it, absolutely, and Cindy dramatically covers her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You two are the worst," she grumbles halfheartedly.

"Come on, you have to admit that it was at least a little funny," Courtney wheedles as Yolanda gently tugs her hand away from her eyes.

"If I do, will you promise never to do it again?" Cindy asks, only half kidding. Courtney and Yolanda laugh but shake their heads, and so Cindy shrugs haughtily and attempts to remain aloof. However, she can only withstand the power of both of their beseeching gazes for so long, and she breaks faster than she'd like to admit.

"Fine. I guess it wasn't the worst joke you've ever told," Cindy concedes, allowing her lips to curl into a rueful grin. Courtney pumps her fist and cheers theatrically at this hard-won victory, finally extricating herself from between Cindy's legs in favor of lying next to her instead.

"High praise," Yolanda murmurs teasingly before finally giving in and pressing her lips to Cindy's. Yolanda's tender kisses and hands oh-so-carefully cradling Cindy's jaw, like she's something precious that might break if she's treated too roughly, are the perfect juxtaposition to Courtney practically mauling her on her other side, leaving a ragged trail of kisses and nips across her neck because she knows that Cindy can take it, knows that deep down she wants to. Yolanda makes her feel safe and so, so very loved, and Courtney makes her feel brave and alive. These are the reasons why she fell for both of them in the first place, the reasons why she could never just choose one--and thankfully, she didn't have to.

Cindy's train of thought is derailed when Courtney bites down particularly hard right on her pulse point, causing her to let out an undignified, breathy moan into Yolanda's mouth. Yolanda's grip on her jaw tightens slightly at the sound, the change in pressure so minute that Cindy doesn't even think Yolanda knows she's doing it. But then Yolanda's tongue slips into her mouth, and yeah, she definitely knows she's doing here.

When they finally break apart, both of them are breathing hard and flushed. Courtney detaches from Cindy's neck, where she's been trying to suck a bruise into her skin (key word: trying. Her healing factor doesn't make it that easy to leave hickeys). All three of them lay there quietly as they allow heartbeats to return more or less to normal until Cindy sits up and breaks the silence.

"I miss you two," she confesses in a rare moment of vulnerability. "Not now, obviously, but at school. Hanging out with other people just doesn't feel the same." Her girlfriends quickly move to sit up as well, arranging themselves in something resembling a close-knit triangle.

"I'm sorry, babe," Yolanda says simply, squeezing her hand in support.

"Me too. I hate that we can't always be together," Courtney adds, hugging Cindy tightly. Yolanda joins in only seconds later, and although Cindy knows this won't change things, she still somehow feels better--Courtney and Yolanda always manage to do that. Suddenly, Courtney gasps and breaks the embrace, looking... angry?

"Wait, is Henry being a jerk again? Because I can totally go kick his ass if you want," she declares. Cindy and Yolanda share an amused glance--this isn't the first time that Courtney has offered to go beat up their ex-boyfriend on behalf of one or both of them, and they know it won't be the last.

"Not any more than usual," Cindy replies dryly. The JSA and Cindy have had a tenuous alliance with Henry ever since he figured out their identities (but in all fairness, he could literally hear their thoughts), but considering that he's one of only three people who knows that Cindy, Courtney, and Yolanda are dating (the other two being Beth and Rick), it was best for them to focus more on the 'alliance' part rather than the 'tenuous' considering he hadn't done anything truly heinous (yet). They hadn't even wanted to tell him, but mindreaders and secrets don't go very well together, as was evidenced by how he found out--Courtney couldn't stop thinking (very loudly, Henry had noted), Don't think about the fact that you're dating both of his ex-girlfriends whenever she saw him. "He's mostly just pissed because he thinks that either he 'turned us gay' by being a horrible boyfriend or that you 'turned us gay,' specifically, to spite him."

Yolanda scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Why do men always think that it's about them?" Cindy laughs, high-fiving her and nodding.

"Did you somehow gain telepathy too?" Courtney asks, confused. "Because I highly doubt that he would just tell you all of that."

"No, Henry's just still learning how to use his powers," Cindy explains. "So sometimes he accidentally projects his thoughts into my head--and other people's too sometimes, I presume--without realizing it. And this was one of his tamer thoughts."

Courtney shakes her head with a grimace. "I don't even want to know."

"Yeah, gross," Yolanda says, wrinkling her nose up. "I still can't believe I ever dated him."

"Join the club," Cindy sympathizes, nudging her shoulder in solidarity.

"Now that's one organization that I hope I'll never join," Courtney laughs. "Honestly, I'm simultaneously kinda flattered that Henry thinks I could 'turn' both of you and kinda terrified that people still think that's a real thing that happens."

"Straight boys: can't live with them, can... actually really easily live without them," Cindy says thoughtfully. The other two chuckle.

"While we're on the topic of straight boys... where's Rick?" Yolanda wonders aloud.

"Date night with Beth," Courtney supplies promptly. "I think they said something about bowling?"

"Ooh, that sounds like fun," Cindy says, perking up. "Wanna go crash it?"

"Depends, are you any good?" Yolanda teases.

"I'm good at whatever I apply myself too," she says smoothly. There's a long pause, and then...

"You've never gone bowling before, have you?" Courtney asks suspiciously.

"Maybe..." Cindy hedges. Her girlfriends gape at her in horror.

"Well, now we have to go!" Courtney exclaims, acting as if Cindy having never bowled before is a personal affront to everything she stands for. "Come on, Cindy, you can drive us." She gets up and starts grabbing her stuff, and Cindy and Yolanda follow her lead.

"Mom! We're leaving to go meet Beth and Rick!" Courtney yells as they head downstairs.

A muffled "Okay, stay safe!" comes from somewhere in the house, and Courtney opens the front door and holds it for Cindy and Yolanda with a dramatic half-bow.

"Why, thank you," Cindy says as she bats her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"What a gentlewoman," Yolanda adds, giggling.

"Shotgun!" Courtney calls out once they're all outside, jogging a little to catch up.

"And just like that... chivalry is dead," Yolanda deadpans, clasping her hands to her chest and staring off wistfully into the distance. "Where, oh where, did you go?"

"Oh, shut up," Courtney says, punching her lightly in the shoulder with a bright smile. "Do you really want shotgun or did you just want to make that joke? Because if you're so attached to it you can have it."

"No, I just wanted to make that joke." Yolanda grins and plants a kiss on her cheek, leaning into her side as Cindy rifles through her purse for her keys.

"Here we go!" Cindy declares when she finds them and unlocks the car.

"So, what's the speed limit again?" she asks, only half joking, as her and Yolanda get into the car and Courtney goes around the the passenger side.

"You're kidding, right?" Yolanda says, sounding vaguely alarmed. "It's 25."

"Yeah, I was totally kidding," Cindy reassures her with a nervous laugh, because there's no way she's telling her that she was doing twice that on the drive here. Courtney gets in and begins fiddling with the radio, nodding in approval when she finds a station she likes as one of the presets.

"Okay, babe, since you've never bowled before, we're going to have to go over all of the basics," Courtney instructs. "Some of it we can talk about on the way, but most of the teaching has to happen at the bowling alley, like proper stance and how much run-up distance you need."

"Yes, I think you'll need a lot of help with stance in particular," Yolanda confirms from the backseat as Cindy pulls out of the driveway.

"I think you two just want an excuse to stand really close behind me and maneuver me around," Cindy teases them, smirking.

"Well, stance is actually really important for knocking over the maximum amount of pins and making sure not to injure yourself," Yolanda explains, and the thing is that Cindy actually believes her--it's a very Yolanda thing to do, to care so much about other people and their well-being (Cindy took advantage of that many times before. Yolanda has since forgiven her, but Cindy still doesn't know if she'll ever be able to forgive herself for all of the torture she put Yolanda through). Then, her voice turns mischievous and although Cindy can't see her, she knows that she's smiling as she continues, "That's just a fun bonus."

"And someone has to," Courtney reasons. "Wouldn't you rather it be us than Beth or Rick?"

"True. Beth and Rick are nice, but I'm not going to put out on my first date with them," Cindy says, chuckling, and then, sultrily, "You two can adjust my stance all you want, though." Both of her girlfriends laugh, but Yolanda leans forward to lightly slap Cindy's arm semi-reproachfully--she still hasn't quite overcome all of her Catholic upbringing.

"Okay, but I'm going to hold you to that," Courtney warns her with a grin. "Just a heads-up, bowling can get pretty, well... intense with us, but really, what doesn't? The competitiveness is strong in the JSA."

"Yeah, but bowling isn't all about competition, it's also just plain fun," Yolanda says. "Knocking down the pins is actually really therapeutic, you'll love it. Bowling is one of my favorite sports because I get to throw stuff at other stuff in the same way that boxing is one of my favorite sports because I get to hit stuff."

After that, Courtney and Yolanda begin to debate exactly how far bent over you should be by the end of your throw for maximum pin-hitting potential, and Cindy half-listens to their good-natured bickering, a big smile on her face as she drives through the streets of Blue Valley (this time at the actual speed limit).

I love them, she thinks, not for the first time. Even Cindy isn't brave enough to say it aloud--none of them have yet--but she knows deep down that it's absolutely true. Of course she's managed to fall in love with two of her father's worst enemies: Stargirl and Wildcat, impulsivity and stability, her better wholes (because really, neither of them are half a person).

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Notes: this was meant to be like 2k words but ig my creative juices were just flowing!!! anyways i love these three w my entire heart and would both kill and die for them, so chances are i will be writing more for them, either by making this part of like a series of oneshots or maybe i'll be making a multichapter fic sometime soon idk 👀 once again, check out my ao3 for more like this!! please leave ur questions/comments/concerns below, i thrive off of others' validation :') and of course, here is the blm carrd, please do what you can to support, whether it's protesting, donating, or even just signing petitions!!

#cindy burman #shiv #courtney whitmore #stargirl #yolanda montez #wildcat #starshiv #shivcat #starcat #starshivcat #fanfiction #stargirl fanfiction #starcat fanfiction #starshiv fanfiction #shivcat fanfiction #starshivcat fanfiction

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