#did not even proofread this just word vomited and hit post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hottpinkpenguin · 1 year

Text

Joel Miller X Fem!Reader - Last of Us

A/N: i watched the first episode of Last of Us yesterday and suffice it to say that Joel Miller officially has a chokehold on me and i ain't complaining.

Warnings: dark themes; post-apocalyptic dystopia; death of reader's minor child; probably a lot of non-canon details since I've never played the game; not proofread; spoilers if you haven't seen the show/played the game Word Count: 2402 Abbreviations: QZ = quarantine zone; FDRA "Fedra" = Federal Disaster Response Agency

---

Dying was a way of life in the QZ. Seemed like everyone was dying lately. Fireflies, FDRA, and most of all the people in between. The lost and lonely.

You met Joel shortly after you died. Your spirit died with your twelve year old son, Gabriel. The docs had told you it was most likely cancer. The fucking irony of that burned you from the inside out until you felt completely hollow. Just a shell of a person, really. Your emotions felt anesthetized, your brain in a perpetual fog. You went about your day from routine and muscle memory. You might as well have been infected. At least then you’d have some sort of purpose. Without Gabriel, you felt utterly useless. He’d brought you a sense of optimism, a reason to at least try and believe in the future. When you’d lost Gabriel’s father Eddie, you’d at least had your son. But without him. Well, without him, there wasn’t any you. You didn’t have a role anymore, didn’t add anything to anyone’s life. You couldn’t think of anything more death-like than waking up day after day to the realization that you didn’t matter to anyone. The night Joel met you, in fact, you had vague plans to drink yourself into oblivion and hopefully not wake up.

But, something changed when Joel ran into you. And he did literally run into you.

You were walking back from the bus stop after a shift cleaning the killing floor of the poultry planet. A cold, drizzling rain soaked the streets in a fine layer of mist. You crossed your arms over your chest, tucking your head underneath the threadbare hood of Eddie’s old hunting jacket. For a few weeks after Eddie had died in a firefight between the Fireflies and FDRA, the jacket had smelled like him, and you’d taken up wearing it. Damn thing wasn’t too warm, but at least it was decently waterproof. That had been years ago. It was useless now, neither warm nor waterproof, but it was all you had. Everything else you’d sold.

You were going through the usual calculations in your head, trying to figure out how you were going to scrounge together enough cards to get some hot food in your belly, when something - someone, you realized after he’d hit you - came tearing around the corner of an alley. You weren’t braced for it, and even your reflexes didn’t seem to care enough to break your fall. You hit the damp, cobbled pavement hard on your left shoulder, your head bouncing off the tar and sending stars across your vision. You heard a man’s voice swear as you blacked out…

*****

When you came to, you weren’t in the rain anymore. Your head throbbed and you didn’t dare move in case you vomited. You were resting on something soft, albeit a little lumpy, and there was a blanket wrapped around you. Your head was propped up on a musty smelling pillow and there was a fire crackling nearby. Your shoulder was screaming in pain, and against your better judgment you twisted as gently as you could manage to try and relieve the pressure on your joint. Your gut turned, and you leaned over to wretch as far from yourself as you could. With the first sound of gagging, you felt cold, rough hands grab the hair around your face and pull it away from your mouth as a bucket was shoved in front of your face.

“Good, you’re awake.” A man’s voice.

You peaked towards the voice through slitted eyelids. The faint, hazy light through a dingy window felt like someone was driving a drill bit into your temple.

“That’s a shame,” you rasped out, earning a dark chuckle from the man sitting across from you. The laugh didn’t reach his eyes. He had the same thousand-mile stare that most people in the QZ had. You couldn’t guess his age - that was another thing survivors had in common. Nothing ages you like the Apocalypse, Eddie used to say.

“Pretty sure you’re concussed.”

You nodded, trying to swallow down the acidic taste of bile-vomit.

“Pretty sure you concussed me,” you shot back. Another chuckle, this one a bit fuller.

“Yeah, that’d be me. Sorry about that. I had FDRA on my heels.” You shrugged, trying to push yourself up on the couch. Another wave of nausea tore through your head, but there wasn’t anything to vomit up except saliva. You managed to swallow it down, closing your eyes again to stop the spinning sensation.

“I’ve got some broth cooking,” the man went on. “I think you should eat a bit. Settle your stomach. You’ve been out for almost 24 hours.”

You did an idle calculation in your head, automatically tallying up the date. November 29. Not that it mattered, but it was a habit you hadn’t been able to shake ever since the outbreak.

“Not hungry,” you replied, biting down on your tongue against another spasm in your gut.

“Yeah, but you need to eat. Looks like you don’t do that too often.” You shot the man the darkest look you could muster. You’d learned long ago not to trust men who commented on your appearance.

“You look sick is all I mean,” your companion added apologetically. He thrust you a bowl with a watery-thin, yellow liquid in it, a curled tongue of steam rising from its surface and an old dented spoon sticking out of the broth.

“Just try it,” he encouraged you as you eyed him suspiciously. He was big, you realized, tall and strong. One of those QZ guys who lived hard and had the muscles to speak for it. It wasn’t the same kind of physique that people had before the outbreak: lean, toned, all for show. Fitness wasn’t a luxury anymore. It was a necessity for most people in the QZ. Some lines of work required it more than others. And judging by the strong forearm that handed you the bowl, whatever this guy did, it was serious business.

You accepted the bowl, relishing the warmth of the ceramic between your hands. Your stomach growled as the smell of chicken broth tickled your nostrils. You took a tentative sip, burning your tongue. Your movements were slow and deliberate.

“Joel.”

“Huh?” You raised an inquisitive eyebrow at your companion.

“Joel. My name’s Joel,” he clarified.

You nodded, taking another sip of the broth. Even though moving made you sick to your stomach, your body was reacting hungrily to the taste.

“Y/N,” you replied after a few moments of silence. Normally, you’d give a fake name. But, what was the point? Even with your real name, Joel didn’t have anything of yours to use against you. There wasn’t anything left to hurt you by.

“You were Gabriel’s mother, weren’t you?”

You froze, the spoon halfway to your lips. The sound of Gabriel’s name tore through you like lightning. The heart you’d forgotten you had twisted painfully in your chest.

“What the fuck did you say?” Anger came to the surface first. Your voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Gabriel. Sweet kid. Saw him hanging around the gate a couple times.” If Joel noticed your reaction, he didn’t let on. He was idly poking a burning log in an old, dirty fireplace.

You didn’t know what to say, couldn’t make yourself speak. Even if you had, you didn’t trust yourself not to dissolve. Joel hadn’t met you before, yet somehow he’d managed to grab onto the only thread of humanity you still had. One tug on that thread and you were unraveling.

“I’m sorry about what happened to him. Awful shit, cancer. My sister had it, back before… before shit went sideways.” Joel wasn’t looking at you, didn’t even seem to be talking to you. You couldn’t breathe. Gabriel’s name still echoed inside your ears.

“I lost my little girl, too. Sarah. When the outbreak happened. In Texas.”

Joel finally turned to face you. His eyes were empty, and you recognized that emptiness. It mirrored your own.

“You’ll never get over it, if you’re wondering. Not that you are. Because you already know. I can see it.” Tears dripped off your chin onto the blanket in your lap. You didn’t know how long you’d been crying.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered out after a few silent, empty moments.

Across the room from you, Joel nodded.

“Yeah. Me too.”

You finished the rest of your broth in silence. It was the longest conversation you’d had with anyone in weeks, and somehow you’d never felt more alone.

*****

You spent the next couple of days in a liminal space between healing and falling apart. Joel’s acknowledgment of Gabriel had broken something loose inside you, and as your head began to clear, you felt the grief all the more. It felt different than before, even right after you lost him. Gabriel’s death had cored the soul out of your body. Now, whatever was happening was infinitely more painful. You hated it, but you also hadn’t realized how much you’d missed feeling things. Even though what you felt was agonizing, it was affirming in a fucked up way to know you weren’t incapable of emotion.

Joel maintained his silence on the subject. In fact, he was generally silent. You exchanged a handful of words here and there, usually in response to him asking about your health.

How’s the head?

Fine.

Good.

After about a week, the questions took a different quality.

When do you think you’ll be ready to go?

Go where?

Anywhere you need to.

I don’t have anywhere I need to go.

OK.

You didn’t take offense to his questions, and he didn’t take offense to your responses. There was a companionable bluntness to your interactions. He asked after the basics - did you have what you needed, were you sick, hungry, cold - and you answered simply and honestly. No follow ups, no games, no need to converse on anything. In fact, after the first conversation you’d had about Gabriel and Sarah, you and Joel didn’t talk about anything at all.

It was the eighth day when you finally felt well enough to stand up and cook. Joel was out - where, you didn’t know - but you thought you’d heat something up for him. An hour before curfew, you moved into the kitchen and started looking through the cabinets. He’d been good about sharing his food with you, and you knew enough of QZ life to know that sparing food wasn’t something everyone would do. And he hadn’t broached the subject of repayment. You doubted he ever would; despite his gruffness, Joel had a core of generosity. You didn’t know anyone anymore who would let a complete stranger spend a week on their couch, no matter how sick they were.

You found a can of split pea soup in the back of the pantry and an opened package half-full of saltines. You picked out the crackers that didn’t have mold on them while the soup heated over the single gas burner Joel used for cooking. The light was fading outside; curfew was a few minutes away. Right on time, you heard Joel’s key in the lock on the apartment door. A few seconds later, Joel walked into the kitchen.

“What’s this?”

“Dinner,” you replied, gesturing to the two barstools he had tucked up the kitchen counter. He sat, letting out a bone-weary sigh as he threw off his boots, chucking them towards the hall where the door was.

“Long day?” you asked idly. For some reason, you felt an urge to make conversation that you hadn’t noticed before around him. Maybe it was vestiges of your old life. Memories of entertaining Eddie while you made dinner flicked in your mind. Or maybe it was because something felt different about Joel today.

“Sure,” he replied flatly. You heard the sound of his flask opening, followed by a thick gulp. He drank a lot. You’d noticed that quickly. It didn’t bother you, and he was as generous with the whiskey as he was with his food.

“When are you leaving?” His question was angry. You turned to look at him, not exactly insulted but faintly stung.

“I told you, I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“That’s not what you said. You said there’s nowhere you need to go, not that there’s nowhere you can go.” You nodded once. Joel was right. The distinction felt accusatory, and you once again had the impression that he was about to speak to a part of you that you didn’t want said out loud. Just like he’d done that first night when he’d talked about Gabriel.

You sucked in a breath before turning to face him, sliding a plate of the edible saltines across the counter.

“I can leave anytime you need me to,” you said, your voice soft and quiet. “I’m feeling good enough to travel.”

Joel looked into you for a breath. His eyes looked the same, but you had the distinct impression that they weren’t as empty as the first time you’d seen him. Whatever it was you saw in his gaze, it made you feel ashamed, and you broke eye contact.

He shifted on the barstool before taking another generous swig from his flask.

“Good. Tonight.”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“It’s almost curfew,” you pointed out, nodding in the direction of the window to the street below.

“Fine. Tomorrow then.” His voice was hard as stone.

You nodded, stirring the soup and turning away from him. You didn’t want him to see the rejection in your eyes. You couldn’t say what you’d wanted, but all you knew was this wasn’t it.

“Tomorrow,” you agreed quietly.

Joel sat for another instant. You sensed that he was waiting for something: you couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you or waiting for something in himself. Whatever it was he was waiting on, the moment passed. He sighed, frustrated, before he scooted away from the counter and went to the couch. He didn’t say anything when you brought him the soup, and he didn’t say anything when he went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him to drink himself to sleep. You were awake and gone before he came out the next morning, although somehow you knew that he was wide awake, listening to the sound of your departure through the door.

**part 2 here!! Let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters

#joel miller #last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #last of us imagine #last of us hbo #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #joel miller last of us

796 notes · View notes

en-logs · 2 years

Text

i love you the most. sjy

pairing - jealous idol!jake x fem!reader

summary - your boyfriend, jake, gives you the silent treatment and goes onto reply fans on weverse so you try your best to get his attention by spamming on the app as well not knowing why he's being a big baby at the moment.

genre - pure fluff, nothing serious just playfulness

wc - 1.15k

a/n: it's literally a dream that i quite had a second ago and i'm writing this as soon as i woke up with my eyes half opened and all .. embarrassing really but i gotta keep the dream as a memory somehow so this is all just word vomit and what i could remember. not proofread. my read more button doesnt work on mobile T_T

cuddling against your boyfriend's chest in the middle of the living room trying to get comfortable on the leather couch, you watched him scroll through his phone giggling.

curious, you peeked a little and notice the weverse screen that you were familiar with. "would this be a cute reply?", jake flashed you his bright screen which made you squint a little as you read 'jakey loves you too' on the comment box that hasn't been sent out yet.

"why don't you ever reply to mine," you ask sulkingly but also meaning every word you had said because he's about to begin a mention party on weverse right now while you were both supposedly going to sleep.

jake ignored you and began the chaos that was about to blow his notifications up which made you start a mini tantrum going "aaaahhhhhh", "whyyy", and the occasional "jakeyyy" while lightly hitting on his chest to get his attention with him only giggling a little as a response but keeping his straight face a second later.

wanting an answer, you pulled out your own phone to enter the weverse app and joined the engenes in hopes to get the attention of your boyfriend on the internet too.

commenting all sorts of compliments, questions, stories you could ever think of at the moment which could beat the simple 'i love you jake' from an engene which started this entire thing.

"see, look this is my username", copying his movement earlier as you shoved your phone directly towards his face. "plus you've always known it- its the one that says 'jakeyismypuppy1115'.. i need a reply please please plea- don't make me snatch your phone right now to do it", whining even further as you shake his body which was almost falling off the couch if he wasn't supporting himself.

"jakeyyyyyy~ why won't you reply to me... i wanna show it off on my fan account on twitter too pleaaaaaswwe im about to off myself if you don't," earning another giggle from him however his face remained sterned after a light cough. "it's not funny," you tried to be serious, frowning at him.

"i won't reply to you." was all he had responded.

"wha.. why..", pushing yourself further away with your palm pressing on his chest to move yourself up.

jake removed his left arm which was supporting his head to type intensively into the weverse search bar more than ever before. "because what the hell is this," not thinking much of it, you glanced your eyes to his screen.

it was your profile with the recent post dated a few days ago, apart from this moment's fiasco of you trying to get jake's attention online, the post made you cringe a little after realising what it said.

"heeseung-ah, i love you the most ! i hope you eat well, rest well, and is always happy ! i love u sooo much ure my favorite. i'll always choose you ❤️"

he scrolled down a little more to show that heeseung, who is rarely online, had replied too. "heeseungie loves you too ☺️".

it took you awhile to process it a little, and it finally hit you that you made the post after watching a youtube compilation of your boyfriend's co-member which made you all happy inside as a fan and nothing more.

you didn't expect heeseung to reply to your post either. you were joyful that he did and bragged it on twitter, but it didn't stuck into your mind forever since you technically forgot it happened. jake's reply would matter to you more.

on heeseung's side however, he and all of the other boys knew of your weverse account from how jake would always reply to yours which raised some suspicion and later confirmed when jungwon saw the app left open on your phone with the profile flashing your username.

heeseung found the comment to be sweet and endearing, he loves you like the closest friend who has always been there for his bestfriend and the team even before debut.

your reminiscing thoughts were then killed by jake pouting at you with the post still up in your face.

"jakey.. i didn't mean tha- wait i did, i think heeseung deserves all the good things in life but i love you the most more than him," trying to comfort him, not caring about the app hybe created now.

he knew that you only meant well and was happy to know that you were a good person that likes his group as a whole.

jake, still determined with his plan in making you love him more than heeseung, even though you already do, continued sulking and crossing his arms away from you, staring into the silent tv.

you hugged him as tight as the koalas he had seen back in australia and a bunch of apologies + i love yous came running out your cute lips profusely.

your boyfriend wasn't budging at all which made you even more frustrated, you knew he was just being playful though from the countless of times he tried not to laugh.

giving up, you sat on the couch as he was still laying and proceeded to go over his body and walk to the kitchen in hopes to find heeseung somewhere eating ramen to prove jake that you were both just a couple of besties.

however the area was empty realising that the entire group left the two of you alone for some privacy, and that they would rather be outside than to see any form of pda.

your brain was wired to make milo, an australian chocolate drink, for your boyfriend as another cute form of "please love me and give me attention".

it was hard to reach the mugs knowing that riki purposely made it higher for laughs and gags. a little more and you'd be able to grab the spider-man mug that belonged to your baby jakey.

like any cliché, a hand made way to your waist as you felt your boyfriend's body lightly pressed against your back reaching for the cup that you were both eyeing for.

placing the blue spider-man mug in front of you with his right hand on your side fulling back hugging you now as he whispered, "i love you" with his soft lips touching the shell of your ear making you turn your head around from the tickling feeling.

with your body finally facing him, you cupped his cheeks and stared into his sparkly eyes. your thumbs grazing his soft skin and fingers moving his unkept fringe a little from the nap you both had in the afternoon, admiring all of his features before giving him a kiss.

not knowing that your phone was blowing up in the living room from the weverse notifications you were getting.

jakeyismypuppy1115

"i will make it my life's honor to love you forever, jake."

a post you made half an hour ago making sure beforehand to make it corny as possible so he would be pleasantly surprised, and of course to make a reaction out of your lovable boyfriend.

[ENHYPEN Weverse] Jake commented on jakeyismypuppy1115's post: "i love you more ❤️"

a/n: sorry u had to read all of that imo .. but aaa i swear i had a dream abt him bc i was watching his last en-log before bed.. i love u jake

talk to me here! likes & reblogs are appreciated <3

#enhypen #jake #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #sim jake #sim jake fluff #enhypen jake x y/n #enhypen x reader #jake fluff #jake drabbles

2K notes · View notes

iboatedhere · 1 year

Note

Hi! So I have a random question about writing but no pressure to respond at all. I started reading your stuff as soon as I joined the LS fandom earlier this year. I am a big fan of your writing and how you can create a whole universe through one short prompt. This last month has been so awesome, thanks for everything you're doing to make the wait for Lone Star a little less hellish. Saving my life tbh. 😂 🙂

I have written a bit in some of my past fandoms and with the new season coming, I have been thinking of writing some stuff for Lone Star. I've never used a beta before, and since I'm sort of new to the fandom, I thought it might be good to find one if I decide to try writing for Lone Star. It sounds like you use a beta from time to time. I was wondering like, have you always had one? How does it work, is it just you tell them what you want them to look over and they comment? I did some googling and it sounds like what they do varies. Do you think it makes a big difference or is it just a nice extra thing to have? Is it hard to get feedback, like have you ever gotten negative feedback? That seems like the scariest part lol.

I still don't know how I'd find one, but just curious about how it works and how it helps, especially for a writer who writes as much as you do. Sorry this is kinda long, so no worries if you can't answer. Just asking around to some writers in the fandom who have mentioned using a beta before. Thanks so much in advance for any feedback!

Hello!

I didn't always have a beta, especially not when I was starting out and imo---you can tell. But that's okay! I mean, we all do this shit for free and for fun and as long as 80% of the words are in the correct order and 70% of those words are spelled correctly it's fine!

(If you ever sign up for a writing challenge or a big bang or something like that, they might require a beta and if that's the case I've found that if you don't have one, they'll assign one for you.)

I started to use a beta on a regular basis in the last fandom that I was in and found that it really helped a lot especially since I am not a proofreader and I never have been. Even when I was in school I would finish a paper and call it a day because I was not rereading that shit.

When you get into a new fandom is always kinda scary because maybe you don't have any friends there and it's super intimidating especially if the show has been going for a bit and everyone is kinda paired off into a groups and finding someone to read your work can be hard. I actually don't know how Sonia became my beta but I literally thank god that she did because she makes all my stuff so much better. She reads for grammar, spelling, structure--she'll tweak stuff that isn't working and switch stuff around so it sounds better. When I write, I basically just word vomit into a doc and she sorts it all out for me. I love it and I need it.

SO, basically, a beta will do whatever you need them to do, but they will only do what they want to do. I lucked out with Sonia because she does it all and she's a wizard but there are betas out there that only read for spelling or grammar (which is fine because they are also doing this for free and for fun). I will literally end a fic midsentence and be like "I don't know what's happening help" and she will help me. So for me, I definitely need one and I need it to be Sonia.

So, I would definitely suggest getting a beta, for at least grammar and stuff because I honestly cannot be bothered with that. You can tell when you read stuff that I just whip out there (codas written the day after an ep airs) without it being betaread.

Feedback:

For me, I absolutely sweated every single second after I hit post on that first LS fic. I was terrified that no one would read it or no one would like it and as a writer you want your stuff to be read and liked! But it all worked out, and now I'm really glad I took the plunge.

Negative feedback: I literally just got some the other day and you just have to tell them to go fuck themselves, honestly, and let it roll off your back. Again, we're all doing this for free and for fun and unless you specifically ask for criticism, they should not be giving it. Tag your stuff to the best of your abilities, leave an author's note at the end if you feel like something might get dicey, but beyond that, they know where the back button it.

#ask

10 notes · View notes

wrong-way-sir · 3 years

Text

Seasickness

Zoro helps rid you of seasickness and puts you to sleep in his own way.

CW: mentions of vomiting, curse words, alcohol consumption, and sexual innuendos! (Otherwise it’s just fluff!) LITTLE TO NO PROOFREADING! ♡

Characters: Roronoa Zoro, GN Y/N, mentions of Luffy and Nami

an: sorry if the characters are a little ooc, I have just started the anime like yesterday so this is my first ever work for them... I just think Zoro is neat.

The ship rocked over the waves, making the contents of your stomach roll with them. Harsh breath left your lips as the upper half of you body leaned over the side of the boat. You were sure if someone looked at you your face would be cartoonish green from the bread and meat trying to slither it's way out to make another meal for the fish gliding beside the ship.

It was dark, the water looked like a bottomless abyss of black as your eyes stared down the side while you fought your seasickness. You didn't understand why you had suddenly become so sick in the night, you wondered if it had been something you ate. What kind of pirate gets seasick? A weak one. You and the rest knew that was furthest from the truth.

You didn't know what time it was all you knew was it was late as just a few hours ago you had been asleep in your own barrack and now as you looked around the ship the only one that seemed to be awake was your excitable captain Luffy. Although the rubber man seemed close to falling asleep at the helm, you would take over but you were too busy holding back throw up to take post.

"Eh? Y/N? What're you doing?" The voice behind you was low and filled with sleep. Without even coming up from the side you could hear the man adjusting himself in his trousers from the fabric scraping at skin. You chuckled softly as you pushed yourself back to standing position to look at the green haired swordsman with a bed head.

"Ah Zoro, you know just hanging out..." You laughed and he gave you another confused look as he reached under his plain shirt to scratch at his skin. You sighed and swallowed the best you could with your mouth watering, "Think I got food poisoning or maybe the sea is finally telling me I'm not fit to be a pirate anymore."

Zoro looked at you again as if his sleep induced brain wasn't getting it until his eyes widened and he nodded. The green haired approached, his bare feet padding against the wet board that only cause another queasiness in your stomach from the sound. Your eyes connected and he let out a small laugh.

"Nah, that meat you ate... It was near spoiled, Nami warned ya didn't she?" Zoro asked and you shook your head. Luffy's voice was heard in the distance just as the ship rolled over another wave that cause your stomach to do the same.

You clasped your hand over your mouth and before you knew it you were back over the side of the ship after pushing Zoro out of the way and back to emptying the contents of your stomach. Soft coughs left you and a low groan followed as your head spun from the rocking of the boat.

A gasp left you, making you choke on the tears the vomit had induced when a calloused hand placed itself on your back. Zoro's hand was warm and pressing just enough into you back to let his strength be known. You hummed at the comfort.

"Man you really are sick aren't ya?" Zoro's voice was softer this time and almost drowned out by the waves sloshing against the siding. "Y/N come with me, I got something that will help."

"Zoro... I can't move, if I move I will puke." You warned him and you heard a chuckle come the the swordsman. You raised your head to look up at him and his face that was one covered in sleep now had a smirk on his face. You knew that look all too well, you had challenged him unknowingly. Your eyes widened, "No-No don't pick me-"

"You throw up on me Y/N, I'll throw you overboard you hear me?" Zoro joked as he scooped up over his shoulder. Your view now being his backside and the wet board of the ship under his feet. He held you over his shoulder with your hips right beside his ear. Your unsettled stomach dug into his shoulder and the pressure relieved some of it's knotting.

You gave a hum and clasped a hand over your mouth as Zoro took his first step away from the side of the boat. Your eyes stared at the thin white fabric covering his back to keep you grounded on something other than thoughts of nausea as he carried you. The walk was short to wherever the man was taking you and before you knew it you were being placed onto soft sheets.

Zoro had brought you to his room. This wasn't the first time you had ever been in his room as the two of you shared a special bond with one another. If you were being honest most mornings you woke up in his bed. The only reason you hadn't been sleeping in these familiar sheets tonight is because the two of you knew rest was needed as the ships navigator Nami had informed them they would be hitting land soon.

You were thankful. Regardless of loving the sea, you still enjoyed being on land and sight seeing. Also the food you would get to try excited you the most, although right now food had turned into your enemy.

"Zoro, I don't think it would be smart to have se-"

"Eh!? I didn't bring you back here for that," Zoro said as he looked over his shoulder as he walked across the small room to where a small bag sat, "Although It would be fun, I don't think getting puked on would be a turn on for me." He laughed and you did the same.

You sighed as you leaned forwards with your head in your hands as you fought with another wave of nausea as the boat rocked. Your fingers dug into Zoro's sheets as the boat leaned and you almost fell. The need to yell at the captain for having such bad steering habits was going stronger with each wave the captain hit in the dark. You couldn't move though as Zoro’s sheets grounded you.

"Here, eat and drink this." Zoro's voice was over your head and you peeked up to see in his outreached hand a peeled banana and a wooden cup filled with brown liquid. You could tell it was whiskey from smell and you gave him a look as you took the items, "Eat that so it will settle your stomach and drink that whiskey so you can properly digest that meat you ate."

An inquisitive look settled on your face as you forced yourself to bite into the banana. You gagged as the flavor casted over your tastebuds and then took a sip of the whiskey. Another gag left you and you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth as you swallowed. Zoro laughed loudly as he leaned against his dresser.

“Don’t laugh at me,” You pointed at him and he raised hands in surrender, “You’re lucky I don’t puke all over your bed.”

“Your fault for eating eating spoiled meat, didn’t it taste funny to ya?”

“I didn’t know, I just thought it was some weird local seasoning the last place had for their food.” You argued as you bit into the banana again while looking him in the eyes. Zoro laughed as he rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed to sit next to you.

You leaned into him as you took another swig of whiskey. The feeling of it burning your chest slightly as it went down into your fairly empty stomach. His arm wrapped around your waist and you felt a soft peck to your temple as he thumbed over your side.

“Ah, just a little sickness, you’ll be okay in the morning.” Zoro assured as he took the empty cup from your fingers just as you bit into the last bite of the banana, “Feel better?”

You nodded as a small ‘thank you’ left your lips. You turned to him. His free arm pulling you closer and into his lap with his arms still around your waist. Zoro gave a hum as you nuzzled into his neck as he held you. Your stomach felt better and the warmth green haired man’s body left you feeling tired, after all it was the middle of the night.

“You’re warm.” You told him and he gave a soft chuckle.

“Wanna go back to sleep?” He asked and you nodded but whined when he moved to pull away, “Come on darlin’ your stomach’s finally settled lets go to sleep, I’ll still hold ya.”

Another soft agreement left you as you slid off his lap and into the covers. They were soft and smelt of Zoro’s natural scent with hints of sun rays from being washed recently. A sigh left you as your body finally settled to a complete relaxed state. Your eyes fluttered as Zoro reached over your form to put out the small oil lamp that brightened his dark room.

You smiled when you felt that calloused hand place itself on your head. You turned your head slightly and placed a small kiss to the inside of his wrist just before you playfully nipped at the skin. The sound of Zoro sucking on his teeth was heard before his lips place a peck to your forehead as he laid next to you.

“Do that again and I’ll make your stomach feel something again.” He teased. You let out a gasp as you turned to your side and sent a smack behind you that barely grazed his shoulder. Zoro’s arm wrapped around your waist again before he pulled you flush against him. Your back now pressed against his chest and his knee now between your thighs. A position you two were both used to.

“Maybe tomorrow night.” You told him as you snuggled deeper into the pillow. Another chuckle rumbled out of him and you felt it on your back before another one of his many kisses placed itself on your shoulder.

“Looking forward to it, Y/N.” Zoro’s voice was tired in your ear, almost already asleep, “Good Night..”

“Good Night, Zoro.”

#zoro x reader #ronoroa zoro #ronoroa zoro x reader #one piece #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #nami one piece #one piece imagine

159 notes · View notes

writersmorgue · 3 years

Text

Nightmare Material

15+ for graphic descriptions of violence, blood, and gore

can be read as slash or platonic

not proofread

“SHUT UP DEKU! OH MY GOD, CAN YOU BE QUIET FOR FIVE FUCKING MINUTES?!”

The common room goes silent.

“Woah, Bakubro, he just asked if you were busy,” Kirishima chuckles nervously.

Katsuki looks over to Deku who, as expected, already has tears welling in his eyes.

“Shitty crybaby, of course I’m busy can’t you fuckin’ see? Go bother someone who cares.”

Deku sniffles like the pathetic little child that he is, and nods, “Ok Kacchan.”

“Fuckin’ annoying ass-” Katsuki mutters, ignoring the glares as he stomps out of the room. Taking the stairs two at a time before slamming the door shut behind him, imagining the flinches of his classmates as he does so.

Fuck that fucking nerd, always looking down at him. Asking him for help on math of all things, when he fuckin’ knows that’s Katsuki’s worst subject. Fuck him.

The little shit shouldn’t even be here, he’s not on Katsuki’s level. Just gonna get himself killed.

After a few minutes of grumbling into his pillow, there’s a knock at Katsuki’s door, followed by a meek, “Blasty?”

He groans dramatically and flops over onto his back, propelling himself up with a few controlled explosions.

“Fuckin’ what-” He swings the door open and comes face to face with the entire idiot squad.

Sero, Kirishima, Mina, and Kaminari all stand in front of him, Sero nervously wringing his hands, Kaminari avoiding eye contact, and Kirishima giving him a look.

Mina steps to the front of them, patting Kirishima’s shoulder as she does so.

“Blasty, you really gotta stop.” She stares him straight in the eyes, not backing down no matter how hard he glares.

“Stop fuckin’ what.”

Kirishima places a hand on Mina’s chest, stalling her step forward into Katsuki’s space. “You know what, Bakugo.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, “Oh please, like the little shit can’t handle some yelling. I’ve seen discount hot topic make his ears bleed-”

“This isn’t about Jirou. This is about you. You need to sort your shit out.” Sero’s frowning, a rare sight.

“Oh?” Katsuki quirks an eyebrow, “Or what?”

There’s a tense silence before Kaminari sniffs. “Or- or we won’t be your friends anymore!!” He stutters, bottom lip wobbling.

The rest of the group nods, one by one giving him a last glance.

Katsuki stands there for a few minutes, mainly thinking, but also fuming

How dare they treat him like that, like trash. He’s not trash, and he’s not the bad guy. He’s just trying to save Deku before it’s too late. Stupid idiot won’t last a day in the hero business, even with his new freak quirk. All it’s good for is hurting the nerd.

“Stupid Deku and his stupid protection squad, fuckin’ blind idiots.” He grumbles, slamming the door and returning to his lair.

He changes his clothes, resigning himself to finishing his weekend at the gym instead of on next week’s homework.

Bakugo stomps through the common room on the way to their practice room, a few of his classmates shoot him glares but he’s ignored for the most part. Something noticeably purposeful since he’s not exactly being quiet. Even Kirishima refuses to acknowledge his presence.

Yeah, that hurts.

He runs for two hours, lifts for one, and finishes with core for thirty minutes before his post-workout cooldown ritual. Thoroughly satiated and tired to the bone, he heads back to his dorm. Ignored this way too, he doesn’t bother saying goodnight to anyone. Not that he would usually. Not that he misses Ashido’s “Night blasty!!” on his way up the stairs.

He doesn’t give a shit.

He scrubs at his body with his last bits of energy and brushes his teeth half dead on his feet. Exhausted, he flops down on his bed and passes out almost immediately.

…

Someone’s screaming.

Katsuki lunges toward Shigaraki, whose hand barely grazes Izuku’s neck.

Izuku? When did he ever call the nerd something other than-

“DEKU!!!” Oh, he was the one screaming. He blasts himself forward and pushes Izuku out of the way, his dusted skin flaking off into the breeze as green hair skids to a stop on the ground below.

“Damn BRAT-” Shigaraki mutters, angrily scrunching his hand in mid-air before turning his attention to Katsuki. “YOU.” He points a cracked, pointed finger at Katsuki.

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it old man?” He snorts, preparing his arms to blast again, he can feel the resistance from his last jump.

“You saved the little shit,” Shigaraki mutters to himself, nails dragging roughly down his neck, “must have a relationship, must be close to my enemy. Must die-”

Katsuki raises his hand, palms crackling in defiance, but he’s geared to go anyway.

Nothing happens.

“Fuck goddamnit!” His one fucking chance to get a drop on the guy and he’s out of juice? Fucking really?!

He’s so caught up in his fury he doesn’t notice the mad glint in the enemy’s eye. The way he smiles brokenly, bloody tongue barely peeking out.

“Poor little hero.” He mutters.

Katsuki jerks his head up just in time to see five fingers inches away from his face.

Well, this was fun.

“KATSUKI-” There’s pressure on his side and he falls, belatedly realizing he was pushed out of the way.

He looks hits the ground hard, hearing the reverberated snap of his ankle as it breaks.

“FALL HERO!! FALL BEFORE ME! YOUR NEW GO-”

Shigaraki falls to the ground as Todoroki whacks him over the head with a piece of rebar.

HIs normally stoic expression is frantic, he’s got fresh tears streaking down his face, and his forehead is covered in dried blood.

He tears his eyes away from the downed villain as Kirishima comes to cuff him, and screams in anguish at the sight of Izuku- Something Katsuki is still trying to wrap his head around.

A startled, almost pained sound escapes Katsuki as he half limps, half runs towards his best friend.

...best friend?

“IZUKU!”

Izuku has long since crumbled to his knees, clutching what remains of the left side of his face. Still slowly crumbling away. Blood pours down his arm and neck, making it difficult to see, but the sight of his eye frantically widening as Katsuki sits next to him is enough.

He removes his hand and sobs, throwing himself onto Katsuki.

“Eih- hgo-” He chokes, blood soaking Katsuki’s own suit as he rocks them both.

“Shh, it’s okay, Izuku.” He whispers, making eye contact with a sobbing Todoroki, who nods in approval.

“Izuku you’re gonna be fine.” The shock has yet to remove itself from Katsuki’s voice, and his words are filled with cracks and sobs, but he hopes it’s what Izuku needs.

“Aa- aah” Izuku’s broken kacchan followed by a fresh flow of blood down Katuski’s neck.

“I love you, Izuku. It’s gonna be alright.”

Izuku whimpers, clutching onto the blond’s neck for dear life.

And then he goes limp.

Katsuki’s eyes bug out, and he pulls Izuku arm’s length away. The gruesome sight that greets him is one he’ll never forget.

Izuku’s left eye hangs loosely down the side of his mangled cheekbone and jaw. Katsuki can see teeth starting to crumble as the decay works its way through his face. His nose is completely exposed, with no flesh left. No cute freckles. No scrunch when he smiles. And his other eye, possibly the worst part, stares lifelessly at Katsuki. The last remnants of tears make their way down his face.

He looks… terrified.

He died scared in the arms of his abuser. Someone who never even apologized to him. For fucking anything. Some vile part of Katsuki reminds him.

He saved me because I couldn’t do my fucking job.

He thrusts Izuku’s lifeless body into Shouto’s arms, who lets out a heartwrenching sob. Katsuki scrambles back, and can vaguely register the sound of pink cheeks vomiting behind him.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-” becoming increasingly more desperate with each utterance of the word, “FUCK!” Kirishima comes up behind him, picking him off the dust-covered ground and holding him to his chest. “This is all my fault!!!” He wails, “He fucking saved me, I couldn’t- this isn’t right no no NO-”

“Shhhh Katsuki-” Eijirou soothes him through his own tears, always the constant in Katsuki’s life. Well, after Deku.

Deku Deku Deku.

Dead Deku.

Because of you.

Katsuki takes another good look at Deku’s face where Shouto had freaked and discarded him on the ground. The unnatural bend of his arms, the bloody drool escaping his parted- if you can even call that a mouth anymore, his eyes.

And he screams.

He screams and he screams and he screams until someone shakes him so hard he wakes up.

Wait-

“BAKUGO!!! WAKE UP PLEASE-” Shitty hair screams at him, shaking his shoulders desperately as he thrashes in his sheets.

He stills, staring up at Kirishima with a shocked expression.

“Wh-”

“You were having a nightmare,” Kirishima explains, gasping for breath like he just ran a marathon.

Katsuki looks to the doorway where half of the boys in their class stand, expressions varying from worried to shocked.

He looks back at Kirishima, a pitiful whimper escaping his throat, “It- it wasn’t real?”

Katsuki looks to the door, half expecting to see Izuku there.

Missing an ear, you can see his tongue through his cheek.

Katsuki gulps, “Where’s Izuku?” He murmurs into the quiet room.

“Izuku?” Someone in the hallway mutters.

“Uh,” Kirishima catches himself before he can say something dumb, “Izu?- Uh- Midoriya is probably in his room. Didn’t think you’d want him here, but he knows. You kinda woke up the whole dorm.”

Kirishima has barely finished the sentence before he’s jumping out of bed, pajamas be damned, and sprinting toward the stairs. When he gets to Izuku’s floor he makes a hard right, Icyhot shouting something about being nice behind him.

Katsuki can yell at him later.

Running gives him time to think, and the more Katsuki thinks the more he realizes that his nightmare might as well have been a prophecy. Izuku would pull some martyr shit like that, but it was only Katsuki’s fault in the first place that he was put in that situation. He’s the only one to blame. Izuku had done everything right, and Katsuki managed to fuck it up.

Hollow socket, tendons hanging, blood turning his green suit a muddied brown.

Katsuki knocks on the door frantically, scared about what he’ll see when Izuku answers.

There’s some rustling from inside before Izuku peeks out, green curls messy from sleep.

“Wh- I thought Aoyama said you were having a nightmare.” His eyebrows furrow.

“I was,” Katsuki breathes, taking in how whole his rival is. “But it wasn’t real.”

He reaches out hesitantly and brushes an unruly lock of green out of Izuku’s left eye.

“Everything’s where it should be-” He chuckles almost in bewilderment.

He drags his fingers gently down Izuku’s cheek, tracing where the decay had rotted away skin, now whole.

A few of the classmates who followed him gasp in surprise when Katsuki clutches Izuku’s shoulders and buries his face in soft green hair. Completely breaking down as he sobs.

Izuku freezes, terrified of ruining the moment, even though he really wants to ask someone what the fuck is happening.

He gives Kirishima a questioning look as he hesitantly rubs along Katsuki’s back.

The redhead just shrugs.

“I’m sorry Izuku.”

Aaaand the damn breaks.

Izuku sobs as Katsuki clutches him tighter, their friends begin to awkwardly back out of the hallway after witnessing whatever that was.

“Wh- Kacchan?” He pulls away reluctantly, but he needs to see Katsuki’s face.

The blond’s eyes are red and puffy, same as his cheeks, but he’s dead serious.

“I’m so fucking sorry. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, you’re a really good guy.” He heaves in a breath, “And- I know you’ll be a great hero someday.”

“Kacchan… why?”

Katsuki looks away, “I just- thought about some things,” He doesn’t mention that the thinking involved seeing his classmate’s bloodied corpse, “realized how full of myself I am. You really did just want help on that math homework, huh?” He huffs, shaking his head at his past self.

“I did. What else would I have wanted?”

Katsuki sniffs, angrily rubbing at his eyes, “I don’t know, Izuku. I’m a fucking idiot.”

Izuku smiles sadly, “All I’ve ever wanted is to be your friend, Kacchan.

The blond nods, “Yeah, I think I see that now. Can- can we still do that? Be friends?”

Izuku beams, rubbing his own tears away and pulling Katsuki into another tight hug.

“There’s nothing I want more, Katsuki.”

57 notes · View notes

heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Text

It is 6 am. I know that it reads like I’ve never heard of pacing. Trust me, I’m aware. Quite frankly, I am entirely too tired to care. It might not even be as bad as I think it is. It’s possible, I guess, but not likely, I don’t think. I don’t have proofreaders, and it’s probably too edgy or too soon for more edge but you’re along for my ride and I’m sorry. I’ll probably rewrite it at some point, but right now I’m happy I’m even awake right now to post it. My eyes hurt and I'm a little queasy but we are powering through. Having said that, let's torture some fucking teenagers.

Chapter 12

Donatello stares at the small knife intensely.

It is an incredibly boring-looking one. Knowing as little as he does about culinary arts, he does not know the exact use of it, its size and shape giving him very little insight into its use in that environment. He is willing to make an educated guess and assume the blade itself is made of carbon steel, which is not exactly a strange choice for a knife in his opinion. It is not a combat or survival knife. It is hardly sturdy enough to last long in a combat setting. He is tempted to call Mikey to ask him to identify it for a second but thinks better of it.

After all, it fell out of your pocket. Questions would be asked.

He picks it up off the floor, weighing it in his hand. ‘This is a kitchen knife, right?’ He picks your jacket off the floor, folding it neatly and placing it on the back of a chair. ‘Why would she carry around a kitchen knife?’ He rests his head on his arms, holding the offending tool in front of his eyes, continuing to analyze it. ‘To fight? She knows carrying around a knife like this with no combat experience is a bad idea, right? Don’t people usually use pepper spray or something when they want to defend themselves?’

An image flashes into his head. You, standing alone in an alley, pointing this poor excuse of a weapon at a member of The Foot or the Purple Dragon. You, falling back and hitting your head and bleeding out with a knife sticking in your side because you fell on it wrong—‘It’s not even in a sheathe’—and trying to crawl back out into the street, begging to god not to—

He blinks, noticing his knuckles going pale around the handle, mouth weirdly dry.

He swallows. He forces his grip to loosen. ‘That’s dramatic.’ He gets up, slipping the knife back into the pocket of your jacket, hoping he put it in the right one. ‘She’s fine. She’s probably just scared after everything that’s happened. It won’t come to that.’

He sets back down, picking the last gas mask up and turning it over in his hands to give him something to do. He will not have time to properly test whether it works exactly as planned, but he is fairly certain that it and its brothers should allow them to breathe with little difficulty when they need to go into the TCRI building through the elevator shaft. If that is the plan they go with, anyways-- he had elected to stay out of the planning party, seeing as creating explosives strong enough to destroy the portal is enough of a challenge on its own, and he has faith in you and his eldest brother to come up with a good course of action. You guys always did. Bradford was dead after all, a fact that he had been informed made their lives considerably easier. In your words, “Mousers are the fucking worst, and if Bradford had gone off and recruited Stockman, we would have to deal with all of that way sooner.” You had quickly admitted that you did not know how long the peace would last, but you seemed pretty satisfied by the way things were happening overall, despite his accidentally causing the power cell to be stolen—“We’ll have the whole thing under control after this mission, don’t you worry.”

You had also claimed that you had the staking out of Shredder’s lair under control, but that is neither here nor there.

The door to his lab slides open. “Donnie,” you call, “we need to go over the game plan. How’re the explosives coming?”

‘Why is there a knife in your pocket instead of a taser?’ “Theoretically? Well.” He shrugs, getting to his feet. “I can’t really test if they work, but they’re good to go, probably.”

You smile teasingly. “They’re not gonna go off randomly?”

“Probably not.”

“Probably?” Your smile widens.

“No promises.”

“Well,” you grin, “I sure hope they’re good explosives in that case; wouldn’t wanna almost bleed out again.”

His stomach churns. “For sure,” he agrees, crossing the room as you start to “walk” back to the war room/kitchen. “Have you guys decided on anything?”

“Well,” you sigh, “Leo’s bein’ Leo if that’s what you mean. I don’t mind their plan, mind, but it seems a bit silly.” You hold the door open for him. “After you.”

“Dude, totally.” Mikey nods eagerly in agreement to something someone said. “I can get him on board, on prob.”

“Good.” Leonardo taps his finger against the blueprint splayed across the counter. “Now all we need is a big enough box.”

“There should be crates down by the docks.” Raphael looks over at you. “Any stores up top sell ‘em that big?”

“Probably.” You lean against the doorway as Donnie steps past you. “You guys know we don’t know what they’re breathing, right?”

“Yeah. So?” The green-eyed brother gestures to him. “He can figure out letting us breathe.”

“Can and did, but I’m not sure that’s what she’s talking about.” The tall boy crosses his arms across his chest absentmindedly. “If the gases they’re breathing are highly flammable—which, knowing the absurd biology of the Kraang, isn’t out of the question—” You stifle a laugh, covering your mouth, “using explosives in there might blow the roof off the place.”

“That’s good, ain’t it?”

“Not If you don’t want to be pressure cooked, no.”

“Is there some other way to destroy the portal?” Leonardo laced his fingers together, leaning his elbows on the worn island.

“Without knowing the metal they’re using?” He shakes his head. “Even if we did, I’m not sure if I could safely create hydrochloric or nitric acid, especially on such short notice, let alone transport it.”

“Then we’re screwed.” Raph looks off. “Perfect.”

“Unless you feel confident in busting out of that building on a time crunch, we’d need someone to be close enough to the bomb to actually use the detonator. Seeing as we need all hands on deck, we really don’t have anyone that could fit the bill.” Even with his back to you, you notice his tension. “Unless you guys just want to crack a window or something, but that would kinda negate the point of doing the whole stealth thing, setting off an obvious alarm.”

“That’s not true.” Mikey points out the obvious. “Y/N could do it.”

“I’m down,” you shrug, moving your hands to slide in your nonexistent pockets. “You’d need to let me know when to do it so I don’t fry you guys, but I might as well add domestic terrorism to my non-existent rap sheet.” You smile wryly at that.

You think you hear Donnie mutter something before speaking up. “I’m not sure there are any buildings high enough up or close enough to be an effective--”

“Sure there is.” Mikey, again. “There’s that apartment building across that alley. It’s plenty tall.”

“Oh yeah, huh?” Raph smiles sharply. “Even has a fire escape to climb.”

The idea of climbing anything anywhere makes you want to vomit, but the idea of having to deal with whatever goes on with the saving of Leatherhead later is enough to ignore it. ‘Stop being a pussy,’ you reprimand yourself, feeling vertigo already. ‘It’s a fucking ladder. A twenty-story high ladder, yeah, but it's still just a ladder.’

“She can’t use a ladder,” the tallest brother protests. “She can’t use one of her legs.”

“Then she can take the stairs, or we can carry her there before we go.” You take slow, deep, quiet breaths. “It’s no big deal. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind doing it, right?”

You are suddenly incredibly grateful that you are leaning against a doorframe. The idea of being carried over buildings, twenty stories into the air, makes the ground sway underneath you. You subtly dig your fingernails into the walls on impulse, trying to slowly relieve the pressure.

“It’s not about—What are you even talking about?” You barely register his bashful embarrassment, swallowing thickly. “I’m just saying…”

You can barely hear them, shutting your eyes as you feel sticky, warm blood on your fingertips, dripping down in between your digits. You wipe the phantom liquid off on your jeans quickly, thoroughly, opening your eyes to see what you register as the other three ragging on Donnie about something you do not catch. You lock your knees to keep them from shaking as bad as your hands, ignoring the nausea and staring straight ahead. ‘Your folks didn’t raise a wuss. Your hands aren’t wet. Snap out of it.’

You force yourself to focus on counting threads in your sleeves. You get to thirty-five before you feel someone shaking your shoulder.

“Dude, you alright?” Mikey was waving a hand in front of your face, having apparently crossed the room from his seat on the counter. “Hello?”

Your eyes snap up from your wrist to look at him. “Hm? Yeah, totally.” You nod. “Just zoned out is all.”

He put the back of his hand to your forehead as if he knew what he was looking for. “You sure? You look sick.”

You nod again. “Just didn’t sleep well last night. I’m fine.”

“Do you plan on zoning out during the mission?” Raphael smirked. “Don—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply. “I’ll be fine. When are you guys going?”

“A couple of hours.” Donnie is staring holes into you. “The hours listed online say actual people work until then, but the actual building is open for another few hours, so by the time we get far enough down to hopefully not feel the effects of the blast, we won’t have to worry about witnesses or people getting caught up in it.”

“Awesome.” You start out the door, using the walls to limp back to the lab. “Meetcha back here in an hour.”

He runs after you. “Need me to come with you? I can help pick a crate out.” The way his words spill out is not lost on you. “O-or I could drive you there if you want—it’s bad to walk around so much on your leg, especially at night.”

“If you don’t mind vomit in your party-wagon, sure.” You slip through the gap in the door, grabbing your jacket and pulling it on. “Honestly, Donnie, I’m fine.”

“But—”

“I walk home all the time.” You use the chair to roll over to your walker, snapping it open and getting to your feet. “I’m just going to go to a hardware store, buy a couple of the largest boxes they have, grab some dinner, and come back. Besides, you have to worry about getting in, right? I’ll be fine, really.”

He wants to argue. He does not.

“Text me if you need anything while I’m out.” You maneuver past him with a bit of difficulty. “Want me to pick up some pizza while I’m out?”

“… yeah.” He nods, shaking off the feeling sinking into his gut with a bit of difficulty. “If you want some, you’ll have to eat it on your own, though.”

You smile back at him. “I’ll get something else to eat,” you roll your eyes, voice oozing with honey seemingly unintentionally. “Don’t you worry too hard about me, now; your brothers give you a hard enough time as is.”

“Don’t get yourself killed and I’ll think about it,” he jokes, mostly serious.

You laugh. “I’ll try, Dad.”

He has never noticed how loud you walk until today. Maybe it is just that it is unusually loud in comparison to him and his brothers, or maybe it is the sound of it knocking around the concrete walls of the lair bouncing the sound off the walls, but he cannot help but notice it, how easily he can identify where you are just by listening. How has he never noticed that? ‘You could hear her down the street, walking past. Anyone with ears could tell where she is, no problem.’

He feels himself grip onto the door to keep himself from running after you and insisting he come with you. ‘If someone can hear her walking down the street, someone can hear her scream. They’ll call someone. Who would leave a teenage girl to get attacked?’ He does not answer his question.

He shuts the door. ‘And she has a point. I still need to figure out how to get us into TCRI without the cameras catching us.’ He sits back at his workstation to think. ‘It doesn’t have to be too advanced. A remote-controlled dolly wouldn’t take much time to build, and I have the code already.’

It is not an effective distraction, but it is enough to preoccupy him for a solid half an hour.

You are back at the time you say you are going to be back. The trip did not take you long, although carrying the boxes and food was an unforeseen challenge, and you bought yourself a burrito and soda, so all is well. You and the guys eat in the kitchen, you do not have another episode and, all in all, you almost forget about the fact you will have to be carried up a twenty-story building.

Standing and staring up at the building they had ended up next to is an easy reminder.

You swallow your dinner back, mouth dry. ‘Commit.’ You fold your walker up, hiding it behind a dumpster and hooking your arms around Donnie’s neck before you can chicken out, shutting your eyes tight, the humming of their van—you had walked—doing nothing to ease your nerves. You hear the others say something before the engine roars back to life, the tires squealing against the asphalt as they drive off.

“I’m not going to drop you,” he promises, barely noticing the extra weight as he hooks one of his arms under your thigh to pull your body flush against his. Your legs immediately tighten into a vice-like grip around his middle, pulling him even closer.

“Fucking better not.” He starts to scale the building with a bit of difficulty, with one arm otherwise preoccupied. “I’ll haunt your ass.”

He smiles at that. He jumps up, grabbing onto the railing of a fire escape and earning a squeak of terror and a quiet string of obscenities from you. He takes longer than usual out of necessity but finds a quiet joy in how hard you cling to him, swallowing laughs drawn out by your swears—his personal favorite is, “Oh fuck me Mother Mary!” which is a result of him overshooting the railing, resulting in both of you violently swinging back and forth for a time.

“Are we on solid ground?” Your voice is pleading.

“We’re on the roof, yeah.”

You let go, sliding down to your knees and lacing your fingers together behind your neck, breathing for the first time in the eternity—two minutes—it had taken to get there. You want to cry, your heart pounding out of your chest as you try to catch your breath.

“Are you okay?”

You nod once, shifting back and putting your head between your knees to regain your head.

‘Did I do something wrong?’ He crouched down in front of you, concerned. “You sure?”

You nod again.

“Are you being honest?”

“I will be in a sec,” you snap shakily.

He backs off, staying in that position.

You give yourself a count of fifteen before looking back up at him. “I’m good.” You take a deep breath, pulling yourself into him again. “Let’s do this shit before I’m not.”

The journey over is painfully silent, other than your guys’ breathing. Balance is the only real problem throughout. Holding you and making sure not to crush you makes the normal measures he would normally use to soften his falls impossible, meaning his jumps cannot be as high or far as normal—the last thing you need on top of everything else is a concussion. The trip might have been rendered shorter had it not been for the need for the Kraang to know nothing of their whereabouts, but he does not think it is too long until he moves to let go of you.

You do not let go of him.

“Y/N?”

Nothing.

“Y/N,” he says again, “we’re here.”

You do not move to let go of you, your heartbeat thundering against his chest.

“I’m going to set you down.” He unhooks your legs, lowering himself and setting you on the floor. “See?” He unlatches your arms, gently pulling you away from him.

Your face is white as a sheet, mind only barely registering the fact you were on solid ground. He would be concerned you were dead had it not been your incredibly fast pulse. You stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused.

You blink, pushing the hair out of your face as you get to your feet. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Zoned out. Tired.”

He hesitantly gives you the detonator. “Alright,” he relents. “You know the plan, right? You remember it still?”

“I’m scared, not dumb.” Your face flushes. “Sorry. That was mean.”

He blinks, confused. “It’s fine,” he shrugs. “Lack of sleep can cause irritability, especially in teenagers.” His voice is soft despite his own anxiety about the whole plan. He hands you your phone. “I’ll come back to pick you up. If I don’t in two hours, text me. If I don’t respond…” he trails off.

Your stomach drops. “You will,” you assure him firmly. “I know you will.”

“If I don’t,” he nods in agreement, if only for your sake, “hell will’ve frozen over anyway.”

You chuckle nervously at that. You reach over, cupping his face in your hands. “Seriously, though,” you make him look at you properly, “kick their asses for me.”

He smiles, his face heating up under your hands. “You got it.” He gets up. “See ya, then.” He smiles tipsily, waves, and runs off.

You watch him bound rooftops, grateful he had seemingly not noticed the violent shaking of your hands as you set the electronics down. You swallow again, dragging yourself and leaning your back against the ledge, crossing your legs in front of you. You lean over, placing the detonator down next to you carefully and picking your phone up. You shakily input the passcode, turn the volume as low as it would go, and press the speaker to your ear, sinking into a song with a slow exhale of breath. While you had refused yourself any illicit substances for the same reason you had gotten rid of your sleeping pills, you saw no issue with relying on music for some stress relief, the familiarity of the slower song letting your heartbeat match its rhythm.

You reach down, pulling your pant leg up and carefully peeling the tape from your good leg, wrapping your fingers around the handle of the paring knife and holding it at your side. Sure, you know, logically, it would do little but hinder you in a fight, but you felt as though you needed something, anything to make you feel less weak. You already feel the embarrassment from clinging onto him so tightly, tears pricking at your eyes. “You’re the literal definition of a damsel in distress,” you mumble, scoffing at yourself. “A young, unmarried woman who is in distress. A crazy damsel in distress at that.” You blink them away. “God, you’re really fucking pathetic, huh?” You chuckle, swallowing again and pressing the phone closer to your ear. “You’re almost a fucking adult and you’re scared of a little height and a little blood. Perspective, Y/N.”

It feels like an hour of sitting, knees now at your chest as you listen to music to take the edge off—‘Like taking ibuprofen for an amputation.’ Regardless of how effective it is, it does something, at least, and that is all you can ask for right now.

You jump out of your skin when your phone buzzes with a text. You fumble with it, pulling it to your face to read Casey asking if you were still free next Tuesday for his stupid fucking game. You text him back that, yes, you are, and hope he stubs his toe for the false alarm.

The text comes at eleven-o-three.

You almost drop the phone, the message “NOW” crossing your screen. You pick the device up carefully, craning your neck back to glance at the building across the street, feeling as though you missed something incredibly important despite knowing the contrary. You swallow one more time and slam your hand down on the button.

The sound of the explosion roars in your ears, your eyes widening at the light now illuminating the roof, images of that night burning in your head and squeezing your throat. You drop the detonator, covering your ears as the ground in front of you is seemingly set alight. It barely registers to you that it is a cold autumn night. Why would you care when all you can hear is screaming? Why bother when your heart is begging to be let out of your chest, when your blood is pooling under you and all your scars are open? All you can see as you shudder, shutting your eyes tightly, is that man’s sides slashed with glass, warm red dripping out of him and onto the dashboard.

You look up, choking on your fear.

You remember what you forgot.

The walls of the top three floors of TCRI?

They are made entirely of the glass now showering down on you.

Table of Contents

Chapter 11

Chapter 13

32 notes · View notes

siranghae · 7 years

Text

No Escape (m)

Word count: 6,611

Warning: Jungkook smut

Author’s note: This is a reupload of the piece I posted yesterday, since I realised that there were a lot of tense errors and I wasn’t happy about the title as it seemed too joking, though I only slightly altered it in the end. Sorry about the inconvenience!

I wrote this piece to celebrate the one year anniversary of this blog (which was technically yesterday but we don’t talk about that). I wish it could’ve turned out a little longer because it was quite a special scenario but I hope nearly 7k is enough for all of you :) Thanks again to @minyoongiish for proofreading, I don’t know how you do it <3 Enjoy!

Some might say that this was completely out of character for you to do a thing like this. One girl, among a crowd of people twice or thrice your age, with a single backpack that almost ripped at the straps from the weight it carried. Not even the way you dressed fit the way you were usually perceived, in a blouse with a faded flower pattern and khaki shorts. The look was perfected by the brown hiking boots you'd forgotten about as soon as they'd arrived in the mail. They felt unnatural to walk in, given how unworn they were, which is why you were so inclined to wobble like a chair with uneven legs. At least you had a reason to wear them now.

When you finally sat down in the bus, you let out a sigh of relief. Behind the stained window was the highway you'd be driving down in a second, away from the city you associated with too many things to like it anymore. It really was out of character, yet that was exactly what you were going for. Who expected something like this?

No one, but especially not Jeon Jungkook.

It was humid and hot inside of the vehicle, overwhelmingly so, and without windows it would only get worse. You took a water bottle out of your bag, waiting for the other passengers to sit down, too. Some of them glanced at you when they passed your seat, though never in a contemptuous way. There was even a woman that smiled, and though you didn’t know her, you smiled back. Actually, you didn’t know anyone, which was comforting to say the least. This was what you’d hoped for when you made the arrangements with the travel agency. You’d even picked one on the other side of town, with a name that sounded so shifty that it wouldn’t even cross you mind if it wasn’t for the situation you were in.

“Is this seat taken?”

You averted your eyes from the window, towards a woman who you guessed was in her mid-fifties or early sixties. She had something motherly about her in her muddy orange bodywarmer with a long sleeved shirt underneath it. You remembered seeing her outside the bus, where she’d introduced herself to the bus driver as Eunha.

“It’s free,” you responded, moving the bag that you’d put on the seat so that Eunha could sit down. She nodded her head politely as a sign of gratitude before sitting down.

“Ah, young people these days~” She mumbled, a comical expression taking shape on her face. “It’s extraordinary to meet someone this considerate when they’re your age.”

You laughed. “I suppose that is true.”

Eunha looked at you for a while, not saying a word. The silence that followed your words was a little awkward, as she observed you with curiosity like a visitor would in a zoo with wild animals: cautious but not cautious enough to stop her from getting closer. Out of the blue, she even asked you a question. “So, why are you on this trip?”

“Oh, I’m here to get over a breakup.” The lie left your lips with such ease that it almost felt wrong, though that didn’t stop you from saying it. The real reason wasn’t something to be admitted to a woman you’d just met, or anyone else for that matter.

She didn’t seem to catch the lie, as her expression turned soft at those words that would’ve held more meaning to someone that was actually in that situation. “Oh dear!” She placed one hand on your lap, squeezing you as though that would make you feel any better. “How terrible. But a man like that really doesn’t deserve a darling like you.”

You gave her a guilty smile. “Well thank you, but I don’t deserve such kind words.”

“Well dear, I think you do, and you can’t change my mind.” She nodded, convinced about her own judgement of the person she’d just met. “Oh, we’re leaving.”

She was right: the bus driver had taken his seat and was busy starting up the large bus. You looked at the passengers in front of you, seeing exclusively grey hair except for a few peculiarly coloured hats that old people tend to wear. Finally, you’d have a week to yourself, a week free of consequences, a week free from everything you were trying to escape.

After what felt like an hour or two, the bus reached a road through the forest that was on the pamphlet you’d seen that one fateful afternoon. As the leaves brushed against the bus window, you pulled it out of your backpack. Not that you wanted to read it - the picture was what was interesting. It looked almost like a still life on the cheap paper. Every leaf looked unnatural, every cloud looked photoshopped into the picture. But most of all, the people in the distance, pretending to be having fun on their supposed hiking trip. It all felt so fake, now that you looked at it. Outside, everything looked raw, a little rough at the edges - that was real nature. It somehow hadn’t doomed on you until now, but that’s what you’d be seeing this entire week. Most of all, you’d be walking. A lot. Maybe you really should’ve thought this through a little more - though it was too late now to go back home. Not that it seemed like a viable option anyways.

Eunha, who’d been sleeping for most of the ride, woke up as soon as the bus came to a halt. “Oh, are we already there? That was quick!” She stood up from her place and grabbed her bag. With a smile, she looked back at you, still sitting in the same spot as people already got off the bus. “Aren’t you coming, dear?”

“Oh, I’m waiting until everyone’s gone. Might be a better plan.”

She nodded, though she didn’t seem to agree. “Well, I’ll be seeing you in a moment then!” With one last nod and a brief wave of her hand, she squeezed between the people waiting to get off the bus. It was almost a promise, which was quite nice of her. She probably wanted you to feel included, which was nice.

You looked through the pamphlet once more as the crowd moved through the bus slowly. This was an opportunity, not a curse. The walking would definitely help you forget about your everyday life, you just knew it. You could do this, for sure.

“You waiting for someone?”

“Hm?” You said, not listening to the voice that you didn’t realise was talking to you.

“Y/N.”

You frowned, looking up. “How do you kno-”

Jeon Jungkook is standing right in front of you.

“Okay, wait,” you say, closing your eyes. “Wait wait wait.”

“What are you doing?”

“Sssssh.”

“Why are you shushing me?!”

“Because you’re not real. Yes, that must be it! I’m just hallucinating you, so when I open my eyes, you should be gone,” you mumbled and repeated the last word plenty of times so that your prayers might be heard by some divine entity. You really must’ve been stressed if you’d imagine him to be there. Must be a chemical reaction in your brain that created this image. “Yeah, I’ll open my eyes now and-”

As soon as you realised that he was still there, you closed your eyes again. “No, no, wait, one more moment.”

“Y/N-”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” you responded, opening your eyes for a second time. He was still there, his dark brown hair falling in front of his eyes that looked at you confusedly. “I don’t understand. Why are you still there?” You extended one hand to touch him, carefully like he was about to attack you like a wild animal. One finger inched towards his bare arm, which you should be able to pass through if he was, in fact, a figment of your imagination. Instead, it bounced off like there was an actual person there, right in front of you. That didn’t stop you from trying again, poking him in his stomach, his arm, his leg, his face - until your finger went numb from the desperate attempts to make him disappear. You didn’t want to stop doing it, feeling like this is the only way to stop him from actually existing so close to you. “Oh please, I don’t deserve this, do I?”

His fingers slipped between yours, making you almost vomit all over him. “God, you’re such a dork,” he said, flashing an evil, Jungkook-esque smile at you that equals a fist in your stomach.

You pulled your hand out of his grip with such force that you hit your own seat with your elbow. “Ow!”

“Oh, sorry, that wasn’t-”

You hissed at his hand that got awfully close to you, as you tried to escape from him by pressing yourself against the wall as much as possible. This is not actually happening, is it? “Oh no… fuck.” Yes, he was really there, in the place where he shouldn’t be. “How the fuck did this… I can’t do this.”

You leapt forward, past the guy from your nightmares, quicker than you thought was humanly possible. Never had you wanted to scream so badly, so loudly that it’ll permanently damage your vocal chords. “How the fuck did he find me?” That’s a question only he knew the answer to, though you already had a feeling that it’ll be as disgusting as everything else he does.

A chill ran down your spine when you felt his hand against your shoulder, his fingers like snakes rubbing your joint light-heartedly. “No one can escape me, right? Wasn’t that what you said?”

“Stay away from me, dirty underage… pervert… kid… oh, fuck it!”

“I’m not underage!” he called after you as you jumped out of the bus to safety.

You nearly jumped into the arms of Eunha when you noticed her. “Oh, Eunha!” you sighed, hugging her so forwardly that it is a tad inappropriate. She gasped when you nearly made her fall backwards.

“What’s wrong?” the older woman frowned worriedly when she regained her balance, sensing that something was off before you got to say another word. People stared at the two of you weirdly, though she didn’t seem to care about that at all. “Sweetie, please tell me what’s wrong so I can help.” Her voice was so soothing that it made you want, even need to tell her what’s wrong, as you breathed heavily into her shoulder that is enough support for you, both physically and mentally.

“M-my friend is…” Those words came out so softly that Eunha didn’t understand what you were saying, and she made you repeat your words. “My… boyfriend, he’s- he’s here.”

The lie rolled of your tongue like it’s the truth, and soon you accepted it as such, or at least make yourself believed it to be true. There was no better way to explain yourself or the hate you feel for him.

“Who? Who is it, dear?”

Jungkook walked down the bus stairs right as her head turned that way, waving at you nonchalantly. “Hey there, Y/N. Didn’t know you were here.”

“Fucking liar,” you mumbled under your breath, before you uttered a louder, more hateful response, with words that weren’t even meant to be hateful.

“Hello, Jungkook.”

One might say that you and Jungkook were once on good terms, though you’d never be able to admit that now. Besides, there was a reason why he was once tolerable, whereas now he is so easy to hate. The first time it hit you was when you were looking him in the eyes with Eunha by your side, seeing him look at you so confidently, without any sign of that sweet boy he had been before. That was it: he’d grown up.

Even you could admit that he was a little handsome now, after he’d lost the babyface he’d once had which had grown into the sharp edges of his jaw and cheeks. The few inches he’d gained since you first met him were also noticeable, something he always pointed out whenever he got the chance to stand close to you and even simply wasn’t represented in his mental development. He still seemed like a dirty minded high schooler, wanting to date a girl simply for the sake of dating someone. You couldn’t even imagine that he’d dated anyone in his short, pitiable life, but for some reason girls always flocked around him like geese around a piece of bread. Was he really that handsome to other people? It didn’t make sense, but what made the least sense of all was that he didn’t care about any of the girls after him. He was only interested in one person, and that was you.

“Come on, Y/N, stop running away from me,” Jungkook said as he tried to catch up to you.

“No way.”

“Look, it’s been an hour. You should’ve had enough time to, I don’t know… Y/N, come on.”

“Never.” You leapt forward every time he got too close, which caused him to grunt out of annoyance every time you did it. The two of you were about half a mile ahead of the other walkers, who couldn’t keep up with the pace you had set that can’t even count as walking since you were basically running to escape the toxic boy. “Jungkook, don’t you know what ‘leave me alone’ means?”

He sighed. “I’m going to pretend not to know what that means until you let me-”

“I’m not going to let you get anywhere near me, okay? Is that so hard to understand?” You stepped over a log in the middle of the road, which you did so slowly that it enabled Jungkook to catch up to you. “Why aren’t you fucking one of the cute girls who were after you last week? What were their names again?”

“I don’t remember their- why are you even bringing this up?”

You ignored his question, and basically sprinted down the hill you guys just climbed up together. “Bye asshole!” It was the last thing you said before you gave in to the gravity that seemed to pull you down the hill so quickly. Closing your eyes, you focused on the feeling of running, the ground beneath you and the wind blowing in your face. It was almost like he wasn’t there anymore.

“Hey, Y/N!”

Jungkook repeated your name when you ignored him, but there was no way you would’ve listened to his screams. Why would you listen to him? He was probably trying to catch up to you by distracting you - that would totally be something he’d do, that filthy cheater.

But you were wrong to judge him that quickly.

“Watch out!”

It happened so quickly that you barely notice it. Something grabbed your leg and pulled your lower body into it and your upper body in the opposite direction. It occurred with so much force that you let out a choked scream amid falling - and one moment later, you felt your face hit the hard ground.

“Fuck!”

“Y/N? Y/N!” You’d barely groaned once before his hands grabbed your shoulder, shaking it frantically. He said something else after that, yet you couldn’t get yourself to understand what he was trying to say. Everything became blurry, the face looking down with genuine worry, the sounds coming from every direction, the feeling in your ankle. Perhaps that explains why it didn’t even hit you that he picked you up.

“Can you hear me?” He said, in a way that indicated that he’d said it several times before and it now rolled of the tongue more easily. “Y/N?”

“Y-yes…” you mumbled, pressing a cheek against his shoulder without realising it. It felt so distant, though you could feel his bones and muscles through the soft material of his sleeve. It felt pleasant, though it really shouldn’t be. You couldn’t help but get accustomed to it, feeling it rock back and forth like it was trying to comfort you.

Slowly, your senses came back to you, beginning at your head and spreading throughout your body until it even hit your toes.

Then you finally noticed that Jungkook had his hands on your ass.

A deafening scream filled your own ears that very second, which you didn’t even realise was your own until Jungkook looked down at you, startled. “W-what is it?” he said, seeing that you weren’t in any actual danger - at least, not in his eyes.

“Get. Your. Hands. Away. From. My. ASS!” you yelled, intentionally close to his ear so that he might actually go deaf.

“What are you- oh.” He swallowed. “But where else am I supposed to hold you? Besides, you have quite the nice-”

“Jeon Jungkook, I swear to god I’ll kill you if you dare finish that sentence.”

“Come on, I’m just telling the truth.”

“Shut up- fuck, that was my ankle!”

Jungkook had attempted to hold you in a different way, though he wasn’t particularly good at not twisting your limbs in all possible directions like a drawing doll. He didn’t even stop when he heard your painful whimpering, though that might have been caused by the fact that he was about to drop you because of his clumsiness. He stumbled forward whilst holding you that way, with a deep frown between his eyebrows from the amount of effort it cost him to keep you in his arms.

After a terrible struggle, he finally put you down on a rock by the hill and next to a stream, even placing your ankle on a sloped bit of it carefully so that you could rest. “Are you okay?” he said, still moving your leg around as though he was indecisive about the position it should stay in.

You nodded slowly, until you remembered it was Jungkook that was asking you this. “Yes, I’m fine. Let’s continue walking.” In a brave attempt at distancing yourself from him, you tried to stand up - before you even got the chance to take another step, you fell on your knees again from the pain in your ankle. “Ouch!”

“Jesus, Y/N, you haven’t even rested for a fucking minute. Can you at least wait until your leg doesn’t hurt again?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was an order, emphasised by the fact that he pushed your leg down when you tried to raise it again.

Annoyed, you looked around, trying to see where the nearest part of the road was.

“Wait… why is there no road?”

Jungkook looked up from his twentieth attempt at keeping your legs down. “We’re to the left of the hill, so the same goes for the road… wait, didn’t you see where we were going?”

You squinted at him. “Uh, I was busy getting groped? Why would I look where we’re going?”

“Groping? I-I was trying to carry you!” A soft blush spread across his cheeks, his little head caught in the middle of that lie.

You pointed one finger at his face, which made him shrink reflexively. “Bullshit.”

“Y/N…”

“Stop lying to your perverted mind!”

He sighed. “Okay, okay, but I honestly can’t help myself when you have such a-”

“Don’t. Say. It.” You snapped your fingers when you noticed his eyes glide down your outfit, down to the point of interest like a vicious snake. Instinctively, you crossed your legs when you noticed him bite his lip. “Jesus, you’re such a horndog.”

“Can you please stop calling me that?” he said. “You always do that in front of Namjoon, too, and I don’t like it at all.”

“What else am I supposed to call you? JILF?”

“Oh for the love of GOD, no!” he nearly screamed at you, but he couldn’t stop you from bursting out laughing. “Why are you like this with me?”

You leaned back until your back hit the warm stone, which felt great after the intensive walking you’d done. From here you couldn’t see his face, either, which was an added bonus you hadn’t foreseen. “If that’s the only way to keep you away from me, then I’ll keep acting that way.”

“But what about the time you kissed me?”

You froze. “What?”

“You know,” Jungkook said, trying to sound as innocent as he could. God, what a jerk. “Last year? At Namjoon’s place?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answered abruptly.

“You even said you liked it. Don’t you remember?”

Of course, you remembered. It had been neatly hidden in a corner of your memory that you didn’t ever look at, but that didn’t stop it from coming out sometimes, in the middle of the night, when you felt the safest.

“I’d never say that!” You snapped. “Never, Jungkook, never in a million years, would I call you a good kisser.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, right before he pressed his lips against yours.

It went so quickly that you didn’t even get to push him away, and as soon as it happened, you were brought back to the last time this had happened. It was almost exactly one year ago, but it was still as good as it had been that time.

Wait, why were you enjoying yourself?

As soon as you could breathe again, you started spouting swear words at him at a high tempo that made him quietly stare at you, scared to speak back. It almost hurt your mouth, that was how much you were talking and screaming at him. You didn’t care, though - he deserved this, all of it. He deserved every word you said, every fist you raised at him. He’d deserved to hear it for a long time, but you’d never been brave enough to tell him. Now that you were, it felt so wonderful, so relieving. Why hadn’t you tried before?

The one second you closed your mouth again, he kissed you again.

You wanted to pull out of the kiss, but you couldn’t. No matter how much your mind told you to stop it, to get yourself away from him, it didn’t do anything. Instead, you felt yourself get pulled into him like he was quicksand waiting for the next victim that was you. It was so magnetic: from the way he kissed, so different from how you usually perceived him and yet so like the way he was a while ago, to the way he barely touched you at all, as though he was trying to be humble when that wasn’t like him at all. It was a slow grind, without too much excitement, but that made it so much more exciting in your mind, trying to reason why he was so different when he kissed you. He didn’t need to do much to make your stomach turn inside out. It was like you were experiencing butterflies for the first time again. Not that it was love, it just felt similar.

His hand cupped your jaw so nicely as he pulled you up into a sitting position that it felt as though he belonged right there, a mould to this outline of yours. His fingers tapped against your cheek as his tongue slipped in, making you gasp. You wanted this to last longer, much longer, until every muscle in your face went numb.

After several minutes, he pulled back, grinning childishly. “That was good, right?”

You couldn’t fully understand him, why he was trying to kiss you so well. Was he out of his mind now, just because he wanted to prove some kind of point? It didn’t make sense to you, that he’d kiss you simply because you’d insulted him. It wasn’t like him to give in to your demeaning comments, especially not after you’d made them so many times in the past. Why did he try so hard to impress you this time? Was there something more, something like an interest in you? Not that you could believe that he’d wanted you, specifically you, like he had said out loud - right on the day you decided you’d had enough of his presence.

Instead of answering his question, you stared back at him. His hand was still pressed against your cheek. It was the wing that enveloped your anger, that stopped you from answering in a way that didn’t even represent your feelings. It felt so safe, so comforting in that moment where you tried to make sense of everything he was doing that you couldn’t do anything but smile helplessly at the feeling. Maybe he really did like you. Maybe all his ridiculous behaviour had been caused by one simple thing, namely a crush on you he’d then tried to make mutual.

You wrapped your hands around his neck, his face going wild with shock at your sudden forwardness. Fuck it, you thought as you inched closer. Sometimes, the things you did didn’t have to make sense. They could be a one-time thing, a try-out of what might come.

The kiss was short, barely long enough to make Jungkook give in to it. When you pulled away from him, he raised an eyebrow at you, showing a bit of his previous cockiness. “So, you do want to do this!”

“What are you talking about?” you said, lying back down again.

Jungkook wasn’t happy with that response. “What am I talking about? You just kissed me!”

“Did I?” you asked, trying to hide a smile. “Aren’t you just imagining some dirty scenario in your head again?”

“God, will you ever leave me alone?” he sighed despairingly. “You know what? I bet you have thought about me that way too.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Oh, no way in hell I’d think about you like some kind of pervert? Kid, you look twelve in my eyes.”

“Where did that come from!?”

“I could ask you the same, Youngkook.”

“Stop abusing my name!” he whined, looking at you as though you’d insulted him even more than you had so far. Suddenly, he rose from his seat right next to you. “And I’ve seen you look at me, so you can’t pretend.”

You frowned. What the hell was he getting at? “Do you mean the times I’ve looked at you with a death-glare? ‘Cause that’s the only thing I can think of.”

To answer your question, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and slowly started pulling it up. His back was turned toward you, but even from here you could see what he was getting at.

“Have you been working out?!” you exclaimed, seeing his prominent back muscles twitch with every inch he raised the shirt higher. Perhaps he didn’t look like a model you’d see on the cover of a fitness magazine, but he definitely wasn’t his lanky self anymore. Before you stood a man, not a boy as you’d always called him, not a trace of the softness you had expected to see.

He smirked at you. Of course, he knew what you’d expected, and seeing your surprise obviously was the desired result of his little experiment. “You didn’t know? Thought Namjoon would’ve- Wait!”

As he’d turned around to face you - showing his toned arms and chest off like it was nothing - you’d gotten up from your spot and approached him as carefully as you could. You couldn’t even pay attention to the slight pain in your ankle, that’s how focused you were on touching him.

Jungkook tensed up when you touched his stomach, which made him feel even harder against your finger. He didn’t feel like he was made of stone which was sometimes the case with ripped guys in your experience. He was soft, despite his pretty muscles. You approvingly nodded when you slid your hand down him to experience the feeling again. “Hm, I guess that’s a 7 out of 10?”

“Excuse me, I’m a 10 out of 10- or a 9, at the very least.” Jungkook grabbed your hand, guiding it down his stomach and then lower - right unto his crotch.

You thought you’d instinctively pull your hand away, but the only thing you were capable of doing was slowly wrap your hands around the fabric that covered his part. At first you hesitated, yet when curiosity got a hold of you, you did it well.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, his nails digging into your skin as you rubbed his part, exploring its size and its shape. “Stop that, Y/N.”

You looked up at his tense face. He was even biting his lip at the rubbing motions you made on him. “Are you that sensitive?”

“N-no…” he lied.

Your free hand slipped into his pants before you responded, which made him gasp so loudly that he muffled half of your response. “God, you really are a kid, aren’t you?” You wanted to say more, but the warmth of his cock distracted you. Quickly, you gave it a rough tug as best as you could when it was inside of his pants. This made Jungkook let out a choked swearword as his hand tried to stop you.

“Y/N, w-we’re on a hiking tr-trip…” he whispered, as though an excuse like that would stop you. He grabbed your hand that was inside of his pants and tried to pull it out, which you bravely struggled against.

You shrugged. “So what? They can’t see us here anyways, right?” The little smile that curved your lips so delicately made him swallow uncomfortably. “Besides, wasn’t it your intention to fuck me on this trip?”

“Why- I’d never… it wouldn’t even cross my mind,” he said as seriously as he could with your hand still squeezing him. You could already feel him harden against your touch, which made you quite proud of your own skills.

You raised one eyebrow at him, so unimpressed with that excuse that you couldn’t even laugh. “So, you’re saying that you went on this trip to bond with the old ladies.”

“I… Yes?” he bit his lip when you squeeze him even harder. “Ah~ a little softer, okay?”

Not that you’d listen to that suggestion. “Man, I didn’t know you were into older women.”

“Wh-! I swear, I can’t ever relax around you.” He grumbled some unintelligible complaints after that, probably about your clever insult. “So I guess you like young boys?”

“We’re not that far apart, right?” you asked. “God, this is really…” your fingers reached for the button on his pants so you could give yourself some more space to move.

“Didn’t you say I was, what twelve?” He said, right as you pulled his pants down.

Without saying another word to him or looking at his size, you squeezed him again - even harder this time, so he tensed up from head to toe as his throat produced tortured sounds. “Don’t you dare, chipmunk- Or do you want me to stop?”

“No! I mean- no, please continue,” he begged, his hand reaching down to make your hand move again.

“Woah, woah, woah!” you said, taking your hand off his dick. “Too late now, darling~ If you’re gonna insult me, you better know I’m gonna change my mind.” Slowly, your eyes lowered their gaze to his part, which instantly made you regret your decision. After this little foreplay, he’d already gotten deep pink and rock hard, making you see how big he really was - a lot bigger than you’d expected little conceited Jungkook to be.

“I’m sorry, okay? Let me show you w-what I can do… please.”

You pretended not to hear him for a hot minute, staring at his cock just standing up right there. If you hadn’t imagined fucking him before, you were now - he might not have been the biggest you’d ever seen, that didn’t stop his cock from being really pretty and nicely sized. “Hm… I guess I could give you a try if I really wanted to…”

Before you’d even finished your sentence, Jungkook leapt forward excitedly and started unbuttoning your blouse rapidly. You said his name, a little overwhelmed by how quickly he was trying to undress you, but it had something amusing about it. Around the girls that were always surrounding him, following him around wherever he went, he never acted like this. He always acted as the arrogant boy you’d taken him to be, never serious with any of those girls that were so desperate for him. And now, you’d gotten him desperate for you.

“One quick question…” you said, seeing him unhook your bra like it was something he’d done many times before. “And this is serious: why aren’t you with any of those girls? Y’know, the ones that swarm around you like fangirls.”

“Why would I want to be with them?” Jungkook responded, looking at your breasts as he spoke. “Have you seen yourself? You’re so fucking hot… just look at these!” He grabbed one of your exposed breasts gently and smiled like an idiot. “God, I can’t wait to see you fully naked.”

“This is why you’re a kid to me, Jungkook,” you mumbled, unable to hide how flattered you were, though you wouldn’t’ve been if he’d said it two hours earlier.

He sighed. “Which is why you’re naked. Wanting to fuck me.”

“I didn’t say that!” you responded, but you kind of wanted to admit that he was right.

He smiled sheepishly before he kissed your neck, pulling the last piece of fabric that covered you down at the same time. By doing this, he intentionally touched your ass, after which he chuckled amusedly. “You really do have a nice ass.”

“Shut up and get this started already,” you snapped at him.

“Okay then,” he said, and he grabbed you by your legs to lift you up with one smooth movement, right on top of his cock.

You yelped in surprise, thinking he’d drop you like he’d almost done the last time he’d picked you up - but soon, you were too distracted by him entering you. “Oh my… g-god… You’re so big…” Was all you managed to say for a moment, feeling him fill you up entirely right from the get-go. “H-h… Don’t you have a condom?”

“Aren’t you on… the pill?” he groaned. “You’re so fucking tight, fuck…” Why did he know that? You wanted to ask him, but-

You yelled when you realised he wasn’t fully inside of you yet, pushing into you even further after he’d said that. Reflexively, your walls clenched down on him with all their strength. A moan so loud that it sounded like he was already climaxing came out of his mouth, sending an electric shiver up your spine. You weren’t even that wet yet, but slowly it started to heat up. Not much longer and you’d be dripping on the floor, despite how little foreplay there had been.

“P-plea… not that tight,” he moaned into your ear, grabbing onto your legs more tightly just as you tightened your grip on his back. “I’ll faint if you keep… oh~”

You tried your best to relax in this position, which luckily went well. Jungkook sighed in relief and didn’t move, though he didn’t keep that up for long: he wanted to feel you around him, and you wanted him inside of you, stretching you out as much as he possibly could.

Slowly but surely, he raised your body so that his length wasn’t fully inside. It was very exhausting, judging by his facial expression. He really was in agony, having waited so long to finally do this - but so were you, trying your best not to climax yet. How was it possible that you were already so close? He hadn’t even really done anything yet, but it was still too much to take up for you.

“I’ve waited s-so long… and now I can’t even…” he moaned, lowering you onto him as carefully as he could, as though not to send him over the edge in a split second.

You bit your lip. “This is fast enough, Jungkook.”

“Y-yeah… okay…”

He quickly raised your ass this time, nearly letting go off you when he reached the highest point - and you slammed into him. It was so rough that you moaned against his ear. “Yes… oh fuck yes…”

“Do you like that?” he groaned, lifting you up again.

“Fuck I do, baby… Come on, again…”

This time, your eyes rolled back so far that you went blind, though the feeling that he spread inside of you totally made up for that. You bit your lip, strained from how amazing he felt inside of you. “Oh, yes~”

“Damnit, you sound so hot when you moan,” he mumbled, before doing the same thing over and over again.

It barely took more than three times for everything to become blurry around you and for the feeling inside of your stomach to burn like hellfire - and surely, you came, followed by him after he’d thrust two more times. He released his load inside of you, though you didn’t even notice - everything was purple and red, hot and ice cold at the same time, was numb and extremely sensitive at the same time. You moaned loudly, hearing nothing else but your own voice as you writhed against him. Though the act itself was extremely short, the time it took you to recover was long, even for normal sex.

After a couple of minutes, Jungkook gently put you down on the floor again, completely broken from holding you in the air for so long and having sex with you at the same time. “Fuck, that was good.”

You groaned something that was supposed to be a yes, as you started putting your clothes back on. “God, they’re gonna be miles ahead of us now.”

“Who?” Jungkook asked, before it dawned on him. “Oh… fuck.”

“Yeah.” You swallowed, looking up as you put on the flower blouse. “Do you think they heard us?”

He stared back at you before you both burst out laughing. “I hope not.”

You noticed that your ankle didn’t hurt anymore and quickly started walking, not waiting for Jungkook to finish getting dressed. He’d catch up with you in a second anyways - after all, no one can escape Jeon Jungkook. “I told them you’re my ex, so I hope they’re too gullible to believe that…”

“You told them what?!” he exclaimed. “Wait a minute… that’s why that old lady was looking at me like that! Oh my god, I can’t believe you’d actually do that. I can’t believe it.”

“Shut up and start running,” you giggled, walking slowly despite what you’d said. You didn’t want to catch up to the rest yet after that experience.

Jungkook caught up to you and grabbed your arm. “So… what are we going to tell them? They must’ve noticed.”

“That you fell and I tried to carry you until you could walk again,” you said casually.

“You mean that I carried you!” He shook his head. “Why am I even here?”

You laughed, patting him on the back apologetically. “You’ll have to stand me for one more week, at the very least.”

He sighed despairingly. “No~ that means I’ll have to get you to fall again… and again…”

“And I’ll be glad to help this time,” you said, grinning idiotically because you never thought you’d be saying something like that to Jungkook.

He smiled. “So shall we do it again, right now?”

“Jungkook!” you said, noticing the rest of the people, still far ahead of you.

You didn’t regret this after all, you thought, staring at the boy beside you.

#I'm kind of sad because I only noticed now #it's only bad for one part but I want my work to be as good as it can be #so that's why i reuploaded it #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jk #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bts smut #bts scenarios #sorry again #bye #beyond the scene

188 notes · View notes

greysfanpage388 · 7 years

Text

Elevator Hug - part 3

Hey guys, this is a continuation of ‘Elevator Hug parts 1 and 2, but this can also be read separately as a oneshot. Enjoy! ;)

You can read parts 1 and 2 here:

http://ailingnoor.tumblr.com/post/160177931956/elevator-hug

http://ailingnoor.tumblr.com/post/160295590911/elevator-hug-part-2

This is based on on the promo and synopsis of 13x23, about Owen receiving some life changing news and Amelia being there to support him. This is also based on a prompt I received, with some modifications made.

Prompt : You're an amazing writer! Do you think you'd be interested in writing a fanfic based off the synopsis for ep 13x23 where "Amelia supports Owen." She hears from another doctor that some bodies were found(including Megan's) and has a bad feeling & runs thru the hospital and eventually finds Owen in an on call room and she holds and talks to him?

P.s I know in the show and based on the promo Amelia hasn’t returned back home and Owen would go to Meredith’s to probably meet her. But for the sake of my ‘Elevator Hug’ series- Amelia is already back home in this fic. However the main point remains- it’s Amelia’s time to support Owen :)

P.p.s In this fic, Amelia finds Owen at home, not in an on call room

Thank you to the amazing @jia911 for helping me to proofread this!

_______________________________________________________________

It had been a very busy day so far for Owen Hunt. There was an influx of patients in the ER due to a huge pile up involving a bus, a van and several cars. He and April Kepner had been kept occupied.

It didn’t dampen his spirits though. It had been 2 weeks since his wife, Amelia Shepherd had returned home, and almost 2 weeks since he had the first glimpse of their baby. All was well in the world again.

He was humming to himself, discharging a patient who was under observation for a syncopal attack when he heard his name being called.

‘ Hunt.’ April approached him. ‘ I’m attending to the patient in bed 6 who has upper GI bleed. Can you attend to the patient in bed 3 who was just brought in? The paramedics said that she was in a car accident and suffered head trauma.’

‘ Ok,’ Owen answered. ‘ I’m just about done discharging this patient.’

As he walked towards bed 3- he stopped in his tracks. It couldn’t be her. He knew his mind was playing tricks on him, but from a far this patient looked rather similar to him. The red wavy hair, the slim body.

As he approached the patient, his heart sank. So much for getting his hopes up. Of course it wasn’t Megan. It was just another patient who looked like her. Today he had been thinking about Megan a lot.

‘ Hello. I’m Dr. Hunt. May I know your name?’ he asked the patient, who seemed fine at a glance, except for the laceration wound on her forehead.

‘ Michelle.’ she answered. ‘ My head hurts.’

‘ I was driving when another car switched lanes right in front of us without signalling . I couldn’t manage to brake and we collided with the car. I’m fine, but she hit her head.’ a red haired man sitting next to her explained. ‘ I’m Michael, by the way. I’m her brother. We were on the way to our parents’ place for dinner.’

‘ Do your parents know that you’re here?’ Owen asked.

‘ Yes, they’re coming over in a short while.’ Michael answered.

‘ Alright, Michelle, can you look right at me? I need to check your pupils .’ said Owen as she obeyed.

‘ Do you have any dizziness, vomitting or blurring of vision?’ Owen asked once he ascertained that her pupils were equal and reactive.

‘ No.’ Michelle shook her head.

‘ She’ll be ok right?’ Michael asked, concerned. ‘ She’s my only sister- I don’t want anything to happen to her.’

She’s my only sister. I don’t want anything to happen to her.

Owen found his mind drifting again to his only sister, Megan.

He shook the thought of Megan off his mind as he answered, ‘ Yes, she seems fine at the moment. But I want to page Neuro to do a full examination on you just to be sure. And I’m gonna stitch this wound on your forehead ok?’

He began working on Michelle’s wound as he ordered a nurse to page Amelia.

______________________________________________________________

‘ You ok?’ Amelia asked as she approached Owen at the nurses’ station half an hour later. She had done a thorough examination on Michelle and reviewed Michelle’s Brain CT which turned out normal. Being cleared by Neuro, Michelle would be discharged after another 6 hours of observation in the ER.

Owen had a distant look on his face, and she knew that something was preoccupying his mind.

‘ Huh? Yeah I’m fine.’ Owen answered distractedly.

‘ Owen….’

‘ I said I’m fine!’ he repeated, louder than he intended to.

However Amelia didn’t flinch this time. No- Owen had always supported her all this while, she wanted to be the one to offer him support this time.

‘ You can always talk to me you know.’ Amelia said softly as she rubbed his arm soothingly. ‘ You have always supported me, and now I’m here to support you as well.’

Owen nodded as he looked at Amelia. He appreciated her support, he really did. But this wasn’t the time to be talking to her about it.

‘ Thank you, Amelia, I really appreciate it.’ he said earnestly. ‘ But I’m rather busy now. I’ll talk to you about it later ok?’

‘ Ok.’ she nodded. ‘ Just know that you can tell me anything.’ she offered, as she patted his shoulder before she left.

_______________________________________________________________

It was quiet in the house as Owen sat on the couch of their living room that night. He could hear the sound of crickets and the occasional car driving by. Amelia was on call- so he sat alone on the couch, just like he always did during the 3 months before her return.

He was exhausted after an entire day of attending to motor vehicle accident victims. Now all he wanted was to sit back and relax with a drink.

He poured himself a glass of Scotch as he leaned back on the couch. He savored the feel of the drink going down his throat.

The truth be told, he had been drinking every night since Amelia left with a simple note. Without Amelia around , there was no reason for him to stop drinking. If before, he always tried not to drink in front of her, now he binge drank. He drank to drown all the sorrows he felt deep down inside. He drank to fill the hole in his heart and the loneliness and emptiness he felt. He missed her laughter, her dimpled smile, the vanilla scent of her hair. He even missed their petty squabbles over the remote and the dishes.

Now that Amelia was back home, he had another reason to drown his sorrows with a drink today.

Although he didn’t want to admit it, he really missed his sister Megan.

Today was supposed to be Megan’s 35th birthday had she still been around. He stood up from the couch and walked over to the collection of old photo albums he and Amelia kept in one of the drawers below the TV.

He took out one of the photo albums and sat back down on the couch, flipping through the album. It contained photos of him and Megan from birth to adulthood. There were many photos of them both as babies, then as children, and subsequently as teenagers and young adults. He stared at a photo of him and Megan building sandcastles together at the beach. Their parents would make it a point to bring them to the beach every summer for vacation, and it was something they looked forward to the entire year. Then there were photos of him and Megan smiling widely during her 2nd birthday party, cakes smeared all over their faces. Another page of the album contained photos of them during their teenage years- him dressed smartly in a suit, going to prom with a girl whose name he had forgotten, and her looking so beautiful in a red dress during her prom day, being escorted by a boy who Owen disliked. Owen had always shown an interest in Megan’s love life, much to her dismay. But the actual fact was, and they both knew it- he had her best interest in mind and just wanted to protect his little sister from getting hurt. As he turned to the last page of the album, a photo caught his eye. It was the last photo they had taken together, right before they were both posted to Iraq. They were both wearing similar army uniforms and smiling widely at the camera. Both Hunt siblings shared a similar passion for serving in the army.

He let his mind drift off again to Megan. He missed her so much. He missed her cheeky smile, her cheerful laughter, he missed the way she loved to tease and provoke him to make him mad. But he could never stay mad at her for long. He missed their happy childhood memories, cycling to the park and chasing around the neighbourhood with the neighbours’ kids. He missed her interrogating him on every girl he brought home during his teenage years. Later as she grew older, he would do the same to her, scaring away every boy she brought home. He missed her provoking him by calling him sausage fingers while he operated on a patient in the battlefield.

He could recall the last conversation he had with her. She had been upset about Riggs cheating on her, but still managed to squeeze in a word of wisdom for him.

‘ Owen, I hope you find someone who would be your soulmate and companion for life. I hope you can build a happy family and future with her. Because you deserve it.’ she had said as she hugged him tight before getting on the helicopter.

‘ Oh Megan - if only you got to meet Amelia.’ he thought to himself. He was sure they would both get along great.

He took another sip of his Scotch as he wondered where she was now. Was she in hiding somewhere? Was she kidnapped and being held captive by the enemies all these years? If so, were they torturing her? Or…was she….he couldn’t bring himself to think of the word ‘dead.’

But if she was dead, wouldn’t they have found her body? He didn’t know. No one knew.

There was a knock at his front door.

Owen frowned, puzzled. Who could be visiting him and Amelia at this hour? Was it Meredith, Maggie or one of their colleagues?

He opened the door to come face to face with a buff man dressed in an army uniform.

‘ Hello, is this Dr. Owen Hunt?’ he asked.

‘ Yes, it’s me.’ Owen answered, feeling a sense of trepidation. Surely this isn’t good news, he could feel it.

‘ I’m Major William Allen.’ the man introduced himself in a booming voice as he stiffly shook hands with Owen.

‘ Are you the elder brother of Dr. Megan Hunt?’ he asked.

‘ Yes.’ Owen answered in a small voice as he could feel his heart sinking. He had a very bad feeling about this- and he didn’t want to hear what was coming next.

‘ I’m so sorry to inform you that we have found your sister’s body today. The helicopter she was on was shot down in Iraq several years ago, but due to it being hostile territory, we could only manage to recover it now.’

At the Major’s words- Owen’s entire world collapsed. Even though he had tried to prepare himself for this possibility, now that her death was confirmed, he wasn’t prepared for this moment. He had always clung on to the small possibility that she might be still alive and might return to him someday. And now- that hope was crushed just like that.

Owen remained silent as he stood there in a daze, a shocked and devastated expression on his face. He could barely register the Major’s subsequent words.

‘ Her body was badly decomposed and beyond identification- we had to perform DNA testing.’ Major William added. ‘ We guess the body had been there for a long time- probably many years. It was found near the helicopter wreckage, which leads us to believe that she might have died from the crash itself - if that’s any consolation.’

‘ If that’s any consolation.’

He wondered how could anything give him consolation upon receiving this devastating news about the confirmation of his sister’s death. Maybe, the Major meant well. He understood, it would have been better for Megan to die from the crash itself than to die from being kept a Prisoner of War after all these years. He could never bring himself to imagine Megan having to go through all the torture had she still been alive. But still, the Major’s words pierced through his heart like a double edged sword. His little sister, his only sister was gone. She was never coming back. He would never see her smile, hear her laughter or be provoked by her anymore.

‘ We’ll help you to make her funeral arrangements.’ the Major added in a serious tone.

Owen thanked the Major solemnly as he shook hands with him and closed the door behind him.

As soon as the front door was closed and locked, Owen sat on the couch with his head in his hands, silently mourning for his sister.

He wondered how the last minutes of her life were, and whether she died a slow, painless death. Did she think of him? Or of Riggs?

He lifted his head up from his hands and stared at the photo album full of photos and him and Megan, still placed on the couch. Now all that’s left of her were just memories.

He knew that the first stage of grief was denial. Which was exactly what he felt at the moment. Maybe, just maybe he was dreaming and it was all just a nightmare. Maybe if he pinched himself, he would wake up from this nightmare, and Megan would appear to him alive and well the next day. Maybe he was just hallucinating, the Major was just a visual hallucination and the Major’s words were just an auditory hallucination.

He progressed on quickly to the next stage of grief - anger. As if on reflex- his wrist slammed against the coffee table, knocking down his half empty glass of Scotch. Scotch spilled on the coffee table, but he didn’t care. He was angry at the universe, angry at the God above for taking away his beloved sister from him. He was angry he didn’t get a chance to say a final goodbye to her, angry at himself for letting her go on the helicopter in the first place. If only he had stopped her from getting on the helicopter- she would still be alive.

He threw the photo album across the living room and plunked back down on the couch, burying his head in his hands again, wrecked in silent sobs.

_______________________________________________________________

He didn’t know how long he sat in that position. It might have been just minutes, or hours. Time seemed to stand still for him.

He jumped as he felt a warm comforting hand on his shoulder.

He looked up to see Amelia looking sympathetically at him.

‘ I heard.’ she whispered, as she rubbed his arm soothingly. ‘ I rushed back right after April told me. ‘I’m so sorry, Owen.’ she added in a soft voice.

She had just finished reviewing a patient in the ER when she overhead April and a few residents talking about an army helicopter wreckage being discovered after so many years and several bodies being found. As she approached the group to learn more details, one name stood out for her, Megan Hunt. Upon hearing the name, she immediately rushed back home, asking April to page her if there were any incoming patients that needed Neuro consults. She knew that Owen needed her at that moment.

Owen looked up at her as their eyes met. His eyes were forlorn and filled with sadness, while hers were filled with sympathy and love.

He shook his head wordlessly, at loss of words to say to her. How could he tell her how receiving the news of a sibling’s death felt like?

She pulled his body closer to her chest and hugged him tight as he finally broke down in her arms. The warmth of her touch and the feel of her heart beating broke down his defenses. He sobbed and sobbed, mourning for his sister. She rubbed his back soothingly in circular motions, knowing that the gesture would calm him down. She knew because he always performed the same gesture on her to calm her down, and now it was time for her to reciprocate.

‘ Its ok Owen.’ she whispered as she continued rubbing his back in soothing circles. ‘ Just cry, let it all out. I know you miss her. I’m here for you.’

Amelia’s comforting voice only made him sob harder in her arms. He sobbed, letting out all the emotions he had kept buried inside for so long. He had never told anyone else besides Amelia about Megan. He couldn’t possibly talk to Riggs about her- it would be too awkward. He never told anyone this, but he would often dream of her being shot in the battlefield and would wake up screaming and sweaty. Only Amelia and Cristina knew about his condition. He had been to the psychiatrist and was diagnosed with PTSD. However, there was little that the psychiatrist could do to treat it. When Amelia left for a few months- those few months when he would wake up alone, screaming after having a nightmare were the loneliest months of his life.

‘ I know- you didn’t manage to say goodbye to her.’ she said softly, as she rubbed his arm. ‘ I didn’t manage to say goodbye to Derek as well. I miss him so much too.’

Owen finally looked up at Amelia, as the realization dawned upon him that they both had something in common, they had both lost a sibling.

‘ How do you get over the loss of a sibling?’ Owen asked, as he looked up at her with teary eyes.

‘ You don’t get over it, the pain will remain with you for the rest of your life.’ she answered sadly. ‘ It would dull over time, but there is this ache that remains. I miss Derek too and think of him all the time.’

‘ For years I was clinging on to the tiny bit of hope that she might still be alive.’ Owen admitted, a downcast and crestfallen look on his face. ‘ And tonight that tiny glimpse of hope I had was crushed. I miss her so much. We had so many wonderful memories together. She’s my only sister, my only sibling.’ he shook his head sadly.

‘ I know.’ Amelia whispered softly, nodding her head in an understanding manner.

‘ I shouldn’t have let her get on the helicopter.’ he said angrily. ‘ Had I prevented her from doing so, she would still be alive right now. It’s my fault.’

‘ It’s not your fault, Owen.’ said Amelia earnestly as she held his hands in hers.

‘ It IS my fault.’ Owen insisted, frowning.

‘ Owen, look here.’ said Amelia as she cupped his face in her hands, tilting his head upwards so their eyes met.

‘ It’s not your fault, Owen. You wouldn’t have known that the helicopter would crash. I’m sure if you knew, you wouldn’t have let her get on it.’ said Amelia as she continued looking into his eyes.

‘ They said that they found her body near the wreckage site. I really hope that she didn’t suffer too much before she…died..’ said Owen sadly, a distant look in his eyes.

‘ I hope so too.’ said Amelia softly, taking his hands in hers and using her thumb to rub soothing motions on the palm of his hands. ‘ I’m not religious, but I would like to think that she’s in a better place. That’s what I do to cheer myself up- I tell myself that my dad, Ryan, my first baby and Derek are all up in heaven, watching and smiling down at us.’

Owen closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to imagine Megan smiling down at him from heaven with her beautiful smile. He wasn’t by any means religious, but he had to admit, it was a comforting thought indeed. And maybe, his and Cristina’s aborted child was also with her, smiling down at him. Maybe Megan was taking care of his child in heaven.

They both sat in silence on the couch, thinking about their loved ones in heaven. Amelia’s head was leaned against Owen’s chest as she cuddled up close to him.

Amelia’s hand covered Owen’s as she slowly guided his hand until it rested on her growing baby bump. Over the past two weeks, the bump had grown significantly, and now more than half the hospital knew her secret.

She placed her hand over his, as both of them savored the feel of their baby under their touch.

It was then that Owen realized he had to let go of his sister, she was never coming back. It saddened him deeply, but he knew that Megan would always be with him- in his heart, and smiling down at him and his family. He loved her so much, she was his only sister and she occupied a special place in his heart. However, he knew that she was never returning to him and he had to move on. At least this was the sense of closure he needed, as sad as it was. Megan was his past, but Amelia and their baby are his future.

It was Amelia whom he would lean to for support during Megan’s funeral, and throughout the subsequent years when he would think of her. Life went on though, and he knew that Megan was smiling down at him, watching him build his family as Charlotte, Noah and Olivia arrived. Megan would live through his youngest daughter, Olivia, whose middle name was Megan after her aunt Megan. As she grew, he would notice more and more of her aunt Megan’s characteristics in her, not only in terms of appearance, but also personality. He knew that it was Megan’s way of telling him that she was never truly gone.

Comments, reviews, reblogs and messages are very much appreciated! :)

#owen hunt #amelia shepherd #omelia #omeliafics #omelia fanfics #omelia fanfiction #ailing's fics #grey's anatomy

53 notes · View notes