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eminemily05 · 7 days ago

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Shared Stripes

Synopsis: This is an Atsushi x Reader drabble that will focus on insecurities with stretch marks. I’ve tried to make this as gender-neutral as possible, but I do understand if it’s not something everyone has experienced. This writing has a ~2.3k word count. Warnings: Not really any. Self doubts, insecurities, but it's all pure fluff. Overall, I hope you enjoy!

Lately, you had noticed that Atsushi had picked up a new habit. The touchy kind, to be exact. Frankly, you weren’t too sure what had brought it on to begin with, but, every time, you grew more and more curious.

It usually would start up during the night, when you had both settled in bed to wind down. You would usually be wrapped up snugly in plush covers and soft pajamas, like a caterpillar to a cocoon. Messing around on your phone, you found yourself not really paying attention to the young man behind you--who busied himself with his own fidgeting .

That night was no different.

Aside from the small fan whirring in the corner, it was otherwise quiet in the dim room. The only lights consisted of the one on your side of the bed--whose warm light provided a cozy atmosphere--and the gentle slice of moonlight peeking through the curtains. Shifting slightly, as you scrolled mindlessly on your device, you barely noticed your shirt riding up to bunch the fabric along your waist. And, as if the starting flag had been dropped, the touches immediately started.

A light ghosting of fingers--and soothing, careful traces--moved along your hip and steadily worked its way closer to your back. Gentle fingers drawing a pattern it seemed only he could see.

Was that soft humming you were hearing?

Now, growing used to this from the past few nights, you’d have normally shrugged it off, believing it to be a sort of grounding technique for his busy mind. Truthfully, maybe it was, but you were too curious for your own good about this.

As his touch jumped slightly to trace along your back, you took that as your chance. Whipping around suddenly, he was caught off-guard by your movement, eyes wide with surprise. Glancing down, you noticed his hand was hovering in the air--stilled in their tracks from where they had been studying your skin.

“Find something interesting back there, Atsushi? You’ve been obsessing over something for days now, and I’m getting a little concerned.” Your voice held a playful lilt, clearly trying to seem teasing. But, the underlying message of confusion shone through the invisible lines:

Just what had you found to mess with now, you curious kitty?

Searching his expression, you watched as he withdrew his hand with a speed like even he didn't realize what he was doing, as if he had been in some trance. Maybe he was, by the way his pupils shrank from where they had been blown in concentration. As if it had become such a force of habit that his mind was essentially shut off temporarily, like some kind of trance.

“W-Well, I….um…” You could audibly hear as he gulped nervously, picking nervously at the cuticles of his nails. A nervous habit of his that you had been helping him curb. Noticing your gaze, he quickly busied his hands by wringing the top sheet between them instead.

His attention became split between your questioning gaze and the (suddenly) interesting wall behind you. Stumbling over his explanation, he began to fidget more and more, squeezing and tugging at the fabric of the sheet. Clearly, he hadn’t expected to be questioned about this. So then…what wasn’t he telling you?

Was this another one of his dissociative episodes? It wasn’t unusual for him to find a way to keep his mind from sinking too far through fidgeting. Maybe, you had just been the closest, and most effective, way to keep himself down to Earth.

After some agonizingly long minutes of silence, it seemed he had finally gathered the elusive words he was searching for. Turning his gaze back to you, his dilated, dual colored eyes stared back at you. The bright magenta mixing with sunny yellow--a dusk sky that you could find anytime. His expression wasn’t that different from that of a kid who had been caught with their hand in the forbidden cookie jar.

Guilty and incredibly embarrassed.

His voice was soft when he finally muttered, “I noticed these marks on your skin, and they…well…,” Looking down, the mutter turned to a soft whisper, “..They reminded me of my tiger stripes, i-in a way.”

As he spoke, his eyes drifted from yours and settled on the still exposed skin of your hip. Then, they quickly turned to the wall behind you. A light dusting of pink settled along his cheeks, rising steadily to the tips of his ears and spreading down his neck. Embarrassment was written clearly along his face, as if he felt unsure about his own words--or, suddenly unsure about such a comparison.

“I mean – they don’t have to if you don’t want them to. Sorry, I know that sounds weird…or stupid.” Sucking a sharp breath between his teeth, he cut off his rambling. Teetering dangerously between embarrassed and trying not to make a fool of himself, he kept his gaze downward.

He wasn’t really succeeding in that last one, but you wouldn’t tell him that.

Instead, you found yourself mumbling, dumbfounded, “My Stretch Marks?”

That’s what he had found so fascinating these past nights? Drawn, curiously, to the discolored stripes along your skin, like a bee to honey? Those simple blemishes had drawn that much attention from him? Huh…

Wait a minute…did he just say they reminded him of his tiger stripes?

You found yourself completely stunned. All that came from your mouth was a soft, “Atsushi…I…”

But, looking at him, what could you honestly tell him? You couldn’t spill that you hated seeing those marks every time you looked in the mirror. Those little stripes of skin made you want to cover them for the rest of your life--to never have to gaze at them again. For that, you would have given just about anything. They were nothing to the strength his real stripes resembled, not even close .

No, you couldn’t possibly tell him that, but you couldn’t exactly hide it either. Not as his head tilted slightly, eyes too calculating for their own good. That cat’s eye slit focused intently on your expression, as if he could peer into your very mind--and and all thoughts unhidden. He always had that quiet observation to him, you noticed. A 6th sense, When he could just sense that he had said something that maybe he shouldn’t. Tiger senses or not, he was hauntingly intuitive.

So, with a heavy sigh, you understood that you wouldn’t be able to hide it for long. Sooner or later, the truth would come out.

“It’s not stupid to say that, Atsushi. It’s….really sweet, and I know you mean well, but…,” You couldn't help but gnaw on your bottom lip. “They’re not that incredible. They’re really just marks--a natural part of the body--and not something special.” You tried to sound nonchalant, like you didn’t really worry about the fact they were a part of you--even though you refused to really accept that.

A touch along your hip brought your attention to his hand. Your eyes slowly trailed up gentle fingers, along pale skin, and up to the focused gaze of the young man in front of you. You always got a glimpse of that dead-set expression just before he went on big missions, when the gravity of a situation overpowered his more anxious, soft-spoken nature. When he had something bigger to focus on than his nervous habits and thoughts.

Apparently, you were his mission now.

As he quietly searched your expression, the very colors of his eyes almost seemed to shift--like another part of him had been pulled to the surface. His fingers continued to trace over your skin, your breath hitching in the process. Noticeably, they followed over those marks with a quiet reverence, as though he wanted to commit the feeling and softness to his memory--so that he could still feel it against his skin, even if you weren’t there.

When he spoke, his voice was calm. Like a settled pond surface, where even the smallest flower petal could cause great ripples. He seemed so calm that it briefly stilled your own raging storm of thoughts.

“Natural or not, they’re still a part of you . That’s all I need to know to know they’re incredible.” Smiling that soft--boyish--smile, his head tilted slightly. Light gray locks shifted across his face, bunching slightly on the pillow where they lay. Yet, his gaze still held to you. Those shimmering, dual-colored irises soft as they took in your features. “You’re so strong…and kind…and you care so much, even if it means putting yourself last. Sometimes, I wonder if I deserve this, deserve you .”

Shaking his head before he can send himself down a downward spiral, his hands slowly reach for yours. Calloused skin slides against your smooth palm, fingers slotting--almost puzzle perfect--between your own. Squeezing gently, he continued on, “And because you’re strong, that just means that these marks show your strength. Because they’re all a part of you. So, they can’t not be incredible to begin with.”

Staring back at him, eyes wide, you couldn’t conjure up a response. Your brain loaded and jammed, like a printer that had run out of ink mid print. Honestly, what could you even say to that? While it hadn’t single handedly soothed those thoughts (never to return), it did make you stop and think about them in a new light.

It was a bit silly, the way he had compared the two. The marks didn’t come from strength, just from living. From growing up, from growing stronger, from just growing. And yet, wasn’t that a strength in itself? To be able to live and experience these mark, to be able to live enough to learn how to appreciate them?

Wasn’t that, in itself, a strength?

It didn’t compare at all to the stripes his tiger carried. His black stripes and marks were the most synonymous with strength, with the pure power anyone would think of from a tiger. They were truly symbolic, an exceptional show of the strength and sinew of his ability -- something that simple stretch marks could never compare to.

But then again, who said they needed to compare to one another? Strength comes in many ways, after all, and, while yours may not be the same to his, it was a power nonetheless. A quiet, under-appreciated power that he had seemed to notice.

Then again, if anyone knew the strength to continue living, despite what their past may have done, it was Atsushi.

As the war raged in your mind, you looked up at him. His eyes--oh, his eyes--held a beautiful combination of gentle assurance and confidence in his words. Rarely was it a face you saw, but you knew what it meant. How could you not?

He wouldn’t have said it if he hadn't really meant it.

And maybe that’s all you really even needed. You may not love the marks yourself, but you could love them through him . Through his words, his actions, his love , you could learn to see yourself through him. Yeah, that would be enough.

Sighing as you ducked your head slightly, shoulders scrunched, you questioned softly, “You’re too good at this…”

His brows furrowed, that confident expression sinking into one of confusion. Oh it was amusing how quickly he could be caught off guard.

“Good at what?” The words pitched into a questioning tone, his head tilting slightly. What were you talking about?

Lifting your head, you glanced over his confused expression.

Did he really not know?

You couldn’t help yourself from laughing slightly, a hand flying, from your joined hands, to your mouth, unable to stop the giggles that escaped you. Meanwhile, as Atsushi watched you devolve into a fit of giggles, his face grew warm. Had he said something wrong? Did he say something stupid without knowing it? Damn it , he knew he should’ve worded it better.

Leaning in to ask what exactly what you were laughing at, his eyes widened as you lifted your head, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He was about to panic and ask what he had said wrong, only for you to laugh and wipe your eyes. Oh, those weren’t sad tears.

Maybe he wasn’t that concerned about his words after all.

Shakily catching your breath, and clearing your throat, you smiled at him.

“S-Sorry, sorry , I’m really not laughing at you . I’m just…,” A light, barely contained, chuckle leaves your lips before you shake your head. “I don’t know how you don’t realize how well you see right through me. Somehow, you always know what I’m thinking. You always know what to say. It’s as scary as it is assuring, knowing how well you can call me out.”

Leveling him with a soft look of your own, you slotted your free hand back in with his. Squeezing gently, you mumbled out, “I’ve never been confident in my stretch marks, Atsushi. My stripes , as you so eloquently put it, have always been a bane to me. An annoyance I’ve tried so hard to hide in the mirror because they felt ugly. They felt like a mark on something I wanted so badly to be perfect.”

“But…” Leaning in slowly, your noses just barely brushing, you heard his breath hitch. His eyes widened--a surprised expression looking into your calmer one. A flush settled over his face at the sudden proximity, yet he listened as you continued, not daring to move away. “Maybe, just maybe, I can try and look at it from your way. Though, I don’t think I can ever compare to your stripes.”

Taking in your words, he stilled for a moment. Then, his expression melted into a gentle admiration, eyes practically shimmering with love. It was enough for you to want to dive in and drown in it, a warm feeling enveloping you as your gazes met.

“You don’t need to compare.” Leaning in closer to close the gap, he let out a soft exhale as his forehead met yours. Eyes fluttering closed, white lashes settling against his upper cheek, he hummed. Though, you swore it was more of a purr as he finished on a gentle breath..

“Because your tiger stripes are strong, just like mine.”

#self insert #x reader #oneshot #bsd imagine #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd atsushi nakajima #bsd atsushi #atsushi nakajima #atsushi x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #nakajima atsushi #bsd fluff #atsushi fluff #bungou stray dogs

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losfacedevil · 2 years ago

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Burn // JTK

a/n ~ So uhh, I may have done a thing lol. This was something sparked by the prompt list I reblogged and I just could NOT get the idea out of my head. I’ve never written Jake smut so, this is new for me lol. Word Count 1.7k

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI Fingering, unprotected penetrative sex (Don’t be silly, wrap your willy!)

You didn’t expect to see him at this club; the situationship that continuously ghosted you when you said something he didn’t like. You had clocked him as soon as you walked through the door, his long dark hair, and unique form of dress unlike most that hung around these parts.

Jake sat tucked into the corner of the club, a drink sat on the table in front of him and his eyes danced across the girls on the dance floor. His eyes not lingering on any of them for long, quickly jumping to the next as if looking for the perfect next victim. That was, until his eyes landed on you. Jakes jaw dropped slightly, laying his hands flat against the table as he pushed himself up and stood from the chair he was perched on.

He downed the rest of the drink he was nursing in one gulp, quickly crushing the can against the table as he wiped the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. He sauntered over to you slowly, his hungry gaze taking in every inch of skin that your dress had on display. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he sidled up behind you, his hands finding their home on your hips as he hooked his chin over your shoulder.

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing here, hmm? Come here often?” The smooth tone of his voice had your body vibrating against his and you pulled in a deep breath, holding it to the count of ten before slowing blowing it out. You shifted your weight to one leg, effectively pressing your ass back against him. His grip tightened slightly, slowly swaying your hips from side to side as he pressed into you.

“Every week, but you’d know that if you didn’t ghost me.” You mumbled, leaning you head back ever so slightly. A sass filled chuckle escaped him as he wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging your body close to his.

“I didn’t mean to baby, replying just slipped my mind. I’m so sorry.” You could hear the sarcasm dripping in his tone. He placed a single soft kiss to the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning out over your neck starting to stir that feeling deep in your belly.

“That’s such a lie if I’ve ever heard one. I’m sure if I was actually sucking your dick you’d answer me just like — that.” You mumbled, reaching up to snap your fingers in his ear. He chuckled lowly, his fingers coming to life and danced across your abdomen.

“Maybe we should test that theory, huh?” He cooed, placing soft kisses over the expanse of your neck. You let your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the feeling of his cool lips against your heated skin. You couldn’t fight the fire springing to life in your stomach and your hips worked of their own accord, pressing back against him harder.

“Fuck you.” You mumbled, reaching your hand up to thread through his dark hair. He slotted his leg between your thighs, jutting it up against your clothed center.

“Give me a time and a place, and I’ll show you exactly what I can do to a pretty little thing like you.” His voice held a teasing tone as he pressed your stomach up against the bar in front of you as his fingers slid dangerously close to the hem of your dress.

“Right here, right now, please.” You sounded pathetic, begging the man to take you in the middle of a crowded club. The movement of his hand ceased, kissing his way back up to your ear.

“Right here huh? So you wanna look like a little slut? Is that what I’m hearing?” He clamped his teeth down around your earlobe, earning himself a high pitched yelp.

“If you don’t find a place to take me in the next two minutes, we’re done.” You threatened, spinning on your heel in his grasp. His eyes were wide and wild with lust as he started down at you. You snaked your arms around his neck, pressing up onto your tiptoes as you captured his lips in a fervent kiss. He sunk his teeth down against your bottom lip, pulling back with a satisfied grin. Your eyes rolled back, the feeling of need overtaking you.

“Bathroom. Now.” The words were nothing short of a demand as he detached his body from yours and made his way towards the back of the club.

Jake held the door open for you, scanning both sides of the hallway before ducking inside and locking the door. He had your back pressed against the door within seconds, his lips returning to their attack on yours as his hand found its way under your skirt. He ran a single finger up the length of your clothed core, the undeniable chuckle rumbling his chest the only indication he liked what he felt.

“Is this my doing?” He mumbled, sliding your panties to the side as he plunged two fingers deep into your core. A gasp slipped past your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck to steady yourself. He pressed his thumb to your clit gently and swirled circles around it.

“All… all for you.” Your voice barely there as he slowly worked your center. He buried his face in your neck, sucking a bright red mark into the skin before pulling back and running his tongue over the spot to soothe the sting.

“I need you, please.” You whispered into his ear, clenching around his fingers as his thumb found a particularly sensitive spot on your clit. Jake chuckled, ceasing all movement as he pulled back to look at you. Your gaze found his and a whine escaped your lips, bucking your hips forward trying to chase that delicious friction.

“What was that, sweetness? You what?” He teased. A pout pulled at the corners of your lips and you danced your hands up to tangle your fingers in his long hair.

“I need you, please, Sir. Show me what you can do to a pretty little thing like me.” You batted your lashes up at him, tilting your head so you peered through them at him. His pupils blown wide. He slowly extracted his hand from you, bringing his hand to his lips so he could taste you.

He quickly undid the clasp of his belt and pushed his pants and boxers down to his ankles. Your eyes grew wide at the size of him, swallowing hard as your eyes met his once more. Jake bent at the waist slowly and wrapped his hands around your thighs.

“Do you trust me?” His voice was sincere, his eyes holding a gentle light to them as he waited for you to answer. A soft nod of your head was all you could muster as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Lock your legs around my waist, and if you feel uncomfortable say so.” His demand was soft spoken and sincere and you nodded your head once more.

Jake couldn’t help the chuckle the slipped past his lips as he pressed his chest against yours, quickly maneuvering your underwear to the side and lined himself up with your entrance — relying too much on how well you could hold yourself up.

His lips met yours in a fervent kiss as he slowly pushed himself into you. A groan rose deep in his chest to match the sigh that slipped past your lips. He slowly began to thrust into you, his hands finding home on your ass to give more support in holding you up.

“Jake, please.” Your voice was but a whisper as you pulled back and leaned your forehead against his shoulder. He nodded slightly, large hands gripping your ass as he turned slowly and rested you against the counter; a sigh of relief slipping past your lips.

“Wishful thinking. This Better?” He chuckled and he placed his hands against the counter to better support himself as he began to thrust into you harder. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling gently at the roots every time he thrusted his hips, silently egging him on as your teeth came down against your bottom lip.

“Oh shit, Jake.” The undeniable coil in your stomach was building rapidly, the angle at which he had sat you causing him to hit that spot inside of you no one had ever hit. Soft grunts fell from Jakes lips, his hair sticking to his sweat soaked forehead as he buried his face in your neck once more.

“Give it to me, sweetness. All of it. Not gonna last.” A deep shuddering breath shook his chest as his hand flew between your bodies. He pressed his thumb against your clit, swirling circles around it in quick succession as the pace of his hips quickened. The way you clenched around him telling him you were closer than you let on.

“Jake, baby, please, I’m gonna..” your thought process cut off as stars erupted in your eyesight and the most intense orgasm ripped through you. Jakes hand never stopped as he helped you ride out your high and his hips began to falter as he slowly became undone.

“Oh, shit.” A loud groan escaped him as he flew over the edge and he captured your lips with his. You swallowed down every sound that escaped him as he came down from his high, your hands finding homes on his cheeks as you pulled back from him.

You couldn’t help but pepper his face in soft kisses as your breathing returned to normal. He became shy suddenly, any arrogance he had once held gone as he pressed the softest kiss to your lips.

A knock sounded against the bathroom door, crashing you both back to reality. Your eyes were wild as his jaw dropped and he shook his head. Clearing your throat you turned your head towards the door.

“One second, just cleaning up some puke. I am SO sorry!” The corners of your lips contorted down as you eyed Jake, and the position you were both in as he slowly pulled out of you and handed you a paper towel as he quickly redressed.

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfiction

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ponds-of-ink · 2 years ago

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A Quick Meta FNAF One-Shot: “Details, Details”

I’m a little too hyped about William getting a human model, so I’m pulling a FNAF World and going a bit meta.

Yes, complete with a stand-in OC or two for Steel Wool. Double yes, it’s sheep-related.

The mirrors served as the only source of light in that hallway. Their custom-made glass frames shimmered like platinum as The Boss Sheep trotted along. His keen ears turned this way and that— Cautiously listening for any noises that wasn’t the sound of his own hooves striking against the floor.

His carefulness was rewarded, but not in the way he was hoping.

Instead of excited rambling bouncing off the walls, all that could be heard was shuddering. Shuddering coming from something—or someone—bundled up in a blanket on the floor.

The Sheep stopped, calmly closed his eyes, then cleared his throat.

“Mr. Afton?” he bleated out, taking a step forward. “Are you in here?”

A violet-hued hand adjusted the blanket. Two pixelated eyes shone in the dark, shaking a little as they focused. The figure, with an equally low-quality gulp, nodded.

The Sheep gave a look of acknowledgment, then adjusted his tie. “Your new model’s finally ready,” he explained. “We’ve got it approved and everything. All we have to do now is transfer you into it, and you’ll finally get your old body back. No more confusion from the fans, no more being put on the sidelines for you, and no more worries on our end.. Hopefully.”

Afton turned his head away. The sniveling started up again, though it was a bit quieter now.

The Sheep advanced a little closer. “I, uh, take it you’re a bit nervous?” he asked in a more casual tone, making sure his posture matched the change.

Afton muttered something, but it was completely inaudible. His overall demeanor, thankfully, gave the answer of “Yes”.

“Yeah, I think I can see why,” The Sheep responded, now sitting down a short distance away from his listener. “Being a pixel ‘ghost’ for almost ten years, and then getting a real 3D model right after some huge actor portrays you in a block-busting movie? That’s gotta be a big jump for you!”

“It’s not the ‘big jump’ I’m worried about,” Afton admitted in an eerily small voice.

The Sheep tilted his head in surprise. “Then what is it?” he asked, leaning forward in his spot. “Say the word, Will, and I’ll be sure to talk about it with my team.”

William removed the blanket from his head. Sensing no way out, he heaved a sigh. “It’s the little things,” he answered plaintively, focusing on the nearest mirror. “You know, the details fellow artists or creatives might notice. The… buck-toothed smile or the unkempt hair. How well the suit you’ve given me fits my renewed body— Be it as scrawny as a pencil or round as a well-fed rabbit. Why, a few people could even recall the cleft chin my dead body had as Springtrap and wonder if you’ve left that on my living one!” As if that idea was the worst of them all, he cowered under the blanket yet again.

”I.. can’t say whether or not any of those things are on your model,” The Sheep replied pensively. “Need to keep it a surprise for the fans and all that.”

“Right,” William muttered, retreating from his ‘shell’ yet again. “But those fans have had so many fascinating interpretations…” He then paused to survey all the various reflections in the surrounding mirrors. Some clung to the sprite form while others ran wild with all kinds of human variations. A meaner, grungier look a la Dave Miller here. A jollier, more heavyset soul straight from Fredbear’s Glory Days there. There was even a red-headed variant with his own flair, which surprised The Sheep more than he probably expected.

Regardless, all these variations only made the real one’s smile fade. “I’d just hate to disappoint those creators somehow,” he finished at last, his gaze finally returning to the carpeted floor. “And.. myself as well, if I must be so vulnerable at the moment. I.. don’t think I was quite the looker when I was alive.”

The Sheep stared straight at him. “I think you turned out pretty well, given what The Boss told us,” he replied with a haughty raise of his head. “And, about that ‘detail’ stuff you said earlier, I’m shocked you didn’t notice all the little things the others have. Didn’t you see how that one guy’s got a chipped tooth?”

William followed the sheep’s line of sight. His eyes widened as he finally noticed it. “I… didn’t notice,” he answered before inspecting it further.

“Or the other one with curly hair running wild and free instead of gelling it to death like his ‘buddies’?”

Another reflection caught ‘red-handed’. “I… sort of did, but I didn’t think much of it,” William shrugged as he gently put his hands to his head. The reflections followed suit, sharing in his absolute bewilderment (though, of course, the expressions varied a little).

“The freckled-face one!” The Sheep cried out, his frustrated bleating raising in volume. “Or the ones that need glasses! You gotta have noticed those!”

Instead of tracking down the respective mirrors, William turned his attention to his companion. “I did notice those, but isn’t it a bit rude to point those things out in such a manner?” he asked snidely, sitting a bit straighter. “You sounded like you were seconds away from calling a few of them ‘nerds’ like a high school bully from an 80s film. And, sure, that may be the case with my other selves and their interpretation-exclusive hobbies. What do I know?” He halted his rant to set aside his blanket on the carpet, then continued his ice-cold glare. “The point is that, though my reputation as a monster proceeds me, I try to not trash talk on the grounds of trivial traits,” he explained further, placing a hand on his heart. “Intelligence may be fair game if the scene calls for it, but am I going to demean my fellow man for needing eyewear? Bah. That’s too petty, even for me.”

The Sheep blinked. “So are you saying you just look at the overall vibe of these guys and go from there?” he inquired, raising an ear.

“If I need to adopt the vernacular of the youths for a minute, then yes,” William replied with a slight grit of his unseen teeth. “My only standard is that these fellows match the ‘vibes’ I’ve been showing over the years. Due to my… somewhat vague nature in this storyline, however, I can see where a few can get lost in the weeds. At least these gentlemen, in their own way, match my personal criteria.”

The Sheep rose onto all four of his hooves. “Well, Mr. Afton, I think you’ll like what we’ve got in store for you,” he smiled proudly. “The Boss has made extra sure that we got you down to a T, especially when it comes to this game.”

William mulled the words over, then got up on his feet. “With all your confidence, I might as well come and look,” he said with an eye-roll.

The Sheep cheerfully back down the hall. In his own native tongue, he relayed the news to his fellow rams and ewes. A flurry of activity followed, complete with blank papers flying and sheep-friendly desks being moved. In an a matter of seconds, the room was transformed from a simple office space to an area ready for a slideshow on a projector.

William’s body trembled, but the mutual excitement in the artistic little flock eased his mind. “Before we start the presentation, Mr. Wool, can you promise me one thing?” he piped up in a timid tone.

“Sure, Mr. Afton,” Mr. Wool answered cheerfully. “What do you have in mind?”

William put a hand to his hip. “If you do decide to go with that.. one detail in The Silver Eyes,” he clarified with a slight stammer, “then can you at least make sure that my outfit actually fits me? I know a.. ‘heftier’ build such as my younger self’s might be a challenge for you, but…” His voice trailed as his entire arcade-like body burned bright magenta. He shielded his hand with his eyes, as if that would help shift his color back to normal.

While Mr. Wool did laugh at the sight, he returned to his more professional mannerisms as soon as he could. “Like I said before, Mr. Afton,” he said confidently, “The Boss has made extra sure we got your design right. If there is a torn seam or a button undone, then we’ll fix it… Unless it’s supposed to be there, of course.”

William only echoed “of course” before stepping into the main room. His ghostly heart thumped as he stopped in the center of the room. He straightened himself up, exhaled slowly, then gave a thumbs up to the lamb running the projector. He braced himself for the rapid shapeshift as the projector thunked to life.

And, in a matter of seconds, his vaguely humanoid form vanished.

#william afton #fnaf fanfic #fnaf fandom #one shot #(though this might get a follow-up later)#fnaf ocs #william afton? having image issues?#could be more likely than you’d think

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riddikulus-writings · 1 year ago

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Distracted

Chapter 6

Bars n' stuff. Drinkin'.

Let the record show that I can actually catfish people. Full-face makeup with my contacts and coworkers I see every day don't recognize me. I love it. Also, "let me take you dancing" was the original working title for this fic until I got sick of the song lmao

You can’t be fucking serious! That’s my team!

My team. My team. He’d thought with a huff, the sting of January cold on his nose. His teams, plural, really. Hardly ever the same face twice in a row but his team nonetheless and Waller was threatening to have him removed if he keeps treating them as equals instead of criminals.

As people, instead of disposable weapons.

His breath fanned in front of him in a thin cloud, the orange streetlights ghosting through it. Light snow crunched under his boots; it’ll be gone by the night’s end, he was sure. Rick hunched his shoulders, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. He grit his teeth and eyed up a blinking neon ahead; Hot Spot. A wordless grunt of indifference and he pulled open the screen door.

The amount of people inside was between minimal and halfway to unbearable. People freckled through the small dance floor, sitting in the booths around the edges of the room. A few at the bar. No one he immediately recognized upon entering. The dim neon lighting did nothing to help distinguish faces.

As he inched nearer to the bar across the room, a lone figure stuck out to him, somehow recognizable but yet indistinguishable in his mind. Chin length hair curtaining her face, falling around her thick rimmed glasses. Colourful eye makeup and wicked sharp eyeliner. Short shorts and a cropped hoodie. A boot tapping to the same beat her fingers drummed on the side of her wet glass.

Rick slid onto the barstool next to hers, “Barely recognized you.”

“That was my intention.” the flat reply came with no look in his direction, “Don’t usually take you for the bar type. Tough day at the office?”

Rick waved to the bartender for two more of whatever Nyx had, “You could say that.”

“How’d it go?” she finally looked from staring into her glass, brushing her hair back behind her ear, “Not whatever Waller ripped into you for, the other thing.” he gave her a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised and she snorted, ducking her head to slurp from her straw, “Don’t play coy, I hear shit even when I’m not there. Everyone knows when she rips into you. Now how’d the other thing go?” she tried again.

‘Other thing’ meaning the mission he’d almost compromised because of actual human decency towards the literal people he was charged with watching, “Lost a couple.”

“Not you, though.”

“Never,” Rick cracked a smile. Shook his head, grabbing his glass of whatever that had been placed in front of him. Something pale and sweet.

Eris Cadell lifted her own, new glass, half turning towards him, “A toast, then? To whomever we’ve lost.”

Rick half shrugged, “I’ll toast to that,” and tapped her glass with his before silence between them lapsed. She downed her glass in almost one gulp, foregoing the small black straw. Rick watched her lick her maroon painted lips, “You look great, by the way.”

She swallowed whatever she had in her mouth, shaking a finger at him, “No, no, you’re only saying that because I’m not in what most consider a fuckin’ pants suit.”

He wasn’t lying, though. She looked… comfortable, as he’d come to realize. Comfortable, but still tense. He hadn’t seen her in a few weeks – “vacation” and all, “You do. Look great,” he added hastily.

“It’s the shorts,” she moved her eyebrows at him, “It’s always the shorts.”

The too-short shorts that were made for attention grabbing, showing off her long legs and several tattoos, “I didn’t know you had glasses,” he noted, suddenly, changing the subject off her shorts, or lack-there-of.

“Probably fucks my eyesight more to go without them,” she shrugged, pushing them further up her nose with the tip of a middle finger, “Everything is blurry as shit, but manageable if stuff’s, like, four inches from my face. Fucking hate my contacts so early in the morning, so most of the day I’m almost blind. I bring ‘em to work, though. I dunno…” she trailed off with a shrug.

He’ll have to make a note of that, so next time he sees her squinting aggressively, he won’t be as confused, “Why not wear ‘em at work?”

“I’d probably have to get goggles to wear in the field,” she wrinkled her nose, “I’d look fuckin’ stupid. No glasses at work, no one can make me get goggles ‘cuz they don’t know I can’t see shit.”

“I think you’d probably look cool,” he told her, a shit-eating grin spreading over his lips as he watched the countertop. She kicked at him but he feigned innocence, “I mean it, Nyx.”

A shake of her head, “Fuck that, Flag. Get your own goggles. Now drink up, you’re about four of those fuckers behind me.”

And drink he did. Glass after glass, he loosened up and forgot everything previously gone through the day, the week, even. He liked Nyx’s company, he figured out, more than originally thought. She was more talkative now than usual, especially when drinking. They’d talked and talked and laughed and he’d figured out she used to live on a farm, but that's where that topic stopped, after mentioning that’s where she’d been the last two weeks.

She likes her manual vehicles and spends more time doing hobby things like reading, painting or writing than she does doing her actual work. Been wearing the same [grody] ball cap since her freshman year of high school, a habit picked up from a brother of hers -- he took sudden note of the cap in question, set on the bartop. Beneath the lapel-pin-laden brim, he saw the peek of her phone and wallet.

He'd thought the worn Brewers cap belonged to someone else.

Nyx would also rather be out in the country, again, hunting and dealing with bullheaded farm animals than be living in the stuffy city dealing with the two-faced snake that is Amanda Waller.

He could get behind that, too. Get outta the city and just disappear from Waller’s radar.

Rick’s hand flattened hers to the bar top, suddenly, silencing her drumming fingers, “Let’s dance.”

“I don’t dance,” was the confused but giddy reply. Asked more like a question.

“C’mon,” he tried again, quoting the pop song playing on the speakers, “Let me take you dancing.”

A loud laugh slipped through her smudged lipstick, “Thank you, but no thank you, Flag.”

“Rick.”

She jerked, frowning, “Flag.”

“Rick.” he corrected, again, leaning in so she could hear him, “My name is Rick.”

“Rick… Flag,” she giggled, “Rick. I don’t dance.”

He nodded over his shoulder towards the dance floor, “I don’t either. Let me take you dancin’.”

Nyx turned her face totally towards him, now, leaning closer. She even cocked her head, their noses almost brushing, “Is that a euphemism, Colonel?”

“This is the place?” Nyx wrinkled her nose, her sharp voice pulling Rick back to the present, “I’ve seen better bars set up in barns.”

“Barn bar?” Cleo’s eyebrows peeked over her pink star shaped glasses as she pulled the door open for the others.

“They’re the best,” Nyx told her quietly, bumping Cleo’s hips with hers.

DuBois grabbed the edge of it and nodded everyone inside. Single file through the throng of people they walked, weaving and observing as they sought out a table. A circular one in the center of the room, sadly, however no one was paying them any attention anyway. Peacemaker scanned the room, “So when’s this Thinker guy supposed to be here?”

“Whenever he gets horny and bored?” Nyx mumbled.

“Supposed to be the next few hours,” Rick clarified, shooting her a look.

“Looks like we gotta find something to do to pass the time,” Peacemaker’s eyes found a waitress, “Um, miss? How about some, uh… What do you guys drink around here? Fernet?” he turned his attention back to the very confused waitress, “How about a round of Fernets for the table? Comprende?”

After she’d nodded and scurried off, DuBois spoke up, “Hey, Pissmaker, we’re on a mission.”

“Easy, Inspector Gadget, a little drink never hurt anybody.”

DuBois grit his teeth, “Except for the thousands killed in drunk driving accidents every year.”

Nyx sat back up in her seat, about to try to diffuse the tension, “If it’s going to be a few hours, drink a little and spend an hour an’ some sobering back up. Problem solved. Dickeater gets his drink and DuBois keeps his tits untwisted.”

Everyone who was not PeaceMaker or DuBois snorted in half concealed laughter.

“Come on DuBois, it could be our last drink,” Peacemaker pointed out.

A tall red glass was set in front of each team member, DuBois included. Glass in hand, he unfurled a finger to point across the table, “One.”

“You’re gonna be that guy?” Rick asked.

“I’m gonna be that guy.”

Drink after drink after drink after drink after drink.

One turned into two, smudged into four. Tensions gone, arms slung over each others’ shoulders as they laughed and laughed about some ill-mannered joke that made no sense. Rick eventually noticed with blurred interest that Nyx kept disappearing from the table, and after the third time she’d returned he gave her a look. She half shrugged and knocked her glass with his, “Checking on Nanaue. He’s lonely, y’know.”

Rick’s hands moved apologetically, “I know.” was all he said before getting elbowed in good fun by Cleo as she stood from the table.

The others followed suit, toddling off towards the dance floor. Just the two of them at the table now, and a sly grin spread over Rick’s shadowed face. The bright colours of the bar lights dancing over his teeth. Nyx began to shake her head, giggling quietly into her red glass, “Don’t--”

“Let me take you dancing.”

She threw the rest of her glass back like a shot, far past the point of tasting whatever Peacemaker had been ordering, “You just don’t give up, do you.”

Rick leaned impossibly close, sliding his arm over the back of her chair. The sleeve of his bright yellow tee rode further up his arm. Whatever his response was, it fell on deaf ears as Nyx stared at his bicep. Her vision skewed by the alcohol and the jumping neons of the club. Rick’s tattoos-- Rick has tattoos? She suddenly couldn’t recall ever seeing them before, and she tried to tack up a mental note to ask to see them closer when she was sober.

“I want to lick your tattoos.” it slipped from her lips in a quiet whisper before she could think further on the plan.

His eyes went wide, “What did you just say?”

Nyx quickly nudged him away, her words slurring together in a jumbled string, “I said you look like an emu.”

He shook his head and adjusted his cowboy hat, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to slide her from her seat. He’d had enough of this dance they’d been doing; back and forth, tiptoeing around each other. Unsure of her feelings towards him, he was downright positive about his for her, “We’re dancin’. Let’s go.”

“I don’t even know how to dance,” she grumbled once they were situated on the dance floor, smushed between the bodies of the other patrons.

“I don’t either,” he gently lifted her arms up and spun her slowly so her back was to him, “Honestly, I only started that to see you smile.” when she shot him a confused look over her shoulder, something squeezed his heart. The lights dancing over her soft features made her look far more docile than she actually was. He offered a half shrug and skimmed his fingers down her arms, down her ribs and hovered them over her hips, “It’s true. It was just that God-awful song on the radio that I got it from. But, I see you, sometimes, you get a look. You disappear somewhere far away, and I got sick’a watchin’ you. Head down, watchin’ your feet. You were cute, but I thought you’d be a bit cuter if you’d smile.”

Nyx leaned back into him, draping her arms over his head, moving him to sway with her, “And you thought let me take you dancing was the proper thing to say?”

Rick dipped his head lower, his lips ghosting over hers, “I told y’it was that song, but it was stupid enough to get you to smile, wasn’t it?”

“You don’t even like dancing.”

His hands finally found her hips, grinding her back on him. He looked up, again, finding Peacemaker eyeing them up. He grit his teeth and turned his attention back to Nyx, “I like… some kinda dancing. That full shoulder throw you did on me, I knew I had to scope you out, see what other moves you had. You just wouldn't let me."

Even when he let up with his grip holding her against him, Nyx didn’t move, sliding herself down against him before moving back. Just the once, before she ended right back where she began; arms up and behind his head, her face turned to the side to look up at him with blown pupils, “Yeah? You just trying to get me outta those stuffy office buildings? Outta my damn condo to get me to go dancing with you? Even though neither of us likes going out? Thought you said it wasn’t a euphemism, Colonel.”

Colonel. They were nose to nose, again, Rick’s hands spanning over the dip of her hips. Resting there. Testing the calm, level waters that have obviously gotten rocky in the last couple hours, “I might’ve been lyin’ a bit.”

A/N: I fucked up the first attempt at posting lmao

#Rick Flag #Colonel Rick Flag #rick flag x oc #rick flag x original female character #suicide squad #DC comics #the suicide squad

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silver-rings-and-rabbits · 1 year ago

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Open Heart 2 - Chapter 5

Influence

A/N: Points to anyone who can guess what songs I'm referring to later in the chapter

It was a few days after that when Elijah and Matthew decided to go out before their afternoon shift. Elijah followed a certain food truck on Pictagram whose gimmick was that they set up in a different location each day and would post a riddle for fans to work out their location. Elijah insisted that the truck was near the Boston University campus and had invited Matthew to help him find it.

Matthew steered Elijah’s wheelchair through the crowded streets, wishing he had thought to bring sunglasses, as Elijah read through the clues on Ghost Peppers Pictagram page, when they ran into Rafael.

“Oh…hey!” Matthew gulped as Rafael offered him a slightly nervous smile.

“Hey guys…what are you up to?”

“Looking for a new food truck. It’s about being in the right place at the right time.” Elijah explained the social media riddle. “What about you?”

“It’s my day off and Sora’s at work, so I’m just taking a walk,” Rafael said. “Do you…mind if I tag along with you?”

Elijah glanced back at Matthew. He wasn’t sure what to say. Although it hurt being reminded of what he had lost, he missed Raf as a friend too. And besides, Sora wasn’t there.

“Not at all,” he said. “No one knows Boston quite like you.”

Rafael chuckled.

“I’m sure there are a number of people who know Boston better than I do,” he said, falling into step beside Matthew.

Elijah directed them with the help of his phone, and Rafael had some fun anecdotes from his college days, until a shrieking crash tore their eardrums and they looked over to see smoke rising from the BU bridge.

“What the…? Come on!” Rafael said, before running through towards the smoke determinedly.

“Raf, wait!”

Matthew and Elijah rolled up to the bridge, where Raf was surveying the scene. Dazed victims pulled themselves out of the cars, neither of which looked worth saving. Broken, twisted metal and shattered glass surrounded the scene. Rafael followed a set of tyre marks leading away from the crash and to the broken rail of the bridge.

“Oh no,” Matthew whispered as he joined Rafael at the railing. Through the glare of the sun on the fast-flowing water, he saw a car dangling in mid-air. The only thing stopping it from plummeting into the river were the tangle of cables that held the car, still attached to the bridge. A flash of movement from inside the car made Matthew feel sick; someone was still inside.

“Elijah, call 911,” Rafael said, calmly. He was inspecting the connected cables.

“Oh god, Rafael, you can’t be thinking of going down there,” Matthew gasped. “You don’t have any gear! You’ll slip, or your weight will cause the car to fall…please, just wait for the responders!”

Behind them, Elijah was on the phone, begging the emergency team to hurry. Rafael shook his head, squeezing Matthew’s arm in a gesture that was meant to be reassuring.

“I can’t. The cables aren’t gonna hold. I’ll be back in a sec,” he said, in that casual manner of someone leaving the table to use the bathroom.

“Hey, hold up!” Elijah came off the phone just in time to catch the last comment. “Even if you do make it down there, how the hell will you make it back up?”

“I just have to try, Elijah,” Raf said, undeterred. “Like you said, right place ,right time.”

And with that, he jumped onto the railing, grabbed onto the cable and lowered himself off the edge.

“No!!”

Matthew could hardly bear to watch as Rafael clung to the cables and slowly lowered himself towards the car. The cables shook and creaked ominously.

Matthew’s heart pounded and he could almost taste blood in his mouth as he frantically searched for something – anything – that could help. It came in the form of kayaks attached to the roof of one of the crashed cars: they were held together with a long, strong rope. He tugged it free, kindly assisted by one of the onlookers who wrestled the kayaks away, and ran back to the edge of the railing as Rafael reached the car. Matthew tied a firm knot to the edge of the railing and threw the rest of the rope down into the drop. It just reached the edge of the car where Rafael was very carefully helping a teenage boy climb out of the hatchback. The kid clung to his shoulders as soon as he was free.

A loud creak, much louder than before, sounded above Matthew’s head and he jumped, looking up with horror to see the cables snapping loose.

“Rafael, the rope! NOW!”

Rafael leapt. The boy’s scream was loud enough to hear from the bridge…but Raf clung onto the rope as the cables snapped off completely and the empty car plummeted into the river and was swept away.

“Did they make it? I can’t see!” Elijah gasped. He was shaking in his seat.

“They made it.” Matthew’s voice was barely above a whisper. Tears glimmered in his eyes.

A group of onlookers rushed to pull up the rope, and the boy was instantly pulled off Rafael’s back and carried away from the wreckage. Elijah wheeled after him to check for injuries as Matthew helped Rafael over the railing.

“What the hell was that?!” he exploded as soon as Rafael was back on his feet.

“I—”

“You could have died! You could have drowned…you just climbed over…and the rope…you jumped…”

Rafael didn’t know what to say at Matthew unravelling. He was always so calm and put-together. Not knowing what else to do, he gently held his hands in the hope of calming him down.

“Matthew, I had to,” he explained. “That kid could have died. I could never leave someone to die without trying to help first.”

“Raf…”

For a second, Matthew looked angry, until it gave way to pain. He wrenched his hands out of Rafael’s and threw his arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Rafael was surprised, but wrapped his arms around Matthew in return. He couldn’t remember the last time they had been so close. Matthew smelled the same as he always did.

The wail of a siren broke them apart.

“I…um…I’m gonna check if anyone needs medical attention,” Matthew said. Rafael nodded, and he went back to the crowd, stopping first at someone who had been cut from the glass. He had always been able to put his patients before any distraction…but he still tingled from Rafael’s hug, and he couldn’t shake the image of Raf dangling above the river…or what if the cables had broken slightly too early…

Around twenty minutes later, Matthew regrouped with Elijah after they had done as much as they could for the injured. The boy in the car had minor injuries, but was mostly very shaken up. One of the witnesses had offered to drive the front-seat passengers to hospital as soon as they were initially tended to. The back seat passengers were walking wounded and were being tended to by the paramedics. Rafael had reported to his supervisor and was now walking over to them, looking pensive.

“What did they say?” Elijah asked. “Are you getting a medal for bravery or something?”

“Actually they gave me a suspension.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Rafael shrugged. “She, um, said I was a liability and I should have waited for the first responders.”

“Oh geez,” Matthew said, gently. “Are you OK?”

Although he privately agreed with Raf’s supervisor, suspension from work was a big deal. Rafael gave a sheepish smile, but he was scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I’m alright, I chose to take the risk. To be fair, it was hardly a first-time offence.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly. “Anyway, you guys want to keep looking for that food truck?”

Matthew didn’t believe that Rafael could just carry on after the events of the morning, no matter how much he said he was OK as they walked to the food truck, which was tucked away in a side street near the college campus. It served fantastic wraps and burritos, cooking the meat fresh in a large pan and spicing it to order, but Matthew ate his food without really tasting it as Rafael and Elijah chatted about what had happened. Rafael predicted his family would be afraid and Sora would be mad. He played it off as a joke, but none of them really believed it. Matthew couldn’t let go of last year: Rafael being rushed into the OR, covered in his own blood.

It remained on his mind throughout his shift, and was brought up short when Ethan suddenly called him by his old nickname.

“Rookie. Do you have anything to say?”

Matthew panicked and wondered if his distraction had been so bad, he’d missed a patient or a diagnosis.

“About what?”

“About this.”

Ethan marched down the hall. Matthew rushed to keep up and they reached the diagnostic patient room to find it swarming with people. Camera crew carefully balanced equipment on their shoulders as Baz and June tried to avoid knocking into them. A technician measured the views on a livestream feed. A make-up artist stood nearby, a hairbrush in hand. And lying in bed in the middle of it all was Gwyneth Monroe.

She was certainly pretty, but her face had a sunken-in look of someone who had lost too much weight too quickly, and a few spots had broken out on her skin. Her eyes were shadowy with exhaustion, but she still managed a bright smile as Baz and June chatted with her.

“Dr Ramsey, I just—”

“Save it,” Ethan said, shortly. “We’ll discuss it later. Right now we have work to do.”

The two of them shuffled into the room, fitting awkwardly around the camera crew.

“I’m a long-time subscriber,” June was saying. “Frankly, your five-step morning skincare routine changed my life.”

“Really?” Gwyneth looked thrilled. “That’s such a compliment from someone who’s skin glows as brightly as yours.”

There was a lot of noise and clatter in the room, and Ethan ended up shouting for everyone except the doctors to leave, but Gwyneth insisted her fans came with her everywhere.

“Gwyneth, you have a right to privacy, it doesn’t mean you can’t still be honest with them. Your fans understand that, right?” Matthew said, as Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“True…” Gwyneth considered…then turned to the cameras and gave a sentimental speech to her followers about truth and openness and how much she appreciated them, then allowed her crew to turn the cameras off. The doctors waited with varying degrees of patience for the room to empty.

Ramsey insisted Matthew take the lead on the case. Gwyneth was thrilled to meet him in person, and she thanked him for his message which, though he was pleased to hear, probably wasn’t making the situation with Ethan any better. Gwyneth explained she had lost twenty pounds in three weeks, her energy was tanked, and she was tired and dizzy all the time.

“It’s not a psychological thing, I swear,” she insisted. “I’m not doing it to myself.”

“I believe you,” June said. “But there is a lot going on in your life, which can affect you without you even realising. We can have a talk about it.”

“How have you been eating lately?” Matthew asked.

“I try to eat as much as I can, three times a day, like normal. But I don’t always want to finish it, and then I usually throw it back up.” She sighed heavily, leaning back into the pillow. “Be honest, Dr Valentine. Do you think it’s cancer?”

“Honestly, it’s too soon to tell for sure. But we’ll run all our tests to pinpoint the cause as soon as possible,” Matthew said.

After some more questions, the doctors filed out for the camera crew to come back in. Gwyneth called Matthew back before he left.

“I was given some all-access passes for the Boston T-Party music festival, but I’m too sick to go. I know you’re probably busy, but I could pass them to you if you want?”

“Gwyneth, that’s very kind of you, but—”

“Seriously, it’s no problem. I’d rather they don’t go to waste,” she said, as the camera equipment was set up. “Just drop me a message if you want them!”

“I will,” Matthew said as he closed the door to her room.

“Test for the works,” Ethan ordered the doctors as soon as it was closed. “I want her cured and out of here, ASAP.”

Baz seemed slightly amused as he walked away with Ethan, discussing the possibility of an auto-immune response. Matthew turned back to June.

“I didn’t realise you were a fan.”

“Oh, I’m not. I didn’t even know who she was until this morning.”

“Then why—”

“For someone who values honesty, she can be very tight-lipped in interviews: I read up on her when she arrived. And since we need her to be honest with us…”

“June, that’s…” Matthew trailed off. June looked at him expectantly.

“It feels wrong,” Matthew finished with a sigh.

June raised an eyebrow.

“Is it though? Patients withhold the truth all the time, whether they mean to or not. You don’t think it’s unethical to do everything we can for a diagnosis, do you?”

“No…”

“Trust me,” June said. “It’ll be easier to do our jobs if the girl trusts us.” And she strode down the hall, the same way Ethan and Baz had gone, all business.

Matthew pushed his hair back as he followed the team. Maybe June wasn’t wrong, but something about the way she was going about it left a bad taste.

Ethan caught up with him later and gave him an exhausting lecture on soliciting patients behind his back and how, when you start making exceptions to your principles, the exceptions become the rule. Matthew remained adamant that he had reached out to Gwyneth for her sake, but the lecture was a downer.

****

He was dragging his feet toward the end of shift as he walked to the ER. Esme was there with a group of interns. She was being complimented by Zaid, which was no mean feat.

“What’s going on?” Matthew asked, walking over. Esme suddenly appeared slightly flustered.

“Esme noticed a misdiagnosed aortic dissection,” Sothy said, with a grin. “Dr Mirani thought it was acute coronary syndrome and almost killed the guy!”

“I beg your pardon?” Zaid was right next to Sothy.

“He’s saying you almost killed the guy!” Gary said helpfully.

“I got that, thank you Dr Garrison.” Zaid gave the interns a scathing look, except for Esme to whom he muttered ‘well done’ as he left. The interns broke into excited chatter, and Mitch looked Esme up and down.

“Why don’t you come hang out at Donahue’s with us?” he said. “Zaid owes you a favour. That’s hell impressive.”

“Heh, well.” Esme tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. Matthew hadn’t seen her smiling so much before. “I mean, I would but I still have some patients to check up on…”

Matthew thought of his empty bed, and then Esme’s first day when he told her to be more social. He cleared his throat and the interns looked over at him.

“Ortega, go celebrate. I’ll check in on your patients.”

“Really?” Esme blinked. Matthew rolled his eyes as he reached for Esme’s charts.

“Yes, really. You’ve earnt it.”

“Sweet!” Mitch fist-pumped. “Come on, Esme!”

The interns headed towards the locker rooms as Esme passed her charts to Matthew.

“I’m not about to take away an opportunity to be more social when I was the one who told you to make friends,” he said. “But remember I might not be around to bail you out all the time.”

“Understood,” Esme smiled. “Thanks for this, Dr Valentine.”

She hurried after the other interns. Matthew dragged his feet back to the wards.

****

The next morning was a Friday. Matthew and his friends had the day off and he was woken in the morning by chatter and laughter in the living room. Upon investigation, he was surprised to see Rafael sat on the sofa, playing video games with Elijah. Spooky was perched on his knee and Jackie leaned against the back of the sofa, watching with amusement.

“So if I want to jump, I press ‘A’…I think I died…”

“That’s because you just jumped off a cliff, dude.”

“Rafael?” The three of them looked up. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry if we woke you, Matthew,” Rafael said. “Elijah invited me over to hang out.”

“I told you last night,” Elijah said, then smirked. “I mean, you were like a zombie when you came home so maybe you don’t remember.”

“Huh.”

Matthew did remember, now that he thought about it, and he didn’t mind too much. If it got to be too much, he could always go hang out with Bryce.

The morning started off lazy. Sienna and Aurora shuffled out of their rooms. Matthew did a walk of shame, carrying all the dirty cups and plates he had been hoarding from his room to the sink; Jackie had been looking for her Harvard University mug for two weeks. Just before 11AM, Matthew’s phone rang and he answered it to find Gwyneth asking him if he was going to need her Boston T-Party passes. The festival started today.

After a rush of confirming the details, confirming wheelchair access, getting Kyra and Bryce in on the plan, hastily booking train tickets, and a mass getting ready session, they were at the festival grounds in Cambridge by mid-afternoon along with thousands of other festival-goers. The mid-July sun was hot. Matthew was wearing his denim jacket for the occasion, but wondered if he might have to take it off.

Still, he was determined to have fun. He, Elijah and Kyra made a beeline for the lawn games, specifically the giant jenga.

“Whoever makes it fall has to buy a round!” Kyra suggested. The boys agreed and soon enough the tower was wobbling precariously as the bricks were removed. A group of strangers wandered over and joined in, giggling as the tower became more and more unsteady, until Kyra finally sent it crashing down. She laughed and protested but gave Matthew and Elijah five bucks each to buy a drink. One of the girls who had been watching tried to hit on Matthew, but he politely declined. Still, it was good for his ego.

He bought himself a large frozen lemonade – a delicious treat he didn’t get to have very often – and spotted Sienna sat in a shady spot.

“Hey,” he said, sitting beside her. “You alright? I saw Raf carrying you on his back earlier.”

“Oh yeah, my feet were hurting so he offered to help.” She rolled her eyes, though she was slightly amused by it. “But I didn’t want him to spend the whole day carrying me around.”

“Are you sure you’re ok? If your feet are hurting that badly?”

“I’m alright, really, just that work has been crazy busy. Interns are tough. Mitch is great though! He keeps telling me how lucky he is that he’s my resident. It means a lot to me.”

“So he should,” Matthew said. “I’d have loved to have someone like you as a resident. I’ll never forget how you stuck your neck out to save a stranger from Dr Ramsey’s tirades.” He tugged at the end of her plait fondly and she laughed.

“Thanks Matthew. Um…” She hesitated, biting her lip. “I’ve actually started talking to Danny again.”

“Oh really?” Matthew’s eyebrows went up. “Like, you think you might be ready to date again kind of talking?”

“It was a few weeks ago when we ended up next to each other in the queue for coffee and I guess it got the ball rolling again. We’ve been texting and chatting a lot and it feels kind of like it did before.” She smiled shyly. “I don’t know where it’s going, but I like it.”

“Go for it,” Matthew encouraged as Aurora walked up to them with a large plate of dumplings.

“I got a medium variety and discovered the portions are enormous,” she said. “Do you want some? Please have some.”

The three of them piled in. The dumplings were delicious, filled with tender chicken, and roasted vegetables, with fresh dough. A couple walked past, somehow making out at the same time as walking.

“When are you transferring to Mass Kenmore?” Sienna asked Aurora as they relaxed on the grass.

“Ten days,” Aurora said. “I still don’t know how to tell my aunt. What if she tries to change my mind?”

“She’ll trust you to make the right call though, surely?” Matthew said. “You’ve had your issues in the past, but you’ve been better since you were upfront with her last year.”

“And she’ll see how much it means to you,” Sienna added.

“True enough,” Aurora smiled. “OK. I’ll worry about how to tell her later, and just enjoy the rest of today.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Matthew said, loudly.

They continued enjoying the games and looking at the live-art installations (Bryce had a great time with some scantily clad dancers who took a shine to him) and spent too much money on merchandise, until the sun went down and the main acts started to come on. A security guard took them to the VIP area: a roped off area right at the front of the stage, away from the main crowd. Some other influencer-types were there, with expertly styled hair and make-up, even on the boys. They were focusing on their phones, taking videos of each other and themselves, ignoring the doctors and only slightly focusing on the main stage. They made Matthew feel old.

“Primo viewing!” Bryce howled, throwing an arm around Matthew’s neck. Matthew grabbed Jackie and the three of them jumped around in a circle, shouting and cheering along to the music. The song made Matthew feel light and bouncy, like the sea of dreams the band was singing about. On the stage, four men stood in a line whistling the tune into the mics before the lead singer resumed the words.

“Don’t know what this song is, but I love it,” Bryce said. “Remind me to look these guys up.”

Matthew closed his eyes, feeling the warm evening breeze through his hair, the warmth of his friends and their arms around his shoulders. The music filled his body and, behind him, the excitement of the thousands-strong crowd was palpable.

He didn’t keep count of how many songs played but then the music slowed down and took on a chill tone. A young woman stepped up to the mic and sang in a sweet soprano about losing her way on a trip meant for two. Matthew glanced at the crowd behind him, and then over at his friends. Sienna was sandwiched between Bryce and Jackie. Elijah was rolling around with Aurora and Kyra. Rafael stood slightly off to the side, watching the singer. Without really thinking about it, Matthew walked over and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Oh, sorry, am I blocking your view?”

He was always kind like that.

“Do you wanna dance?” Matthew asked quickly, before he could lose his nerve.

Rafael’s eyes widened, and he scratched the back of his neck as his eyes darted to the stage, but the hesitation lasted only for a second before he said “sure” with a smile.

It was a little awkward at first: Rafael kept a slight distance between them and Matthew didn’t want to overstep any more than he already had done as they danced around each other.

“Hey.” Matthew indicated for Rafael to come closer to talk. “You sure Sora won’t mind?”

“I’m sure,” Raf said, confidently. “We’re friends. Friends can dance.”

He rested his hands on Matthew’s waist. Matthew’s hands came to his shoulders.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Matthew said.

“If you’re asking about my suspension, I’m not worried about it,” Raf said, cheerfully. “Besides…they were probably right to suspend me.”

Matthew didn’t believe it: Rafael loved his job. And the reassuring smile he was offering didn’t reach his eyes.

“Why don’t you tell your bosses you’ll stop? That you’ll do as they ask?”

“We all know that wouldn’t be true. I am who I am, for better or worse. I can’t imagine being any different.”

Matthew remembered how Rafael had once shown him around a night market, greeting everyone they met. How he enjoyed volunteering at the community centre and how he always did his best to comfort his frightened patients. How he’d just spent an hour carrying Sienna on his back because her feet hurt.

“I don’t want you to be any different.”

“Good. Because I think you’re stuck with me as I am.”

“I was in Chicago, you were gone tomorrow…”

As the singer moved into the second chorus, Rafael pulled Matthew closer. He was warm and reassuring and Matthew had always felt very safe in his arms. And as he held on to him now, Matthew could somehow hear his heartbeat. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on Rafael’s shoulder to listen. Rafael didn’t move.

But time stopped for no one. The song came to an end to be replaced with a more upbeat one. Matthew suddenly remembered where he was and pulled away. They looked at each other awkwardly.

“Thanks,” Matthew said softly.

“No problem,” Raf replied, just as gentle.

They both hesitated for a second, and then Matthew joined Bryce, Jackie and Elijah, and Rafael joined Sienna, Kyra and Aurora, and everything was back to normal. Matthew joked and laughed alongside everybody else as if nothing had happened, but he kept thinking about Rafael pulling him closer. It was a reflex…just a reflex he told himself. He missed him so much. Matthew was realising he couldn’t be without his friendship. But he would have to draw some very strong boundaries. Their shared dance would have to be enough.

“Matthew, can you get more patients with VIP perks?” Bryce asked, loudly. “Get someone who can lend us a ski lodge for the winter!”

“Hang on, Elijah won’t be able to ski!”

“Not with that attitude I won’t!”

They all laughed at that, and then Bryce held up his phone and indicated for everyone to crowd into the frame.

“OK…hold it…aaaaand got it!”

Bryce lowered the phone and started tapping at the screen. “I’ll send that to you all now…huh?”

He froze, staring at the screen. Then his forehead creased between his eyebrows.

“Bryce, are you OK?”

“Yeah…um…” Bryce shoved his phone into his pocket. “I gotta go, actually. Have to…um…study.”

“Since when can scalpel jockeys read?”

“But the main headliner is about to come on!”

Bryce didn’t hear them. He was already dashing out the gate and towards the exit.

The main headliner was a large French-Canadian band who had a good selection of songs with moody, exciting lyrics. There was a woman with a voice like a bell who danced with the easy fluidity of water. Matthew would have been entranced any other day, but he was too occupied with Bryce’s sudden exit. It worried him, digging like a thorn into his stomach.

On the way home – the festival lasted all weekend but they would be back at work the next day – he got off the train a little earlier than the others and followed directions to Bryce’s apartment.

He lived alone, halfway up a tower block. Matthew hadn’t been there often, Bryce preferred visiting them, but Bryce had taken Matthew there just after Rafael had broken up with him, when they had accidentally run into him and Sora at Donahue’s.

“Bryce?” Matthew called, after ringing his doorbell several times. “Are you there?”

Nothing. Matthew frowned, wondering if he had the wrong apartment, though the number on the door was exactly the same, then he heard movement inside. “Bryce? C’mon, open up, I just want to make sure you’re OK. You were acting weird earlier, it’s not like you—”

The door opened to reveal a spunky teenage girl with rumpled clothes and messy hair glaring at Matthew.

“Needy much?”

“Oh!” Matthew reeled backwards, a little embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, I must have the wrong apartment.” But he got a glimpse of the room behind her and he was sure that was Bryce’s anatomy model stood on the counter…

“Ugh, Keiki, I told you to leave my neighbours alone!”

They looked up to see Bryce struggling down the hallway, juggling grocery bags, his keys jangling off his finger. He stopped dead when he saw Matthew and bit his lip nervously.

“Hi,” Matthew said.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Bryce fumbled, and then dropped one of the bags, spilling an array of vegetables. He hastily bent to pick them up, focusing a little too hard on the task at hand. Matthew knelt beside him to help.

“I was worried about you. You left pretty suddenly.”

With the vegetables back in the bag, Bryce could no longer pretend this wasn’t happening. He indicated for Matthew to follow him into the apartment where he went straight through to the cramped kitchen and started arranging the grocery bags on the counter, still avoiding Matthew’s gaze. The teenager flopped onto the couch and turned on the TV, flicking through the channels until she landed on a rerun of Seinfeld.

Matthew watched as Bryce braced himself against the sink, breathing deeply. He remembered Bryce helping him fight to keep his job last year, and then all the times he had listened to Matthew sobbing over his break up.

“Bryce, you know you can talk to me, right? I’ll help in any way I can.”

Bryce finally looked up at him, relief softening his expression.

“Thanks, Matthew.” He cleared his throat. “So, this is my kid sister, Keiki. She’s…visiting.”

“Like hell I am,” Keiki called lazily from the living room. “I didn’t run away from home just to go back. Or fly away from home.”

“Keiki!” Bryce scowled at her.

A trip from Hawaii to Boston was no laughing matter, and Matthew wondered what the hell was going on.

“Bryce? This seems pretty serious…”

“That’s my family for you.” Bryce spoke through gritted teeth. Keiki was looking at her shoes.

“Home is…complicated,” Bryce said, extremely reluctantly. He rubbed his lip and sighed, looking away. “To cut a long story very short…my family used to be a big deal. My dad went to jail for insider trading. Mom got off by testifying against him, even though she was right there helping him the whole time.”

“Jesus…” Matthew muttered. He just about remembered news stories from when he was at high school. He hadn’t paid a huge amount of attention, except that someone in his class had one day turned up in tears because their parents had invested in and now lost everything to the property-tycoons-turned-white-collar-criminals the Lahelas. He had read about people who’d had their life savings stolen and had wondered why people would be so comfortable ruining others for their own gain. He’d slowly forgotten the story after Mr Lahela’s arrest, until now. It was hard to believe one of his best friends was the son of that family.

“Dad got paroled a while ago. ‘Good behaviour’. Keiki lives with them in Hawaii.”

“I’m starting to see why she ran away.”

“My parents live in a massive compound,” Bryce snorted. “Keiki has a bedroom the size of this apartment, three swimming pools to choose from, and a horse she never rides. Trust me, she’s fine at home. This is just some stupid rebellion.”

“When did she arrive?”

“A few hours ago.” Matthew remembered Bryce frowning at his phone, minutes before his sudden exit. “I’ve been trying to get her on a flight back to Hawaii, but I don’t exactly have emergency flight money lying around.”

“You can’t call your parents?”

“No. No way.” Bryce’s eyes flashed. “I don’t speak to them, they don’t speak to me. And now I’ve got to figure out what to feed Keiki.” His shoulders sagged and he eyed the grocery bags as if they might attack.

“She’s not going to turn into a gremlin if you get it wrong. Just stick with something simple that you know.”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know. I don’t cook. These hands are for cutting people, not veggies. I eat hot food at Edenbrook as much as possible, then I can just have something light at home.”

Matthew hadn’t thought of it like that, but Bryce did always seem to have a big meal at lunchtime. Matthew wasn’t keen on the Edenbrook cafeteria, but it was easier when you lived with someone like Sienna who loved to cook and was usually offering to make everyone dinner. In fact, most of the roommates could cook. The only one who didn’t was Aurora.

“What exactly are you planning to do with those groceries then?”

“Hope for the best?” Bryce gulped. Matthew couldn’t help feeling a little bad for him.

“Do you need a hand?” he smirked. “I suddenly feel like I shouldn’t let you loose in the kitchen without adult supervision.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Bryce gasped, suddenly squeezing him in a massive hug. “And I know that was a jab, but I’ll ignore it for now because I actually could use a hand.”

They unpacked the grocery bags, which revealed a surprisingly wide variety of fresh, dried and tinned foods. Matthew suggested pasta, Keiki had no complaints, and Bryce was up for anything Matthew could cook.

“OK,” Matthew said, taking a chopping board out of the cupboard. “Can you sauté the vegetables? I’ll put the water on to boil and take care of the meat…” he paused. Bryce was blinking at him. “Where’d I lose you, buddy?”

“Sauté.” He emphasised the syllables: saw-tay.

“People always said Bryce was the smart one, but I just don’t see it,” Keiki called from the couch. Bryce whirled.

“And you know what it means, Miss Smarty-Pants?”

“Yeah, doofus. It means chop them into small bits, chuck them in a pan with some oil, and move them around until it smells good.”

Matthew couldn’t help smiling a little at the sass.

“Keiki, if you’re going to provide colour commentary, at least do it while helping.”

He half-expected her to complain, but she didn’t. She joined them in the small kitchen to monitor the boiling water and prepare the spaghetti. Matthew cooked the meat and Bryce was in his element, chopping mushrooms, onion and a red pepper. The smell of cooking made the apartment feel homey and Matthew realised he was hungrier than he thought. He wasn’t sure when he ate the dumplings with Aurora and Sienna, but it must have been a good six hours ago.

“So, Keiki,” he said. “What was it like growing up with this guy for a big brother?”

Keiki shrugged. “He skipped out when I was in elementary school.”

“I didn’t skip out, I went to college.”

“You must have been close at some point if you’ve come all the way here to stay with him now?” Matthew gently probed.

Keiki was quiet for a minute.

“I guess he used to be pretty funny.”

“Used to be?” Bryce was pretending to be offended, but his face was slightly guilty. Keiki had a point that she hadn’t seen much of him since he left.

“Jury’s still out, but all you’ve done since I got here is freak out and tell me off, so it’s leaning heavily towards a consensus,” She said, coolly. For once, Bryce didn’t have much of a comeback.

In the silence that followed, Matthew kept glancing at Keiki, comparing her to Bryce. He could see a clear family resemblance: the same brown eyes, the same straight nose, the same jawline. Keiki also had Bryce’s thick brown hair, except hers almost reached her waist. There was a quiet confidence there too, but also something guarded. That, and it had taken over a year and a surprise visit from his sister for Bryce to tell Matthew about his past.

The atmosphere relaxed again when they plated up three perfectly respectable bowls of pasta. Bryce quickly moved the mass of books and clutter off his small table so they could eat.

“This is delicious,” he grinned, wolfing down pasta.

“It’s pretty good,” Keiki agreed, giving Matthew a smile.

“You’re welcome.” Matthew smiled back.

They were quiet again as they ate, apart from a few questions from Keiki about work. Once they were finished, Keiki yawned and stood up.

“Got a bed I can crash on, Bryce?”

“Might as well take mine.” Bryce nodded towards his bedroom door which was ajar. Matthew caught a glimpse of the floor littered with socks and underpants.

“Don’t go snooping around in there,” Bryce added after Keiki.

“Like you have anything I’d want to see,” Keiki retorted. “Thanks for dinner, Matthew,” she added. “Good to know I won’t starve to death on my first night.”

“Go to beeeed!” Bryce groaned, and Keiki sniggered as she closed the door behind her.

Almost as soon as the door was closed, Bryce slumped forward with his head in his hands. Matthew didn’t say anything, wondering what he should say, but eventually Bryce took a deep breath and collected the plates to wash up. When they were done they collapsed on the couch.

“I’m sure you’re judging me super-hard right now,” Bryce said wearily.

“I’m not judging, but this is a lot to take in,” Matthew said. “You have a little sister you never told me about? I thought we were close.”

“We are! We’re close, but Keiki and I aren’t. Hell, I barely know her.”

He turned to Matthew as he explained.

“I always planned to go to college as far from Maui as I could. My parents and I were never that tight but I always meant to go back and visit, largely for Keiki. But then, in senior year, Dad went to prison and every detail of our lives got splashed over the news.” His face hardened now, his gaze distant as he remembered.

“That must have been hard,” Matthew said, softly.

“It was hell. My parents screwed a lot of people over with their scheme. Kids at school had families lose money because of them. And it didn’t stop when I got to college, everyone still recognised me. Everyone gave me crap for what they did. And I couldn’t even disagree with them, my parents did all of it.

“I couldn’t bear to see Mom or Dad after that, so I didn’t. I still called every week or so to say hi to Keiki but there’s only so much a college freshman can say to a six-year-old, you know?”

“When was the last time you spoke to her before this?” Matthew asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“I sent her a text on her birthday back in February.”

“Oh, Bryce…”

“Yeah, I know,” Bryce sighed. He looked at Matthew sadly. “I must sound like such a bastard. Your sister…”

“My sister had cancer, Bryce. We were twins. The situations aren’t one and the same.”

Matthew patted Bryce’s back reassuringly, and Bryce looked relieved.

“It sounds like you were having problems with your parents before it all came out?”

“Well, they had a lot of expectations I didn’t meet. I didn’t know I wanted to be a surgeon at that point,” he added. “But, regardless, they wanted me to be a lawyer. For reasons that became very obvious once the feds kicked our door down.” He slumped against the back of the couch, and then smiled dryly. “Did you know I used to have long hair and a leather jacket?”

“I will need photographic evidence of this,” Matthew said, and they chuckled.

“Anyway, Dad and I would argue a lot, I’d sneak out all the time, he’d call me a disappointment, I’d tell him to shove it. On the other hand, Keiki was their perfect princess. She can do no wrong…be whoever she wants to be.”

There was no bitterness in Bryce’s voice, as if he had accepted the outcome a long time ago. However, Matthew wasn’t convinced: no one flew fifteen hours away from home for no good reason.

“Did you ask her why she left?”

“…Maybe? I don’t know. Probably not. The night’s been kind of a blur since she texted that she was outside my apartment.” Bryce looked uncertainly towards the bedroom. “I’ll try talking to her tomorrow. Properly.”

“Good idea,” Matthew nodded.

It was now past midnight so Matthew prepared to leave when Bryce caught his arm.

“Wait, Matthew…are you doing OK?”

Matthew hesitated.

“I saw you dancing with Raf at the festival. You looked sad.”

“Right.” Matthew pushed his hand through his hair. “There’s not much to say about it. I miss him. I’ve been trying to accept things and move on but…it’s been really, really hard. And I just feel pathetic about it.”

His voice had taken on a soft, sad tone that Bryce had been hearing quite a lot recently.

“You’re not being pathetic,” he reassured. “I know how much you liked him, and he was your first serious relationship. You take as long as you need to move on.”

Matthew was grateful for the support Bryce offered, but it didn’t make him feel much better. His broken heart ached in his chest, a dull pain that was never relieved. He was starting to realise that dancing with Raf had probably done nothing except reopen the wound. And yet, he couldn’t regret his stolen dance.

Matthew hugged Bryce goodbye and made his way back to his apartment, pausing to text the group to send him any pictures that they were happy for him to send to Gwyneth and – by default – her followers.

Everyone was in bed when Matthew got home. He went straight to his room but lay awake, staring at the ceiling as thoughts of Rafael, Bryce and criminal families filled his brain. After a little while, he picked up his phone and searched through the Boston T-Party line-up until he found the band that he and Raf had danced to. It was pathetic…but he felt like wallowing.

As the sweet song started up again, his mind wandered back to last September when Rafael had been on the operating table and Matthew had been breathing heavily behind a surgical mask, and then the evening was spent cuddled together on the hospital bed, comforting each other. Out of all the times they shared together, that evening had ended up being one of his most favourite memories.

The next song in the playlist had a verse where the singer broke down at the sound of someone’s name. Matthew thought he knew how they felt.

Across town, Bryce lay on his small sofa, his feet dangling off the arm rest. Not for the first time, he sat up and looked towards his bedroom door, but yet again he lay back down. If he had gone in to the bedroom, he would have found he wasn’t the only one lying awake.

Rafael had been lying in bed, drinking chamomile tea, as he looked through the festival photos his friends had shared. He paused on a selfie of Aurora and Kyra: he and Matthew had been captured dancing in the background. Matthew looked sad, but his own face wasn’t visible. He hastily moved on.

Sienna was tossing and turning in her bed, wondering if the bags under her eyes would ever fade.

Aurora had resorted to emailing Harper about her job transfer. It felt like such a cop-out, and yet she hadn’t known what to write beyond ‘Hi Harper’.

Kyra was in her childhood room in her parents house in Beacon Hill, tossing and turning like Sienna, until she jumped out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom. Fire raged in her chest.

****

The next day dawned warm and sunny. Matthew was up and out the door before his roommates were awake, throwing himself into his patient rounds. Gwyneth tested negative for everything so far, but Matthew tried not to let her get discouraged. Ethan wondered if a chemical in any of her beauty products was having adverse effects and suggested Matthew go through the many, many products she listed on her channel. He was still annoyed at him.

It would be pointless arguing with Ethan – especially when Matthew was the only person on the team with a Pictagram account – and his evening was spent diligently going through Gwyneth’s videos, keeping a spreadsheet of products used.

“I’m not getting anywhere with this,” he groaned aloud, his hand in his hair. He wondered if he should take a break, but then the next video started playing and the title gave him pause: A Wisconsin Delicacy…?

Matthew watched as Gwyneth introduced her friend, who appeared equally well-off and beautiful, and toured the viewers around the kitchen before making steak tartare. Matthew froze…and then was immediately back at Edenbrook, running another test.

****

“Taenia saginata!” he announced, triumphantly, to the diagnostic team the next day. He tossed the test results on the table and June started reading through them, with interest.

“Oh no, that poor girl…” Baz gasped, sympathetically.

“Am I evil for wanting to be there when you deliver the news on camera for all her fans?”

“A little, June, yeah!”

“Putting it on camera is her choice, not ours. We simply deliver the diagnosis,” Ethan said, smoothly. “Valentine, you cracked the case on this one. It’s all yours.”

Gwyneth looked up anxiously as the team walked in, every camera in the room turning towards them.

“Did you find something?” she asked.

“Oh, you’d better believe we did,” June said with a big smile.

“Go ahead, Dr Valentine,” Ethan said, helpfully encouraging.

“Here goes, Gwynners,” Gwyneth said to the camera. Millions of people were watching the livestream, comments coming in by the thousands.

Matthew couldn’t do it.

“I don’t think you’ll want a million people in the room for this, Gwyneth.”

“Oh god, is it that bad?” Gwyneth’s face filled with dread, her tears ready to spill.

“No, but it’s personal,” Matthew reminded her. “You may be a celebrity, but you have a right to privacy, and if your followers care about you, they will respect that.”

Gwyneth considered…and signalled for the cameras to be switched off. Matthew came out with it as soon as the livestream was cut.

“Gwyneth, you have a tapeworm.”

“Wait…what?!” Gwyneth’s voice rose to shriek as her camera crew exchanged shocked glances. “A…a tapeworm? Like, an actual worm? Inside me? Eating everything?”

“Pretty much,” Matthew nodded. “We estimate it’s about thirty-three feet long as an adult.”

Gwyneth looked like she might be sick as she stared down at her navel in disgust. Baz explained that taenia saginata transferred to humans almost exclusively through the larvae in uncooked beef, such as steak tartare.

“I didn’t even think,” Gwyneth gasped. “The symptoms didn’t start for several weeks after that.”

“On the bright side, you don’t have cancer,” Matthew said. “We’ll prescribe medication that will kill the worm and allow it to break down and pass through your system. We’ll test your stool again in three months time.”

Gwyneth was taking the news remarkably well. She admitted she was a little relieved that she hadn’t been on camera to receive the news – not that it stopped her going live on camera to update her fans as soon as possible – but now she could control how her personal details were shared. Matthew hoped she would remember her right to privacy more often.

He was in a good mood as he brought the discharge paperwork over to Ethan to give him the pleasure of signing it. A successful diagnosis and treatment plan always boosted his mood, and now that Ethan no longer had to deal with Gwyneth and her cameras, he was happy too.

“Ethan. The board wants to have a meeting with you.” Dr Banerji was walking towards them, his face stoic. “In light of the budget shortfall, they’ve decided the diagnostics team will shift it’s focus primarily to high-profile patients. Those who can pay for its charitable work.”

“What?” Ethan frowned. “That destroys everything the team should be about! I’m not doing that to your legacy. I’ll tell them I quit!”

“Ms Monroe’s case was a huge success,” Naveen said. “You quitting won’t solve anything. It’s out of our hands now, Ethan.”

Ethan gave Matthew a very quick look – too quick for there to be an accusation in it – before following Naveen down the hall. A chill was left in his wake.

Tags: @sazanes @rafasgirl23415 @ceruleansnake0

#playchoices #open heart #rafael aveiro #mc x rafael aveiro

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leelee120000 · 2 years ago

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#MCRXX – An Analysis of My Chemical Romance’s “A summoning…”

February 17, 2020

My Chemical Romance (MCR) has decided to light my emo heart on fire once again by releasing “A summoning…” The short film is 13 minutes and 19 seconds long and cryptic in the same insane manner as Twenty One Pilots’ and BTS’ videos, creating a mystery for the fans to solve.

The video starts with a zoomed-in shot of black Converse being laced up. The person gulps and stands, walking past a white guitar. It’s Pansy, a clone of the guitar that was burned during the Life on the Murder Scene era. The camera pans over a desk covered with vinyl and a quill pen well. The camera pans to a corkboard with some of Gerard Way’s sketches, Mikey Way’s photographs, and some other paper scraps; the centerpiece being a spooky eye.

The young man* wearing the shoes walks into the kitchen, grabbing a coffee mug labeled “NJ Dept. Of Corrections.” (MCR is from New Jersey.) He brews the pot and then looks through some clothes. The first is the jacket Gerard wore during the band’s “Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys” album era, the next is a black jacket with golden buttons, looking like a shirt from the bands “The Black Parade” album era.

The man grabs a black hooded cape and tares duct tape with his teeth. He tapes off the windows with black trash bags. The camera pans over a gas mask which is a symbol with triple meaning for fans, as it is the same one used in all three of Gerard’s comics. The man puts on the vinyl of MCR’s debut album, “I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love.” He then proceeds to light candles around photographs of the band member’s families.

He walks with another candle and sits it on the floor. There is a pentagram in tape with an MCR album in each corner with an ouija board in front of him. The camera focuses on his obscured face as his hands move the placet, blocking the question from the camera’s view. The TV erupts with static, rapidly flashing five tarot symbols:

The candle

The sun

The hand with a match

The blood drop

And a never before seen logo. Which I assume is this new album’s logo. Correction, members of the witchcraft community in the comments have said that it’s actually a sigle symbolizing MCR. I’m still trying to verify this.

The camera drops to the ouija board. Moving from around the O area over to spell out “R-U-N” as the front door is hit with loud knocking. The man looks through the peephole and sees three Draculoids from Danger Days.

The camera pans over a key ring labeled “Hotel Bella Muerte Room 512”. Which is a reference to the song “The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You” off their album, “Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge.” The 512, however, is new. The only thing I could think of is that 5-8-12 was the last day they performed live. Or maybe it’s the release date of this new album, May 12 2020?

The man sprints into a red door with the candle on it. He runs into a bar with green and purple lights, the helmet from “The Ghost of You” music video sits above the bar, it is clear that this bar is representing the album, “I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love”. First room, first album, and all the references are from this era. (The song lyrics in the graphey, the posters, etc.) The patrons are drunk and watching the “The Ghost of You” music video.

Suddenly, a woman is sucking the arm of another woman and the camera flashes a man’s vampire fangs.

The three Draculoids reappear, the man runs through another red door. This one with the blood drop. The music is a slowed-down version of “Helena,” and the church this man has entered looks identical to the one from the “Helena” music video. He picks up a flyer for Helena’s funeral. We see the blood-splattered couple for the album cover of “Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge” being married. They look back at the door, Helena stands, doing her dance.

The three Draculoids reappear, the man runs behind a curtain. He lights a match. (The matchbox is another song reference, labeled “Fire at Will.”) He steps out of a coffin, and into the hospital from “The Black Parade” where we see The Patient’s bed from the music video. Something is under the sheets. The man pulls them and the heart monitor stops. Showing 5-18-12. This is the events of TBP being shown from the other side. The three Draculoids burst through a red door with the hand and match. Our man hides and then sprints away as they follow.

A red door with the sun appears he runs through. Suddenly he falls out of the passenger side of the “Danger Days” Trans A.M. [I screamed.] It speeds off while blaring Dr. Death-Defying’s iconic radio transmission. The car circles back, almost running the man over. He walks past the mallets from the “I’m Not Okay” music video. The Draculoids march forward, the man runs into a red door with the moon symbol. A nuke explodes like the beginning of the Danger Days comics.

The man is lying in the middle of a circle of candles as five cloaked figures stand around him. It fades to black and the music becomes hopeful as he walks into the gymnasium from “Teenagers,” the door is black with the new logo. He follows a path of candles as he’s suddenly in a stadium. The pentagram and ouija board is back, it says “Yes”. The man looks up and smiles, the lights turn on to reveal, “FORUM” the symbol appears and city names fade in and out.

At the very end, we see the skeleton with the ex band member Bob’s TBP jacket and the dead Draculoids.

*I assume he, the nameless character, is a man. However Gerard Way is genderfluid and if this character is a representation of them, then it is reasonable to assume the character is he/them. In a 2014 Reddit thread when asked about gender Gerard had said, “I have always been extremely sensitive to those that have gender identity issues as I feel like I have gone through it as well, if even on a smaller scale. I have always identified a fair amount with the female gender, and began at a certain point in MCR to express this through my look and performance style. So it’s no surprise that all of my inspirations and style influences were pushing gender boundaries. Freddy [sic] Mercury, Bowie, Iggy, early glam, T-Rex. Masculinity to me has always made me feel like it wasn’t right for me.”

LeAnne McPherson

#my writing #mcr #my chemical romance

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cosmiic-world · 2 years ago

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let it out — miguel o’hara

cw: switch!miguel, afab!sub!reader, miguel bites reader w his fangs, lots of spanish hfffgggg 😵‍💫, porn no plot i swear, fluff at the end <3

you knew something was wrong from the moment he had returned from his mission.

he came behind you, grabbing your waist tightly and burying his face into the top of your head. you could feel his hard chest against your back and feel just how tense he was. “mi amor..” he sighed out as he inhaled your scent, his muscles relaxing almost immediately.

“miguel, que te paso?” you said, leaning back into him and smiling softly as your lover had finally returned.

“a lot.” he grumbled, his hold on you tightening. “wanted to come back home so bad.”

you giggled as you turned around, your arms wrapping around his neck as you looked up into his eyes. “well, you’re here now.”

“mhmm..” he hummed, his jaw tight. his eyes glimmered with lust as he looked down at your innocent gaze. “me vuelves tan loco, amor..”

“ya sé..” you smiled before kissing him, whining against his lips as he reciprocated fiercely, pressing his lips hard against yours as his hands pulled your body closer to his.

he pulled away from your lips and began to press harsh kisses down your neck, his fangs ghosting over your skin which made you shiver. he stopped right at the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin. “can i..?” he said, pushing your hair away from your neck.

you knew exactly what he meant, gulping softly. “yes.” you breathed out, your hands gripping his arms and letting out a sharp gasp as you felt your skin break, his fangs sinking into you. your nails dug into his skin, whining as he licked over the new wound.

“ay amor.. no puedo.” he said before picking you up and taking you to your shared bedroom, the door almost slamming behind him as he harshly tossed you onto the bed, immediately taking off your clothes. normally, he wouldn’t skip foreplay but this time, something visceral was unleashed inside him and he had very little patience.

you whined as the head of his cock nudged against your wet core, his groan making your hole clench around nothing. “ay miguel, por favor.”

“ya voy, amor.” he said, groaning as he slowly pushed himself inside you. even though he was desperate, he still wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you too much. he still cared for your pleasure.

“sientes muy bien, amor.” he panted out before slamming into you, your entire body jolting against his thrusts.

“fuck, miguel! s-slow down, please!” you cried out, your nails digging into his back.

he shook his head, soft whimpers escaping his lips. “lo siento amor, lo siento.” he whimpered out repeatedly, his head buried in your neck as he continued his ruthless pace, his cock bullying your cunt. his hand on your waist tightened as he felt your body move against his.

“miguel, i-i’m gonna-!” your moans were cut off with gasps as he angled his hips, his cock hitting that spongy spot that had you seeing stars.

“cum, mi vida. cum with me.” he whined in your ear, his voice filled with desire as he felt his orgasm build, the pleasure and need overwhelming him as he thrust into you harder and harder.

“oh fuck!” you cried out as you came, your walls clenching down on his cock hard.

his eyes rolled back as he felt you clench tightly, triggering his own orgasm. he moaned as he filled you up, his warm seed flooding your womb.

“you feel so fucking good, amor.” he groaned softly as he kissed your neck tenderly, humming against your skin.

“ay, cariño. you’re very insatiable today.” you giggled, smiling as you cupped his cheeks and made him look up at you, the look in his eyes making you pause. he was absolutely star struck. his pupils were dilated, almost heart shaped in a way. he was panting softly, his chest heaving up and down and his tongue hanging out slightly from his mouth.

“ay dios…” he breathed out, his breath coming out in shaky exhales. he felt.. submissive. he couldn’t help but look at you like you were a goddess.

“too much, amor?” you said, giggling softly before kissing him softly, passionately and slowly. you moaned against his lips as you both took the time to savor one another, basking in the delicious afterglow of pleasure.

“te quiero, mi vida.” he mumbled softly, smiling as his body hovered over yours.

“te quiero tanto, mi alma.” you whispered, giggling.

#miguel o’hara #atsv miguel #atsv smut #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel smut #across the spiderverse smut #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut

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lovelyfirebouquet · 2 years ago

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Okay, so. I had this really cute idea that player/MC/(Y/N) is playing GoGM and Jack gets jealous. After all, why play a game about a ghost when his sunshine has a perfect loving ghost right here? Spicy implications but nothing directly explicit. Short (~1030 words) because I’m just getting back into writing and stretching the creative muscles. Criticism and feedback are welcome!

The Groom of Gallagher Mansion and Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack are both 18+ games, minors DNI! Thank you!

--- Leg bouncing excitedly, I adjust my headphones over my ears and grin at the familiar music. Both spooky and jovial, I hum along as I admire the tattered blue wallpaper on the game’s title screen, decorated with roses. The momentary blackness as I begin a new game seems far too long. Taking a gulp from the water bottle Jack had so kindly left on my desk earlier, I let out a tiny, excited cheer and began clicking through dialogue. Having just recently added voice acting with the new update, I’ve been eager to play all week. Listening along, one line causes me to chuckle. ‘G-g-g-ghost clown?! No!’ ‘Poor Taylor would be screwed knowing me, poor guy.’ I think to myself, lifting one side of my headphones. The sound of splashing and happy humming from the kitchen told me Jack was still doing dishes, so I fixed the device back on my ear and smiled. ‘Thankfully, my ghost clown isn’t too scary.’ Moving through the familiar dialogue, my character begins their performance and I can’t help but follow suit, dramatically laying the back of my hand to my forehead. “Alas, my poor aching heart!” I grin, leaning back with a theatrical flourish. Before I can give my next line, I hear Jack’s heavy footsteps approach. “Sunshine?” He leans against the doorway, broad shoulders on display in his normal white shirt, his jacket presumably left somewhere in the kitchen. “What are you doing?” “Oh, well,” I pause a moment, a tad embarrassed, “I’m playing a game, actually. Did I disturb you?” “No, of course not.” He flashes his signature grin, slipping his gloves back on as he comes to stand beside my chair, glancing down at the screen curiously. “What kind of game?” “Well..” I’ve explained a fair bit of modern technology to Jack in the months we’ve known each other but disclosing the idea of a romance game still seemed somewhat embarrassing. “It’s a… romantic visual novel, which is just as it says. It kind of acts as a choose your own adventure book, with added sounds and visuals.” He nods along and listens intently, though he raises a brow at the mention of romance. “So, what’s this game about then?” At that I grin, nerd brain taking over as I click idly. “It’s about you and your college friend, Taylor, summoning a ghost in a spooky cursed manor. You make choices to see who you end up with, but I always choose Elias.” Coming to the beginning of Elias’ dialogue, I unplug my headphones and raise the volume, smiling as the familiar line echoes from the speakers. “Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains the stony entrance of this sepulcher?” I mouth along with the words and click through, watching Elias’ ghostly sprite fade into view. As I glance back at Jack he wears an odd expression, furrowed brows and pursed lips forming a slight pout as he stares at the screen. “Jack? What’s wrong?” I return the game’s audio to its normal level and spin my chair to look at him fully. He studies me a moment, warm brown eyes reflecting unknown emotions. Before I have time to process, he grabs my hand and presses a warm kiss to my knuckles. Immediately my face turns a bright shade of red, heat emanating from my ears as I stutter. “I- you… Why?” Smiling lovingly, he lowers my hand and brings his gloved one to my cheek, brushing his thumb against it. He brings his face closer, pressing his forehead against mine. “Why play a game when I’m right here, Sunshine? Fantasies can be fun, but too much can be bad for you.” His hot breath fans across my face, blue hair tickling my cheek. His body is so warm looming over me. “Maybe you should take a break?~” He hums, tilting my chin upward slowly, taking a single breath to examine my flustered state before pressing his lips to mine. All at once soft and sweet and intoxicating, I find myself leaning into him, reaching upward to hold his hand on my cheek and wrap my arm around his neck. Locked together like this, we kiss until my lungs begin to burn, aching for breath. I pull back first, taking a great gasping breath as I recover. Looking up at him, his cheeks are dusted a light red and his breathing is more ragged than before. My face burns like hot coals as he looks at me, purest love mixed with building desire reflected in his eyes. “(Y/N)?” His tone is sweet, and yet it sends a shiver down my spine. “Yes?” He grasps my forearm gently, pulling me from my seat and carefully guiding me to the bed. My heartbeat thumps like distant thunder as he nudges me, motioning to lay upright against the pillows. Within a moment he straddles me, his arms acting as a heavily muscled cage. Leaning down to my neck, he plants a knowing kiss, murmuring into my skin. “I love you.” I gasp at the sensation, craning my neck unconsciously. “I love you, Jack.” With those words he melts into my arms, peppering me with kisses and divine praises. Our bedroom is filled with laughter as I am enveloped in a warm embrace, arms and legs cocooned under his hold. A sunny grin takes over his features as I weakly wiggle, seemingly proud of his capture. “Good.” He chuckles, leaning down to peck my cheek. Rubbing my arm lovingly, I notice his expression shift subtly as he glances back to the computer, still softly looping the game’s background music. “You know… I’d love to show you just how I feel,” he sighs, running his hands over my sides and gently teasing my inner thigh, “but if you’re busy…” I groan, looking back toward my desk and the sprite of Elias waiting patiently on the screen. Looking back at Jack, acknowledging my own arousal, I make up my mind. “I guess it can wait a liiiiiittle longer.” Jack got off the bed, quickly powering down the computer and fixing the desk chair before returning to his perfect, waiting sunshine. He’d make sure to delete that game later.

#minors do not interact #minors dni #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #The Groom Of Gallagher Mansion #Snaccpop #SDJ #GoGM #sunny day jack #oneshot #original writing #please be kind I am nervous #I don't write often anymore

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years ago

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Haunted

pairing: ghost!peter parker x reader

Masterlist

On your third day in your new apartment building, you had gone down to the lobby to find out where your mailbox was. You opened it up and found nothing but flyers and bills. As you shuffled through the mail, you felt someone staring at you. You looked up and saw the palest boy you had ever seen. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a few days, or maybe a few weeks. You jumped in surprise as he continued to stare at you.

“Jesus. You scared me.” You said as you put your hand over your pounding heart. The boy hoped down off the ledge and walked over to you.

“Sorry.” He said with a shy smile. “Are you the new tenant?”

“Yeah. My mom and I just moved in.” You answered as you watched him curiously. The way he moved was something like a glide, as if his feet never touched the floor at all.

“Yeah? What floor?” He asked as he circled around you.

“7th floor. What about you?”

“Is it just you and your mom?” He asked instead of answering your question.

“Yeah. It’s just us.” You said, confused as to why he avoided that question. Peter took the mail out of your hands and started to riffle through it. You thought it was strange, but you let him do it.

“Y/n? That’s your name?” He asked as he held up a letter addressed to you.

“Yeah. That’s me.” You said quietly.

“It’s pretty.” He said with a soft smile.

“Oh.” You blinked in surprise. “Thank you.”

He nodded and put the letter back in the pile before handing your mail back to you. You took it from him without ever taking your eyes off of him.

“What’s your name?” You asked when he didn’t offer the information up voluntarily.

“Peter.” He told you as he held your gaze.

“How long have you lived here, Peter?”

“Many, many years.” He said with a sad smile.

“Yeah? Were you around when that fire happened back in 2013? The landlord told us about it when we were touring the building.” You asked him. Peter got a far off look in his eyes and gulped as he looked down at the ground.

“Yeah.” He said quietly. “Yeah, I was around.”

“Well the place looks really nice now. They did a nice job on the rebuild.”

“I liked it better before.” Peter shrugged. “It had more character.”

“Yeah. I saw the pictures. It looked really nice.” You agreed, sensing that he wasn’t a fan of the new building.

“It was. It was beautiful.” He said as he looked over at the walls. You could see a hint of nostalgia in his eyes, as if he was reminiscing what his home used to look like. You looked at the wall that he was looking at for a minute before turning back to him.

“Hey, what floor did you say you lived on again?” You asked, but he was gone. You frowned and looked around but didn’t see him anywhere. You wondered how he could’ve gotten away from you that fast without making a single noise but decided he probably just had quiet steps.

A few days later, you saw him again. You had just come back from your local community college to get your class scheduled for the upcoming fall semester. As you walked through the lobby, Peter appeared out of nowhere, wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the last time you saw him.

“Oh. Peter. There you are.” You greeted him. You had hoped to see him again after the first encounter, hoping to make a friend in your new building.

“What’s that?” He asked as he took the paper out of your hands.

“It’s my class schedule. For college.” You said as you watched him read down your list. He didn’t really seem to respect boundaries, but you didn’t really care.

“Pre calculus. Biology 2. Applied chemistry. Why are you taking all of these?” Peter wondered as he looked up at you.

“Because I’m on the pre med track. I’m gonna be a nurse.”

“Yeah?” He smiled a little. “Why not a doctor?”

“Nursing is more hands on.” You shrugged. “It’s a direct collaboration with the patients. I’m not really interested in research and curing diseases. I’d rather be helping people directly.”

“Wow. That’s really cool.” Peter smiled softly and handed you your schedule back.

“Thanks.” You returned the smile and kept walking.

“Pre med, huh? You must be really smart.” Peter said as he walked beside you.

“I guess so.” You shrugged. “Are you in school?”

“I went to Midtown tech.” He replied without looking at you.

“The high school? What about college? Are you in school now?”

“No. I’m not.”

“Oh. Well that’s okay. Lots of people take a year to figure things out.”

“Yeah.” Peter said quietly, sounding like he was lost in his own thoughts. You both got to the elevator and he stepped in front of you.

“Have you ever seen a dead body?” He asked, taking you by surprise.

“Oh my God. What?” You laughed nervously.

“We’ll you’re a nursing student, right? Have you ever seen a dead body?”

“Oh, um, no. Not yet. We don’t get to work on cadavers until med school.” You told him as you stepped into the elevator. He got in too but you noticed that he didn’t press any buttons. You started to ride up to your floor in silence until you remembered something.

“Actually, I have.” You told him.

“You have?” Peters eyes lit up.

“My grandma. When I was 7. The wake was open casket.”

“Oh.” Peter nodded, the light in his eyes fading.

“You seem disappointed.” You laughed awkwardly.

“I’m not. And I’m sorry about your grandma. I just meant a dead body as in a victim or something.”

“A victim?” You asked quietly, starting to get creeped out by him.

“Yeah. You know. Like not at a funeral or on a surgical table. But an actual dead body that you weren’t supposed to see.” He explained.

“Oh. Um, yeah. Once.” You nodded and looked away from him, hoping he would drop the strange topic.

“When?” He asked, making you sigh a little.

“When I was 14. We were driving down to florida for a family vacation. We passed by this really bad accident. The driver had flown through the windshield after hitting another car.” You told him. You wanted to leave it there, but the look on Peters face showed that he wanted you to go on.

“I saw him. Right before the paramedics covered him up. I saw the body.” You continued. Peter got a strange look in his eyes, almost like he was happy about what you had told him.

“Yeah? What did it look like?” He asked.

“Do you mind if we don’t talk about that?” You laughed nervously before looking away from Peter. You started at the elevator buttons and wished it would go faster.

“Okay. Sure.” Peter nodded and dropped the subject. You wondered why someone you barely knew would ask something like that and assumed it was one of those situations where someone asks you something just because they want you to ask them back.

“Have you ever seen a dead body?”

“Yeah. I’ve seen lots.” Peter told you as he looked down at the floor. To your surprise, it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about that.

“Really? How many?” You asked him as you carefully watched his face.

“I’m not sure actually.” He realized. “I couldn’t count. There were too many.”

“Wow. That sounds horrible. When was this?”

“Remember the building fire we talked about? And how I said I was there?” He asked as he finally looked at you.

“Yeah. So when you say you were there….” You trailed off when you realized what he was implying.

“Oh my God. You were in the building when it happened?” You asked him, your weariness of him immediately turning into sympathy.

“Yeah. I was.” He said with a sad smile.

“Oh my God. Peter, I’m so sorry.” You frowned and reached out to put your hand on his shoulder. His skin was ice cold, so cold that it made you jump a little in surprise.

“It’s not your fault.” Peter shrugged.

“I know. But still. I’m glad they got you out in time.” You said, making him freeze. Peter looked down at the ground and shut his eyes, squeezing them as if he was remembering something he didn’t want to remember.

“I don’t think they did.” He said after a beat of silence. You assumed he meant he had seen to much by the time they rescued him and he was deeply traumatized.

“Oh.” You said quietly as you looked him up and down. Peter noticed you staring and cracked a smile.

“It’s okay. You can ask.”

“Ask what?“

“What you’ve been dying to ask the moment i told you I was in the fire.” He said, making you smile in embarrassment.

“Why don’t you have any scars?” You asked him. He was right. You had been wondering that the entire time.

“I guess I’m just lucky..” He shrugged and looked away from you. You frowned a little and looked at his skin again. It was absolutely perfect. His skin was so pale that it was almost white but you didn’t see a single blemish on it. He looked at though he was made of porcelain, but that didn’t make sense to you if he had been in this horrific fire.

“You are lucky. It would’ve been a shame to ruin that….” You trailed off and gave another embarrassed smile.

“That what?” He wondered.

“That face.” That face you admitted. Peter smiled and pressed a hand to his cheek as if he were blushing, but he wasn’t. His skin remained the exact same color.

“You like my face?” He asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah. Don’t you?”

“I guess I see it a little differently than you.” He replied with a sad look in his eyes.

“I guess so.” You said as you eyed him curiously, wondering what he saw that you didn’t.

“Would you ever want to hang out?” He asked suddenly, making you smile in surprise.

“Yeah.” You said shyly. “I would.”

“Cool. Can I see you tonight?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Meet me on the roof.” He said as you reached your floor.

“What time?” You asked him as you stepped out of the elevator.

“Anytime. I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Well do you have a number or something that I can text?”

“No number.” He shook his head. “No phone.”

“You don’t have a phone?” You asked in surprise, starting to get creeped out again.

“I have nobody to call.” He shrugged with a teasing smile on his face.

“Oh.” You said and tried to return the smile, but felt too uneasy to do so.

“I’ll see you tonight.” Peter said as the elevator doors began to close.

“Yeah. See you….” You were cut off by the door closing.

“Tonight.” You finished as you watched the elevator go back down. You could’ve sworn that right before the doors closed, Peter wasn’t there. You had been looking right at him but suddenly, he wasn’t there. You felt uneasy about what you had seen, but decided it was probably just a trick of light.

Later that day, you went up to the roof around 4. You took in the view from the rooftop for the first time since you had moved in and smiled a little. You suddenly heard a rustling behind you and turned around.

“Hey.” Peter waved at you when you turned around.

“Jesus. I need to put a bell on you.” You laughed and put a hand over your pounding heart. His way of appearing out of thin air was starting to concern you.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine. But how’d you know I was up here?”

“I told you I’d be here, didn’t I?” He said with a coy smile.

“I know. But we never set a time.”

“We didn’t need to.” Peter shrugged and walked over to the edge of the roof. Peter stared out at the skyline for a minute before he noticed that you were staring at him.

“What?” He asked with a coy smile.

“You’re so…” You shrugged as you trailed off.

“So what?”

“I don’t know. Mysterious.” You laughed shyly.

“I am?” He asked with a devious smile.

“Yeah. You’re always appearing and disappearing. You’re like some kind of…”

“Ghost?” He finished your sentence for you when you trailed off.

“Yeah. Like a ghost.”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Peter asked you as he folded his arms.

“Yeah. I do, actually.” You admitted.

“Really?” Peter asked, his face lighting up.

“Well, yeah. Remember I told you about my grandma that died?”

“Yeah. I remember.”

“I see her sometimes. Like on line at the grocery store or on a bench as I drive by. Sometimes I go down an isle at a store and she’s standing there. Then I blink and she’s gone.”

“Your grandma Norma?”

“Yeah.” You frowned. “How’d you know?”

“You told me her name.” Peter replied as he looked away from you. He got up on the ledge of the rooftop and started it walk along it, putting both his arms out to balance himself.

“I did?” You asked him. You didn’t remember ever telling him her name, but there was no other way he could know it.

“Yeah. You did.” He answered, still not looking at you.

“Oh. I don’t remember that.” You replied as you watched him curiously. What he was doing was dangerous but he didn’t seem to care as he walked along the edge.

“She really loved you, you know. And she’s really proud of you.” Peter said suddenly as he hopped down from the edge.

“Oh really? Have you talked to her lately?” You laughed awkwardly.

“Maybe.” He said with a sarcastic smile. You returned the smile but felt like it was a strange thing for him to say.

“I miss her. I lot.” You said after a minute. “It’s been a while since she died but that ache never goes away. Sometimes I forget she’s even gone. I imagine she’s still living in her house, going about her day. Praying and taking care of her dogs like she always did.”

You got quiet for a minute and looked out at the skyline. You thought of fragments of moments with her, a supercut of different memories quickly flashing in your mind. You smiled sadly before looking up at the sky.

“Sometimes I can’t believe I can’t pick up the phone and call her.” You said quietly. You kept your eyes on the ground and suddenly felt Peter beside you. He put his hand on your shoulder and his ice cold skin sent shivers down your spine.

“You don’t have to call her. You can just speak. She can hear you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry to dump all this on you. I totally did not expect to say all of that.” You laughed in embarrassment and scratched your neck.

“It’s okay. What else do you remember about her?” Peter asked, making you crack a smile at the thought of her.

“She used to call me her little-“

“Princess?” Peter finished your sentence for you, making you look at him in surprise.

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” He smiled shyly and stepped closer to you. You both looked out at the city skyline and stood in comfortable silence for a minute. You felt the urge to rest your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“I miss her.”

“She misses you.” He replied. You smiled at the sentiment for a moment and then came back to reality. You barely knew this guy and yet there you were, leaning on him and talking about something you didn’t even bring up around your friends. You felt self conscious all of the sudden and lifted your head off his shoulder.

“So what do you do since you’re not in school?” You asked to change the subject.

“Oh, lots of things. And nothing at all.” Peter said with a coy smile. You looked at him for a minute before smiling and shaking your head.

“What?” He wondered.

“There you go again. Being a little mystery.”

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Tell me everything about you.”

“Well, I’m an only child. My parents are dead. I like math and science. And I’m a Leo.” Peter replied, making you laugh a little.

“Well that’s all very interesting, but I want to know the deep stuff. I want to know about you.” You said as you poked the center of his chest.

“You do?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah. I do.” You said as you took a step closer to him. Your chests were touching now and you were looking up into his eyes.

“Okay.” His eyes softened. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

You spent the next few hours on the roof, just talking and looking up at the sky. You spoke about whatever silly thing came to your mind and listened to the stories each other told. You made a comment at one point about the sun setting soon and Peter got quiet for a minute. The date ended shortly after that and Peter walked you back down to your apartment.

“I had fun tonight. We should do this again sometime.” You said as you leaned against your door.

“Yeah. We should.” Peter said with a soft smile. You looked at each other for a minute and you thought he was going to lean in and kiss you. You gave him a small soft that told him he could kiss you if he wanted to. Peter started to lean in, then stepped back.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” He said instead, looking apologetic as he said it.

“Night, Peter.” You said, feeling a little disappointed. Peter gave you one last look before walking away. You thought the goodbye was a little strange but chalked it up to him being nervous and let it go.

When you were getting changed into your pajamas that night, you heard a rustling behind you. You slipped your shirt over your head and turned around, but saw nothing. When you turned around again, Peter was there. You jumped back in surprise before looking around your room.

“Peter? How did you get in-“

“Sorry I didn’t kiss you before.” He said as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you close to him. You gasped a little before looking into his eyes.

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” You said before leaning in to kiss him. Peter kissed you back as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You both moved backwards and fell onto your bed. Peters ice cold skin was flush against your warm body as you made out in your bed. This wasn’t something you were used to, but you decided to go along with it. You made out with Peter for a while before cuddling in your bed. You rested your head on his chest and felt his cold skin against your cheek. What you didn’t feel was a heartbeat. You thought it was a little weird but didn’t think too much about it as you started to drift off. You fell asleep just as the sun set below the horizon. When you woke up the next morning, you reached your hand out but felt nothing. Your eyes opened and you frowned when you saw that your bed was empty. You sat up and felt a little betrayed that Peter had just left without a goodbye. You don’t know what you expected from a boy you just met, but it wasn’t this. Things had gone really well on the date so to wake up to him gone hurt your feelings. You decided not to let it ruin your day and got up to get dressed. After eating some breakfast, you went down to the lobby to get your mail. When you were leaving the mailbox, Peter appeared at your side.

“Anything good?” He asked as he took the mail out of your hands.

“Dude, what the hell happened to you last night? I woke up and you were gone.” You said as you angrily folded your arms.

“I know. I’m sorry. I had to go.” He said, and he genuinely sounded apologetic.

“You should’ve woken me up and told me you were leaving.” You grumbled as you took your mail back from him.

“I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.” Peter replied as he followed you down the hallway.

“I thought you were gonna stay. You gave me the impression that you would stay.” You stated as you kept walking. Peter ran ahead of you and took a step in front of you.

“I wanted to stay. I really wanted to stay. I swear. But I couldn’t. I had to get home.” Peter said with desperation in his eyes.

“Yeah? Where’s that? What floor?” You asked him, determined to get an answer this time.

“You want to know something? You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known.” Peter said as he cupped your face with one of his hands.

“Peter.” You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand away.

“I liked being with you last night. I liked all of it.” Peter said I’m a soft voice as he cupped your chin between his fingers. Your eyes softened and you felt your anger towards him dissipate.

“So did I.” You admitted. Peter smiled softly before leaning in to kiss you again.

“Can I see you again tonight?” He asked when he pulled away.

“Okay.” You sighed happily, content now that j had kissed you again.

“Are you busy now?” He asked with a coy smile.

“No. I’m not.” You said as your heart started to race.

“Then we could see each again right now.” He said before pecking at your lips again.

“Do you want to go to my place or yours?” You asked when he pulled away.

“Yours.” He said, almost immediately.

“Okay.” You nodded and pulled him towards the elevator. Within a few minutes, you were making out in your room again. You lost track of time as you got tangled up in your sheets with him. You felt his ice cold hands up and down your body as you kissed him.

“This is so not like me.” You sighed against his lips.

“What’s not like you?” He asked with a smile.

“Making out with a boy I barely know.”

“I happen to think this is an excellent way to get to know someone.” Peter smirked.

“I have to agree.” You laughed happily and pulled him down again. You made out for a little longer before resting your head on his chest.

“Are you gonna stay this time?” You asked as you looked up at him.

“I’ll stay as long as I can.”

“Promise?” You asked him.

“I promise.” He nodded. Since your mom was out at work, Peter hung out in your apartment for the rest of you day. You knew it was moving a little fast, but you didn’t care. You felt a connection with Peter that you had never felt with anyone else. He was easy to talk to and made you feel like you were the most interesting girl in the world. Days turned to weeks of Peter spending all day in your apartment. You would spend the days making out in your bed and watching movies together while cuddled up on the couch. Whenever you suggested that you go out on a date somewhere, Peter had some excuse as to why he couldn’t go. You thought it was strange, but liked him too much to see it as a red flag. Something else you found strange was Peters living situation. You had made a few attempts to ask him where he lived, but he always changed the subject. Nearly a month into your relationship, you still didn’t know what floor he lived on. It started to eat away at you so when you were lying on his chest one day in your bed, you decided to talk to him about it.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked as you looked up at him.

“Yeah. Anything.”

“How come you never take me to your place?”

“What do you mean?” Peter played dumb.

“I mean, we always hang out in my room. Or my apartment or the roof. You never want to go anywhere outside of this building. And I’ve still never been to your apartment. I don’t even know what floor it’s on. Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

“I just like it here.” Peter shrugged. “I like it in your room.”

“Can you at least tell me what apartment you live in?”

“Why?” Peter asked as he sat up. He got out of your head and pulled his shirt on, his indifference pissing you off.

“Because we’ve been seeing each other everyday for weeks now and I still don’t know where you live. Is there a reason you won’t tell me?” You asked as you got out of your bed as well. Peter opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it as he avoided eye contact. You felt your heart drop when you realized what was happened.

“Oh my God. Do you….do you not live here?” You asked as you took a step away from him.

“I can explain.” He said quickly, sending a jolt of fear down your body.

“Holy shit. You don’t live here, do you? You’re not a tenant of this building.” You asked as you backed as far away from him as possible.

“Technically no.” He admitted. You covered your mouth with your hand and felt your knees shake with fear.

“But I used to be!” He quickly assured you. “I lived on the 13th floor before the fire.”

“And then what? You moved out but continued to stalk the place?” You shouted at him. You started to move towards the door but Peter stopped you.

“I can explain. Please, please just let me explain.” Peter pleaded as he held you in place.

“Explain what? How you’ve been lying to me this entire time? How you show up in my room at night unannounced and say it’s from climbing through the fire escape? How you’ve basically been stalking me and waiting in places that you know I’ll show up in? I knew there was something off about you. I should’ve trusted my gut.” You said as you tried to get out the door again.

“Please, just calm down. I’ll tell you everything. Just calm down.” Peter begged you.

“Are you stalking me?” You whispered, hoping that you wouldn’t get the answer you felt you would.

“No. I…” He trailed off as he looked into your eyes, not knowing how to explain himself.

“I’m haunting you.” He said after a beat of silence.

“What?”

“I’m haunting this whole building actually. And I have been. Ever since the fire.”

“What? Haunting? What are you talking about?” You asked him. Peter opened his mouth to explain, but the setting sun caught his attention. He sighed before looking at you apologetically.

“I have to go.” He told you.

“You’re kidding. You have to be joking.“

“I’m so sorry. I don’t have a choice. Just Google my name, okay? I’ll come see you tomorrow.” Peter kissed your cheek and moved towards your door.

“You’re leaving?” You asked angrily.

“I’ll be back. As soon as the sun rises, I’ll be back.” Peter promised you. You opened your mouth to say more but he was already gone. You sighed a little and had a million questions swirling around your brain as you pulled out your laptop.

“Peter Parker.” You said to yourself as you typed his name into Google. The first thing that came up took the breath out of your lungs.

“Peter Parker obituary?” You whispered and clicked on the link. You started to read through the obituary, each line more shocking then the last. The fire had started in the middle of the night on the third floor. By the time Peters floor had been reached by the firefighters, there was no one left to evacuate. You scrolled through photos of the deceased and came across a photo of Peter. He was a much warmer color and dressed in the same black t shirt he was always in. It dawned on you that it was probably a pajama shirt and what he had been wearing when he died.

“Oh my God.” You whispered and put your hand over your mouth. You quickly shut your laptop and sat back in your seat. Nothing made sense to you anymore, but at the same time, it all made sense. He said he didn’t technically live here and he might’ve been telling the truth.

You suddenly felt like someone was staring at you. You looked up just as Peter appeared in your bedroom.

“Hey.” He said with a shy wave.

“Hey.” You said back and looked him up and down. He was in the same shirt he always wore and just as pale as usual.

“Did you….” He trailed off and looked over at your laptop.

“Yeah. I did.” You said as you got out of your bed.

“What did you find?” He gulped nervously as you walked towards him. You stopped a few feet in front of him and folded your arms.

“I found out you died.” You stated. A mixture of fear and relief washed over Peter and he carefully watched your face for your reaction.

“Yeah. I did.” He admitted.

“I don’t understand. Why did I find an obituary saying you died in 2013 along with the rest of your family?“

“Because I did. I was on the 13th floor. And my apartment was all the way at the end of the hall. By the time the firemen got to us, we were already gone.” Peter explained, confirming what you had read online.

“That’s what you meant when you say they didn’t pull you out in time.” You realized as you recalled one of your first conversations in the elevator.

“Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

“I still don’t understand how you don’t have any scars.”

“I do. I can just control what I look like.” Peter said as he nervously played with the hem of his shirt.

“Can I…can I see?“ You asked softly. Peter gulped before shaking his head.

“You don’t want to see. Trust me.”

“But I do.” You said as you gently put your hand on his face. Peter looked into your eyes and put his hand on top of yours. He closed his eyes and seemed to become transparent for a moment. When he became solid again, he looked different. His thick brown curls became fried tufts of hair that sparsely covered his head. His pale skin became all different shades of reds, pinks, and browns and you could feel the texture of it beneath your hand. You noticed that the hand that had been covering yours no longer had any fingers on it. You looked away from his hand and back into Peters eyes before giving him a soft smile.

“Are you scared?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“No. Not of you.” You shook your head and put your other hand on his face. Peter was surprised that you didn’t flinch or look away, but to you, he looked just as beautiful as he always did.

“So what does this mean? What are you? Are you all in my head?” You asked quietly, scared for the answer.

“No. I’m real. I’m just dead.” Peter said with a short laugh.

“But if you’re dead, then how come I can see you? Are you some kind of ghost?”

“Boo.” Peter said with a smile that told you he wasn’t happy he made that joke either. You laughed a little before letting your hands fall on his chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s kinda hard to meet someone new and say “hey. I’m Peter. I’m dead. Wanna hook up?”. I don’t think so. You would’ve run every time you saw me.” Peter said as he looked into your eyes.

“It’s okay. I’m glad I know now. And I have to admit, I’m kinda excited to have a ghost boyfriend.”

“Are you really?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I am. I can’t turn back now. I’m haunted.”

“But I can’t stay out past the sunset. That’s why I always have to leave you. You’ll be lonely at night.” Peter said with sad eyes.

“I’ll be asleep at night.” You cracked a smile. “But as long as I get to see you during the day, I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure? Are you sure you want to do this?” Peter asked as he tilted your face up. To answer him, you leaned in and kissed him. Peter smiled into the kiss and pulled you closer to his body.

“I’m sure.” You whispered against his lips. “Haunt me.”

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13uswntimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Bah Humbug (Soran x Reader)

Summary: R really really hates Christmas. So much so that she's kinda known as a Grinch. Can a person from her past (and 3 ghosts) help her change her fate?

Basically, it's a story based off of Charles Dicken's Christmas Carol. I hope you enjoy it.

Author's note: I know it's after Christma, but happy holidays everyone. I hope you enjoy this crazy thing out of my head. Feel free to hit me up with comments and requests.

You glared at your phone, taking a long sip of your beer.

The team knew you didn’t celebrate the holidays, and having your crushes call you to try and con you into attending the annual party was a low blow. Your teammates knew how difficult it was to resist them.

Maybe that’s why you hadn’t picked up.

You didn’t anticipate them leaving a message.

“Hey, you’re busy and that’s probably why you didn’t pick up, but I just wanted to remind you about the team party,” Emily’s voice rang through the phone.

You noted the distinct lack of mention that it was a holiday party.

“I know you’re not the biggest fan of Christmas, but I would love to see you there and Lindsey and the rest of the team would too,” Emily finished.

You took another long sip of your beer, playing the message again.

It wasn’t fair for your teammates to use your feelings against you.

If it had been a New Years’ party, or literally anything else you would have gone. But you absolutely could not. Would not. Support any stupid Christmas traditions.

You had even denied the invite via Megan’s stupid survey. It has taken you nearly half an hour to scroll through the 50 questions about alcohol and desert preferences to pick the option labeled- I’m a grinch who doesn’t like fun and has a heart 2 sizes too small to attend.

It was bad enough that you couldn’t even have peace in your own home, not with your neighbor and all his holiday cheer.

Why did he have to blast the music so loud that it drowned out your soccer replay? Why did he have to send his wife down to offer you some Christmas pudding? People already looked at you funny when you explained you didn’t love the nation's favorite holiday. You just wanted to be able to have your non-celebration in your own home.

“Shut up,” You groaned at a particularly loud cheer from the floor above you, tossing your remote so it thumped against the ceiling. “Just let me eat my frozen pizza in peace,”

What gave them the right to be so loud and merry?

There were still homeless people on the streets, children going hungry, and men fighting over who owned land that was never theirs to own.

Part of your problem with Christmas was that all it appeared to be was an excuse for rich people to get richer, people to get drunk at parties, and those with bad intentions to take advantage.

You waited a few more minutes, reaching for another beer as the music only grew louder. With a sigh you threw your remote a little harder, praying that your neighbor would quiet down.

You glared when your phone rang again.

Why couldn’t anyone get the fucking message? You didn’t want to be a part of the Christmas celebrations or their stupid money-grabbing intentions.

“What?” You grumbled into the phone.

“Is that any way to greet your favorite team mom?” Kelley asked, and you rolled your eyes.

Preath were your team moms, but Kelley had stepped in when you were traded to Washington, and you loved her nearly as much as you loved them.

“You're not my favorite, Christen is,” You scoffed, taking a large gulp of your beer. “And you’re only calling me to convince me to come to the stupid party,”

Kelley sighed heavily over the line. In all the time she had known you, you had never even tried to be merry. “Come on kid, why don’t you try to get into the Christmas spirit,”

“No,” You snapped. “I don’t know how many times I have to say it,”

“But Emily and Lindsey will be there, and Megan’s even putting up an insane amount of mistletoe just for you,” Alex’s voice chimed in, sounding farther away than her girlfriend. “Just come for a little while. You don’t even have to dance to the music. it’ll be fun,”

“I said no. I don’t celebrate Christmas,” You ground out. “Mistletoe is an invasive, parasitic, poisonous species that could kill you,”

“You don’t have to be such a Scrooge,” You could hear Kelley’s frown.

“Well, bah fucking humbug,” You huffed.

“I know things have been tough since Tyler-“ Alex started, but you cut her off with a thunderous growl. “Don’t you dare mention my brother,”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. “We never celebrated Christmas either,” you hung up before either of your stand-in parents could say another word.

You didn’t care what they had to say. You just wanted to have your little non-celebration in peace. You didn’t want to think about your non-existent family. Or the memories that came with this stupid fucking holiday.

You closed your eyes tightly, listening idly to the sounds of the party above you.

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time

“Shut up!” you yelled louder this time, grabbing a broom and banging on your ceiling. “Keep your Yule Tidings to yourself!”

There was some banging on the floor above you before the music got impossibly louder, and you swore you heard a “don’t be such a grinch”

You sighed.

You were different from the grinch. You hated the holiday and everything it stood for. Not the people.

And there was no way you would be carving up the roast beast.

But maybe…

You clicked into your messages, your fingers hovering over the group chat you shared with Lindsey and Emily.

It took you a minute to click out a message.

Be safe tonight you two. Try not to have too much fun without me.

And another long minute to hit the send key.

It took less than 30 seconds for your phone to ping with their reply.

You could make sure we were safe if you came

You shook your head at Lindsey’s words, immediately closing your phone and standing from the couch, and heading towards your room. You knew you could be with them, but you didn’t want to.

You didn’t want to bring down their night with your negativity.

You heard your phone ding again as you crawled into bed, but you didn’t feel like answering, hoping to just sleep the holidays away.

*****

You weren’t sure what woke you up, but one second you were asleep and the next you were not.

It was like a cold wind had blown through your bedroom, whipping your blanket off of you and slamming your bedroom door with a clap.

“What the fuck?” You hissed, sitting up in bed, searching for your stolen quilt.

“Didn’t know you had inherited my sailor's mouth,”

You sucked in a breath at the familiar voice, and your entire being froze. You hadn’t heard his voice since-

You didn’t want to think about it.

Still, your eyes searched the room for the source of the sound, fully expecting the television to be playing an old home movie.

But it was oddly blank. “What the fuck?”

“Come on kid, I thought you were sharper than this,” The voice chuckled, and your head snapped toward the noise.

“No,” You breathed out as you took in his form, his wide smile and beaming features coated in a strange white mist. “You died four years ago. You can’t be here,”

He hummed. “I told them you would be suspicious,”

You shook your head, standing and beginning to pace.

“Maybe it was something in the beer,” You mumbled, rubbing your hands through your hair. “I shouldn’t have switched brands,”

“It’s not the beer,” Your brother shrugged, stepping from his place in the doorway to sit on the edge of your bed.

“It has to be!” You hissed, sending him your best glare.

Ghosts were not real. Dead relatives didn’t visit you at night.

You had to be hallucinating, or high, or have a brain tumor creating him.

“It’s not.” He shrugged again, his easy smile never leaving his face. That just made you angrier. How could he smile when you were probably having a mental breakdown? How could he be happy?

He watched you cross the room a few times, shaking his head.

“Why don’t you sit down so we can talk for a moment? I don’t have an unlimited amount of time,”

You huffed. “How can you be so calm at a time like this?”

“This isn’t my first visit to you, just the first time you’ve been able to acknowledge me,” He said softly, his voice still semi-amused, gesturing towards the bed opposite of him. “Sit, before you pull a muscle or something,”

You very slowly made your way to the spot, carefully sitting down on the bed, your eyes taking in every inch of your visitor. Your older brother had never been so pale. You also noted the dark circles under his grey eyes, and how his hair was more tousled than usual. But other than that it was him, and he was completely fine, sitting across from you in his signature bomber jacket.

“You’re really here,” You breathed out, the ever-present ache in your chest easing for just a second.

He nodded, reaching out to cover your hand with his.“I am,”

It was a strange sensation, like ice and tingles where he had touched you. It didn’t fill you with the warmth you always remembered.

You pulled your hand away, curling it to your chest. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve come to warn you,” Tyler said, his voice nothing more than a conspiratorial whisper.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “This isn’t some Christmas carol hoax about me forging a chain I’ll have to wear in death, is it? You didn’t celebrate Christmas either and you don’t have one,”

“No,” Your brother sent you a rye smile. “but there are different kinds of chains Y/n,”

He held up his wrist to show you what looked like a handcuff.

You frowned, shaking your head. “I adopt an angel every year. I send money to the shelter down the road. I don’t know what else you people want from me,”

You did everything you could to make the world a better place. The only thing you refused to do was celebrate a stupid holiday. That didn’t stop you from donating or making kids’ dreams come true.

That should be enough.

Your brother's eyes tightened. “You’re here alone on Christmas Eve,”

“So?” You shrugged.

The only difference from your normal celebrations was that he hadn’t been there to share it with you.

“Y/n it is too late to change my fate, to relinquish the curse I must face every year of watching those I love, but it’s not late to change yours,”

His shoulders squared and his voice turned deep, and suddenly you knew that the next words he was about to speak were not his own. “Tonight you will be visited by 3 spirits. The ghosts of Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas yet to come. Take heed to what they say. It may be your last chance,”

He stood to leave without another word, and you mirrored his actions, practically launching yourself at him.

“Wait!” you yelped, latching onto his cold hand.

“Hmm,” his eyes turned back to you, but they were more distant than before.

“I-“ you gulped. “I miss you,”

He smiled, shaking his hand from your grasp, and placing it on your heart. “Remember bug, we’re always with you,”

With one last sad, longing smile he disappeared.

*****

You were restless, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Part of you was still trying to convince yourself that your bothers… visit was a figment of drunk yous imagination. The other part was anxiously awaiting for the clock to strike 12 and for the first “ghost” to appear.

You had never been superstitious. You had laughed at ghost stories and shrugged off tales of apparitions, deeming them as tales meant to scare children. But still, you wondered what this… ghost would look like. What they would do. And most of all how it would try to persuade you that Christmas wasn’t some oversold, over-hyped holiday designed to make people go into debt.

Your eyes followed the minute hand of the clock, tracking as it finally landed on 12.

You held your breath, waiting for something to happen.

But as the minute hand moved again and the seconds ticked by there was… nothing.

There was no jiggle of your door handle, or uninvited visitor standing at the foot of your bed. There wasn’t even the flutter of a curtain.

“It was the beer,” you sighed, laying back on your bed, and letting out a chuckle. You closed your eyes, content to sleep the miserable holiday away.

“It wasn’t,”

Your eyes snapped open and you leaped out of the bed, turning to face your unwanted intruder.

“Easy slugger,” The woman on the bed laughed, an eerie glow surrounding her entire body, lighting up your room.

You froze, your gaze flickering between the woman’s face and the signed jersey that lived on your wall. “Mia?” You asked, earning a chuckle from the retired forward.

“Not quite, young one. I am the ghost of Christmas Past,” Her smile was wide, warm, and welcoming.

You frowned, your eyebrows furrowing. “Then why are you shaped like Mia Hamm?”

“I’ve come to you in a form you are more open to accepting. Your idol,” The ghost explained softly, still perched casually on your bed, holding out her sleeve to you.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing and crossing your arms across your chest. “So you’re just gonna take me through the history of Christmas in hopes of changing my heart?”

The ghost smiled wryly at you as if she expected that reaction. “I am the ghost of not all Christmases past, just your past,”

“Oh,” You deflated.

“Come young one, grab my sleeve and we will begin our journey,”

You sighed, closing your eyes tightly as your fingers reached for the robe.

You had a feeling you weren’t going to enjoy this.

****

You blew out a long breath as your feet met the ground, your slippers crunching on freshly fallen snow.

Snow you hadn’t seen since you moved to Orlando.

You blinked up at the scene, taking in the bricks, rod iron, and sloping lawn of the mansion you had called home.

The angels at the gate were coated in a thin layer of white powder, along with the fountain in the center of the drive.

It was an image ingrained into your head that you knew would never leave. An image you hadn’t seen since your 11th Christmas.

But how were you here? You couldn’t be here…

“Are we where I think we are?” You asked Mia slowly, dragging your wide eyes away from your childhood home.

“We are,” She nodded once. “Our Christmas journey begins with one of your best Christmases. Shall we go inside,”

You gulped but headed towards the gate nonetheless. Your fingers shook as they unlatched the little lock (shaped like a rose) and you slipped through both it and the door to the house.

You couldn’t help but smile at the warm air that wafted towards you as you stepped into the foyer of the house, and its distinct smell of cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven.

It curled around you like a hug from her, and you could feel the tightness in your chest that always accompanied it.

Mia’s hand on your shoulder was the only thing that prevented you from stepping backward, away from the feelings that you had run from for so long.

“Your family is gathered in the den,” She said softly, “Shall we join them, or do you need a minute?”

You cleared your throat. You shouldn’t feel so choked up just from the smell of cinnamon rolls. It was stupid, but your mother had made them every Christmas morning, and you and your brother had eaten them together with hot chocolate. It was a core memory that just hurt so much now.

“I’m fine,” You muttered, pushing yourself forward and into the den.

You ignored the ache in your chest at the lights that littered the walls, and the tree that stood proudly in the corner. But you couldn’t help the feeling that opened in the pit of your stomach when you saw a younger version of yourself settle between your brother and your mother.

You could remember that Christmas vividly. It was the last real Christmas your family had spent together as a family.

“I think it’s Ty’s turn,” Your father smiled jovially, holding up a camcorder as your other brother reached for his next box.

It was small, wrapped in red paper, and clumsily tied with a bow. Your eight-year-old self had been so proud to have wrapped it alone for the first time. Looking back at it, you really should have let your mother help you, but no one commented on the sloppy job.

“I wonder who this one could be from,” Tyler smiled, bumping your shoulder lightly as a blush colored your cheeks.

“It’s from me,” Your younger self mumbled, looking away, embarrassed. “I picked it out myself,”

“I don’t know why I was so nervous,” You hummed, stepping closer to the couch.

Mia shrugged. “It was the first gift you had ever decided to buy. You put a lot of thought into it,”

Tyler very carefully undid the bow, and slowly lifted the messy red paper off of the box, and both you and your younger self watched him with rapt attention as he flipped open the lid on the box to reveal an Arsenal beanie.

“It was his favorite team,” You countered, your eyes never leaving the way he immediately slipped it onto his head and pulled younger you into a hug. “It wasn’t like he wasn’t going to like it,”

‘No,” Mia agreed. “But your younger self also didn’t realize that it was the thought that counts either,”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek as your mother passed younger you your last box. “I didn’t understand that the presents weren’t the thing that mattered yet,”

You knew exactly what was in that box.

Your younger self was much less systematic than your brother as she tore off the paper golden, revealing the plain box beneath it. It wasn’t until she peeked under the lid that she paused, her jaw dropped staring at her family.

“I didn’t learn that lesson until the year after this one,” You muttered as your eight-year-old self ripped the top of the box and held up a signed Mia Hamm jersey. You winced as your younger self launched yourself at your mother.

You watched for any sign, any wobble from her.

“She didn’t know she was sick yet,” Mia hummed gently as if she were reading your mind, and you reasoned that she may have been. She was a ghost after all.

You cleared your throat, shaking your head as young as you tugged the jersey over your head. “I was a dumbass for putting it on. It should have gone directly in the frame,”

“You were excited,” Mia reminded you gently, the hand on your shoulder comforting you more than it should have. “It was everything you had ever wanted,”

“I would have appreciated not getting a stain right above the crest on the chest,” You shrugged. “Thinking back on it now, I had everything I wanted. I didn’t need a jersey for that. God only knows how much my father paid for that,”

“Is money all you think about?” Mia asked you softly.

Your eyes tightened at the question.

“No,” You ground the word out through clenched teeth. Money was all your father thought about. You were nothing like your father. “I just wonder how much good could have been done instead-”

“Of giving you a core childhood memory?” Mia countered, not allowing you to finish your thought.

You bit your lip, holding in the biting remark on the tip of your tongue. You didn’t like being interrupted, or being contradicted.

“The memory would have been fine without the jersey,” You grumbled, averting your eyes from your younger self as your mother pressed a kiss to your forehead. “The core experience was about being with them, not some stupid present,”

Mia hummed, watching you carefully.

Your younger self pulled away, smiling widely at your mother. “I love Christmas,”

“And I love you,” She smiled back.

You gulped down the pain in your chest, using the corner of your old West Virginia sleeve to wipe away the liquid forming in the corner of your eye. Christmas had been your favorite for a long time.

Until it wasn’t. Until you learned its true meaning.

You forced your gaze from the scene, and back towards Mia. “I don’t want to be here anymore,”

She nodded once. “Grab my sleeve,”

*******

Dim lights met you as your eyes flickered open, the yellow glow of the fire illuminating a solitary form curled up in front of it.

The form shivered, despite its closeness to the blazing hearth, pulling the fraying red blanket tighter around itself.

Yourself.

The Christmas tree that had dominated the living room was gone, as were the garland and light strings that hung from the ceiling. The only indication that it was near Christmas was the sound of Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time buzzing softly through an old radio.

You remembered this night just as well as you had your last stop, even better. You remembered your thoughts as you stared into the fire, how you cursed the universe or any god that may or may not have been listening. You remembered wishing that every radio station wasn’t playing things that reminded you of her, but you couldn’t live with your racing thoughts enough to sit in silence.

It was the first time you had ever really hated Christmas.

“You look lonely,” Mia commented, and you jumped slightly. You had almost forgotten that she was there.

“I couldn’t go to the hospital,” You breathed out, your voice shaking with the effort it took to hold back your emotions. “She tried to make us our Christmas cinnamon rolls and collapsed,”

You shook your head. You had been the one to ask for them. She hadn’t been able to get out of bed long enough the year before to make them, and you missed them. She waved off your father's concern and nodded at you with a chapped-lipped smile.

Mia’s hand landed warm and heavy on your shoulder, but you brushed her off, taking a step closer to your younger self.

You didn’t need the comfort now, you had needed it back then, and no one was there. The least you could do was help yourself.

You slowly reached out a hand, rubbing the spot on the back of your younger self's neck that you knew would soothe her. “It hurts now, but you’ll be alright,”

“She can’t hear or feel you,” Mia interrupted you, standing on your younger self's other side.

You glared up at her, a barbed quip on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t get to use it.

“Hey, munchkin,” Tyler’s voice sent a shiver down your spine, and your youngest self’s head snapped around to see him.

He smiled sadly down at you, and you moved so he could sit beside your younger self in front of the hearth.

Tyler’s arm wrapped around your shoulder and you tucked your face into the warm skin of his neck.

“This is all my fault,” Your younger self breathed out miserably, and you saw the tears creeping down Tyler’s neck.

“No,” Tyler said firmly, coaxing you out of his neck so he could look you in the eyes. “Mom was sick,”

You shook your head, more tears streaming down your face. “But if I hadn’t asked for cinnamon roll-”

“She probably would have had to go to the hospital anyway,” He countered, using a thumb to wipe your tears away.

You frowned as you watched them, the smell of Tyler’s calone fresh in your mind. The way his hugs had always made you feel whole. How you trusted him that it would all be alright.

You didn’t know that your mother was dying in a hospital bed. You had believed him.

Your younger self touched her face into Tyler’s shoulder, and he held you tighter.

“He didn’t tell me that we couldn’t afford the surgery or the treatments that would save her,” You mumbled bitterly. “Or that the treatments probably wouldn’t have helped her anyway,”

You turned away from the scene towards Mia. “I don’t want to be here,”

She nodded once, holding out her sleeve, and the scene disappeared around you in a blur of color.

*****

Your knees wobbled as you landed in the living room of your apartment, and your hand tightened around Mia’s arm as you tried to get your footing. You used your arm to wipe your sleeve across your eyes.

Brushing away the evidence of one of your worst Christmases.

“Take some deep breaths,” Mia said softly, her hand landing warm and heavy on your shoulder.

You nodded, sucking in a wet breath through your nose.

“Why did you have to show me that?” You asked, glaring at the woman.

“Because it’s one of the reasons you hate Christmas,” She answered, not wavered by your sudden anger. “Because you can’t see that you don’t have to hate,”

“Nothing but bad things happen on Christmas,” You spat back, ripping yourself out of her grasp.

“Tyler didn’t seem to think so,” She said.

Your glare deepened.

It wasn’t a fair statement. Yes, Tyler had never lost his joy like you had.

And neither had you really, not until Christmas four years ago.

“He did his best,” You reluctantly conceded.

“You made your own traditions,” She hummed, waving her hand.

The blurry scenery around you shifted to your apartment. A younger version of you was standing in the kitchen, carefully sliding a pizza out of the oven to sit on the counter next to your beer bottle.

You frowned at the soft glow of Christmas lights and the sound of an old World Cup playing in the background.

There was a warmth in the apartment that had been missing since…

You shook your head.

You didn’t like to think about that night. That Christmas.

“Hey kid,” Tyler said, knocking on the kitchen counter as he approached you, the Arsenal beanie perched on his head.

You carefully set the pizza down, smiling widely at him. “What's up?”

You could practically feel the excitement radiation off of you. It wasn’t like the Christmas of your youth, nothing had been the same after your mother died, but you and Tyler had found your own way to enjoy the holiday.

His mirroring smile was pained, and his fingers tapped the counter like he was nervous. “Dad called,”

Your nose scrunched. “What did he want?”

You hadn’t spoken to him since you moved out to go to college.

After your mother died, he turned to a bottle to ease his pain, and in the process, he inflicted his pain on you. His jovial heart had turned cold, and you had scars from him that you would never outgrow.

“It was his nurse at hospice,” Tyler amended quietly. His voice held an unusual edge. “They don’t think he’s going to make it through the night,”

You blinked up at him, your shoulders lifting and falling. “So?”

Tyler sighed, grabbing your wrist gently so you would look up at him instead of focusing on where you were slicing the pizza.

“I know he’s made some mistakes-”

“He abused me,” You scoffed, interrupting him. “That’s not a mistake,”

Your voice held no room for argument. It couldn’t, not with all that he had done.

A mistake was one incident. One accidental laying of hands.

Your father in his grief had surpassed that hundreds if not thousands of times. The thick, raised scars on your back were evidence of that, as were the sounds of his sneering voice in your ear.

“He’s our father,” Your brother said sternly but you were already shaking your head.

“He made his choice,”

Your voice was bitter, cold. It sent a shiver down present-day you’s spine.

Tyler blew out another long breath, pushing himself away from the counter. “It’s his dying wish,”

You followed him out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“And he can take it to his grave,” You spat the words. As far as you were condemned, you didn’t owe him anything.

Tyler rolled his eyes, pulling on his boots. “Don’t be cruel Y/n, It doesn’t suit you,”

You watched him with disbelief as he pulled on his boots, and stood up to grab his jacket.

“You can't seriously be going to see him,” You said, following after him. “He’s an asshole,”

“Everyone deserves to have their dying wish heard,” He said, his voice sounding more like a dad than your own father’s had. “Are you coming or not?”

It made you want to soften, but you didn’t.

“So I can tell him to burn in hell?” You raised your eyebrow at him.

“Y/n,” He sighed. “Don’t do it for him, do it for yourself. Closure is important,”

Your lip curled. “I got my closure the first time he picked up a belt, or threw a Christmas tree out the window, or-,”

“I’ll be back, don't have too much fun without me,” Tyler cut you off, wrapping his scarf around his neck, giving you a very quick hug, and heading out the door. It slammed behind him, and he was gone.

You stared at your younger self as she stared at the door.

It was the last time you would ever see your brother alive. The last time you would see his smile or feel his hugs that had always set you at ease.

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time hummed in the background, and you longed to wrap your younger self up in your arms.

“I wish I had told him I loved him,” You mumbled as your younger self turned on her heel and headed back toward her pizza.

Mia’s warm hand found your shoulder again. “You didn’t have to say it for him to know,”

You brushed her off, tired of her and what she was showing you. “I still wish I said it,”

Tyler was too good of a person. He wanted to make everyone happy.

And I’m his effort to give your Father Christmas Joy, he had lost his life.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,”

Mia held up her sleeve and you grabbed on. The world tilted on its head and suddenly one of the worst nights of your life was gone.

All you had learned was that you hated Christmas for a good reason. Only bad things happened on Christmas.

******

You jolted upright, breathing heavily as your eyes opened. Your hands clutched your wet shirt, soaked through with sweat, and your eyes darted around your room, searching for the ghost of Mia Hamm who only showed you your worst memories.

Your breathing slowed as you realized you were alone.

“It was just a dream,” You ran a hand through your damp curls. “I really shouldn’t have switched beer brands,”

“No, you shouldn’t mix brands because it destroys the flavor,”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the voice, leaping out of the bed and whipping around to see one Kelley O’Hara sitting on your bed, dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater that resembled a Christmas tree.

“What the fuck Kelley,” You grumbled incredulously at the defender. “What are you doing here? How did you get into my apartment?”

“I’m not Kelley,” She smiled devilishly at you, crossing one leg over the other, a perfect imitation of one of your team moms. “Ghost of Christmas present, happy to make your acquaintance,”

She held her hand out for you to take.

You stared at the outstretched fingers warily.

“Are you here to make me feel worse?” You asked cautiously.

The defender shook her head, her dimples showing. “I’m just here to show you what you’re missing,”

You sighed, throwing your head back. “Can we not and say we did? I’ll go to the stupid Christmas party next year,”

Kelley chuckled, and you heard her stand from the bed. “I’m afraid not,”

“It was worth a shot,” You grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose and looking back at the woman. The amused smile hadn’t left her lips.

“Ready?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

The truth was that you weren’t ready. You didn’t want to be stuck in this scrooge-like dream. You didn’t want to see what you were missing.

You didn’t like Christmas, and it annoyed you that even your brain wouldn’t let you wallow in peace.

“Let’s get this shit over with,”

She snorted, stepping forward and gently grabbing your arm. “It won’t be too bad, don’t worry,”

The colors in your bedroom blurred and you felt a now familiar tug in your stomach as your world shifted.

At least this ghost seemed happier.

*****

Immediate warmth filled your chest as you opened your eyes to the scene, leaning heavily on Kelley as the world shifted into focus.

Glasses tinkled and the laughter of your friends filled your ears. The smell of cinnamon and cherries filled the air and it felt like home. You didn’t even mind simply having a wonderful Christmas time blaring in the background.

You couldn’t help the way your lips lifted. You doubted the sounds of your found family would ever not have the power to make you smile.

“You totally cheated,” Emily grumbled, flicking her Uno cards toward Lindsey.

The midfielder shook her head, cackling. “I didn’t, I’m just better at this than you are,”

“I figured your two favorite blondes would make you smile,” Kelley cheered, clapping your shoulder and making you jump. “Christmas pastey told me you were in a bad mood,”

Your smile morphed into a scowl. “She made me relive two of my worst memories,”

“She was trying to show you that the people you loved wouldn’t want you to be alone on Christmas,” Ghost Kelley countered as regular Kelley returned to the room, carrying drinks.

The defender passed the filled solo cups about. “As much fun as uno is, I think an actual game is called for here,”

Lindsey leaned down and sniffed the cup, scrunching her nose. “What did you put in here, jet fuel?”

Emily cackled again, even as Alex, Kelley, and Megan shook their heads.

“No, it’s the special Christmas mix,” Tobin supplied easily. “Kelley makes it every year,”

“She thinks it’ll make us more honest during never have I ever,” Christen added, winking at the blonde pair.

“I didn’t know they played never have I ever on Christmas,” You mumbled, leaning towards one of the red solo cups and taking a whiff of your own. Your nose wrinkled at the smell.

It was definitely something more potent than her normal mix. You caught a hint of Jamison and vermouth, and something… cinnamony.

Fireball you thought ruefully. She made them fireball manhattans, stronger than ones they could ever get in a bar.

“Why would you?” Ghost Kelley chuckled, “You’ve never attended a Christmas party with them, even while your brother was still alive,”

“I didn’t want to be around the holiday cheer,” You hissed. This ghost was as insufferable as the first was. “And my brother and I had traditions of our own,”

“Yes, I’m sure eating a frozen pizza and watching a World Cup from 1950 is the best way to spend a Christmas,” Ghost Kelley rolled her eyes. “So much better than being surrounded by people who love you,”

“It’s just easier” You hissed back. “It doesn’t hurt as much,”

Being around your friends at Christmas reminded you of what your life was like before your mother died. It reminded you about how much you loved the lights, the colors, and the joy.

It felt like you were betraying her memory.

Ghost Kelley raised an eyebrow at you. “All it does is let you wallow in your past pain instead of making new, happy memories,”

Lindsey put her glass down. “I think I’ll pass, I promised Y/n that we would be safe tonight, and one of us has to drive,”

“She really cares about you two,” Christen said gently.

Lindsey and Emily shared a meaningful look.

“We know,” Emily said softly, her face falling just a bit. “We were hoping she would come, so we could… talk about our developing feelings,”

“I even hung up an extra mistletoe in case,” Lindsey added, gesturing towards the archway between the kitchen and the living room.

You frowned. “Why would they think I would come?”

“It’s not you guys, trust us,” Alex hummed, sipping her drink.

“Y/n just hates Christmas,” Megan added, rolling her eyes. “She basically locks herself away every year with a frozen pizza and a case of beer,”

“At least she’s got a good reason,” Christen muttered, sending a meaningful look toward Megan.

Christen was the one to find you the night your brother died. The one who held you after you identified your brother.

After you said goodbye.

“They thought you would come because they were hoping you would want to be with them,” Ghost Kelley said, and your eyes snapped to her half-smile.

“She doesn’t have to be such a grinch about how much she hates it though,” Megan scoffed, leaning back against Sue’s legs. “She dunked My speakers at practice because I was playing Christmas music,”

“And she tossed my hat when I asked her to pick a secret Santa and gave me a lecture on how Santa was a figment created by toy companies and parents to scare children and make money,” Real Kelley added.

“But why?” Lindsey asked, her voice edging too far on desperate for you to feel comfortable.

Both she and Emily had been warned of your aversion to the holiday, but no one seemed willing to expand on it.

You hadn’t been willing to expand on it, even if they could tell that it was something that caused you great pain.

An uncomfortable quiet swept around the circle of soccer players as the vets shared looks.

“Her mother and her brother both died on Christmas,” Christen explained finally.

“and her dad made the ones in between that hell,” Tobin finished, sipping her red cup. “She’s convinced it’s a horrible holiday designed to pray on people’s pain,”

“She’s living in the past,” Alex added. “and no matter how hard we try, we can’t drag her into the present,”

“I do want to be with them,” You growled.

“Then why aren’t you here?” Ghost Kelley asked, cocking her head to the side.

“I get that kid doesn’t like Christmas, but she doesn’t have to make it miserable for the rest of us,” The real Kelley added softly, earning a slap on the shoulder from Alex. She raised her hands in defense. “What it’s true! She’s impossible about everything when it comes to Christmas,”

“I didn’t go because I didn’t want to make anyone have to share in my gloom,” You muttered towards ghost Kelley, sending a waving gesture towards the room. “Because it’s a kindness to allow them to be happy. It can only happen without me,”

“I’m going to go get water,” Lindsey muttered, standing from the couch.

“Well that’s a bummer,” Ghost Kelley cackled, flicking the side of your head. “Must you always be so much of a downer? Your frown is going to give you premature wrinkles,”

“Why couldn’t my ghost of Christmas present be Christen,” You grumbled, pushing yourself up from your couch’s arm, following after the midfielder. “She’s so much understanding,”

Ghost Kelley smirked, pushing herself off the wall to walk in time with you towards the kitchen. “Ghost Christen was unavailable, something about a vacation with ghost Tobin,”

You rolled your eyes, pressing on the swinging door of the kitchen. You heard Emily’s “I'm gonna go check on her,” from behind you.

“Good to know that they’re just as gross in the ghost world,” You muttered, your eyes landing on Lindsey as you stepped into the kitchen.

She was far too focused on the pitcher, filling a red solo cup with water.

You sighed, reaching out a hand towards her shoulder, longing to comfort her, even if you didn’t understand exactly why she was sad.

“She can’t feel you or hear you,” Kelley reminded you, her voice going gentle.

You gulped, drawing your hand back before it could run through the midfielder's silky hair.

“Why is she upset?” You asked, just as Emily slowly pushed open the door, leaning on the counter.

“You alright?” Emily questioned, her worried eyes following Lindsey’s form.

The midfielder gulped but nodded. “I’m ok, it was just a lot out there,”

“We both knew holidays would be a challenge,” Emily hummed. “She was pretty upfront with her hang-ups,”

“I know,” Lindsey mumbled, her voice cracking. “I just… I didn’t know that the reason why would break my heart so much,”

You frowned.

“She’s so sweet, but all she can see in my favorite holiday is death and destruction,” the midfielder continued. “And she’s not open to seeing anything else,”

“Babe,” Emily whispered, stepping past you and wrapping her arms around Lindsey’s waist. The midfielder turned into her, burying her face in Emily’s shoulder.

Her back shook with the force of her tears, and you were left speechless.

She was crying. For you. Because things had happened to you, and you couldn’t let it go.

It made your chest ache.

“Don’t worry,” Emily said, rubbing Lindsey’s back, shushing her gently. “She’ll come around. Maybe we can head over to her apartment after tomorrow, and bring her Thai food or something. It’ll be like a tradition of our own,”

Lindsey sniffled, but you saw her nod at the idea. “She’ll like that,”

“I would too,” Emily agreed.

You stepped back from the woman, unable to tear your eyes away.

They were willing to make a new tradition, just for you.

“Seems like you picked two good ones,” Ghost Kelley said, her lips very close to your ear.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the feeling, whipping around to face her, the kitchen blurring around you as you did.

Her smirk shifted from playful to something more… mocking. Unfriendly. “Willing to give up their traditions to make you feel more comfortable. But you're not willing to do the same for them are you?”

“I’m…I,” You stuttered, your eyebrows furrowing.

She held up her hand to silence you. “My time with you is short I’m afraid. I don’t have any to spare for our banter,”

With that, she turned on her heel, and it was all you could do to keep us as you stumbled after her, through the door and into-

Not Kelley's apartment. It was a long, dark cobblestone alleyway covered in shadows.

*****

“Where are we?” You said, tripping over your feet as you tried to keep up with ghost Kelley.

She seemed on a mission. You knew the defender was fast in real life, but this felt like an entirely new level. You felt drunk, unable to keep your feet underneath you as you staggered beside her.

“The present,” Kelley said as if it was obvious.

You rolled your eyes at her wit, familiar and different all the same. “But where?”

“To show you what you have that you don’t appreciate,” Kelley waved her hand, stopping short and not giving you enough time to stop before you rammed into her.

You recoiled away from her. “Wasn’t that the point of showing me the stupid Christmas party?”

“No. That was to show you what you’re missing. This.” Ghost Kelley said shortly, waving her hand again. “This is to show you how ungrateful you are,”

Light spilled from the lanterns hanging on the walls, chasing away the shadows. It pushed away the darkness, illuminating a small family, huddled together to get out of the cold.

You stared at the mother, holding a child no older than 4 in her lap.

“Shh honey, it’ll be alright,” She hummed, rocking the child.

You couldn’t help the anger that bubbled up in your chest. The rage that no one was listening to you.

Just because you hated Christmas didn’t mean you were selfish.

You wheeled around, taking an angry step toward ghost Kelley.

“I’m fucking tired of this,” You growled. “I donate to charity every year. I give to the angel tree. I fucking give out Turkey dinners to the homeless. What else do you people want from me,”

Kelley smirked. “They told me you were smart, but I’m beginning to wonder,”

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off, stepping too close to you, one hand catching the collar of your shirt and shoving you backward.

Your back hit the cold brick wall, and for the first time, it felt like a ghost in front of you instead of your very first team mom.

“You are not living,” She snarled. “You have friends who love you. A family you found, yet you act like everything was taken from you,”

You pressed into her hand. “Everything was taken from me. A stupid disease took my mother, grief took my father and a drunk driver coming home from a Christmas party took my brother. That’s all this fucking holiday does. Take!”

“It didn’t have to take you,” Kelley said, bitterness clear in her voice. “You gave up your joy willingly,”

Your teeth mashed together at the implication that your misery was your own fault.

“Your chain is not defined by greed and ignorance, but instead loneliness and grief,” She hissed, pressing you into the wall, her lips curling to reveal sharp teeth in a way that the real Kelley’s would never. “Forged by your unwillingness to live rather than exist,”

She pushed you again against the cold brick, before stepping away.

Your fingers fell to your collar, straightening the crumpled material. “You want me to forget. To pretend,”

Ghost Kelley paused, her shoulders rolling as she turned back to you, her eyes hard, unfriendly.

“No.” She said slowly, her shows clicking as she took a menacing step towards you.“We want you to understand the difference between remembering and wallowing in your pain,”

Her finger found its way to your chest, and she leaned in close to you again. “You waste the care people have for you. You must change before they lose it and you lose them,”

The finger on your chest shoved hard, enough for you to stumble back. You expected to hit the wall, but you didn’t.

Before you knew it, you were falling.

*****

“Oof,”

Your breath left your lips as your back contacted the ground, and white, powdery snow billowed around you. Your hands fell to your stomach, as you sucked in as much air as you could get, hoping to calm your racing heart.

At least Mia had helped you calm down before she banished you away. It would be hard to not hold the ghost's cruelty against the real-life Kelley.

You took in another deep breath, blowing it out slowly through your nose, counting to 5 in your head, trying to use the technique that your therapist had shown you.

At least she didn’t think you were living in the past. She didn’t have a problem with your preferred Christmas celebration.

… though she had suggested you send out thank you notes this year as surprise Christmas gifts. You hadn’t because you weren’t ready yet. You and Tyler had never exchanged formal gifts.

You shook your head, carefully pushing yourself to a sitting position, and running a hand through your hair. Maybe you were living a bit in the past.

But you could fix that. A couple of notes and then neither your therapist nor the stupid ghost of Kelley could look at you like you were broken again.

Notes weren’t a big deal.

You dragged your hand down, squeezing the bridge of your nose.

Doing the notes would show Kelley and your therapist that they were wrong.

“Took you long enough,”

Your entire being froze at his voice, your back instantly going rigid. It brought you back to your childhood.

“Fucking Christ,” You muttered. “First I get my hero who shows me my worst memories, then I get my team mom who shows me all of my friends talking about me behind my back and now I get you,”

“You get me,” Your father said softly, and you could feel his large form settle beside you. “I am the ghost of Christmas future,”

You couldn’t help the way you instinctively tensed.

“Future that is, or that will be?” You asked, finally gathering the courage to look up at him.

You slowly dropped your hand, peeking up at him through your fingers. You were slightly surprised when the sight didn’t send a shiver down your spine like it used to.

Your father’s form was imposing as it always had been, but his face wasn’t as… mean. His beard looked unkempt and there were dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in years.

It made you feel almost… sorry for him. As did the long, heavy chain that encircled the two of you, bound to his wrists and ankles.

You knew he had earned that chain. Forged each link with hatred and pain.

“The future as it is,” He answered, his blue eyes a cloudy gray, kinder than they had been since your mother died. “Its fluid, so nothing is set until the present becomes the past,”

He shifted beside you, as if he wanted to rest a hand on you, but thought better of it. You had never seen him so hesitant.

He had been cold and rigid since your mother passed, never bending and forcing you to break.

“Why did they send you?”

You couldn’t help the way you sneered the word.

Your father sighed, running a hand through his messy curls, much like you did when you were nervous. “It is too late for me to change my fate, but it’s not too late for you. I’m part of the reason you are in the situation you are in. I wished to help fix it,”

You swallowed hard, looking away.

Do it for yourself. Closure is important. Your brother's voice rang through your head like a bell, and you bit your lip.

You nodded. Fighting whatever the stupid ghosts wanted to do would get you nowhere, and the sooner you listened, the sooner you could leave your father and never look back,

“Show the way then,” You muttered through gritted teeth.

It came out more vindictive than you meant it to, and his shoulders hunched slightly.

It should have made you feel good after everything he had done, but it didn’t. It made your chest hurt. It made you feel like you were a bad person.

Your father hummed, waving his hand. “That way,”

You squinted in the direction of his hand as the fog slowly disappeared around you, revealing large rolling hills spotted with stones. You frowned.

You knew where you were, and you shouldn’t have been surprised. You had heard a Christmas Carol before.

“Is this the part where you show me that I’m dead and no one gives a fuck?” You asked with a rye smile, pushing yourself to your feet. “Which one of these graves is mine?”

Your father raised an eyebrow at you, gesturing off towards your left.

You nodded, moving in the direction he pointed. He fell into step beside you.

Your eyes traced the smooth, gray stones as you passed them, only stopping when you came upon the one with your name on it.

You crouched beside it, brushing away the snow that had fallen, slightly obscuring your name. You paused when you got to your last name, I’m taking a sharp breath when you saw the little hyphen. Sonnett-Horan.

You blinked up at your father. “I took their names?”

Your father nodded once. “You wanted to honor them, and your own last name held no memories you wanted to keep,”

You hummed. You could see yourself doing that. The only pride you held in your name was the number of goals you had scored while it was etched across your jersey. Other than that, all your last name held was pain. You didn’t want to carry on your father's lineage.

Not after what he had done.

“Anna wait!”

Your head snapped towards the sound.

“I wanna see Momma,” The little voice called over her shoulder.

It belonged to a girl, no older than five, racing towards you. Her hair was blonde, sharing a striking similarity with Emily’s.

It stole the breath from your lips.

“I know,” The other voice said. A slightly older voice, belonging to a little boy. His brown hair was combed to the side, and his jacket fluttered as he chased after the girl, finally catching up with her several feet from the grave. Anna.

He said as they stopped right in front of you.“Mommy has the flowers. We should have waited for her,”

Anna blinked up at him with big blue eyes, gesturing towards the grave at your feet. “I just… I missed her Tyty,”

“I know,” He sighed, running a hand through his slightly curly hair. “I miss her too,”

You used the corner of your shirt to wipe the sudden wetness in the corner of your eyes.

“Who are these kids?” You asked, looking up at your father, his eyes looked slightly misty too.

“My grandchildren,” He said. “Tyler just turned 8 and Annamarie is 4,”

You opened your mouth to reply, but you couldn’t seem to find your words.

And a new voice made it so you didn’t have to.

“When did you two get so fast?”

Your eyes snapped up to meet Emily’s blue. Identical to the blue of the little girl. AnnaMarie.

She was a little older than your present-day Emily. The wrinkles by her eyes were a little more prominent, and you spotted a few gray hairs peeking through her bun, but nothing else had really changed.

The boy smirked, nudging Emily with his shoulder. “You’re just getting slow mommy,”

“Very funny,” She chuckled, taking a shaky breath when her eyes landed on the grave.

Your grave.

“She looks tired,” You muttered.

“She is,” Your father said cryptically, but you couldn’t pull your eyes away to address him.

Her bottom lip found its way between her teeth as she pulled a bouquet of roses out from behind her back, passing them to the boy.

The boy took them gingerly like they were made of glass.

“Hey Momma,” He said, carefully placing the flowers right in front of your headstone. “We miss you. Mommy put the tree up in the basement this year,”

“Mama hasn’t come to see it yet,” The little girl said. The boy, Tyler, stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Aunt Kelley says it’s the prettiest tree she’s ever seen,”

You blew out a breath. “What does she mean?”

“Last Christmas you and Lindsey argued over lights,” Your father said slowly, carefully. Too carefully. “It turned into a fight about how much you detest her favorite holiday. How you refuse to… bend. You walked out, and never came back,”

“She blames herself,” You filled in easily.

“She’s struggling,” He agreed. “She can barely find the energy to leave her bed, and when she does, well she’s just not the same. They came close to losing her too, and they’ll come close again tonight,”

Your entire being froze.

That couldn’t be true. Lindsey wouldn’t-

You shook your head, shoving yourself to your feet and turning on your father. “You’re lying to me,”

He held his hands up in defense, his long chain clinking as he took a step back from you, but you weren’t having it.

“What? No comment?” You hissed, unbridled anger bubbling in your chest. How dare he try and tell you that Lindsey lost her love for Christmas. That she would ever- you couldn’t even think of the word.

Your father shook his head, taking another step back, but you took the step with him. You had too much rage. Too much anger to stop.

“Momma,” The little girl's voice said softly, hesitantly, and it was like an instant balm to your hot rage.

You couldn’t help but turn back toward it, noticing that Emily and Tyler were already walking back towards where their care should be, kneeling so you were eye level with her. “Yes, baby?”

“I know you don’t like Christmas,” She started, her little hands shaking as she reached into her puffy pink jacket, pulling out a toy Christmas tree with a little smiling face. “But Mama says no one should be alone. Mr. Tree will keep you company,”

“Come on Anna,” Tyler called.

The girl nodded. She placed the tree next to the bouquet, and carefully pushed herself to her feet. “Merry Christmas Momma,”

With that, she sprinted away.

“Merry Christmas baby,”

Your words hung in the air, even if you knew no one could hearthem.

You didn’t care.

You couldn’t allow this to be the future. You couldn’t allow your kids or Emily to lose you and Lindsey before either of them could even qualify for a u15 tournament. You couldn’t let Lindsey lose her joy. Not like you had lost yours.

“Take me back,” You demanded, again shoving yourself up and turning to face him, running your sleeve over your wet eyes “Now! This will not be my future,”

He held his hands up again, the chains hanging heavily from his wrists. “This is your future,”

“For now!” You yelled back.

You would not allow it to be your future. You would pretend to love Christmas if you had to, or let Lindsey put up god knows how many lights up if that is what it took.

“Pretending to like a holiday isn’t enough to change it” “Your father said, equally as forcefully.

“Then what is?!” You snapped back, desperation clear in your voice.

You could not let Lindsey face that fate. You couldn’t let Emily lose both of you.

Your father shook his head. “Ebenezer Scrooge’s vice was greed and his greatest fear was being forgotten. Your vice is pain, and your fear is that others will be forced to suffer with you. You have to learn to let them in. Learn that letting them help you isn't a weakness. That letting go isn’t betraying your mother and Tyler,”

You stepped back as though you had been slapped, but your father wasn’t done.

“I forced you to suffer not because we shared grief, but because I couldn’t move past mine. Do not make the same mistakes that I did,” His voice shook as he spoke, and it cut straight to your soul.

The same words Tyler and ghost Kelley had said to you.

“I-“ The words got stuck in your mouth, even if you weren’t sure exactly what they were.

“Change,” Your father said seriously, his hand falling heavily on your shoulder and his cloudy eyes piercing into yours. “Your fate deserves better than mine,”

You swallowed hard, frowning as a familiar tune floated its way through the air.

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time.

*******

You sucked in an icy breath as you jerked away, your eyes flying wide as you scrambled to stay upright in your chair.

“Holy shit,”

Your voice was little more than a wheeze, and your fingers clawed at your chest in an attempt to slow your racing heart.

It was all too much.

“Where the fuck is a ghost now when I need help calming down,” You muttered cynically, glancing around your apartment.

The 1996 World Cup final rolled across the screen, lighting up your couch and your blanket-covered feet. You could hear the cheer of the crowd, but it didn’t give you the same tingles that walking onto the pitch surrounded by them did, and simply having a wonderful Christmas time blasting from the floor above you.

You looked to your left, counting the beer bottles. One, two, you paused. Nestled just behind the 3rd was a small, plastic Christmas tree that wasn’t there before.

The only proof that your night was more than just a beer-induced dream. Proof that it was real.

You reached for it, turning him over in your hand so his smiling face looked up at you.

“Hi mister tree,” You said softly, your finger running over his wide smile. It filled you with warmth.“You’re right, no one should be alone on Christmas,”

You glanced up at the clock, frowning at the bright 9:30 still blinking at you. You were sure it had been midnight when you went to bed. You were sure that… you shook your head. It didn’t matter, not now.

You opened your phone, calling for an Uber, taking a deep breath.

You could do this.

You pushed yourself to your feet, the tree clutched tightly in your hand as you pulled on your jacket, scarf, and hat.

You still had time to change your fate.

*****

Your fingers twisted in your beanie as you stood in front of Kelley’s apartment door.

You had never felt more nervous in your entire life. Not when you were waiting to play the World Cup, or when you were getting ready for your first PK shootout.

You weren’t sure why you had taken your hat off of your head. You weren’t sure why you were so worked up, but you were.

You had been invited, even if you turned it down. They were your friends, they wouldn’t shut the door on you, even if that’s what you deserved.

You closed your eyes letting the soft sounds of you’re a mean one Mr. Grinch wash over you for a long second before slowly lifting your hand and knocking on the door.

There was a rustle behind the door, the sound of the music turning down, and you couldn’t help but twist your beanie again.

You had interrupted them. You considered walking away, but you didn’t have time before the door slowly swung open.

“Speak of the grinch and she shall appear,” You mumbled, shooting the defender a shy smile. “I uh… I wasn’t sure if your invite still stood, but um…”

“Come on,” Kelley smiled widely at you interrupting your rambling, her hand landing on your shoulder and she squeezed gently. “You’re always invited,”

You bobbed your head, swallowing hard and allowing her to guide you into the living room. “I uh.. didn’t bring anything for the secret Santa,”

“Don’t worry about it,” She hummed, taking your coat. “You being here is enough,”

Her hands still sent a shiver down your spine. A reminder of ghost Kelley, and her harsh words.

“As long as you’re sure,” You said, showing More vulnerability than you normally would.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” She sent you another soft smile, shaking her head. “Everyone is in the living room. I’ll even get you a-“

“Fireball Manhattan,” You finished, already moving towards the room.

Her head tilted to the side as she trailed after you. “How did you know that was the surprise drink this year?”

You shrugged. “Just a hunch,”

“Good hunch,” She hummed suspiciously. “Look who I found,”

She gestured towards you as you entered the living room.

The team paused for a split second as if they couldn’t believe you had actually come before you were being surrounded.

“Hey, Scrooge does have a heart,”

“Glad you could come down from mount crumpet,”

Your cheeks flamed as Christen pulled you into a tight hug and Tobin patted your back. “Lindsey and Em are gonna be so excited,”

You let the hug go on, glancing for the two aforementioned women. “Where are they?”

“Linds wanted some water,” Christen said, kissing the side of your head, and you wilted slightly.

That meant that they knew why you didn’t like Christmas. The team had already told them. Lindsey had already gotten upset.

“Em followed her into the kitchen,” Tobin said, tilting her head towards the door. “Just be careful of hiding mistletoe,”

You nodded, and Christen patted you towards the kitchen. You waved towards Alex, Megan, Sue and the youngins before pushing your way into the kitchen.

You knew the scene that you were walking into to. You had already seen it, but that didn’t change how it made your heart clench to see Emily wrapped around Lindsey’s back, her chin resting on her shoulder.

“Maybe we can head over to her apartment after tomorrow, and bring her Thai food or something. It’ll be like a tradition of our own,”

“I think that sounds amazing,” You answered, leaning on the counter. “Drunken noodles are my favorite,”

Their heads whipped around to face you, and a breathtaking smile broke across Lindsey’s face.

“You came,”

You shifted uncomfortably against the counter. “my game got kinda boring,”

Emily hummed, pushing herself off of Lindsey and taking a step towards you. “No other reason?”

Red painted itself across your cheeks, and you scratched the back of your neck. “I uh. I also wanted to make sure the two of you were safe tonight, and I wanted to spend time with you,”

“You’re cute,” Emily smirked, holding her hands out and pulling you into a careful hug.

You leaned into it, burying your nose in her shoulder before Lindsey pulled you into her instead.

“We got you a present if you want it,” She said softly into your hair.

You gulped again. You hadn’t exchanged presents since your mother died. “I didn’t get you guys anything, really.

Lindsey pulled back, her dimples showing. “You brought you, and that’s all I wanted for Christmas,”

“I’ll go grab it, you two stay put,” Emily said from behind you, and you heard the sound of the door.

“I’m not very good at this,” You admitted.

Lindsey’s smile widened, her dimples getting deeper as she ran a careful thumb over your cheek. “You’re doing alright so far,”

You nodded, swallowing at the sound of the door and Emily’s warmth returning behind you. She passed a small, thin gift over your shoulder and you took it gingerly, staring down at the bright red paper.

“This is called a present,” Emily jested. “You’re supposed to rip it open,”

“I know that,” You mumbled, thumbing the corner of the paper. “I just-“

“Just say thank you,” Lindsey said instead, her thumb-stopping the word on your lip.

You nodded. “Thank you,”

“You’re welcome,” Lindsey hummed, nudging your cheek with her nose. “Now open it,”

You nodded, your thumb catching the edge of the paper and slowly tearing it away. Your breath caught at the sight of red and white fabric. It was soft against your fingers and the sight alone was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“We know Arsenal is your favorite team,” Emily said slowly.

“So we thought a new beanie might be a good idea,” Lindsey finished, worrying her bottom lip.

“It’s perfect,”

It came out of your mouth before you could stop it, watery and vulnerable, but you felt safe nestled between these two women.

“I um-“ You awkwardly ran your finger over the Arsenal logo of the red and white hat, tracing the little cannon. The same cannon you had given your brother. The same one he had pulled on his head the last time you saw him. “I don’t know a lot about Christmas, but I want to learn if you’re willing to teach me?”

“Well, our favorite tradition is the mistletoe,” Emily said, and you could hear her smirk in her tone as she pointed towards the ceiling. “Traditionally you kiss when you're under it,”

You chuckled, tilting your head as Lindsey leaned in and pressed a very soft kiss to your lips. It took your brain a second to catch up, but you reciprocated as soon as you did, leaning into her as she pulled away. Chasing her lips.

Emily hummed, catching your chin and pulling you away from Lindsey and towards her, connecting your lips.

“I think I could get used to these traditions,”

You still weren’t sure exactly where you stood on Christmas, but what you did know was that you wanted these women with you as you figured it out. You wanted to give them everything. You were ready to let them in.

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #soran x reader #soran imagine

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btxtreads · 3 years ago

Text

READ YOUR MIND - PROLOGUE: Cafe Ghosting

wc: 1295 warnings: heartbroken taehyun, kind of fast paced, friendship fall-out

MASTERLIST | NEXT

“So, I’m kind of thinking of growing out my hair then bleaching it blonde when I’m a little older.” Hiyyih hummed, staring at a few strands of her brown hair in her hands.

“Hm, like golden?” Y/N replied, setting down a can of sprite from her lips and squinting her eyes at the younger female—visualizing what she would look like with different hairstyles.

“I’m thinking platinum?” Hiyyih questioned, before both girls’ heads turned to the older Huening who sat next to them gulping down a bottle of grape soda.

“I don’t even want to think about it.” Kai mumbled as he set down his bottle. “I will never bleach my hair. I’d look bad.”

“Oh, you will one day. It would look pretty on you.” Y/N cooed, pinching his cheeks which he batted away with a chuckle.

This was her daily routine ever since the Huenings moved to their village, at the vacant apartment right next to hers. With her trusty shy friend Kai, who she discovered was the same age as she was, and his younger sister Hiyyih—sometimes with their older sister Lea—she was all set in her little freshman world. Everyday consisted of bets, laughter and fun—she couldn’t ask for anything better.

Y/N giggled as both Hiyyih and Kai started a little argument about how they don’t look too identical (the girl believed she can buy Kai a wig to pretend he was Hiyyih in class) when the boy groaned and threw his head back.

“It’s so hot.” The boy whined. “The fan isn’t doing anything anymore.”

“Open a window.” Hiyyih shrugged, glancing back at the closed window.

The boy promptly stood up, truding over the couch and opening a window before turning to their friend with a smile.

“Remember when you lost a bet to me?”

“I did?” Y/N raised an eyebrow as the boy chuckled maniacally.

“Yeah, you bet me yesterday that I wouldn’t be able to let Soobin-hyung get me off the hook for junior basketball practice to go get shakes with you.” He mumbled proudly, making the girl grumble.

Soobin was training the new members basketball team as he was lined up to become the next basketball co-captain. He has a fond preference for Hueningkai—which gives him special privileges to slack off every once in a while. Of course, Y/N bet that he wouldn’t be able to slack off so near regionals. She was wrong.

“What do you want?” Y/N mumbled, making Hiyyih giggle and raise her hands.

“A milkshake!”

“Actually, can you go get me coffee from that nearby café?” Kai grinned. “I’m trying something new.”

“You seem to forget that I’m have no money.” Y/N whined, which made the boy shrug.

“A deal is a deal.”

And so, she was off, trudging into the nearby café. Ghosting, it was called. Newly established and had that addicting caffeine smell. Maybe she could try something new too.

As she stood a few feet away from the register, perusing over what kind of coffee options she could buy for both her and Kai (who knew there were so many variations of coffee?), her eyes fell on a boy sitting at a nearby table with red-rimmed glassy eyes and a poker face. He wasn’t really drinking anything, though there was an empty glass at the seat in front of him telling her someone sat there before.

Pursing her lips, Y/N checked her wallet and pulled out last week’s allowance, before stepping up to the register and chatting with the barista. The barista shared that the boy had been sitting there alone for about an hour now. A nasty break-up, she said. So, Y/N ordered Hiyyih’s milkshake and three caramel makyatoes as the barista recommended. She gathered all drinks in a plastic bag, holding one separately as she walked over and placed it in front of the emotionless boy.

“I heard it was a break up.” Y/N muttered softly, tilting her head. “It’ll be okay.”

“Have you had one?” The boy replied, making the girl purse her lips in thought.

“Well… no… I’ve never had a boyfriend.” Y/N crossed her arms. “Wait, no, maybe I had one in kindergarten but I kind of kicked him when he kissed me in recess.”

There was no resonating laughter at that joke, making the girl pout.

“I know it hurts, because you’re crying, but really—”

“She said I’m a loser nerd.” The boy frowned, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t take care of myself and I’m boring—that I keep talking about weird stuff. That I don’t look handsome.”

“That’s mean.” Y/N raised her eyebrows, taking a seat in front of the boy. “She shouldn’t have.”

“She has another boyfriend now, the captain of the basketball team. He’s a senior.”

“Oh, Jeongmin?” Y/N curled her lips in disgust. “He sucks. He makes fun of my friend just because he’s taller than him.”

The boy didn’t reply.

“Well, forget about her and Jeongmin.” Y/N waved him off. “Look at this as a clean slate. So what if you’re a nerd, I don’t think you’re a loser or boring! And who is she to tell you you’re not handsome?”

“I have stick arms.”

“Then get some muscle, learn a sport. It’s achievable.” Y/N ranted. “Being smart isn’t. That’s an advantage over Jeongmin that you have. Plus, you’re attractive, believe me.”

The boy’s lips twitched slightly.

“Get some friends, a girlfriend who isn’t superficial. Be the better version of who you are now. Show her the best you that you can be and what she gave up for that poopface.” Y/N listed down on her hands. “Oh, and there’s always someone that will support you!”

“Who?”

“Me, and that’s a promise.” Y/N grinned, holding out her pinky. “I never break my promises.”

“Okay.” The boy chuckled softly, hesitating slightly before wrapping his pinky around hers. “Fine, but I think I’ll back off on romance now. This sucks.”

“Baby steps.” Y/N smiled. “What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

“Oh, my name is Taehyun. I—”

Ring. Ring.

Y/N smiled sheepishly, picking up her phone with a grumble.

“What do you want?”

“What’s taking so long? Where’s my cold coffee?”

“Shut up, I’m dealing with a crisis. It’s here in tact—” Y/N rolled her eyes, holding up the plastic bag holding their coffee cups and gasped at the almost melted ice. “Oh no, it’s melting. I’m coming back now!”

Taehyun tilted his head in confusion as the girl shoved her phone back in her pocket and grinned at the boy.

“You’ll get through it, believe me.” Y/N smiled, zooming away before the boy could even process what happened.

The boy only sighed, turning over to the glass windows and watching her turn a corner and disappear into an alleyway. His eyes fell onto his reflection on the windows.

Show her the best you that you can be and what she gave up for that with that poopface.

Then, his eyes fell on the boxing gym located in front of the café.

All that happened 6 years ago. They’re in college now.

Taehyun became taller, a little bulkier. The loser nerd became the attractive, aloof genius of the school.

Kai grew up and out of his shell, mixed in with the popular crowd (and bleached his hair). He fell out of his friendship with Y/N—never talking to her again once he got too busy with his own activities. He found his own group of friends—and a new best friend in Taehyun.

Y/N remained as she was. A homebody, sticking close to Hiyyih and her newfound friends while silently supporting that crying boy she saw in the café.

Even if he did steal her best friend.

Even if he didn’t seem to remember her, or what she said, or even glance at her.

She never breaks her promises, after all.

#txt #txt taehyun #txt x reader #txt imagine #txt fanfic #txt social media #txt social media au #txt social media imagine #txt smau #txt college au #taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun imagine #taehyun fanfic #taehyun social media #taehyun social media au #taehyun social media imagine #taehyun smau #taehyun college

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mementos-of-me · 3 years ago

Text

Fade into you

Chapter 4. Killing me softly

{I felt he’d found my letters and read each one out loud

I prayed that he would finish but he just kept right on

Strumming my pain with his fingers

Singing my life with his words

Killing me softly with his song

Killing me softly}

Matt Murdock x ofc

Series masterlist here.

Chapter 4 is here early :)) hope you enjoy!

A little peak into Matt and Alli’s history and a little Marci time.

CW: Fluffy Matt & Alli + a touch of angst.

<3<3<3

“You slept with him?!”

“Oh my god! Will you please keep your voice down?” I whisper-shouted at Marci as we walked down a densely packed street.

She sent me a sharp glare in response. “What did you fall and hit your pretty head on the pavement you absolute idiot?”

I rolled my eyes at her dramatic words, smiling pleasantly at the waiter who greeted us as we sat down at Vincenzo’s. We’d been coming here for lunch weekly for as long as I can remember, even when all we could afford was a glass of wine and the complimentary breadbasket. “It’s not like it was planned, it just kind of happened.” I shrugged.

“I’m literally going to kill you! As if anything ever just happens with you, Allison Blake.” We ordered our drinks in between her scolding me. “You’ve got pro and con lists for your pro and con lists.”

“That’s slightly dramatic.”

She stared at me as if I’d grown an extra head. “You are out of your goddamn mind, your stupidity astounds me, seriously.” She sighed exasperatedly, fanning herself with her menu as if to cool the heat of her rage. I’d scarcely allow anyone else to speak to me like that, Marci wasn’t anyone else though, my best friend since freshmen year of undergrad. “God why him, you could have your pick of the bunch, couldn’t you choose someone else? Anyone else!”

Marci wasn’t particularly fond of Matt.

“I didn’t ask for his hand in marriage, Marce, it’s just sex.”

The look in her eyes then made me sick to my stomach. Glare long gone, no remnants remaining. The striking embers of her frustration were gone too, in its place was something so gentle, so sympathetic, pity. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Alli.” She tilted her head slightly, silently urging me to say what she knew I knew she was thinking. I took a long sip of the wine that had been placed before me. Just sex. That’s all it is.

It had been three weeks since that night at Josie’s. I’d seen Matt every second night since. The sound of his voice was heavy on my mind, the smell of his cologne, the feeling of his fingertips dancing over my bare flesh. I blinked heavily; there was nothing else. I had thought of nothing else since. It was just sex. He never stayed after, one of us always went home. Either way, when the light of morning came streaming through my window, I was alone with nothing but the ghost of his touch. It was just sex because neither of us ever slept over. It was logical, obvious to me in that way we lived our lives, as usual, there was no difference… The dead of night, however, was ours; ours to talk, to laugh, to feel nothing but each other. We’d decided to give friendship another go; well, he had asked me to try, and I’d reluctantly agreed. We were friends again, so it was just sex, again.

“It’s different this time.” She opened her mouth to respond but I continued. “We were bad at it last time, bad at… Compartmentalising. It’s not hard though, it's clear and finite we have boundaries, we are friends, and we have sex, that’s it.”

“That’s it?”

I nodded, finishing my drink in one gulp.

“That’s it.”

Marci had rested the tip of her index and middle finger of my pinkie for most of lunch. I didn’t question her motives, nor did I address the looks she gave me. She didn’t think we could do it, keep the physical separate from the emotions. She just didn’t understand. It was different in college, I was naïve, and I couldn’t control my feelings, those feelings were gone. It was different this time, nothing like before.

Marci asked me how it was different this time. I complimented her new watch before ordering another drink. When she asked again, I told her “It just is.”

…

I was grateful to be so swamped with work, it left less time to dwell over Marci’s reservations and the smell of Matt that had begun to linger on my sheets. I had a preliminary hearing in two days and my nerves were fraying quickly. I’d been working on this case for months, Daniel Briggs, a crook cop with a dozen complaints filed about him that never saw the light of day. They were always stricken due to some bogus circumstance, but I saw it for what it was. Violations of civil liberties. Excessive force, obstruction of justice, unlawful arrest, racial profiling, you name it. The thing about being a cop and doing wrong? You’ve got a whole squad of buddies ready to vouch for you. The thing about going after a decorated NYPD officer? Not exactly the best way to make friends. I was losing sleep over this case, witnesses weren’t exactly eager to come forward, who wants to testify against a cop? If I couldn’t pull together enough evidence to push this through to trial, I could kiss any chance of building a solid case goodbye, the few witnesses I had were hardly going to stick with me if I failed now. I knew there were others with worse experiences at the hand of Briggs. One of the most striking moments I experienced as an intern was seeing the hysterical woman leaving the DA’s office, her son had died in what was being officially classed as suicide by police, but she swore black and blue that her son was targeted by officer Briggs, she said there were witnesses who’d testify to it yet she was dismissed.

I pressed the heels of my palms against my closed eyelids as I hit another dead end. Subpoenaing the NYPD’s logs had proved completely unhelpful, whatever had happened the night that boy died and every other night in question when Officer Briggs was involved was either incredibly vague or meticulously documented painting him as the dutiful hero. I ignored the buzzing of my phone as I continued to re-read file after file.

“Alli, your dad is on line one for you, says it's important.” Came Lauren’s voice from the door of my office. I offered her a hum of acknowledgment, pressing the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I continued to skim over the words before me.

“Dad?”

“Allison, glad you could finally spare a second.” I closed my eyes for a moment, willing the sigh to dissipate before I let it out. “Your mother and I are going to be in the city for a spell, we wondered if you were available for dinner.”

I leaned back in my seat, asking him when.

“Tomorrow night.”

“I can’t tomorrow, sorry I’m working on a big case, but I can on Saturday night? Will you still be in the city?”

A huff of discontent sounded through the receiver. “Well yes, we will be, but we were really hoping to dine with you tomorrow night.”

“Why tomorrow night, is there something on?”

He sighed exasperatedly. “Can parents not want to spend time with their offspring sooner rather than later?” I opened my mouth to respond but he beat me to it. “Good lord, Allison, you act as though we must have some ulterior motive in wanting to spend time with you.”

A headache began to form at the base of my skull. I adjusted my rings, clenching my jaw for just a moment before opening my mouth to respond, the energy was drained from me in but a moment. “I just… I’m sorry, dad I can’t tomorrow night.”

“Well, we’ll give the Mitchells your regards then, they had been quite pleased with the prospect of seeing you.” There it was. No ulterior motives my ass.

When I’d told Matt my parents weren’t especially doting, I wasn’t really attempting to make a joke. I likely laughed at the thought, but the truth was it was the best way I can think to describe them. When I was a kid, I’d never felt particularly welcome in my own home. It never felt like mine. My parents were very successful and even more so ambitious. They’d both been born into old money, my father’s family in oil and my mother's in tobacco. Growing up, I tended to believe it was their fear of not being wealthy that pushed them to work so hard. It wasn’t until I realized that my mother filled her days with travel, spa appointments, and lunch with the girls that it dawned on me that perhaps she wasn’t so busy with work. I wondered on occasion if she was merely avoiding me. It was apparent to me early on that I was more of an inconvenience to my parents than the object of their affection. I was certain my parents were unaware of my existence most of the time. When they would enter a room, I was in, if they took note of my presence their only reaction was a startled one. It was as if I was a stranger, an unwelcome visitor in their home. They would gaze at me and behind their eyes, I saw nothing, no recollection, no warmth, only expectance and something I assumed was their search for the correct words to speak to me.

Richard and Sylvia Blake were not easily impressed. I was the top of all my classes in high school and college, I played tennis, chess, the piano, the violin and I excelled at each of them. I was in the honor society; I was valedictorian my senior year and I graduated Colombia Law School Summa Cum Laude yet there was not a single moment in my life that my parents had commended me. They liked to have me at dinner parties with their friends so they would resent their own children for not having such attributes, but when the guests were gone it was as if I simply ceased to exist.

“Yes, I suppose you will just have to tell the Mitchells that your daughter was unavailable for Hors d’oeuvres and light chit-chat.” I wasn’t sure I had ever taken that tone with my father before.

“I am your father, Allison, do not ever speak to me with such disrespect again.” The ache in my skull grew, as did the papery feeling in the tips of my fingers. “Tell me, next time I wish to have your company shall I first make an appointment with your receptionist? Perhaps, I’d have better luck if I were to schedule dinners six months in advance.”

I did not respond, only sitting in the utter silence of my office, only accompanied by the low hum of the static on the receiver. The next sound that filled my ears was a solitary click followed by the dial tone. I wasn’t sure how much time passed with me sitting there, phone still against my ear. Lauren’s voice filled my ears next after I dialed her desk.

“Next time my parents call your desk tell them I’m only taking work calls on this line.”

She asked me if I was okay. I told her she could call it a night and head off.

The only people still in the office when I left were security and a couple of administrative staff. My neck was stiff from being hunched over my desk and my stomach grumbled pleas for nourishment. I rubbed at my shoulders, attempting to ease the tense muscles. I’d decided to drive to work this morning, telling my driver to take the day off, I filled his paycheck, nonetheless. It was nice to drive occasionally, I didn’t get the opportunity very often, but it was satisfying to feel so in control. Relief flooded me as I spotted my car; the feeling dissipated almost instantly as I noticed something beige on my windscreen. I halted my path for a moment, studying the object. Taking a cautious step toward the bonnet I quickly realized what it was. Beneath my windscreen wiper sat a thick manilla folder, ‘ADA Blake’, inscribed across it in marker. I slipped it off the glass carefully, a glance inside showed a series of sheets each with an extensive list of names and addresses. I furrowed my eyebrows as I continued reading, my breath hitched as I read the next page, finally understanding what I was holding. I glanced around me then, surveying the area for signs of life, my eyes caught on a figure in the distance. Clad in black, the shadows seemed to curve around him. I knew who he was, the devil of Hell’s Kitchen. My heart rate picked up as nervousness washed over me, glancing back at the file in my hands my confusion grew. He had put this here, I know he did, but why.

I certainly wasn’t the president of his fan club. I’d commented on his extralegal activities only last week, asked by a member of the press what my take on the man in the mask was.

We do not need a lunatic in a costume beating people to a pulp to clean the streets, his cause is noble, I have no doubts about that. However, the only thing that Daredevil is achieving is perpetuating the cycle of violent crime that plagues this great city.

That is what I had said about him. I stood by the statement that is what had made this even more perplexing. The devil had just handed me a compiled list of witnesses who could testify against Officer Briggs, names upon names as well as their specific grievance with the dirty cop.

“Why?” I called into the darkness.

I was met with only silence in response.

My phone began buzzing the second I walked through the door of my apartment. “How come your apartment building smells like peonies and mine smells like stale beer?” My eyebrows furrowed at Matt’s words. It didn’t dawn on me until a series of knocks sounded on my door.

“Matthew Murdock, what in gods name?” I spoke into the phone as I opened the door, his smiling face greeting me.

“Hi, I brought dinner.” He held a takeout bag up beside his head for emphasis. A range of emotions flooded me in that moment.

“I- you- why?”

His smile grew. “You gotta eat.”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

He raised his eyebrows at me, smile never faltering. “Have you?”

A huff left me. “You are so annoying.” There was that stupid smirk of his. “Get in here already, Murdock, oh and I get first dibs on whatever you’ve got in that bag.”

His laughter filled my ears as he stepped past me, arm brushing my own in the process. The smell of Chinese food caused my stomach to grumble painfully as he set out the takeout containers on my coffee table. Settling in beside him on the sofa, I popped a dumpling in my mouth, humming contentedly at the taste. Matt asked me about my day as we ate, and I answered honestly. I’d already told him about the Briggs case, sparing most details, of course, he knew it was kicking my ass.

I leaned my head against his shoulder when I was finished, staring ahead. “Thank you.” I breathed. His lips curved upward ever so slightly as he tilted his head toward me wordlessly. “For the food,” I added, knowing it was unnecessary.

“Are you okay?” I hummed in response to his words. “I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Why are you asking?”

He breathed steadily beside me. “You seem… Off.” A beat passed between us. “Isn’t that what friends do, ask?”

“Is that why you’re asking? Because we’re friends.” The word felt odd in my mouth, that’s what we were I supposed, friends with extra benefits.

For a moment I wasn’t sure he was going to respond.

“What happened, Alli?”

I shrugged in response. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

“That’s not all.” His fingertips found the delicate flesh of my wrist, drawing circles that stopped me from adjusting my rings.

“I can’t lose this case, Matt.”

His fingers stilled for a moment before wrapping gently around my wrist, he squeezed once. “You won’t.”

I shook my head. “All those families, that kid who was killed, it can’t be for nothing, I can’t let it be for nothing.”

“You won’t.”

“Matt.” I paused, closing my eyes momentarily. He was silent, awaiting my next words. “You don’t know that.”

There was another beat of silence. He moved beside me, and I lifted my head from his shoulder, we were facing each other now, and his glasses were still on, but I wished they weren’t. I stared at my reflection in the lenses. “What happened to being unbeatable?”

“You’re not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

His grip hadn’t faltered on my wrist until he slid his fingers down to intertwine our fingers. “Do you want to know why I’m so sure you’re not going to lose?”

I leaned my shoulder back against the couch, watching him intently. “Sure.”

“I have never, ever, known you to let something go once you set your mind to it. Even if things don’t go your way the first time around, you keep fighting, keep trying until you get it done.” I blinked at him. “God knows your stubborn determination has kicked my ass a few times.”

“Just a few times?” I teased; my voice quiet now.

He laughed, tucking some hair behind my ear, his hand remained at my cheek after. “More than a few times.”

I clicked my pen in a series as I listened to the professor drone on about ethical procedure. This class had to be for the sole purpose of weeding out the kids who weren’t so dedicated to law school. The slow somber click of my pen was far more interesting to me in that moment.

“Could you stop that please.”

I paused my movements then, glancing over to see the boy who’d spoken to me, not a question, I noted. Matthew Murdock, how to describe him, my nemesis was perhaps the most apt description. We’d known each other all of three weeks and in that time, he had spared no opportunity to correct, attempt to outsmart, or plain disagree with me in every capacity. I hummed slightly in response, making sure to unclick my pen as I spoke.

“Of course, sorry.”

His lips upturned smugly.

Another click of my pen caused the grin to drop just as quickly as it had come.

I leaned my head into his hand slightly. “Was that all that was bothering you?”

“Mhm.” He frowned at my response. I hadn’t spoken aloud because he’d always had an uncanny ability to know when I wasn’t being honest.

There was silence once more. We sat comfortably in it for a long while. His arm laid across the back of my couch at some point, heat and his cologne wafting toward me.

“Do you still talk to anyone from college? Other than Marci, obviously.”

My eyes narrowed at his abrupt question. I shrugged once. “A few people.”

“Anyone of note?”

I breathed a laugh. “What exactly qualifies someone as noteworthy in your eyes, Matthew?”

He shook his head, shrugging nonchalantly, or at least that is how he’d attempted to make it seem. “I don’t know, it was just a question, forget it.” I glanced at him, bumping my shoulder against his chest teasingly.

“Absolutely not, you are not getting out of this one so easily!” He huffed at my words. “Why do you want to know?”

“I was just making conversation.”

A laugh bubbled in my chest. “Yeah right, what’s the real reason.”

“I just wondered.” He put his hands up in mock defense. “I didn’t really keep in touch with anyone but Foggy, so I just wondered if maybe you had.” My smile grew. “Kept in touch with anyone.” He was really overexplaining now, I knew I had him.

“Just ask me.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, hanging his head slightly and smoothing his palm over the leg of his pants. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

I remained silent, staring at him keenly. He was not getting out of this, no matter how much he dodged and played coy. He remained still, not offering me anything in response, I mirrored him. This had, evidently, become a stand-off. “You were a popular girl, you had a lot of friends and stuff.” He murmured.

“And stuff?” He clenched his jaw as I echoed his words. “Matthew Murdock, just ask me if I still talk to Logan.”

He took his glasses off then, rubbing at his eyes. A sheepish expression crossed his face as he tilted his head in my direction. “Well… Do you?”

Logan had been my boyfriend in my final year of law school.

“No.”

After a beat his head turned to me, sightless eyes settling around my cheek. “Why?”

“It just.” I swallowed heavily, shoving the thoughts of the night in the bar far from my mind. “Wasn’t meant to be.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay.” I could hear it in his voice then, the guilt he felt. Matt hated Logan; he’d never been particularly silent about it when we were in college. There was always something. Logan is too pretentious, he thinks he’s owed the world, he’s a spoilt rich kid who just decided to go to college one day. There were a myriad of things Matt had accused Logan of, those were the ones at the forefront of my mind.

To be fair, Logan didn’t like Matt either. The latter always said it was because the former was an elitist who couldn’t fathom the working class; that wasn’t the reason.

The day I’d met Logan was fresh in my mind. Unfortunately, not because of how nice he’d been to me, how sweet and unassuming he’d been. No, it was vivid to me because of what had clouded my mind so fully that I walked right into him, spilling his coffee all over the both of us.

Today was it. It had to be, I couldn’t spend another minute swallowing it down, either he would feel the same or he wouldn’t it was that simple; or at least that is what I told myself as I paced the corridor. I felt confident I wasn’t delusional, that I wasn’t alone in my feelings. The lingering touches, the easy conversation couldn’t be overlooked.

Matt Murdock and I had been sleeping together for almost six months now, we’d known each other since undergrad but we mostly loathed each other until Law School started and I begrudgingly befriended or more accurately gave into the duo that was Matt and Foggy. Regardless of how it started, here we were. For two years now he had been one of my closest friends, the one person I told everything to, including even Marci. The unlikely friend I’d made, the agony we’d navigated side by side, the secrets we’d shared, the laughter, the heartbreaks, the defeats, the triumphs. The way we’d protected each other from every hurt and patched each other up when that wasn’t enough. Yes, today had to be the day I came clean.

My hands were shaking as I rapped against the door of his and Foggy’s dorm. I waited with bated breath, going over what I planned to say in my head, eyes screwed shut tightly.

“I need to tell you something!” I spoke the second I heard the door open, it was not Matt, however, who stood before me. I took in the girl in front of me, she was vaguely familiar to me, I knew her name at least; Elektra. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I murmured quietly; eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. There was not another moment in my life where I could say I felt as stupid as I did in that second. She stood before me, modelesque clad in only a worn Colombia University T-shirt. Matt’s T-shirt. An odd kind of heat traveled up my spine, white-hot and searing. My throat was dry and there were no words, my stomach churned as Elektra gave me an expectant look.

“Are you looking for Franklin or Matthew?”

I blinked rapidly. “Matt, but you know what, it doesn’t matter actually.” I took a step back. A call of my name brought my attention from the woman before me. Judging by his wet hair he’d just come back from the shower block.

“Alli, what are you doing here?” He didn’t sound like him in that moment, I wasn’t sure if it was the heavy nervousness that coated his words as he regarded me or if I’d just never really known him to begin with.

“I just, uhm, I was just coming to talk to you…” I paused momentarily. “About the mock trial, just wanted to see if you were ready is all but I can see that you’re busy, so I’ll get out of your hair now.”

He shook his head, swallowing and fiddling with the wet towel that hung over his shoulder. “Allison, this is, ah, this is Elektra.” He rubbed the back of his neck and I nodded wordlessly. “My girlfriend.” He added, just a touch quieter now.

I continued nodding, as if unable to do anything else as his words processed in my mind. My eyes were stinging now, and I felt like I was going to be sick. I hated the feeling that spread over my body, I never wanted to feel it again. God, I am far to smart to be such a complete idiot. “Right.” I nodded once more before biting down on my lip so hard I was surprised I hadn’t drawn blood. “Right, well I’m sorry to have interrupted your morning, uhm, I should get going. It was nice to meet you, Elektra.” I spoke, turning swiftly and fleeing the hallway, hands fisted at my side. My chest was heaving, and my heart was racing. My eyes kept stinging no matter how many times I blinked.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

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softly-savage-mint-yoongi · 4 years ago

Text

Blindfold

Blindfold Yunho x f.reader Genre: Smut Words: 3.8k Warnings: Not really any warnings but we’re into blindfolding and major teasing here, folks. Birthday sex.

Authors Note: I hope that writing this will quench my thirst and make him stop haunting my dreams. Please suffer with me.

March 23rd. A day you’ve had marked with three red ‘x’’s on your phone calendar for a month. A day you have thought about since Valentine’s Day, after your wonderful, loving, perfect-to-you-in-every-way boyfriend told you about something he would like to try. The conversation had been innocent enough, although there was some irony in it’s exchange, during post-sex cuddles on your bed.

He was all giggles, with soft hands and warm skin, voice lower than usual and just as tender. You could feel the gentle tickle of his lips at your hairline as they moved to form words. Easy words that spelled out his curious desire, “Maybe someday we could try blindfolding.” Those six simple words, spoken with a tangible smile and blushing cheeks, had you pulling your head back from the comfort of his neck to watch his face. Yunho was grinning, somehow shy after all this time, and proud of himself nonetheless. You smiled right back at him with your lips pressed to his chin when he playfully lifted his lips too high for you to reach in your position cradled against his chest. “If you want to blindfold me I would let you. I trust you.” you assured him, but he let out a soft laugh. He swallowed audibly under your full attention, clearing his throat to speak even softer, “Not you…” You said nothing, needing a moment to understand, “I want you to blindfold me.” Realization hit you, and a gut punch of arousal along with it, “Oh.” With your palm against his chest, you forced yourself up at the same time Yunho let you push him onto his back. You wasted no time in straddling his lap. You leaned forward, stretching yourself to place your hands over his eyes with a giggle. “I didn’t mean we had to do it right now!” he laughed, grasping your hands and removing them from his face to kiss your palms. Placing your hands on his stomach, you rolled your hips over his growing length, “Perhaps not, but I still want you right now.” His hands were already gripping your thighs the moment you moved against him. With a bite to his smirking lips, he followed your motions with actions of his own, “As you wish.”

So here you were, after careful planning and orchestration. Without letting them know the details of your plan, you made sure to enlist Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s help, or at least tell them you were trying to make plans for the evening on Yunho’s birthday. You didn’t expect any promises, but Seonghwa did text you this morning to tell you they would try to get him out on time.

You fold and unfold the long piece of silk in your lap, running your fingers over the smooth fabric and appreciating the pink color you chose. It matches the rest of the lace babydoll and panties that cover you.

Part of you is slightly nervous, while the other reminisces about all the reasons you shouldn’t be. Yunho has never been one to make you feel anything less than comfortable or wanted in your relationship, and sex between you is not new.

Perhaps your nerves are born of performance? You must be feeling this way because he specifically wanted this and if you don’t make it great for him then it will be a failure. Yunho has said the same thing to you many times, when he feels nervous about performing for his fans.

Just as you shake your head with resolve to make this wonderful for him, the bedroom door opens and you jump.

There he is, stopped in his tracks, standing with his hand still wrapped around the doorknob as he stares at you sitting there at the end of your bed.

“You’re home.” is what you say, trying to rebound off your surprise. You must have been so lost in thought you didn’t notice the sound of his arrival through the apartment. You don’t miss the way his presence seems to add a fond sense of ‘home’ to the room.

He gulps, an easy smile raising his cheeks. His duffel bag is tossed to the floor in front of the dresser and he closes the door, unzipping his training jacket until that too, is tossed to the floor.

“What’s all this?” he asks, standing in front of you. He dips low to capture your lips in a greeting, waiting for your answer when he regains his full height.

You goad him with a grin, “Why don’t you hurry up and shower so you can find out?”

Yunho’s brows lift momentarily as he turns toward the hamper, smirking back at you as he begins to undress. He takes a peek at your face with every piece that comes off, eating up the way your eyes ogle him in silence.

He checks just once more before ducking into the bathroom, making sure you’re staying put there on the bed.

You refuse to let your thoughts consume you anymore, enjoying the pleasant buzz that sizzles on your skin, left in the wake of his staring. Although it’s new, you were certain he would love this piece on you, having mentioned the few times you’ve worn lingerie, that he loves you most in soft colors that compliment your cuteness. Babydolls are your personal favorite, and he has agreed prior that they’re best for ease of access when he wants to fuck you while keeping something on.

You’re both laughing when your eyes meet after his shower. The unspoken acknowledgment that he’s probably broken a record for his shower time is funny to both of you.

He doesn’t bother with anything more than a towel around his hips, and you pluck it from his grip as soon as he is within reach, “You won’t be needing that.”

He smiles at you, allowing you to tug him forward onto the bed. Yunho’s fingers busy themselves with touching and pinching the lace that delicately hides your skin from him. He lifts the hem in his fist, watching it nearly float back down around you with a sigh.

He definitely loves it.

“I love this on you,” he admits a moment later, his eyes seeking yours. The tone of his voice always melts you like this- when it’s full of love and ardor.

You gesture towards the headboard, allowing him a moment to get comfortable in your requested position before you straddle him. He hisses at the contact of your covered heat against his length, half hard since he came out of the shower from anticipation alone.

Yunho reaches up, collecting you by the nape of your neck and urging you down so he can kiss you. His lips move against yours exactly how you like, slow and building. He does this sometimes, when he wants you to be putty in his hands- not that you ever resist.

Except, today you have to take some control. Pushing past the bubbling nerves in your gut, you lean back. He chases you- leaning forward and consuming you, adamant that he isn’t finished sampling you.

It pulls a gentle moan from your throat when he moves his lips down to it. He holds you in place, caged against his body with his own arms clutching you to him. Your eyes pop open, remembering not to get pulled under the waves of euphoria with him just yet. Today is about his pleasure.

“Yunho,” you say, but it comes out as a whine.

“Yeah, baby?” he coos back, still working his mouth against your neck.

A deep breath leaves you, “Stop for a second.”

Immediately he sits back, with eyes full of concern. He searches your face for any sign of discomfort, and his expression morphs into confusion, followed by realization a moment later when he notices the length of silk in your hands.

You lift it up between you, bashful and smiling. You’re eager for his reaction, and your boyfriend doesn’t disappoint.

“Is it my birthday?” he wonders aloud.

You snort a laugh at him, taking a playful swat at his chest, “It is, you dork.”

He gives you a dazzling, heart-clenching, silly grin at your response, “Oh, yeah.”

“Now sit still, please.” you instruct, unable to hide your growing smile at his immediate and eager obedience.

He waits, eyes closed, but unable to help the way his length twitches against your core as you wrap the silk over his eyes.

“All good under there? Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” you ask, not bothering to hold up any at all.

“No, but I can feel both your hands on me so nice try.” he says, and you can hear the shit-eating grin in his tone.

He earns himself a swipe of your tongue over his neck at his snarky remark, and the resulting sharp inhale you’re rewarded with is enough sweet justice for you.

He’s smiling when you pull away, tugging here and there to make sure it isn’t too tight nor too loose. He groans when you give him no warning and take his face into your hands, kissing him deeply.

You don’t stop your attention, kissing him until the sound of your lips feels deafening in the silence of the room. His hands grip your waist, gently rocking you back and forth along him in tandem.

It’s enough, you decide, when you break for air and he’s panting with flushed cheeks and heated skin. “Are you going to be okay, baby?”

He swallows thickly, then smiles, and you resist the urge to coo at the way his cheeks look rounder with the blindfold over his eyes. “Keep going.”

“Of course,” you comply in a sultry tone, “Just relax.”

He does as you’ve asked, allowing you to rise from his lap and push his legs apart further. He bites his lip with anticipation- feeling your weight dip the bed between his legs.

You enjoy the opportunity to tease, letting out huffs of your warm breath to ghost along his fully erect cock. He remains still and slack-jawed, awaiting your every movement. Unwilling to waste the moment, you admire him briefly- reclined on your bed, naked in all his glory. Yunho is gorgeous, but knowing he is just as beautiful beneath the surface makes your chest swell with great love.

The sight before you is something you aim to burn into memory for every sleepless, needy night that you miss him. His abs are taut, strained with anticipation and heavy breaths. His arms rest at his sides, feigning relaxation as his fingers dance with a stray thread on the blanket beneath him. His mouth is open just slightly and his brows are knit together in valiant concentration.

The part that pulls a low hum of appreciation from your throat is his full erection. Thick, red and leaking onto his abdomen, you’re spurred into action with the desire to see him a mess.

The first touch you deliver is a kiss, just on the edge of his hip. Slowly and deliberately, you firmly plant wet, open-mouthed kisses lower and closer to where he grows desperate for you. You’re paying attention to his reaction with every ministration and you must admit you are quickly becoming intoxicated with this game.

The power you feel, and how his every tiny reaction drives the spike of arousal deeper into your veins. He holds his breath, knowing the next place your lips will find is his cock if you keep going. With a tactical pause, you skip over it, smiling at his flushed cheeks, and let your lips flutter over the top of his thigh instead.

Yunho releases his held breath with a long and dour groan.

“Please don’t tease.” he whispers quietly, gasping when you suddenly rise up and lave the flat of your tongue around his left nipple. His hand jerks up with the desire to touch, but he resists. You didn’t ever tell him he couldn’t, but let him decide on his own what he wants to do. After all, this is about his pleasure.

The next moment you’ve swooped back down, gently taking the head of him into your mouth, and he reacts with a jerk of his hips and a loud moan. Garbled sounds of pleasure drop freely from his lips, his head thrown back as you take him as far back as you can.

The wet slurping is an erotic audio that pours heat into your own cheeks, and you can imagine that Yunho must feel like that sound is surrounding him with the subconscious focus of his ears.

“Oh, fuck baby… mmm, fuck.” he whines quietly when you use a hand to pump the base of his length that you can’t fit comfortably. He raises a hand again, and you watch as he bites his lip and resists the urge to tangle his fingers in your hair- instead balling a fist and settling it back at his side.

You continue like this for several minutes, switching your rhythm and pattern here and there to stroke or suck him the way you know he likes. When his breath is coming in ragged pants and his thighs begin the slightest tremble, you slow, and eventually release him.

Yunho’s protest is audible, and you cup his cheek at the adorable way his lips are pouted open and his brows are strung together with his plea.

“I want this to last.” you assure him, “It’ll be worth it.”

“Kiss me then,” he barters with you, breathless. His request is one you can comply with, planting a kiss directly to his lips and he tries so hard to kiss you into submission with his plush lips.

“That’s not fair,” you coo.

He smiles, shaking his head and leaning forward, “You’re not being fair.”

Leaning into him, you make sure to wrap your arms around his neck and whisper directly into his ear, “Don’t act like you didn’t want this.”

The resounding moan he tries to suppress is not lost on you, and he settled back with the clearing of his throat.

Straddling his thigh, you settle yourself in a comfortable position to kiss across his chest. Your mouth works higher until you’re biting gently at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He moans softly in reward, finally allowing himself the pleasure of your skin beneath his fingers, pacified with touching your thigh where it rests.

Your hand reaches down and you let your fingers wrap around his cock again at the same moment you gently suck on the place you’d just bitten. Your boyfriend is louder now, letting a throaty moan peel from his lips with your fist around his aching length.

He hisses when you repeat your marking a little higher, just below his ear. Yunho’s hand grips you tighter, letting it roam beneath the pretty lace, toward the fullness of your ass and digging his fingertips in to urge you into motion upon his leg.

“Fuck.” he whispers lowly on a breath as you set a rhythm with your fist once more. His head falls back against the headboard, his hips softly canting up with every pump.

As if he had intended it that way, his throat is now conveniently exposed for your lips and teeth. You want to make excellent use of his generosity, but the ache of emptiness in your cunt demands more attention.

Wordlessly, you sit up, shimmying yourself out of the matching panties and letting your knees settle on either side of his hips. Every rustle of fabric and movement you make is one that Yunho absorbs with great anticipation.

He doesn’t know exactly what you’re up to yet, but he can smell your perfume and your sex and feel your proximity over him. With wandering hands, he reaches out, tentatively, catching the left side of your waist first. All it takes is a simple swipe of his thumb and the comforting palm of his hand for him to realize exactly what part of your body he is holding, even through the lace.

That notion makes you softer for him, smiling sweetly at the dusty rose on his face as he reaches up to palm your breast. His free hand slides to your back, pulling you closer so he can attach his tongue to the nipple he’s found budding beneath the fabric of your lingerie.

The friction and heat makes you whine, admittedly turned on more than you thought possible with the addition of a simple piece of silk around Yunho’s head.

He spoils you with his hands now, roaming all over your curves, mostly followed by his mouth. He’s still short of breath, but smiles nonetheless when he locates at first your nose and then your lips with his own kisses. He doesn’t try any tricks this time.

His kiss pauses immediately when his hands, having wandered down and beneath the lacy fringe, find you bare. He groans at the feel of your skin, audibly basking in the pleasure it gives him to glide two fingers through your wetness with practiced ease.

Yunho dips one long digit into your heat, eating up the sound of your cry. Your hands hold him at his neck and his shoulder, leaning into his frame to stay steady. His face is less than an inch from your shoulder, and he takes advantage of the proximity to turn his head and capture the side of your neck with his mouth.

A second finger joins the first, gliding through your wetness and creating obscene squelching sounds with every thrust into your pussy. You’re beginning to lose yourself, completely indulged in the feeling of him absolutely everywhere.

He loves it just as much, groaning at the sounds you’re making just because of him.

“Does that feel good baby?” he suddenly asks, and the tone of his voice is absolutely sinful.

“Yes.” you whimper into his ear.

He grunts, “I’m gonna come if we keep playing like this.”

The admission is a tempting offer, but you don’t want to end the fun too early. Instead, you think it best to ask him, “What do you want me to do?”

He leans back again, reclining against the pillows, and you allow him to guide you now by feel. To do what he wants with you. “Why don’t you have a seat, baby?” he coos mischievously.

Teasing him further, you take advantage of the position and settle your core over his abs. He makes a sound in his throat akin to a growl and grabs your bottom with both hands and pulls you back into an upright position on your knees.

He kneads the malleable flesh for no longer than a second before he sits up straighter and tells you, “Sit on my cock.”

The dirty words leaving his mouth send sparks up your spine, and you do as you’re told. He’s already got one fist around the base of himself, aiding you in sliding down along the length he’s presented you with.

Watching his face contort with pleasure as you sink over him is by far one of your favorite parts of sex with your boyfriend. He’s so expressive, and the breathy moan that spills from his mouth when you’ve settled completely sends you halfway to heaven already.

Yunho is completely flushed, now. With the rosy tint creeping down his neck to his chest and the two small blooming violets you’ve given him, he adjusts to wrap one arm around your waist while the other is propped behind him on the bed so he can stay upright.

You set to work immediately, rolling your hips over him to a rhythm you can both enjoy. He’s panting again, stimulated to sensitivity from the restriction to his vision.

Mewling sounds leave your mouth, hanging open as you continuously spear yourself on his length. He gives a particularly hard thrust that sends you toppling forward onto his chest. As if he intended it that way, he naturally holds you against him and scoots down the bed- enough to plant his feet firmly so he can rock into you with more strength.

This position is your favorite and he knows it. The sound of your cries amplify with the angle of his cock into your depths, and the sounds are diving right into his ear. You’re rapidly approaching your orgasm in this position.

He grunts, baring his teeth as he thrusts into you roughly. “Fuck, Yuyu… oh my god, fuck, yes.” you breathe the words against him, and he delivers you a loud, rewarding groan.

“I can’t, oh fuck this is so good.” he praddles desperately, slowing to flip you onto your back.

He rips the silk away from his eyes, not bothering to toss it from his hand as his gaze finds your face. The mutually fucked out expressions you share spurs him on, working quickly to push your knee up to your shoulder as he drives his cock deeper into you.

The wildness in his eyes catches you off guard and he can feel your walls tightening around him. Yunho immediately places his thumb on your clit, sending you rapidly spiraling into euphoria. He wants to feel you come undone around him.

The added stimulation sends you over the edge and you seize up, crying out his name in a high-pitched moan.

He follows you on a ragged breath a moment later, unable to withstand the pleasure. He slows, thrusting steadily at a declining pace and strength until he’s spent, leaning over your frame with a blissful expression.

It takes several moments for you both you regain your breaths, and when Yunho finally slips from your core and rolls onto his side, you think he is simply stunning. You stay in your position for a few seconds longer, spying him as he throws his arm over his eyes and smiles.

“Mmm, baby, you’re amazing. That was...” he pauses to mull over choice words “Incredibly hot.” he breathes, slowly regaining a normal heart rate. You stir at his praise, finding enough strength in your jellied limbs to pull yourself against his chest.

“Did you like it?” you wonder, just to confirm what you already know.

He exhales a soundless laugh, lifting his arm just enough to grin at you, “That was some of the best sex we’ve ever had. Top three personal favorites.”

It’s a running joke between you to sometimes rank the best sex you’ve had together, and you giggle at his opinion, pleased with yourself.

“I put so much work into that, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He removes his arm finally, placing it around you instead. He squeezes you just enough that his lips can reach the crown of your hair. “Thank you.”

“Happy Birthday baby.” you finally say with a kiss to his lips.

It isn’t until four days later, the next time you see the rest of his group, that you’re made privy to the fact that he told them- in great detail- about the birthday gift he received from you when Wooyoung makes a joke about using the tie Yunho is wearing as a blindfold.

Your boyfriend fails to meet your sharp gaze when you look at him immediately after. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ll get your revenge.

“That’s alright,” you assure the group. “I’ll just have to use handcuffs on him next time, too.”

You keep a stone face until you catch Jongho’s head whip up at your statement, and the look of pure horror on his face sends you into a fit of laughter.

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