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dancingazaleas · 3 years

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𖨆. 01 / all for us

summary: you wake up in a room that seems to be made specifically for you. as it turns out, it is made for you. you find that out when levi ackerman and erwin smith come in to the room and admit you aren’t allowed to leave. how are the first few days?

word count: +2.0k

warnings/notes: cursing, mentions of drugging, mentions of kidnapping, slight manipulation, abuse, violence, and starvation

YOU never thought that you would end up as a canary. a pretty yellow bird with dark dull eyes as you sat in a cage, a trap.

it all started when you met him. the devil incarnate. erwin smith.

he was charismatic young man, sitting at the age of 35 as he held the title of a prosecutor in court. you find it ironic, he puts vile criminals into jail but overlooks himself, the most vile of them all.

he met you at a café. the coffee beans were grinding in the machine at the counter, you remember how you relished in the smell.

when he first caught sight of you, you were scribbling on notebook paper with a nice black ballpoint pen. the gold framing of the pen shined in the light as you twirled it between your fingers. you looked slightly frazzled, but also at ease; something erwin was not used to seeing. you had white earbuds with the slight appearance of brown on the cords in your ears, hooked up to a laptop that you would occasionally glance at.

erwin thought you were a beauty.

you remember how he sat across from you, smoothly initiating a conversation with you. he was delighted to find out that you were a pianist along with a violinist, he loves classical music. you explained to him that you were struggling to create a song for your performance the next week, that all the music notes were just starting to contort into doodles.

when he helped you, that's when you felt grateful. you remember how he mentioned his partner, levi ackerman, and his own enjoyment of the piano. he asked for your number along with the venue where you would be performing.

you gave him the information easily, seemingly ecstatic about someone coming to your performance.

the next week after your performance, you met levi. he was curt and blunt, his difference from erwin had almost given you whiplash. luckily, you learned to adapt and you even would quip back at him playfully. it managed to make him smile, just a little. you enjoyed his company just as much as you did erwin's, something the two of them were happy about.

it wasn't until weeks later of hanging around them that it all went downhill. you went drinking with the two of them, easily complying to levi's request to drink more and more of your alcoholic beverage. it was the last drink that had you realizing that no other drink you had ever had was salty like this. you collapsed shortly after.

you remember waking up in a room, decorated to accommodate you and your interests. there was a white bookshelf that had gold framing splayed onto it with a vast selection of novels. there were three soft and plush chairs by the bookshelf with a soft rug underneath. a small coffee table sat in the middle of the rug.

there was a large bay window with a gorgeous view of a colorful and bio-diverse garden. cushions and throw pillows were placed onto the windowsill, another place for you to sit. the bed you'd awoken in was a queen, heavy cotton sheets messily spread across the bed. around the the room and even on the ceiling were soft yellow lights disguised as vines. directly across from the bed was a vanity and above that hung a nice flat screen TV. the night stands beside your bed held lamps and small knick knacks that you could entertain yourself with.

there were three doors. one to the left of your bed, one to the right of your bed, and one to the right of your television. you found out later that the one by your television was a small bathroom with nothing but a toilet and sink. the door to your right side of the bed was a walk-in closet that was decorated in clothing you'd never be able to afford.

you remember how after that, levi and erwin barged in as you panicked and started to pace around the room. you remember defying them, cursing them, hitting them, kicking them, and even spitting at them.

with a silent look from levi, erwin's distraught face turned slightly sad. his eyes were misty as he shuffled himself outside of the room. when levi's knee came into contact with your face, you realized why. especially whenever the gushing of blood dripped out of your nose and his voice screamed that none of this was their fault, but your's instead.

but now, levi was once again punishing you. you hadn't meant to do it. you hadn't meant to slap erwin. while you had a panic attack, your muscles thrashed without your command and you ended up slapping erwin across his face. you were secretly satisfied when you saw the pained look he gave you, but it immediately turned to dread whenever levi's rough hands pulled at your hair.

he's kicking you once again, and he occasionally accompanies it with a harsh slap.

"i didn't mean to, i didn't mean to!!!" your sobs sound so broken as you land on your side from levi kicking you.

levi ignores you, forcing you to stare at erwin, who sits at the door of your bed with that same neutral look sprinkled with pain.

"please!!!" you plead as you squeeze your eyes shut, "please, i didn't mean to!! i didn't meant to hit him!!"

levi stops his assaults, staring at your cowering form from above. the collar around your neck connected with chains clang against each other as you wearily raise your head.

erwin and levi are expecting a small whimper of pleas, but instead they watch as you slam your head against the hardwood floor. it has you reeling but even so, you continue. you're slipping into another violent mental breakdown, head banging against the floor as your other hand punches at your hipbone continuously.

your teeth are gritted as you start banging your ankle against the ground.

within seconds, levi and erwin are moving you onto your bed and holding down your thrashing limbs. they're murmuring sweet nothings to you, a hand on your forehead holding your head down against the pillow. you sob out again, entering the stage of hyperventilation and wails. erwin is crying along with you while levi just reminds you to breathe.

levi's hands are pressing your's on his chest and over his heart. his heartbeat guides you into stable breathing. when you've calmed down, you enter the shutdown stage.

"there we go," erwin praises and strokes a thumb against your cheekbone, "back to breathing."

levi stares at his boyfriend, who’s muttering something in your ear, but turns his attention back to you whenever you let out a small grunt.

"she wants to watch a movie," erwin says, pressing kisses to your cheek.

"any movie in particular? if not, i'll put on scooby doo; i remember you saying that it comforted you once," he grumbles while he turns on the television.

you don't answer, unsurprisingly, and levi puts on 'what's new, scooby doo?' for you. levi lays back next to you, cuddling into your warm and unmoving body.

it takes two episodes of watching the show for you to start letting out small, yet forced, giggles at some parts of the show. it takes two more for you to be able to speak again.

"food," that's all you said.

erwin shakes his head and wags a finger, "how do you ask properly?"

"can i have some food, please," you sound so tired.

the two men nod and leave your room to get you a meal. you sit up quietly and look down to your hands. they always left your hands untouched, seemingly trying to protect them from the abuse that levi would put onto you.

"stupid, fucking stupid," you spat, "this is their fault, not mine. their fault, their fault, their fault."

you drill the words into your head, but are soon interrupted whenever erwin enters the room with a tray of food.

"you're even sitting up now," he acknowledges while he puts the tray on the bed in front of you.

you thank him quietly and try to ignore the large hand stroking your hair.

"i love you," he doesn't. you don't do this to those you love. zeke never did this to you.

erwin frowns at your silence, hand now tilting your face to look at him. instead of love, your eyes were filled to the brim with hatred.

"you'll come to love us soon enough," he has no ounce of emotion on his face as his finger softly rubs against your skin.

"i doubt it," you mumble and force your face out of his hand. you just want to eat.

when you look down at the tray, you notice the absence of forks and knives. it has your stomach dropping.

"i'm feeding you," erwin says, fork between his long fingers, "we can't trust you with knives just yet."

erwin stabs the fork into cut up chicken breast on your plate, holding it up to your chapped lips. you stare at the food, had it been drugged?

"i don't want to be fed."

"that's too bad. you're being fed anyway, we can't trust you with forks either just yet," he grabs ahold of your jaw and forces your head to turn towards him.

his thumb and index finger squeeze your cheeks, forcing your mouth open with ease. you jerk away at the food suddenly being forced down your throat, hacking as if you were trying to get it up.

"let me chew first," you cough, handing reaching to touch gently at your adam's apple.

erwin doesn’t respond, opting to put another piece of the food onto the fork. he holds it out towards you, patiently waiting for you to stop choking and to eat again. you clear your throat, the idea of willingly letting erwin feed you makes you sick. you don't want to submit.

"i won't eat anything if you don't let me use the fork myself," you feel a headache coming on, fingers now pressing against your temples.

"then i guess you just won't eat," he says with a hint of sadness, taking the tray back into his hands.

you're so hungry. and the smell of the grilled chicken breast with a side of mashed potatoes isn't helping. you don't want to submit. you can't submit, you won't survive.

"guess that's settled then," you flop back down onto your back.

it wasn't the answer or reaction that erwin was expecting, judging by his widened eyes and stiff posture. he relaxes as he shakes his head in disapproval, walking out of the room and locking the door behind him.

you stare blankly at the ceiling while trying to ignore the growling of your stomach. your head hurts from the lack of food, another thing you're trying to ignore.

you turn on your side, but immediately cry out in pain. levi's earlier assault was starting to form bruises on your body, and the idea that you couldn't even curl into a ball made you want to cry. you hiss when you shuffle back onto your back, ignoring the searing pain that shoots through your ribs and sides.

your eyelids feel heavy after you settle down for a while, finally able to ignore all of the pain you've endured.

————

when you wake up, it's raining. there's not much natural light coming into your room, which you're okay with.

a pang of pain shoots through your head when you sit up, hands immediately grabbing at your hair and nails digging into your scalp. the tugging of your hair made your headache a little more bearable even if it was for a second.

the sound of your stomach growling and chains clinking echos through the quiet room, causing you to look down at your stomach. the chains are cold against your skin, tiny shivers spreading across your stomach.

you sigh and get yourself out of the bed. you walk to your bathroom, peeing with your face buried in your hands on the toilet. you ignore the fluorescent lights, which make your head hurt worse, and wash your hands aggressively.

you look up in the mirror as you do so, but you wish you hadn't. your eyes were puffy from the tears you shed yesterday and there's now a bruise on your swollen cheek from levi's smacking. you hold back the urge to punch the mirror, instead wiping your hands off with a towel and chucking it at the wall. you slam the door behind you and start to walk pass the three chairs meant for you, erwin, and levi. a wave of dizziness has you stopping and holding onto it, eyes instinctively squeezing shut.

when it passes, you grab a book and a throw blanket that's sat on top of one of the chairs. you settle onto the cushions of the bay window, taking a moment to stare at the rain falling.

you open the book, 'perks of being a wallflower', and find yourself lost in the words.

it's when levi comes in with a tray of food that you realize an hour or so has passed. he looks shocked to see you sitting and reading in silence, checking his watch as if he were making sure he didn't wake up late.

"got you food since erwin had to go to work. it's belgium waffles with some fruit and bacon on the side," he sits down next to your, now, curled up legs and puts the tray on the opposite side of him.

you wince at the mention of food and at curling your legs close. it doesn't go unnoticed.

"maybe if you didn't act out you wouldn't be in so much pain now," he says, holding out a piece of the waffle and a hand under to make sure the syrup doesn't drip onto the blanket.

"i'm not going to be fed. i'm not a child," you stare at the food.

"you're going to starve to death if you don't eat. quit being stubborn and fucking eat. i don't feel like cleaning up a body," he snarls and you resist the urge to kick his hand away.

"if you let me feed myself, i'll eat. then, you won't have to worry about digging me a hole."

"you haven't earned that privilege. we feed you for now."

"then i guess i don't eat," your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare at him.

"you're stupid. you'll end up dying."

"rather die than be fed like a child."

"you've got some pride. maybe i can beat it out of you," he drops the fork onto the plate.

"if you beat me anymore then you might actually have to worry about a body," you avert your eyes back to your book.

"if it's what needs to be done," he crosses his arms, "speaking of bodies, your's reeks."

"i don't have a shower in my bathroom, i can't help you with that issue," you shrug and flip the page.

"you can."

"i'm not letting you bathe me either. i'm not stupid. if you're feeding me then you're obviously going to be bathing me."

he chuckles a little at your defiance, but you know it's forced. you can smell the frustration on his body and your ego inflates knowing that you're the one who got him to be like that.

"when you decide you want to live, knock at the door and call for me," he grabs the tray and leaves the room, once again locking the door behind him.

"i can wait eight more days before i die."

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levi x reader #levi ackerman #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi attack on titan #snk levi #erwin x levi #erwin smith #snk erwin #erwin x reader #aot erwin #dark content #sorrels.allforus💒

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noladyme · 3 years

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La Cuervo - Chapter 21

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on, on Mayans M.C., are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

21.

“The bullet only graced her leg; but the wound was still deep enough for her to need crutches for a little while. Do you know of any pre-existing medical conditions?”. The doctor was explaining Nina’s condition to Angel. Nina was annoyed at how he seemed to think the curtain separating him and Angel from her and the other patients, was a wall; that would keep their conversation private. “She’s got asthma”, Angel replied. He sounded tired and angry. “That shouldn’t come in the way of her recovering fully… Not physically at least”. “What do you mean?”. “She is in chock. What she just went through did a number on her”, the doctor said. “We offered her a sedative, but she wouldn’t let us come near her with the needle. The nurse had to hold her down for me to apply the local anesthetic, to stitch her up; and she refused to let us do any blood tests, before we swore you were just outside”.

Nina shifted in the bed. Her leg was burning with pain, and all she wanted was to be far away from where she was. “You should have let me in there with her!”, Angel growled. He was clearly unhappy with Nina being prodded with needles against her will. “It’s against protocol…”. “Fuck protocol!”, Angel exclaimed. “And what fucking blood tests?”. “Sir; there are other patients here! You need to keep it down…”, the doctor said. “What blood tests?”, Angel demanded. “The woman who shot herself bit her. We’re checking for hepatitis B and C, and rabies…”. “Rabies? She’s not a fucking dog!”, Angel almost roared. “Just let me see her…”.

He opened the curtain, and met Nina’s eyes; trying for a warm smile, and failing miserably. “Hey mami… Have you been giving the doc a hard time?”. He came over to take her hand, and kissed the top of her head; before looking her over. “Why haven’t you cleaned her up?”, he asked the doctor. Nina was wearing a hospital gown, having been wrestled out of her own clothes, for the police to put it into evidence bags. She was still covered in blood-specks everywhere but her stitched and bandaged calf, and the around the bite wound on her arm; which had been covered by a band-aid. The doctor sighed defeatedly. “Look, I have about fifty sick and wounded people to tend to within the next thirty minutes; and my nurses are short staffed”, he said, and edge to his voice. “We have to help those who need us the most; and we can’t spend time washing down a patient who won’t cooperate”.

Nina tightened her hold on Angel’s hand. “I wanna go home”, she whispered. The doctor looked at her, as if startled that she could in fact speak. “Miss Teller, you should stay the…”. “Angel, take me home!”, Nina demanded. Angel nodded at her; letting the furrow between his brows speak for him. He put an arm behind her back, to help her sit, and grabbed her shoes from a bag on the floor.

“Mr. Reyes; Nina needs the care we can provide for her here”, the doctor said. “She’s not staying in this shithole. You wouldn’t even give her a private room”, Angel growled, and helped Nina put on her shoes. He let his hand hover over the bandage on her leg for a second. “We’re out”. “What about after care? Pain medication?”. “I know how to deal with bullet-wounds”, Angel said. The doctor gave him a displeased once over. “I’m sure you do…”, he grunted. He sighed defeatedly. “Ok… But I’m going to need you to sign some discharge papers, Miss Teller; stating you’re leaving against my recommendations”. Angel wrapped the blanket from the bed around Nina, to cover her naked backside. His movements were gentle but brusque. “Leave it by the desk. We’ll handle it”, he said, and put his arm around Nina’s waist. “Let’s go…”. The doctor rushed away to get the paperwork ready, and Angel half supported, half carried Nina out into the hallway.

It looked like the entire charter of Mayans were gathered by the front desk. Nina didn’t have the energy to speak, and focused on not supporting her weight on her pained leg. “How are you, mija?”, Bishop asked. Angel shook his head. “They can’t do shit here… The doc stitched her up, but that’s pretty much it”, he said. “That fucking bitch could have killed her!”. “Don’t…”, Nina croaked. He looked down at her, and his expression softened. “I’m sorry, cuervo”, he muttered, and led her to sit down in a chair. A nurse came over with a clipboard of papers, and pointed at the places Nina needed to sign. With shaking hands, she scribbled some intelligible doodles; and handed the board back. “Come back if you experience any unexpected pain”, the nurse said. “What, from her gun-wound?”, Gilly asked with a raised brow. The nurse scuttered off with a displeased look on her face.

“I’ve got the van outside”, EZ said, and looked at Nina with a worried expression. “But are you sure…?”. “I want to go home…”, Nina said bellow her breath. “Please”. Angel ran a hand through his hair, and shook his head. “The fucking exterminator… We can’t go back to ours until tonight”, he groaned. “The clubhouse is crawling with cops”, Gilly said. “Take her to mine. We got you, niña”, Coco said, and he and Angel got on either side of her; to help her get to her feet. More or less carrying her outside, the two men got her out to the van, and into the middle passenger seat. They flanked her, with Coco behind the wheel, and Angel letting Nina rest against him. She heard the other Mayans start up their bikes behind the van, and they drove away from the hospital. Looking out of the van’s windows, she noticed Hank and Taza drove up alongside them, and Bishop went up to front the caravan. They were in protection mode.

---

The Mayans were gathered on the small porch outside Coco’s house. Nina could hear them muttering and arguing quietly, as she sat holding her mug of steaming instant coffee. “Fuck! What the fuck are we going to do? We don’t have a switch!”, Bishop growled. “Keep it down, Bish’. She’s right inside”, Taza grumbled. “At least she took out our rat”, Riz said. “She didn’t kill her… Camille killed herself”, Taza said. “Fucking bitch…”, Creeper grunted. A muttering of agreements was heard.

Nina took a sip of the coffee, and picked at her broken nail. The pain from it, the bite, and the gun wound on her leg distracted her from the visions she was seeing every time she closed her eyes. She’d killed another person; no matter what Taza said. If she hadn’t twisted Camille’s wrist, and the shot hadn’t hit her head, she would still be alive. And Nina would have been dead.

Letty walked quietly through the living room, shooting Nina a wary look, before opening the screen door. “Angel. I filled the tub”, she muttered. She heard Angel grunt a reply of thanks, before he came inside with Coco at his heels. “I’m gonna clean her up”, Angel muttered, and went over to help Nina up. “Come on, mami”. Coco led Letty down the hall, and muttered something about her going to stay at Gabby’s for the night. He was worried; all the Mayans were worried. With no snitch to hand over to Palo, they most likely had a war on their hands.

Angel supported Nina into the bathroom, set her down on the toilet lid, and closed the door behind them. Almost unable to move herself, Nina let Angel untie the strings of the hospital gown, and pull it off her. Letty had left a bundle of clothes by the sink for her. It looked like a mix of her own and Coco’s; as she probably didn’t know what would fit Nina. Once she was naked, Angel carefully helped Nina into the tub; with her leg hanging over the edge, to not get the bandage wet. He cupped some water in his hand, and began washing her gingerly. For a long while, they didn’t speak; neither of them able to find the words for what had just happened. Nina knew that Angel had probably taken a few lives himself – it came with the territory – but she wasn’t a killer. At least she wasn’t supposed to be.

She closed her eyes, and leaned back in the tub, emerging herself in the water. The water filled her ears, and the world went silent for a few seconds. Closing her eyes, Nina tried to let calm fall over her. The water was warm, and Angel’s soothing strokes down her arms, made her drift into something resembling peacefulness. Her foot knocked over a shampoo bottle, and it fell into the tub with a clanking noise, that sounded like am explosion in Nina’s ears. It all came back again. The gunshot. Camille’s eyes. Gael’s eyes. The red mist of blood and brain matter. Death. It felt like arms were trying to hold her down – drowning her – and she let out a scream under the water; frantically grabbing for anything to get back to the surface.

Angel’s strong arms wrapped around her, and quickly pulled her out of the water; and onto the floor, where she sat shaking in his arms. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to… please…”, she coughed and sobbed. Angel held her tight, and rocked her back and forth. “You’re ok… No one is gonna hurt you". “No, because I killed them… Everything I touch, dies”. “That’s not true…”. “Gael… Daniella… Camille… Jax…”. Her stomach was hurting from the muscles contorting as she sobbed. “You didn’t kill your brother, Nina…”, Angel said, burying his fingers in her hair. “Maybe if I’d done something…”.

With both hands on either side of her head, Angel made Nina look at him. “You didn’t do anything wrong…! You just survived”. He grabbed a towel, and began gently drying her off. After a while, he sighed. “I’m so sorry, querida. This was on us… on me”, he said. Nina met his eyes for a nanosecond, afraid to see her own reflection in them. “No. I killed her…”, she breathed. “I’ve murdered two people”. “No… No, cuervo”, Angel said. “You protected yourself from a monster, and you forced the hand on a crazy bitch, who was about to get herself killed anyway… You did nothing wrong”. “Then why do I feel like I deserve as much as I gave?”, Nina rasped. Angel cupped her face, and made her look at him. “Because you’re too good for this fucked up world”, he said. He put his forehead against hers for a second, before hissing her temple. “Te amo… so fucking much. If she’d taken you away from me…”. He seemed unable to finish the sentence, and simply held her close for a few more moments, before getting to his feet, and pulling the plug in the tub.

“It's time to end this shit. Were going to war with VM”, he grunted. Nina’s heart fell to her stomach, and she tried to stand; but slipped, and fell into Angel’s arms. “Don’t! Palo will kill you!”, Nina exclaimed, tears returning to her eyes. Angel wrapped his arms protectively around her, letting her lean on him. “This isn’t just about you, querida… We…”. “I don’t care! Please, Angel. I can’t lose you…”, Nina sobbed. Someone knocked on the door. “You ok in there?”, Coco asked. “We’re good. Be out in a minute”, Angel replied, before pressing his lips to Nina’s. “We have to finish this”. Unable to respond, Nina simply let him dress her in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. She was shaking, and tears continuously streamed from her eyes. Angel wiped her cheeks, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Come on”.

With her arm around Angel’s waist, she limped back into the living room. All the chairs in the house had been gathered in there, and the Mayans were seated down on them; making the room a makeshift templo. EZ hovered by the door, keeping his eyes on the street outside. He looked over his shoulder for a second, locking eyes with Nina. His gaze told her he wanted to say something, comfort her somehow, but now wasn’t the time. Angel led Nina back to the couch, to sit next to Coco. She let out a tiny yelp in pain, as her leg brushed against the coffee table, and Coco picked up a joint he’d apparently just rolled, and handed it to her. “For the pain, ma’”, he muttered, and lit it, as she put it to her lips. Taking a deep drag from the blunt, Nina instantly felt the dulling sensation of the marijuana stream through her body. Angel sat down next to her, and took her hand.

“First of all…”, Bishop began. “Nina, I’m sorry. From what I understand, what Camille did to you, didn’t have anything to do with you situation with Palo. We let her into our inner circle, and she… fuck… We let you get hurt”. “That’s not on you…”, Nina muttered. “Yes, it is", Bishop said. “I broke my promise that we’d keep you safe. We owe you". The rest of the Mayans nodded solemnly. “I… ok", Nina said quietly.

The president sat up straight in his seat, and lit a cigarette. “Ok… Let’s start with the good news”, he said. “Our rat is dead”. Nina had to swallow thickly, in spite of the cloud of calm the joint had left in her head. “Bad news is, we don’t have a switch”, Taza said. “And we don’t have anything to hold over Palo’s head”, Hank muttered. Taza looked at Nina. Their conversation about his secret returned to her, and she frowned at him just enough to let him know she still wanted him to keep quiet. “Let me talk to him”, Nina said. “He wants me; maybe I can…”. “No”, Angel said. Nina scowled at him for cutting her off. “I don’t want you getting killed over me! Just let me see him, and I’ll… I don’t know, apologize, or offer him a deal like I did with you”. Angel gave her a hard look. “You’re not going anywhere!”, he growled, and looked around at his brothers. “Even if Nina wasn’t here, Palo’s already fucked us over enough for us to go head-to-head with the Vato’s”, he said. “I agree”, Bishop said with a nod. “Bishop! Don’t do this!”, Nina exclaimed. “She’s got a point…”, Hank muttered. “Listen to the woman, Bishop. War doesn’t have to…”, Riz began. Bishop shook his head. “I’m done kissing Palo’s ass. Nina’s out of the equation from here on out. It’s war”. Angel nodded fervently. “War!”.

Nina took a final deep draw from the blunt. “I guess you don’t need me here, then”, she sneered, and got to her feet. “I’m gonna go sleep for about a hundred years; and if your dumb asses are still alive when I wake up, then yay… But I’m not holding my breath”. Bishop looked angrily at her. “I’m gonna chose to believe that’s the pain and the blunt talking”, he growled. “Shove it up your ass”, Nina sneered. “Coco, do you mind?”. “Letty’s room is down the hall to the right”, Coco muttered. “Follow the smell of hairspray”. Nina wanted to storm dramatically out of the room, but her wounded leg wouldn’t hold her weight, and she stumbled. Angel caught her, but she shrugged him off. Taza got up, and walked over to take her arm. “Come on, kid”, he said quietly, and led her down the short hallway, into the teenager’s room.

Nina sat down on the bed, and went to lean against the headboard. She wiped away a few stray tears. “I’m good. Thanks”, she said. Taza sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’re not… You’ve had too much happen to you to be ok”, he said. “And now, the man you love is walking into what will probably be certain death”. His words broke the fragile strings holding Nina together, and once again, she began sobbing. “I don’t want that… I don’t want any of you to get hurt for me!”. Taza scooted closer, and pulled her into his arms for a moment, before pulling back. “Nina, I love you; but you’re thinking a little too much about yourself at the moment”, he said. “Any one of those men out there would throw themselves in front of a moving car for you; but this war isn’t about your situation with Palo. They want war”. “Why?”, Nina croaked, and wiped her eyes. “Bishop and Angel are right. Palo’s overstepped our boundaries in more ways than one; and he needs to pay”. “So you’re behind this? You want war as well?”, Nina asked. Taza sighed. “No… I’ve seen Palo at his worst before… He’s a nightmare”, he said. “He’s not going to stop until every Mayan in the charter is dead, and then he’ll move on north; try to take out Oakland”. “Is Vatos Malditos really that strong a club?”. “They don’t fear death… And that makes them dangerous”.

They sat for a moment in silence, before Taza spoke again. “We know what needs to happen”. Nina’s eyes widened. “No, Taza; please!”. “I can finish this before it starts”, Taza said. “And I want to”. “What if they…?”. “I’m tired, sweetheart”. The VP squeezed her hand. “Every day I’m not being honest about who I am, I feel like I’m betraying both myself the man I loved”. Nina swallowed thickly. “You want to come out to the club”, she whispered. Taza nodded. “I’m afraid to… but by doing it now, I can avoid the people I love being killed in an unnecessary war. I have to”.

Nina took a deep breath, and then blew it out. The haze of the joint was already wearing off from the seriousness of the situation. “Do you want me to come with you?”, she asked. Taza smiled, and stroked her cheek. “No… This is something I have to do on my own”. He kissed her forehead, and got to his feet. “Whatever happens, just know that I think you’re one of the best things that has ever happened to this club”. Nina tried for a warm smile. “I love you, Taza”, she said. He winked at her, and left the room; closing the door behind him.

She laid back on the bed, letting herself accept the situation. A murmur of voices from the living room broke the silence. On one hand, she was happy she couldn’t clearly hear what was going on; on the other, she wanted to jump out of bed, and run after Taza – if only her leg would have carried her. She heard Taza speaking calmly, before being interrupted by Bishop; his voice a little more gruff. Taza continued speaking, before a group of voices rose. “You’re fucking kidding me!”, she heard Riz exclaim. Taza spoke again, being interrupted by Creeper’s voice. “… keep this from us?”, was all she could hear, before Angel cut him off. “… Nina in on this?”. Taza muttered something more, when Bishop growled. “… done!”. The president’s voice was cold. Taza spoke again, and then the door opened and closed. Nina heard a bike start up, and drive away.

She turned her back to the door, and fell back into tears. She didn’t know how long she cried, but in the end, she fell asleep.

---

When she woke, it was dark outside. The door to the hallway was slightly open, and a set of crutches were leaning against the wall by the bed. Nina sat up, and grabbed the crutches to get to her feet; before hobbling into the hallway, and went towards the living room. Coco was seated on the couch with a dazed expression, probably only partlydue to the blunt he was halfway through. Nina sat down on one of the empty chairs, and he handed her the joint. “How’s the pain?”, he asked. Nina took a huff of the blunt. “Better”, she said, unable to avoid chuckling, as the smoke left her lips again. Coco smiled at her. “Where is everyone?”. “Bish’, Riz and Hank are at the clubhouse; cleaning up after the cops. They brought the boy scout”. “Then I know who’s really doing the clean-up”, Nina said, and rolled her eyes. “Yeah… Angel’s grabbing food, and Gilly and Creeper went to Vicky’s”, Coco said. “Said they needed it”. Nina clenched her jaw, and braced herself. “Taza?”, she croaked. Coco reached for the blunt, and took a huff himself. “He left after he told us… Shit, I never knew”. “Are you going to… What are you going to do to him?”. Taking a last draw from the joint, Coco put it in the ashtray, to let it smolder. “I don’t know… We never had to deal with anything like this before”, he said. “What do you think should happen?”, Nina asked. Coco shrugged. “Taza’s a good VP. He kept a secret, but he hasn’t hurt anyone, or done something against our rules”. “He broke one rule”, Nina muttered. “It’s a fucked-up rule”, Coco grunted. Nina let a smile ghost her lips. “Taza can ride, and he can make decisions… That’s what I care about”.

Angel pulled up outside the house, and came in, carrying a large paper bag. He gave Nina a short smile. “You get some sleep?”, he asked. “Yeah… some”, she said. “I got burgers…”, Angel said, and put down the bag on the coffee table. “I went by the house, and opened the windows; but it still smells like shit in there”. “Letty’s out. Stay the night”, Coco said, and went to get beers from the fridge.

Angel sat down on the couch, and began unpacking the food. Realizing she hadn’t eaten all day, Nina’s stomach made an angry growl of hunger. “Woah…”, Angel said, and looked down at the blunt in the ashtray. “Munchies?”. “A little”, Nina admitted. “Are you ok?”. “Why wouldn’t I be?”, Angel asked. “Just… Everything that happened today, I guess…”, Nina began, before sighing, and shrugging. “What? You mean the part where my girl yelled at me, and then got shot?”, Angel said. “Or the part where I find out she’s been keeping secrets…”. He raised a brow at her, and Nina felt her cheeks burning. “It wasn’t my secret to share”, she muttered. “If you’re gonna fight, do it later”, Coco said, returning with three beers, and handing them out. “I’m hungry”.

They ate in silence, before Coco called it a night, and went to bed; tired as fuck, as he declared. Angel and Nina sat for a few moments more, avoiding each other’s gaze. “I couldn’t tell you…”, Nina finally said. “No, I get it”, Angel sighed. “It’s just… You kept this secret, that could have saved your life. And you didn’t let me help”. “That’s what you’re angry about?”. “I’m not angry, querida… I just wish you’d let me protect you”. “By hurting Taza?”, Nina asked. “I would have had his back!”, Angel said. “I knew that… At least I think I knew”. Nina shook her head defeatedly. “But if the rest of the club decides to punish him, you can’t stop that!”. Angel took the last sip of his beer, and began clearing the table. “We’re not letting that happen”, he muttered. “Who?”, Nina asked. “Me… Coco and Gilly… you”. He gave her a warm smile, and went to throw away the trash.

Nina got to her feet, and with the help of her crutches, she followed him into the kitchen. “How did everyone else take it?”, she asked, leaning against the doorway. “Riz and Creep are pissed Taza didn’t tell the club a secret that could save us from war. Tranq is… Tranq. He doesn’t let anyone know what he feels until he’s sure about it himself. And Bish’… I can’t read the man”. “But you’re behind Taza…”. “Yeah”. He came over, and gave her a short kiss. “Thank you”, Nina said. “For what?”, Angel asked. “For being… you”, she smiled.

Letting Nina support her weight against him, Angel led Nina back into Letty’s bedroom; carrying her crutches for her. She winced a bit, when she accidentally stepped down on her bad leg, and Angel frowned. He closed the door, and helped her get in to bed, before shedding his cut, and climbing in with her. “You gonna sleep in your jeans?”, Nina asked. “If I take them off, you’ll just start getting ideas…”, Angel smirked. “I got shot today, just before being drenched in another woman’s blood… And, we’re lying in a bed under a poster of Zac Effron. I think I can gird my loins”, Nina said with a scowl. “Maybe I can’t”, Angel whispered, and pulled her into his arms. He accidentally bumped against her leg, and Nina let out a small yelp. “Fuck. Are you ok? I’m so sorry!”, Angel exclaimed. “I’m ok…”, Nina whimpered. “Just don’t touch it”. “I’ll get you some drugs tomorrow. The good kind”, Angel promised. Nina chuckled, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Thinking about the day after, she suddenly frowned. “What’s wrong, cuervo?”, Angel asked. “Tomorrow… What’s gonna happen?”, Nina said. “Clubwide lockdown…”, Angel sighed. “I’m taking you back to the house in the morning, to get your stuff. Coco’s gonna go with us, as an extra gun; but after that it’s back to the clubhouse”. “And then what?”. She felt herself starting to shiver, and Angel gingerly pulled her closer. “We called in backup. Bishop met with Alvarez today; and Oakland is coming down to back us up if needed”. “SAMCRO?”, Nina whispered. “What do you think?”, Angel smiled. “SAMDINO too… Don’t run away with Packer”. She pinched the skin of his arm playfully. “Ow!”. “So you’ll have the numbers… You might not even have to use Taza’s secret”, Nina said; ignoring his exclamation of pain. “We don’t know Palo’s numbers yet… VM has grown since Taza’s day”, Angel said. “We gotta be ready for a fight”.

Nina sighed, and put an arm across Angel’s chest; burrowing against him. “After this morning… I’m so sorry I got so angry…”. “Nah, I had it coming", Angel said. “I said some stupid shit… That could have been the last thing I ever said, before I lost you…”. “I did leave you; I fucked up so bad…”. “We’re past that, querida. I shouldn’t have brought it up…”. Angel brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “But you were right. I should have found a better way… And now you’re going up against Palo, and you might not make it…”. “Nina…” Nina continued, unable to control her panicked breathing. “I’m gonna lose you! He’s not gonna stop until you’re all…”. “Nina, stop!”, Angel said. Nina felt her lungs beginning to close up, and she took a few heaving breaths. Her anxiety worsened, when she realized she didn’t have her inhaler. Angel dug it out of his own pocket, and pressed the button on the top, before holding it to her lips. Breathing in the powder, Nina felt her breathing return to normal, and Angel put away her inhaler again. “You have to relax, ma'. You’ve been through too much today". Wiping her eyes for her, he kissed her forehead. “I can’t lose you…”, she whispered. Angel looked deep into her eyes. “I’m gonna do whatever I have to, to get back to you”, he said, and kissed the top of her head. “I love you”. “I love you too”.

Tilting her head, Nina sought out Angel’s lips, and breathed him in, in a deep kiss. Angel carefully lifted her knee, to let her leg rest over his. She craved his closeness, needed him near her, more than ever; for fear that it would be the last night she’d get to sleep in his arms. Angel soothingly brushed his fingers up and down her lower arm. “I can’t deal with any more death…”, Nina said. Suddenly, without even knowing it herself, she’d made a decision. “I want to see Palo”. Angel’s eyes widened. “No, Nina. That’s not happening…”, he said, and went back to stroking her arm; though a bit more roughly than was comfortable. Nina pulled herself away from his grasp. “I can’t run away from what I did”, she said. “So, you’re going to let Palo punish you? Kill you?”, Angel asked. “No, I’m… You’re right. I haven’t done anything wrong; I’m not looking to be punished for anything”, Nina said. “But I can’t let anyone else die on my account. Not again”. "It's like we said. This isn't about you anymore". "But if I hadn't been here...", Nina tried. Angel sighed. “Get some sleep”, he said. “But…”. He looked at her intently. “Sleep. You’re in pain and you’re high. You’re not thinking straight. You’ll have a clearer head tomorrow”. He brushed his lips against her cheek, and closed his eyes.

To Angel, the conversation was over. To Nina, nothing was settled; and it took a long time, before exhaustion finally forced her to drift off.

---

#angel reyes #angel reyes fic #mayans mc #mayans #ez reyes #coco cruz #angel reyes x oc

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Me and You Together, 4/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: fam this response is crazy it really is…thank u all so much for the love, kudos and comments, i’m so sorry if i’ve not managed to reply to urs yet but know that i’ve read them all and cherish every one and i will get round to replying and yelling some love and thanks at u soon!!! pls enjoy this chapter in which A'whora does not possess the flat’s shared brain cell at any point. that being said, i wish all the readers of this fic a very pleasant italicised ‘oh’ xo

last chapter: January-Tayce and A’whora still had unfinished business from a night out and a hungover morning in December.

this chapter: October- The gang make plans for their first year together, Tia gives everyone plans for the evening, and A'whora has a realisation that will change the dynamic of her friendship with Tayce forever.

***

“Bimini, what is it you’re actually doing?”

A’whora’s intrigued by the way her flatmate’s sitting on the sofa: legs crossed, notepad in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and looking deep in thought. They’ve not long since stretched over the smoke detector with a sock, having long since established nobody in the flat minds them smoking indoors as long as the windows are open. Lawrence is beside them on the other end of the sofa having been to all the lectures that’re required of her already today and has got a bright pink, blue and purple-flecked ball of yarn hanging from two knitting needles, with which she seems to be knitting some sort of cosy accessory. It’s a wholesome picture that’s playing out in front of A’whora, one that’s miles away from the raucous, drunk nights they’ve all shared in the first month of uni so far.

“Okay, here’s what it is,” Bimini starts, clicking their long nails together. “I am making us a freshers bucket list, and I want your input.”

“Ooh!” Lawrence perks up beside them, and A’whora, interest piqued, picks up the bowl of pasta, butter and cheese she’s spent all of five minutes making and crosses the room to sit beside her flatmates.

She knows it’s only been a month so far, but she really loves everyone she’s living with. For a start, there are four of them that take classes at the art college (the ‘art hoes’, as Tayce calls them), so they all get to walk to lectures together and hang about between classes and workshops with each other depending on how their days are going. Bimini is almost always in the flat, with not a lot of contact hours making up their journalism degree, so they’re a comforting presence for A’whora to come home to at whatever hour of the day, always asking how she is and always offering to make her coffee. Tia is sweet and funny (if ever-so-slightly grating to her at first) and they’ve bonded over being the only two flatmates seemingly able to keep the place clean and tidy. Lawrence is endearing and big-hearted, if A’whora spends half her life hoping that her next prank isn’t involving her in some way (Ellie is usually the butt of them). Ellie herself is one of A’whora’s closest flatmates; they’ll often stay up half the night finishing prototypes or assignments together, all while watching a film which they have spookily similar taste in- they’ve agreed on 101 and 102 Dalmatians, Hocus Pocus, and The Wizard of Oz so far.

And then there’s Tayce, who A’whora thinks is both the absolute carbon copy of herself and yet also so different, the yin to her yang. Tayce has been her closest friend in the flat since day one when she booted the door to her room down and dragged her out of her emotional stupor, and that’s really what’s set the tone for the rest of their friendship; Tayce, upbeat and motivating, constantly and infectiously helping A’whora feel the same way even when she doesn’t want to go out, or doesn’t feel like dragging herself out of her room for a chill flat night with the others, or even when she just feels like a heap of shit. She’s such a fun and positive person to be around, relentlessly optimistic and goofy, and she brings out that side of A’whora too. As opposed to during sixth form and high school, where she’d put up a front to make sure nobody fucked with her, A’whora finds that at uni she can be the person she truly is and let her guard down a little.

This includes being open about her sexuality for the first time ever. She’s out to her family (for the better or worse), but nobody else back home knows (not even her friends) and she wants to keep it that way for now. But at uni things are different- nobody knows her here, nobody has these preconceived ideas of who she is and who she has to be, so she’d taken the plunge and been open about everything. None of the others had cared of course, in fact they’d all been too excited about the fact there’s not a single straight person in their flat comprised of four lesbians (Tayce, Lawrence, Tia and A’whora), one bi (Ellie) and one pan (Bimini).

“What’ve you got so far?” A’whora asks Bimini, sitting down on the sofa opposite her two flatmates.

Bimini reads off their notepad. “Casino night, bottomless brunch…get the train down to Newcastle, have a big night out, stay out all night an’ get the first train home-”

“Christ, that’ll be a challenge for me, you know I get sleepy around midnight,” Lawrence chuckles.

Bimini shrugs. “We’ll just get you an IV drip of Ellie’s Monster, you’ll be alright.”

“What else’ve you got?”

“That’s it so far.”

A’whora spears a pasta spiral, tilts her head in thought as she eats it. “Get drunk in a lecture.”

“Aw, good one!” Lawrence cries enthusiastically. Bimini, for their part, frowns with disapproval.

“Wait, no! Not a good one. Not a good one at all. It’s alright for you art school bitches, you’ve got some lectures together and you can coordinate, where does that leave me n’ Tia?”

“I guess that leaves you…downing a bottle of five pound chardonnay on the back bench of a lecture hall like a tramp with a drinking problem,” Lawrence shrugs, A’whora yelping out a laugh as Bimini shoves Lawrence with their foot.

Just then, there’s movement in the hall and as A’whora turns around she’s greeted by the sight of a tired-looking Tayce and Ellie walking into the kitchen. They shrug off their coats and take off their shoes and dump their bags on the kitchen table with a huff before they walk over to the others. Tayce spreads herself out over the sofa that A’whora’s sitting on, thudding her feet onto her lap without asking permission, to which A’whora instantly pushes them off her and gets a glare and a smirk in return.

“Lawrie, are you knitting?” Ellie laughs, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“Yeah? And?”

Ellie snorts in amusement. “Just didn’t realise we were living with a wee granny.”

“Well actually, bawbag! I was in the middle of making you a scarf because I can’t stand to listen to you talking shite about how you’re cold every time we leave the flat, but I can leave it if you want,” Lawrence explains. A’whora thinks it’s funny how Ellie backtracks immediately; she can’t tell if she’s blushing or just out of breath from scaling their block’s stairs. Bimini gains control of the conversation, tilting their head in intrigue.

“How were your lectures, huns?”

“Shit, thanks for asking,” Tayce groans, thudding her head down dramatically against the sofa cushions. “I don’t know, I just can’t concentrate when I’m getting talked at for an hour at a time. I need to be doing stuff, you know?”

“Feel that,” Ellie joins in, deflated. A’whora can sympathise- she loves the practical elements of her course, but not so much the lectures. She’s glad she shares a lot of them with Ellie, and the two of them can dick about and text each other and doodle designs in their notebooks while keeping one ear on whoever’s speaking.

“Well if you want to be doing something, you can help us with this,” Bimini suggests, explaining the bucket list they’ve been making.

The girls get settled and the ideas start to flow, Lawrence putting her speakers on for background noise as they all come up with new and increasingly more chaotic exploits. Ellie suggests trying every cocktail in Levels which gets scribbled down into Bimini’s notepad, and Tayce suggests going to Levels sober, which doesn’t get afforded the same appreciation. A’whora comes up with crashing the catered halls for breakfast one day, which they all agree is a good idea but the chances of it actually happening are low considering the earliest riser in the flat is Tayce and even she doesn’t waken up til half nine on a weekend.

“What’re some clubs we’ve not been to yet?” Bimini asks, shrugging. “Could put those down, try an’ visit every one in the city?”

Lawrence snorts derisively. “You go to Underground if you want your phone stolen, Velvet if you want to be bullied by fifteen year olds in the toilets, and Crystal if you want to subject yourself to painful misogyny and probably some light sexual assault.”

“So none of those, then,” Bimini murmurs.

“Those are all really het as well, though,” Ellie wrinkles her nose up in distaste. Then her face lights up as she gets an idea. “Oh! Put down Pride in July.”

“Nice one,” Bimini nods as they scribble down Ellie’s suggestion, the others making little hums of approval.

The conversation goes on for quite some time. Halfway through it Tayce seems to decide she’s bored of lying down and instead moves to sit on the floor between A’whora’s legs, asking her to play with her hair. They’ll do this sometimes- it’s a routine they fall into, A’whora being able to style Tayce’s endlessly long, straight hair and Tayce finding the whole thing therapeutic. They have a lot of little routines like this: they’ll sit close together on the sofa during a flat movie night and take turns leaning on each others’ shoulders, spontaneously give each other hugs at random points throughout the day, trace patterns into each others’ palms when the other seems stressed.

It’s nice. A’whora’s never really had a friendship like this, soft and caring and kind. In school her group was the kind that made catty jokes about each other then buffered them with a “love you!” afterwards and took kissy-face group selfies only to bitch about each other on a private group chat mere hours later. If it was a wolfpack then it was rabid and cannibalistic, and it had seemed like a full-time job ensuring she was never the runt of it. What she’s got with all her flatmates now- especially Tayce- makes her feel like she can finally breathe.

“What about the Centurion Challenge?” Lawrence suggests with a small gasp, breaking A’whora’s reverie as she expertly twirls Tayce’s hair into a loose and chunky French plait.

“Jesus Christ, Lawrence,” Ellie mutters in amusement.

“What’s the Centurion Challenge?” Bimini asks, pulling a face.

Lawrence gives a blythe shrug as she elaborates. “A hundred shots in a hundred minutes.”

A’whora ruins Tayce’s braid in shock, her hair untwisting itself from the braid as if it’s outraged too. The cry she gives joins in harmony with that of Tayce’s and Bimini’s. “A hundred shots? You’d fucking die!”

“Not of vodka! Obviously not of vodka! I know we all have one communal brain cell between us but Christ, can one of yous not use it?!” Lawrence protests. “It’s a hundred shots of beer. Don’t shit yourselves.”

“Aw, well that’s alright then,” Bimini pipes up sarcastically. “What’s actually wrong with Scottish people? Is your breastmilk spiked with whiskey? What d’you get instead of Cow and Gate formula, just cocaine?"

“Actually, a hundred shots of beer sounds more doable to me,” Tayce shrugs, and A’whora can feel her relax against her lap.

“I’d need to change it, I can’t stand beer,” A’whora considers. Ellie cocks her head in consideration.

“Well what alcohol do you like?”

“Fucking none of it,” A’whora laughs. “Cocktails. Vodka cokes. Anything where there’s juice to cover it up.”

Tayce twists her head to look up at her, a little twinkle of mischief in her eye. “I think the challenge ceases to be a challenge when it’s reduced to one hundred watered down shots of Woo Woo, Rory.”

As the others blurt out a laugh A’whora glares down at Tayce, but she can’t help but break out into a giggle too when Tayce grabs her knee and gives it a playful wobble, letting her know she was only joking without even having to say a thing.

A’whora’s not sure what time it is when she hears the front door swing shut and Tia emerges from the hallway, her long hair all messed up from the seemingly ever-present wind outside and almost obscuring the bright smile plastered on her face. “Hey, huns!”

“Oi oi,” Tayce greets her from her position on the floor. “What’s got you so smiley?”

“Nooothing,” Tia smirks, dragging the word out playfully. “Just got an invite to the night out of a very cute girl in my MT society…and she said you guys can all come too. Pres at her flat and then out to The Avenue. Evening plans sorted?”

“Oh, love that!” Bimini gives an enthusiastic clap. “Go on then, who’s the girl? Whose night are we crashing?”

“Her name’s Veronica,” Tia smiles bashfully. “She’s so lovely. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind you coming! She’s got one of the big flats over at Gourock Court so it’s not like it’ll be packed.”

“You don’t exactly want to go to a party that’s not going to be packed,” Ellie screws up her nose. She looks unimpressed and her tone is flat. “And even if it is, I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a flat party with a ton of new people, Tia.”

A’whora’s face drops and she locks eyes with Lawrence simultaneously, who’s got an equally incredulous look on her face. “Els, are you unwell? You never turn down a night out.”

Ellie shrugs quietly, not giving much away on her face. Tia, obviously keen to move to the girl she’s crushing on, carries on persuading her. “C’mon, Eleanor, don’t be such a fucking…square! It’s the musical theatre society, we’re just a walking Pride festival who all happen to be able to hold a tune. There’s loads of fit lesbians?”

“Well if I wasn’t convinced before, I sure am now,” Tayce purrs, a little smile appearing on her lips and a cheeky twinkle in her eyes. A’whora feels her laugh come out weakly. She doesn’t know why, but an odd, uncomfortable feeling lodges itself in her gut. She can’t quite put her finger on what exactly it is or why it’s put itself there.

“And there’s gonna be so many musicals on the playlist!” Tia continues to insist, despite being met with Ellie’s sour face. “I know you’ll love it! They’d probably even play stuff from Shrek if you got them drunk enough.”

A’whora can’t help but scrunch up her nose in distaste. “Hey, I’m only coming if they play fucking…normal people music as well. I’m not gonna be sat in a room with twenty white kids trying to rap to Hamilton or whatever the fuck it is.”

Tia rolls her eyes, plants her hands on her hips in exasperation. “Calm down, A’whora, you’ll still get all the top 40 dance-pop shit you love so much.”

“To be honest, it sounds class. And The Avenue’s always good,” Bimini cuts in calmly. A’whora does have to agree with that. They’ve not been there in a while- the bar across the road from the city’s most popular LGBT club- and its selection of early 00s pop princess tracks combined with its deal of two vodka mixers and a shot for a fiver makes it a guaranteed good night out.

“Well it seems like we’re all down, even if this stroppy cow isn’t,” Tia smiles happily, sticking her tongue out at Ellie for good measure. Ellie finally heaves a world-weary sigh, rolling her eyes dramatically as she relents.

“Ugh, fine! Fine, but this Verruca or whatever the hell she’s called better be the hottest bitch on the planet for you to drag us all out with your MT weirdos, Tia Maria,” she grumps. Tia ignores her bad mood and lets out a cheer which the others join in with, and A’whora resolves to interrogate Ellie about her Bitter Betty attitude later on. Preferably when they’re both drunk. That always makes things easier.

In the melee of excitement, Tayce twists round from her position on the carpet, folds her arms and rests them on top of A’whora’s thighs. “Right. You need to come help me choose an outfit if we’re going out. I need to look fit.”

A’whora smiles with pride. “Ooh, personal stylist duties? I’m honoured.”

“Well I’m hardly gonna ask Tia, am I?” Tayce giggles quietly, and A’whora joins in like it’s a little secret they’re sharing. “Or Ellie. She’d just send me out in one of her bodysuit/skirt combos. I swear to God that girl is like Marge bloody Simpson. Open up her wardrobe and she’ll have twenty sets of the same outfit. Serial killer behaviour, that.”

At this point A’whora is laughing so much that it draws the attention of the others, who eye them with suspicious stares. “What the hell’s so funny?”

A’whora gives Tayce a mischievous look. “Tayce just called Ellie a serial killer.”

Tayce yelps in outrage at having been called out, and as Ellie narrows her eyes Tayce leaps up from the floor and tugs A’whora off of the sofa with her. “That’s taking it out of context, you absolute hound! Come on, help me pick something.”

Tayce’s fingers stay curled around A’whora’s hand all the way down the corridor and into her bedroom. It’s a feeling that A’whora likes because it makes her feel close to her friend, and Tayce taking her hand is like an affirmation and a reassurance all in one; that she likes her, that their friendship has reached the level where hand-holding has become acceptable, that A’whora is worthy of being liked, of being someone’s friend- their real, proper friend. The validation sets her heart off like a flare. It’s nice to feel wanted.

A’whora perches on the edge of Tayce’s bed as she scrapes the coat hangers in her wardrobe and throws outfits onto the bed like a tornado, each more gorgeous than the last and all ones Tayce would look stunning in. That’s something that always strikes A’whora about Tayce; just how beautiful she is, how absolutely blessed with the God-given good genes. The way she looks serene and ethereal without makeup, walking to lectures in the morning with the sun hitting her face and giving her skin a glow. The way she paints for a night out and knows how to accentuate everything about her face that’s already perfect, a feat that would seem like an exaggeration if A’whora hadn’t seen it for herself to confirm it’s true. She frequently finds herself having to hold back from giving compliments to Tayce because if she started she’d never stop.

“Okay, first thoughts are…” Tayce announces unnecessarily loudly, and A’whora laughs at the way she’s talking as if she’s a stylist on a morning TV show. “…I’m thinking something black.”

“Of course you are,” A’whora interrupts with a laugh. “Tayce wearing black. How predictable.”

Tayce gives her a shove on the shoulder that’s too hard and makes her fall back against the mattress. “Shut up! I’ll wear something other than black when Lawrence wears something other than purple, how’s about that?”

The pair of them giggle at the joke as Tayce rifles through the clothes she’s shortlisted, holding up a black leather jacket and a black bralet with an intricate lace hem. The combination makes A’whora’s eyes fly wide open in appreciation.

“This?” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively. The fact she’s obviously seen her reaction makes A’whora feel a little self-conscious and she doesn’t particularly know why. “Because I’m wanting to wear either my wet-look leggings or my black vinyl skirt with the zip up the front, and I don’t know if that’s too much leather effect stuff?”

“It’s too much,” A’whora nods, physically unable to help her honesty. “Also I think you should wear the skirt because you’ve got good legs and you should get them out any chance you get. But also the bralet won’t go with it because it’ll make your proportions all wrong.”

Tayce smiles appreciatively as she throws the bralet back into her wardrobe as if A’whora’s given her a command and not a suggestion. “See, this is another reason why you’re the queen of outfit advice. Bimini wouldn’t give me this level of honesty, they’re too nice.”

A’whora feels a warmth spread in her chest at the compliment, but she doesn’t show it. Instead she snorts, nods in agreement. “Yeah, because you could come out dressed in a pair of child’s pyjamas and they’d still say they love it. They’d say it’s very Y2K or something.”

Tayce lets out a cackle before holding up the skirt and leather jacket, humming in thought. “Okay, so you’re saying ditch the jacket but keep the skirt.”

“Yes.”

“And ditch the bralet.”

“Yes.”

“So you want me to go out in a skirt and a pair of heels and nothing else,” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her, and as A’whora bursts out laughing and protests she has to fight off a blush at the thought of her best friend topless in heels. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt with a zip that could just be pulled down to leave her in-

The heat floods A’whora’s face like she’s been smacked and she shifts on the bed in an attempt at dissipating the feelings that’ve hit her like a tsunami. Inappropriate. Weird. Way too weird. Don’t do that again.

“What about the bright blue fur coat you’ve got? Because you could have an all black outfit with that as a bit of colour,” she suggests, shrugging lightly in an attempt to pretend that she hadn’t just been thinking about Tayce in the way she had.

Tayce’s face lights up and she points at A’whora with one hand and reaches into her wardrobe with the other. “Love that. Okay, top?”

“Are you addressing me? I’ve never topped for anyone,” A’whora attempts a joke. If Tayce can make jokes like that to her then she can do it right back.

“That’s very clear, baby,” Tayce shoots in response without missing a beat. Before A’whora realises it, she’s flexing her toes. What the fuck is happening to her? She needs to steer this conversation back on track.

She thinks for a second. “You’re a size eight, right?”

“In theory. The amount of pot noodles I’ve been chucking down my neck since I moved in is very quickly rendering that a distant memory, I’ll tell ya,” Tayce says, as she leans against the door of her wardrobe and folds her arms.

“I’ve got a black lace bodysuit that would go with that. It’s a ten so it’ll fit. D’you want to try it?”

“Well despite the fact a skirt and a bodysuit was the very thing I just roasted Ellie for always wearing…that sounds lush. Thanks, Rory Roo,” Tayce agrees, the nickname-of-a-nickname setting off the click of a small pilot light in A’whora’s heart. She’s about to ask if she wants to come try it on just now when she hears both their names being yelled from the kitchen.

The pair of them head back through to find that Tia has changed the playlist on the speakers from the chilled-out, calm acoustic one that had been playing to her early 00’s tunes. Combined with Bimini half-singing, half-yelling along to Murder on the Dancefloor and the blast of the extractor fan as Ellie stirs something in a big metal pot at the hob, it’s a far cry from the calm, cosy scene that A’whora had witnessed in the kitchen some hours prior.

Ellie had been the one who had shouted on them, and she whips around from the cooker when she realises that Tayce and A’whora have come through. “I’m making dinner for me, Bims and Tia, you wanting some?”

“Depends what it is. Come on, talk it up, Ellie. Give us some options,” Tayce shrugs with feigned disinterest, and A’whora can’t help the bubble of laughter that bursts from her mouth as Ellie narrows her eyes at her.

“It’s spaghetti and meatballs, and your alternatives are fuck off or die,” she shoots back savagely, and the whoop of shock and laughter that goes up from the others soars above the music and the fan. Tayce laughs good-naturedly in spite of the barb.

“I’m joking, ‘course I’ll take some.”

A’whora wrinkles her nose. “You’re making meatballs for a meal that Bimini is gonna eat?”

“They’re not real ones, dipshit,” Bimini pipes up from over on the sofa. “It’s that Birdseye Green Cuisine shit, innit.”

“Birdseye Green Cuisine shit,” A’whora repeats disdainfully. “If you ever go on The Apprentice, Bim, Alan Sugar’s gonna shit himself at your selling abilities.”

Tayce snorts, tries and fails to cover it up. When her eyes rest on A’whora they share a little smile, and A’whora’s grows bigger when she thinks about the way they’re both so in sync all the time.

“They’re nice, I promise! Veronica’s talked them up loads, she told me she’s been trying to eat more veggie things,” Tia insists, with an entirely unnecessary namedrop of her crush. A’whora relents and says she’ll have a small bowl before jumping out of her skin as Ellie bangs the spoon against the pot somewhat aggressively with a face like thunder.

Before A’whora can ask Ellie about her bad mood, Tia speaks again as she scrolls her phone to change the song. “Honestly, Ellie, you’re a star for doing dinner. Thanks so much.”

“Aw, don’t be silly, doll! It’s nothing!” Ellie turns around from the hob and bats the compliment away, shooting Tia a dazzling smile in return. It’s funny the way her demeanour seems to instantly do a complete 180 at the praise, and it makes A’whora wonder what’s changed.

She’s distracted, though, by the way Lawrence enters in her dressing gown with her hair up in a towel, obviously having come straight from the shower. She pouts and whines in a very un-Lawrence way as she lingers at the doorframe between the hall and the kitchen.

“Guysss, does anyone have an ID they can give me for tonight?”

“What about your friend? Who was it…Rosé?” A’whora shrugs, and Lawrence fixes her with a wide-eyed stare of incredulity.

“Oh my God, A’whora! I never thought about asking the girl I’ve been borrowing ID from since the start of uni! Thanks for that!” she says sarcastically, Bimini giving a yelp of laughter and A’whora leaning off the countertops and swiping at Lawrence in retort. “She’s using it. She asked her girlfriend and her flatmates for me but they’ve all got plans. I felt like a fuckin’ daytime TV charity advert.”

“For just one pound a week, you could help an underaged child get blackout drunk on triple trebles,” A’whora puts on a dramatic, concerned voice, proud of the way it makes Tayce blurt out a laugh.

“It’s such fucking bullshit,” Lawrence huffs, leaning against the fridge and folding her arms. “I mean my eighteenth’s in five days and I’ve been drinking in parks since I was fourteen, how can I not just be let into a fuckin’ bar?”

“Grow up and order a fake one,” Ellie shakes her head with incredulity, smashing the wooden spoon against the pot again with a bang-bang-bang to get the excess pasta sauce off.

“Just you pipe down, hen, you shouldn’t even be at uni. In fact, have you even completed primary yet?”

The two girls stick their tongues out at each other, a mirror-image of petty bickering that makes A’whora laugh. Luckily Bimini steps in, shrugging as they open their purse.

“Here, babe. I’ve still got my course friend’s provisional from when she dropped it on Gordon Street when she was off her face. I ain’t given her it back yet an’ I’m sure she wouldn’t care if you borrowed it. She’s chill.”

Lawrence accepts enthusiastically, bouncing over to Bimini and thanking them gratefully. A’whora watches her face drop, though, when she takes a look at the photo.

“There’s no way this’ll work.”

Bimini tuts and shakes their head, the picture of casual composure. “It’s fine, babes, they never look properly anyway.”

Lawrence drops the hand that’s holding the license to her side and fixes her friend with an astounded glare. “Bimini. This girl is black.”

As the others screech with outrage and mirth, Bimini waves Lawrence’s concerns away blithely. “It’ll be dark! It’s fine! Asttina an’ you have both got similar…well…you’re both girls, an’ you’re about the same height. Give or take a few inches.”

“Christ. I’m going to have to just forward roll past the bouncers, aren’t I? Then draw a fuckin’ club stamp on my arm in Sharpie.”

“Oh my God, stop moaning!” Ellie sighs from her position at the hob, bangs the spoon again for emphasis. “Look, I’ll ask Pippa from flat 2, alright? You both have brown hair, so…that’ll probably be enough.”

A’whora thinks it’s interesting the way Lawrence doesn’t shoot something back in her foghorn of a voice like she normally does. Instead she smiles warmly, dashes over to the kitchen where she hugs Ellie from behind, squeezing her tightly at the stomach and making her flinch in surprise.

“Thanks, Ellie-Bellie,” she sing-songs, swaying her aggressively from side to side until Ellie bats her away, flicking the spoon in a way that threatens to shower them both in marinara sauce.

“Right, that’s plenty. Don’t even do things I enjoy for that long.”

“When’s this gonna be ready, Els?” Bimini shouts through as Lawrence lets go. “ ‘Ave I got time to do my makeup before it?”

Ellie shrugs. “If you can do your makeup in ten minutes.”

A’whora kicks her leg out in Tayce’s direction and jerks her head towards the hall. “Do you want to try on that bodysuit before tea?”

Tayce nods enthusiastically in agreement, so they go back along the corridor with a shout to the others telling them they won’t be long. A’whora holds the door of her room open for Tayce and her heart sinks in embarrassment when she realises she forgot to make her bed this morning.

“Sorry about the mess,” she apologies, to which Tayce gives a cry of a laugh in response.

“A’whora, have you seen my room? You’re fine, kid, don’t worry.”

A’whora thinks that’s true- Tayce’s room is a state, but somehow it seems to suit her. Tayce’s room with the crowded bulletin board, desk covered in sweet wrappers and sketches, floor carpeted with clothes that need washed and outfits that didn’t make the cut. The cracked picture frame on her window-sill of the first selfie the six of them all got together on the first night of freshers and the huge cheese plant that sits next to her bedside table, Tayce’s pride and joy. They’re all little intricate shards that join up to form a perfect picture of her personality, and A’whora thinks it’s sort of perfect.

She looks out the bodysuit from its neatly Marie Kondo-d place in her wardrobe and hands it gently to Tayce. “Try it and see. It’s a small 10 anyway so it’ll probably be fine for you.”

Tayce accepts it gratefully and hooks a finger around both of the straps, letting the rest of the material fall out of its perfectly folded little parcel. She gives a little gasp of appreciation as she looks at it. “Oh yes, baby. I think this’ll do just fine.”

A’whora feels good- proud that she’s managed to find the perfect piece for Tayce’s outfit, to help her look as inevitably gorgeous as she knows she will. The smile on her face falters, though, when Tayce shoots her a wink and leans against the wall with her shoulder. “This is gonna get me someone I can pop off my acrylics for, I can tell. You’ve got the best taste, girl.”

“Are you actually going to try and get with someone tonight?” A’whora injects a laugh into her question that she’s banking on sounding genuine, otherwise it comes across as accusatory and that’s not what she means it to be. Or is it? She doesn’t know. “You know how messy nights at The Avenue always get. Last time we were there Lawrence got so drunk she told us she couldn’t see, remember?”

Tayce laughs her off with a shrug. “Well then I’ll just have to be careful with my drinks, won’t I?”

A’whora gives a false laugh, tries so hard to get it to meet her eyes. Why is she so pressed about this? She gets with girls on nights out too, she’s brought the occasional one night stand to the flat. Tayce is allowed to do the same.

So why does she feel ever so slightly gutted?

If her smile looks fake (which it is) then Tayce doesn’t notice, and she only shoots her a smile as she opens the bedroom door. “You’re an angel. I’ll pop this on then be back in five.”

A’whora takes the opportunity of Tayce having left to make her bed, and as she does so she feels lots of little thoughts dart around her mind like minnows, none of them staying in the same place for long enough to be able to be deciphered. She manages to catch a few before they flee away and she clings to them, turning them over in her head: why does she feel so bothered about the prospect of Tayce finding a girl at the party, talking to her and making a connection and laughing at her jokes? Why had it felt like a punch to the gut when Tayce was joking about doing so? Why does she have this part of her that feels like an idiot for setting Tayce up to look her best and knowing that it’s for the benefit of somebody else, somebody that doesn’t know her like she does?

And then her bedroom door opens and A’whora turns around and lays eyes on her best friend. Tayce in her high heels and bare legs and the skirt with the zip. Tayce with her baby blue fake fur coat and her straight, dark hair tumbling over its shoulders. Tayce in the bodysuit- A��whora’s bodysuit- with the lace and the mesh that clings to her chest like it was designed just for her. There’s something about the fact that she’s wearing something that belongs to A’whora that makes something inside her chest tingle, the fact it’s a little piece of her in Tayce’s jigsaw puzzle that seems to fit regardless of the difference.

“What d’you think?” Tayce smiles, all too aware of how drop-dead stunning she looks.

And then the realisation hits A’whora like a train.

Oh.

Fuck.

She’s screwed.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #me and you together #taywhora #uk2 #lesbian au #university au #british au #college au #freshers au #roommate au #tayce #a'whora #friends with benefits to lovers #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi

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abbie-writes-stuff · 5 years

Text

epiphany//euphoria - I

Word Count: 1.2k

NOTICE: this hanahaki au works differently from a typical hanahaki au. Once the victim has surgery to remove the flowers, instead of losing the feelings that he or she had, the victim forgets about the relationship he or she had with the receiver but they do not forget who the receiver is (e.g. they forget the kind of bond they had with the receiver). If the two were close before, after the victim has surgery, the receiver will just become a stranger with a name.

You were suffocating in the most exquisite way,

But you were still dying

Week 2

“So, how did it go?” (Y/N)’s cheery voice broke the silence. “The date, I mean.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Shouto spoke gruffly. “But it went fine.”

The girl merely hummed in response, focusing her attention back to her notebook that was filled with doodles of different kinds of flowers and detailed sketches of clouds.

The afternoon sun bathed the two in its unrelenting heat as the small fan that was in (Y/N)’s room made pitiful attempts to cool the two down.

A knocking sound snapped the two out of their trance as (Y/N) said a small “Come in”.

“(Y/N), I came to give you your notebook from yesterday,” entered Yaoyorozu, standing at the doorway. “Hello, Todoroki-san.”

The dual-haired boy gave her a curt nod before returning to his book, the black-haired girl responding with a faint smile that made (Y/N)’s heart drop. The feeling of suffocation started to swell and prick within her lungs again as she tried her best not to cough in front of the two. It proved to be a lot more difficult.

Her airway was sizzling with white fire as tears started to prick at her eyes. When Yaoyorozu finally left, she relaxed for only a moment before remembering Shouto was still in the room.

“I’m going to Ochaco’s room really quick, I left something there,” she wheezed out in a strained voice.

Without waiting for his reaction, she walked out of the room in a hurried pace.

Soft patters turned into rushed stomps as she desperately reached for her temporary sanctuary, but the hallway only seemed to get longer.

When she finally reached her paradise, (Y/N) knocked on the brunette’s door hurriedly, small coughs already starting to escape her throat.

When the door finally opened, (Y/N) ran into Ochaco’s bathroom and let out what she was holding back the entire time.

She couldn’t feel the gentle pats on her back as she coughed up the remnants of the flowers she bloomed herself. She couldn’t feel the coldness of the bathroom floor as she kneeled known. She couldn’t feel any of it. Just the bitterness of sorrow and pain.

Even after she finished, she knelt there with her forehead against her arm that rested against the rim of the toilet. It was a little gross, but she couldn’t care less. The only thing on her mind was the strain in her throat that didn’t leave even after she coughed out the lilies. Ochaco stayed by her side the entire time.

“Better?” Ochaco whispered.

“A bit better.”

Helping the girl up, a certain disturbance resonated within Ochaco’s soft brown eyes.

“(Y/N), I hate seeing you like this. When are you planning to tell him? Or, at least her,” she stated, the grip on the (H/C) haired girl’s arm tightening.

She simply shook her head, averting her eyes so her friend couldn’t see the tears pricking at her delicate (E/C) eyes.

“He’s not ready to hear it.”

“More like you’re not ready to accept it,” Ochaco bites back. (Y/N) winces at her harsh words, bringing a hand up to wipe away the tears before they could fall.

The chestnut-haired girl sighed, ripping off a piece of toilet paper and wiped away her tears.

“You know I mean it in the best way. What this is doing to you, it could kill you.”

I know that, (Y/N) thought. But even so…

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think it’s gotten that bad yet. Besides, it’s kind of beautiful, don’t you think?”

Ochaco looked at (Y/N) bewildered and scared. (Y/N) could hear it in her wavering voice and rapid breathing.

“It’s not beautiful if it means I lose my best friend. Is it a prettier way to die? Sure. But is it a better way to die? No,” Ochaco breathes, looking down at her feet. “Maybe it hasn’t gotten bad yet, but once it does, it’ll be too late.”

The timid girl didn’t reply. Her cheery voice that normally rang out across the classroom fell on a silent note like a symphony coming to an end. The light in (Y/N)’s eyes had died.

“I have to go back. Shouto’s waiting for me.”

Waving a quick goodbye to her friend, (Y/N) leaves as soon as she entered.

Should she even go back? All she wanted to do was to retreat back into her dark palace and cry. Cry, throw a fit, be upset at how unfair the world is. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

With a brave sigh, she opens the door to her dorm. She was greeted with a relaxed Shouto, off in his own little world without a thing to worry about. Rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, she feigned a smile as she strode up to him in her usual fashion.

“Back.”

“What did you forget?”

“Turns out I didn’t forget anything,” she chuckled, sitting criss crossed on the soft mattress as she continued to flip through her notebook mindlessly.

If only it could stay that way.

⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋

A pounding headache echoed in her skull as she wreathed in her bed, trying to get in a position that will relieve the burn.

Her body was burning and the pain in her lungs wouldn’t leave. Death has never looked more pleasant in (Y/N)’s eyes.

This wouldn’t have happened if you had tried harder, she scolded herself. You wouldn’t be suffering if you were just better.

A month ago, she would have never talked herself down like that. She would have never despised the very being that is herself. But that was a month ago. Something has changed. Something has made her feel like she wasn’t enough.

An aggressive knock on her door scared her out of her dark prison as she reluctantly dragged herself out of bed. The cool touch of her doorknob provided a small dose of relief to her overheated body as she opened the door.

“What the hell? You look like a mess,” snarled Bakugou as he eyed the girl up in down in disgust.

He wasn’t wrong, however. Her hair was a complete mess and the bags under her eyes seemed permanent.

However, (Y/N) was in too much torment to care.

“You need something?”

“Yeah. The girl’s wanted me to give this to you,” he gruffed, shoving a small white box into her.

Eyeing the box with tired (E/C) eyes, she questioned Bakugou in a soft voice. “You didn’t fight back?”

“Of course I did! Those idiots said they had something to do and I was forced here!”

Stifling a small laugh, she thanked him regardless.

“What’s in here anyway?”

“I don’t know. Bye,” he exclaimed loudly before marching off.

Watching the firecracker go, she closed the door and sat on her bed, the ache in her head forgotten.

Delicately opening the pearly plastic box, a shockingly sweet scent drifted out. What laid in the box was a healthy stack of white macarons neatly stacked and neatly made. On the inside of the box laid a small note.

Plucking it out carefully, the words “we thought you’d like these” were written in nice handwriting.

At first, (Y/N) was speechless. Then, she was touched. Then, her eyes started to prick.

I’m pathetic, she thought bitterly. I don’t deserve these.

But even so, she gently placed the note on her desk and closed the box, deciding to save them for later.

For the first time that week, (Y/N)’s lips curled into a sincere smile.

#shouto #todoroki #shouto todoroki #shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader

220 notes · View notes

cmncisspnandmore · 5 years

Text

Ruined

Request: Hey, I love your work and was wondering if you could do some like plutonic Hotch x teen reader maybe she’s like wears all black and always listening to music and gets into trouble a lot at school, and he needs to look after her for a case and maybe finds out somehow that she’s just really depressed and self harms (if your okay with that) and he doesn’t know what to do so asks the others for help and then gets a call saying she ditched school and he finds her and talks to her and stuff.

Pairing: Plantonic Hotch X Teen Reader

Warnings: Depression, suicidal ideation, Anxiety, Blood, Some gore. Triggering content!!! PLEASE DON'T READ THIS IF IT'S GOING TO TRIGGER YOU!!!!!

AN: Hello lovely people, it’s me your author. Please if you are feeling like this in any way or you feel unsafe. Please seek help. As a human who has had many many mental health struggles (Including one recently) I understand that you don't think it's worth it. And that it won't ever get better. I mean heck, look at me, i’m 21 years old, i’m getting married next year, and I still don't have shit together mentally. But I promise if you hold on things will get better. It might take years but you won't know if you don't try right? So if you are feeling unsafe please contact someone. My inbox is always open.

~~~~

“Hotch, we got a problem.” JJ’s voice chimes on the other side of the radio.

“What? Is everyone okay?” Hotch adjusts his vest, and watches as the other agents on the team file out of the house. Sandwiched between Morgan and JJ, is a teen girl. Her black hoodie is pulled tight around her body, headphones limply lay around her neck and her face is streaked with tears. They had been called in to help the local police force with a case. Young parents were being murdered in their homes, their children left for dead in the bathrooms. There had been 3 couples killed, along with their kids. Hotch was sure that when they got a call from the neighbor that the child of this couple would also be amongst the bodies that the medical examiners were carting away.

Hotch stepped forward as JJ and Morgan handed you off to the paramedics, they sit you down in the back of the ambulance and checked you over for injuries as Hotch spoke to the two agents.

“How is she still alive?” The senior agent glances between them.

“I found her hiding in a crawlspace in the basement, she said her mother heard her father talking to Unsub at the door, when the man pushed his way into the house her mother shoved her down the basement stairs and hid her. She said her mom swore up and down that she was away with some friends for the summer. So the unsub changed his course and only killed them. But Hotch, our profile on this guy makes me think he's not going to stop until he has her too.” JJ explains glancing over his shoulder to look at the girl who is sitting in the back of the ambulance, ignoring the EMT’s questions.

“Does she have any family?” Hotch asks, turning around, watching as the girl shoves the Emts hands away as he tries to pull up her sleeve.

“I told you im fine. Please leave me alone.” She yells, reaching up and gripping her hair, as more tears spill down her cheeks.

“They’re in Africa, her Aunt and Uncle are over there, they’re doctors. They are due to arrive back in a few days. I figured she would be safer with us until we catch the Unsub.” Morgan explains as Hotch takes a few steps towards the ambulance.

“We’ll look after her until they get back.” Hotch crosses his arms across his chest, and walks over to the back of the ambulance. You look up as he walks closer to you, and you cross your arms over your chest, glancing down at your battered shoes.

“Hello, Im SSA Hotchner, but you can call me Hotch. Can i ask you a few questions?” He takes a seat next to you, and you pull your hoodie closer.

“I’m Y/N, and sure..” You mumble, looking down at his shiny shoes, your fingers turning white from gripping onto your hoodie so hard.

“Agent Jareau, said your mom told you to hide from the man who was pushing into your house. Did you know the man?”

With a shake of your head, more tears start to fall, “no.. he sounded like one of those guys who go door to door to sell you stuff..”

“A salesman?”

“Yeah, like the one you see in movies that try to sell you vacuum cleaners. But he was trying to push his way into the house after my dad said he wasn't interested. That's when my mom told me to go hide. So i went down into the basement, that's when I heard my mom screaming. I couldn’t make out what he was saying but all I could hear was her screaming. And then there was silence.. An..and i knew that he had killed my parents. I waited until I heard him leave the house before I even dared to move. I guess my neighbors heard my parents screaming because that's when I heard the sirens. But I was too afraid that he was still in the house, and when Agent Jareau called down the stairs, that's when I came out of the crawlspace.” You choke out, your throat closing making you feel like you couldn’t breathe.

“It’s going to be okay, we’re gonna catch the guy who did this. Agent Morgan is going to get in contact with your Aunt and Uncle, but until they can get back you’re gonna stay with us.” Hotch wrapped an arm around you as you sobbed into his kevlar vest.

“Where is your bedroom? I can send an Agent up to grab you some clothes.” He rubbed your arms, and you sniffled, looking up at him.

“No.. no i want to get my own stuff..” You wipe your eyes with the back of your sleeve, and stand up, your battered converse hitting the ground.

“Are you sure?” Hotch looks at you, taking in your all black jeans, and a hoodie. Black streaks of mascara running down your face as you hastily wipe away the tears that you were fighting to hold back.

“I'm sure. I just need a few minutes.”

With a nod, he walks with you up to the house, where numerous officers and agents are walking around, taking pictures of evidence, and dusting for fingerprints. By the front door a large puddle of blood still sits on the floor, and your swallow back bile that rises in your throat. That was your father's blood, there was no denying it. He had been the one to open the door, he was the one who was attacked first. The tangy smell of copper assaults your nose as you walk up the stairs to your room. Agent Hotchner is close behind you, and he watches you as you carefully move around the room shoving some clothes and personal belongings into the bag. While your back is to him you open the small box you keep in your nightstand and take a quick inventory of your supplies. 8 gleaming razors shine back at you and you snap the box close, shoving into the depths of your bag. After you’re sure you have everything you wanted and needed, you turn back to the agent who is studying your artwork on the walls. At least a hundred scraps of paper with small doodles and poems litter your walls. Most of them appear to be happy but if you read or looked closely you could see they only masked the broken things within them. You clear your throat, gaining the attention of the profiler.

��All set?” He glances over at you, and clears his own throat.

With a short nod you brush by him and make your way outside to the lawn where you can see 3 black chevy suburbans are waiting.

“You can ride with me, I'm the only one with extra room right now so I hope you don't mind.” He guides you over to the first SUV, he opens the passenger side door for you and climb in, setting the bag at your feet.

You watch as he walks over to the other side and slides into the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition, the engine roars to life and he starts to drive down the road. The ride is silent, until he reaches the police station. There you are questioned by many officers, they all ask you the same thing, to recount what happened and anything you could remember about the day and the last few weeks. You tell them all the same thing, no you didn't see anyone hanging around your house, no your parents didn't have enemies. After hours of answering questions you were fed up with talking so you pulled your ipod from your pocket and turned on the loudest song you had and blasted it. Shutting all the talking and questions out, you put your head down on your hands and got lost in the songs that streamed from the ipod.

After a few songs a hand touched your shoulder, and you jerk up, your hair falling into your face and you rip the headphones from your ears.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. But we can go now. I have arranged for you to stay in the other bed in my hotel room. Unless you would rather be with Agent Morgan and JJ. But they don't have an extra bed, and the other members of my team are staying here to work through most of the night to try and catch the man who did this.” Hotch explains as you try to calm your racing heart.

“N-no, that's fine.” You push back in the chair and stand, and he gives you a soft smile, and gestures for you to follow him out to the parking lot.

You drive there in silence and nothing is said until you get back to the hotel room.

“I have to make a quick phone call, feel free to change and do what you need to do.” He smiles and shuts the door behind him as he steps out into the hall. You sigh in relief and quickly discard your hoodie. You root around in your bag for the small box and pull it open, grabbing one of the blades and your hoodie, you shove the box back into the depths of your bag. You hurry into the bathroom, turning on the shower for good measure. You put the toilet seat lid down and sit down, you roll up the sleeves of your shirt, and stare at your scarred wrists. You take a shaky breath, and press the blade against your skin, dragging it across. The pain cuts through the fog in your head.

You couldn’t process everything that had gone on today, you were swimming in thoughts. You couldn't get image of your fathers blood out of your head, you couldn't stop hearing their screams. You couldn't stop hearing the deafening silence that came after. Tears were falling nearly as fast as the blood, it was pooling on the tan tile of the bathroom. 7 bright red cuts stared back at you from your wrist. Taking a gasping breath you grab a small hand towel and press it against your wrist, and it turns it from white to red fairly quickly. You hadn’t anticipated going as deep as you did but you couldn’t take it back. You rummage around in the bathroom and find a small first aid kit. You wrap the wounds tightly and eventually it stops bleeding. After taking a few minutes to bury the washcloth in the trash can and put away the first aid kit. You clean up the floor, flushing the bloodied toilet paper down the toilet and turn off the shower. You throw on your hoodie and throw the blade in the trash can before exiting. When you get into the room Hotch is sitting on the bed with a large Manila folder which you assume is the case file on your parents.

“You didn't have to fake being in the shower if you needed a moment alone. I know today has been rough for you.” Hotch looks up from the folder, and you stare at him, your heart is racing. Does he know? Did he figure out why you went into the bathroom?

“Everyone needs a quiet moment, especially after what you went through today. Its normal to want to be alone for a moment.” He offers you a small smile, his gaze returning to the folder.

You give him a small nod, and climb into the spare bed, it wasn't very late, but you were exhausted, as soon as you laid down you fell into a dark and dreamless sleep.

Hotch stayed up most of the night, reading over the files, having hushed conversations in the hallway with the rest of the team, eventually around 2am he fell asleep. Only to be woken up by a phone call at 7, Gracia had found some important information on the Unsub and your family history.

The phone call pulled your from your dreamless sleep, and you sit up as Hotchner is pulling on his suit jacket.

He puts his gun into the holster and turns to you. “I’ll have an agent collect you in a few hours, feel free to order room service, just don't leave this room, and don't open the door to anyone who isn’t hotel staff or an agent.”

You give a small nod and watch as he leaves the room, after a few moments you go over to your bag, you put on one of the outfits you brought with you. You shrug on a different black hoodie, this one has your favorite band splashed across the front of it, you grab your headphones and ipod and slip quietly out of the hotel room. You start off down the street, making your way to your childhood home. The yellow police tape still hangs from your front door, the smell of bleach and cleaner wafts from the open window in the living room. The crime scene cleanup crew must’ve left it open to try to air out the smell. But nothing could completely cover the tangy smell of coopery blood. Your parents blood. You duck around the back of the house and sit on the small porch swing your father put up for you when you were 8, and begged him for a place you could watch the thunderstorms. You pull your knees up to your chest, resting your chin against the tops of them. The happy memories this house gave you flood back, and tears well in your eyes. Because behind every happy memory you had in your childhood home, a darker one lingered. Sure your parents were great, they never did anything bad to you, they never hurt you. You never had any real hardships, your life was okay. But what your parents couldn’t protect you from, was your own mind. For years you had always thought about what it would be like to take a little too much of a pain medication. Or jump from a height that was just a little too high. You had thought of grabbing the wheel of your mothers’ car when she was driving and steering into oncoming traffic. You had those thoughts for as long as you can remember, but it wasn’t until you got into highschool, that people started to make comments about you. When they pushed you in the hallways for no reason and called you names, that you decided to act on those thoughts.

You were 14 when your parents found you unconscious on the bathroom floor, you had swallowed an entire bottle of your mothers’ pain medication. You were rushed to the hospital, spent a small time in the psych ward, you lied your way out. Claiming you didn't mean to take that many, that you didn't know what you were doing, that you haven't slept much and it was your sleep deprived mind that caused you take too many. When your parents started to lock up some of the heavier medications in the house you had t o find a new escape. So you turned to cutting, and for now that was working.

“Hotch,” Aaron pressed the cell phone to his ear turning away from the detectives.

“She’s not here man, I checked the entire hotel.” Morgan tell the senior agent, and Hotch lets out a breath, running a hand over his face he mutters that he’ll go look for you and hangs up on Morgan.

He gets into the SUV and starts to drive, he’s not really sure you would’ve gone back to your house but it was a good place to start. Gracia had told him about your stay in a psych ward, about how you had mandatory therapy through your highschool. She also told him that before the end of the school year your best friend had reported to the guidance counselor that she was worried about you, that you might be delving into drugs or something because you had suddenly lost interest in everything. Hotch presses down harder on the gas pedal, his mind racing that your parents dying could be the thing to set you over the edge.

He whips the SUV into the driveway, and approaches the house seeing that the crime scene tape is untouched, he concludes you haven't gone into the house, he walks around the side of the house and sees that the side gate is open slightly, he can also hear the slight creaking of a swing. He rounds the corner slowly, and that's when he sees you. You’re sitting on a porch swing, your black hoodie discarded on the porch under your feet, and your fingers are absently tracing your wrist, from where he's standing he can see angry red lines and raised scars litter your skin.

He walks over to you, and you jump as he places his hand on your shoulder. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear him come up behind you.

“You’re going to be okay, Y/N.” he crouches down and takes in your tears stained cheeks.

“But what if i'm not… What if i'm never okay. I don't have anyone anymore.My parents are gone. My best friend thinks i do drugs. I have these thoughts and I just want them to go away and they just won't go away.” You cry and Hotch reaches forward and pulls you off the swing, he clutches you to his chest. He whispers soothing words into your hair as he holds you and you finally let yourself be the broken, and ruined girl that you are. After almost an hour of him just holding you letting you get everything out, he looks down at you.

“Y/N, i promise before i leave that i will make sure you aren’t alone, that you will get the help you need. I will even give you my personal number so you can call me at anytime. But I promise you. You’re going to be okay, it might take years, but eventually you’ll be okay. Just don't put those walls back up. You have to let people in. Because if you don’t, then we won't be able to help.” You wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

You sniffle and nod, “Okay… I want you to help me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

Criminal minds:

@talktomeniice

@reapeared

@banananna99

@cynbx

#criminal #minds #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #aaron #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #platonic reader #teen reader #triggering #content may be triggering #hotch x you #hotch x teen! reader #sad #sad reader #depression

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alphacrone · 4 years

Text

for it's better to burn out than to fade out of sight (1/?)

rating: T pairings: Yuki & Tohru (platonic), Tohru/Kyo, Yuki/Machi, other canon pairings & friendships summary: In the end, it wasn’t sadness Yuki felt, when Tohru Honda had her memories erased. No, it was anger. And anger he could work with. notes: manga spoilers, canon divergence

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i. i thought i found you, just to see you fading out into the night

***

Will you still be my friend?

***

In the end, it wasn’t sadness Yuki felt, nor grief, nor disbelief as Hatori slid his shoes off in their entryway with a muttered, excuse me . He did not feel dread as the doctor bowed to Tohru as she came out of the kitchen, still wearing her apron. Yuki didn’t even feel the cold trickle of fear when Hatori said, in his callous monotone, I’m here on Akito’s orders.

Numbness burned the tips of Yuki’s fingers as Kyo hurled insults at Hatori, at Shigure, at anyone and everyone. An unpleasant warmth bubbled against the skin of Yuki’s neck as Shigure impassively asked if Hatori was mistaken.

I’m sorry , Hatori said in lieu of an answer. He did not meet Shigure’s gaze, nor Yuki’s. He looked instead at Tohru.

I understand , she had replied, smiling bright as the sun, even as she cried. I understand .

She didn’t understand, in Yuki’s opinion. This wasn’t about keeping a secret; it was about punishing him .

Kyo was gone before Tohru even sat down across from Hatori. Yuki wished for that sort of freedom when his legs felt shackled to the floor. To run from this latest tragedy would be bliss.

Does it hurt? Tohru asked, hands clasped tightly together on her lap.

No , Hatori said.

Not you , Yuki thought. This won’t hurt you. Not in a way you’ll know.

She nodded, wiping at her damp cheeks as she met Yuki’s gaze. Thank you , she whispered. For everything.

Yuki didn’t cry as Hatori touched the side of Tohru’s head. He didn’t scream as she slumped over, eyes rolling back. He didn’t say anything at all as she looked up at Hatori, unseeing.

Were he that stupid cat, he might’ve raged, might’ve broken down doors or throttled Hatori for daring to take away his friend again . But Yuki bit his tongue as the good doctor left and stood still when Shigure led Tohru back to that damned tent, all alone in the woods. She would wake up in the morning and remember nothing of her time in this house. To her, Yuki would be a distant classmate, another face in the sea of students who made up the background noise of her life.

No, it wasn’t sadness Yuki felt.

It was anger.

Yuki knew grief well, knew how it frosted over his heart and froze his limbs. But anger was something new to him in this world outside the walls of the Sohma compound. He’d watched as it burned Kyo from the inside out, had felt its flaming tendrils lapping within his chest when Shigure was cruel or the cat needled him into a fight. But now, as he stood alone in the first place he’d ever considered home, rage sparked like stoked coals in the pit of his stomach.

Sadness was debilitating, but anger? Anger he could work with.

The night outside grew dark, but Yuki’s path forward seemed clearer than ever.

***

There is one thing...please...

***

Yuki didn’t mean to be in the classroom when Tohru’s friends confronted her, but in his defense, he hadn’t thought they’d have this conversation at school .

He was doodling aimlessly in the margins of his notebook, letting the morning chatter of his classmates down out the messy thoughts in his head. The two girls—Uotani and Hanajima—jumped up the moment Tohru walked into class, Uotani brandishing a crumpled piece of paper at her as she waved in greeting.

“Is this true?!” Uotani shouted. Behind her, Hanajima stood expressionless. “Did your gramps kick you out? I’ll kill him !”

“W-what?” Tohru paled and read the paper Uotani shoved in her face. “I-Yes! I mean, no! I- I didn’t mean to keep it a secret from you, I just didn’t want to worry you-”

“Of course we’d worry-”

“-a-a-and Grandpa didn’t kick me out, his house is being renovated! And he asked if I could stay somewhere else-”

“-a tent in the woods, do you know how dangerous -”

“-and Hana’s family is so big and you always say your place is too small for you and your dad-”

“-friends help each other, Tohru!” Uotani slammed her hand against an empty desk, causing Tohru to jump in surprise. “You aren’t a burden!”

Tears filled Tohru’s eyes, and she looked down at her feet. Hanajima stepped forward, having remained silent this whole time, and placed a hand on Tohru’s shoulder. “You’re going to come stay with me, okay? Mother and Father were very worried when I told them you didn’t have a place to live.”

Tohru was crying in full now, face buried in her hands. Uotani was sobbing, too, and she pulled Tohru into a tight hug, Hanajima wrapped her arms around both of them and stood patiently, eyes closed, and the other two apologized to each other in shaky hysterics. Yuki averted his eyes, wondering if he should have chosen a better time to slip that anonymous note into Uotani’s locker.

Perhaps this was for the best. Tohru would live with Hanajima’s family, then return to her family, and she’d live a normal life away from the Sohma curse and all that came with it. She would be safe; Akito would never be able to touch her on the outside.

But…

But Yuki was selfish, selfish and angry and greedy for more than watching Tohru smile from across a classroom. For once, he’d let someone near his heart, and she hadn’t run away. She’d fixed his crooked tie and protected his secret base and asked a dirty, unnatural rat to be her friend. Tohru deserved better than someone like him, but Yuki would be damned if he let her go without a fight.

He glanced at Kyo’s empty seat; the idiot had skipped class every day since Tohru had left. Yuki didn’t care what the stupid cat did with his time, but he felt a twinge of something akin to sympathy anyway. If anyone’s anger could match Yuki’s own, it was Kyo’s. The cat was born into injustice and fed nothing but pain and fear.

Yuki would rather cut his own tongue out than ever admit it out loud, but perhaps this was something they could ally against. Perhaps…

Mayu-sensei’s arrival broke Yuki from his thoughts, and he quickly shook them away. The cat was no use to him, now or ever. It was foolish to dream.

***

If my memories are erased...

***

“ You can stay at Kaibara, ” Hatori had told him over the phone, the night Tohru left. “But you cannot talk to Tohru Honda. If you or Kyo talk to her, you’ll both be transferred. My method is powerful, but not foolproof, and talking to her could spark something.” There was a pause, then, “This is what is best for everyone, no matter Shigure thinks.”

None of this was surprising, but Hatori’s cold tone was gasoline tossed on the fire of Yuki’s rage. Yuki had clenched his jaw, but did not shout when he asked, “Do you remember, when you erased the memories of my friends, when I was young? Do you remember how much I cried?”

There was a pause, then a sigh, and a soft, “Yes.”

“And Akito laughed,” Yuki had continued. “Akito laughed until he cried.”

“I’m sorry.” And Yuki believed Hatori felt remorse. He knew not a soul among them could defy Akito’s direct orders. But it wasn’t enough.

“I’m not crying now,” Yuki told him, voice cold and clear. “And when this is over, Akito won’t be laughing.”

He’d hung up before his nerves could overtake him and sank to the floor, burying his face against his knees. Threatening Hatori wasn’t as dangerous, as forbidden as threatening Akito but…

Yuki scrambled to the bathroom, barely making it in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He retched, again and again until nothing was left. His body shook uncontrollably, adrenaline and fear and newfound power coursing through his veins. Yuki stood, shaky as a fawn, and felt a lightness in his limbs he’d never known before.

He couldn’t help but laugh; Yuki was toeing a dangerous line and it felt like freedom.

***

... will you still be my friend?

***

Opportunity had a funny way of sneaking up on a person.

It was raining the day Yuki noticed Tohru eating alone at her desk, for once not surrounded by Uotani and Hanajima. She didn’t seem sad or lonely, smiling softly to herself and glancing over her class notes, but Yuki could only see that tired girl emerging from her tent in the woods, feverish and small.

Don’t speak to Tohru Honda. He could hear Hatori say. This is for the best .

Who would want to be friends with someone as useless as you? Mother hissed in his head.

If normal people knew your secret, Akito had once said. It would sicken them.

They were right, he was being stupid, he was broken and cursed and disgusting. Yuki was an abomination, a shell of a person hiding an ugly truth, and Tohru was-

Will you still be my friend?

Torhu was someone he’d made a promise to, someone who’d seen the truth and smiled. Yuki took a deep breath and slowly approached her desk, lunch clutched in his hand as the classroom around him blurred into nothingness.

“Honda?” His voice came out softer than he intended, shakier. But Tohru looked up, eyes bright and kind as always, and his nerves settled. “You’re eating alone today?”

Tohru looked around, as if just realizing her friends were gone. “Oh, Sohma, hello! Um, yes, Hana needed to return some books to the library and Uo’s home sick, so it’s just me.” She smiled awkwardly.

Those ugly voices still screamed in his head, but the newly-burning rage roared louder. Yuki took another deep breath and focused on the warmth that always seemed to radiate from Tohru. She looked at him curiously, sweet and open and kind. He could do this. He would do this.

“Do you...do you mind if I join you?”

***

next chapter >>

#fruits basket fanfiction #fruits basket #fruits basket spoilers #furuba manga spoilers #yuki & tohru #anna writes things #x-posting from ao3

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gay-spaghetti · 5 years

Text

A Much Needed Reunion - FriendlyPack Gifted Heart AU Fanfic

Summary: The traumatic death of Staniel Wheeler has left Jimmy heartbroken—literally and figuratively—and every day is a constant struggle without his best friend. Stan, now a ghostly spirit, follows the lonely drug dealer wherever he goes, desperately wishing to be seen and heard by him.

Rating: Mature (17+) Triggers/Warnings: Strong language, suicide mention, suicidal thoughts, death, attempted rape (The attempted rape is incredibly sfw. It's still a heavy subject though, so I knew I needed to mention it regardless) Chapters: 1/1 (One-shot) Word Count: 4,616 Inspirations: @haepherion , @missfeisty199 , Tags: @stanthewaterman , @friendlypack

Note: This isn’t the entirety of the AU, just a snippet of it. The AU will never be a full fic, although there will be doodles and comics created for it to expand the story. ALSO::: I know the triggers are heavy, but I promise you the ending is happy.

Jimmy Bending collapsed to his hands and knees, a cry of anguish unsteadily spilling from his lips. He wasn’t pushed, nor had he tripped. Rather, the death of his best friend Staniel Wheeler tore at him so severely, that he couldn’t keep the pain in any longer. Stan had only been buried just two days ago, and Jimmy was visiting his grave during a heavy rainfall—one that had made the grassy ground a soppy mess. Stan’s marble tombstone was adorned with all kinds of flowers and surrounded by rock-filled water bottles. The bottles were there in memoriam, the weight of the stones keeping them in place. They would’ve all been filled with water, but everyone knew that Stan wouldn’t have wanted any of it to go to waste.

Jimmy cried his heart out, feeling too vulnerable to weep at the funeral, so he did it here. He crawled to the grave and hugged the drenched tombstone, muttering incoherent apologies and babbling out Stan’s name as if saying it enough times would bring him back. A sudden strike of distant lightning startled him from his sobs, and he wiped his face with his jacket sleeve. “Why, Stan? Why?” Jimmy choked out, desperately asking his deceased friend why this had happened. His cause of death was an overdose on Oxycodone; police and friends alike debated on whether it was suicide, a terrible addiction, or just a fatal mishap. Jimmy didn’t want to believe it was suicide, but the last texts that were found on Stan’s phone were of his ex wife telling him to “fuck off”. That infuriated Jimmy to the bone.

Would Stan really have taken his own life?

The question had reminded Jimmy of his own suicidal thoughts. He couldn’t take this horrendous aching in his heart; he needed Stan. That man was the only person in the whole world that he cared about, and now he was gone forever.

Shakily, Jimmy got to his feet and turned away, walking to his car to drive back to the apartments. His plan was to end his life; he had plenty of drugs he could easily overdose on. When he stepped inside his room though, he looked down at the blue, heart-shaped locket he wore around his neck. He had bought it the day of Stan’s funeral. It was something he could wear every single day to remind him that, within his body, he was, quite literally, carrying Stan’s beating heart. The doctors told him that upon hearing the news of Stan’s death, Jimmy suffered what’s called “Broken Heart Syndrome”. Stan was an organ donor, and his heart just so happened to be compatible with Jimmy’s body.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill himself. That would be such a terrible waste of Stan’s heart. How could he dishonor his friend—the man who generously donated his own organs. Jimmy should feel lucky to go on living while Stan was six feet under. He didn’t feel lucky though. He felt like the unluckiest person in the world, and he felt selfish for feeling that way. Why did he have to live on while Stan–

Jimmy shook his head and pressed his palms into his forehead, as if he were trying to shove his depressing thoughts out of his mind. He threw off his jacket and fell into bed, not even caring that he was still soaking wet with rain water. It took an hour and a half, but the lonely man eventually passed out from exhaustion.

—–

Black. All he could see was black—the complete and total lack of any sort of light. He waved his hand in front of his face, seeing absolutely nothing. Where was he? The last thing he could remember was being in his apartment, …had he passed out? If so, why was everything still so dark? Fear quickly gripped him, but it slowly faded away when he could see a blue light doused in faint sparkles slowly getting bigger. The man shut his eyes, and when he opened them, he was standing in his apartment!

Stan took a deep breath of relief and ran a hand through his blonde locks. He then placed his hands at his hips, turning his head and observing his… wait, this isn’t his apartment. The delivery man’s eyes widened when he realized… this is Jimmy’s apartment! What was he doing here? He made his way over to his friend’s bedroom, assuming he was in there. When he opened the door, his assumptions were confirmed at the sight of a very tired-looking drug dealer sleeping in his unkempt bed. Still confused, Stan took a few more steps in the room, tempted to wake Jimmy and ask him how he got there. Unexpectedly, Jimmy stirred and lazily slumped out of bed, standing to his feet.

“Hey Friendly! Sorry to wake you, I just wanted to ask how the diddly darn I got here!” Stan stated with a warm smile “All I can remember is being in my own kitchen, and then–”. Jimmy trudged towards the door, not answering or even looking at Stan “Um… Jimmy?”.

Jimmy got closer, so close in fact that the two men’s bodies would have pressed together if it weren’t for the fact that Jimmy had just walked straight through Stan to close the door. The younger man shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, getting back under the covers and drifting off to sleep pretty quickly.

Stan stood there in utter shock. He slowly looked down at his hands, seeing that they were the color of the sky during the day–a nice baby blue color. He also noticed little sparkles that would twinkle all over his blue body and clothes. The self-proclaimed water man whipped around and hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him. He nearly tripped as he rushed to the bathroom to get to a mirror. When he was there, he didn’t like what he saw: nothing. He had no reflection. He desperately waved his hands in front of the reflective piece of glass on the wall, but nothing changed: he still had no reflection. Stan stumbled back up against the wall and rested his palm on his forehead, trying to remember what had happened to him. He tightly shut his eyes and was finally able to recall the biting text he received from his ex-wife. He then remembered the urge to take all of those oxy pills, thinking that enough of them would fix his broken heart. Cold tears rushed down Stan’s transparent face as he remembered falling to the ground and everything going black.

The realization was terrifying: Stan had died.

—–

For the next two weeks, Stan followed Jimmy wherever he went, which was really just around the apartment. The poor man rarely ever went outside anymore, that being insanely abnormal for him. For the first few days, Stan desperately tried speaking to his friend, even reaching out to him and trying to grab his arm. Nothing worked. Whenever they made contact, Jimmy would shiver as if a gust of frigid snow had pressed against his skin. He even got really angry at the sudden drops in temperature, one day shouting out “GOD DAMMIT, why is it so fucking cold?”. That outburst deeply upset Stan, and for the rest of that day, he just sat alone in the corner of the living room.

Every day was an unbearable struggle for both men. Jimmy had to leave his apartment eventually, and when he did so, Stan stayed close beside him. Walking down the city streets was agonizing for Jimmy; all he could remember was spending time with Stan in the most craziest of situations. Memories of their wild adventures flooded his mind, and he had to wipe his eyes under his sunglasses. Stan, the ghostly figure walking just beside him, felt a painful sting in his chest at the sight of his friend rubbing the tears out of his eyes. He reached out and took Jimmy’s hand, but it was quickly pulled away at the icy feeling. Stan sighed sadly, muttering out a soft “please don’t cry, Jimothy. I’m here… I promise I’m here”. Of course, Jimmy couldn’t hear these words of reassurance, and just continued walking as if he were the only person on the sidewalk.

Later that night, Jimmy entered his bathroom and left the door open, which made Stan assume that he wasn’t going to use it. Even though he lived alone, Jimmy always closed the bathroom door if he was going to shower or use the toilet.

Instead, the friendly drug dealer pulled out a bottle of hair bleach and began applying it to the teal-colored portion of his locks. Stan watched in surprise as he did this “Oh, Jimmy what are you doing?” he said quickly “Your hair’s not stupid, I swear! I was just teasing you before, you don’t have to change it!”. His efforts proved to be futile though, since Jimmy quickly finished bleaching the dyed part of his hair. After letting it dry for a while, he stumbled into bed. Stan would always just sleep on the couch. He knew he didn’t physically need the rest, but what else was he going to do?

Soon enough, Jimmy’s casual attire was completely dedicated to Stan’s memory. He bleached part of his hair blonde, and he constantly wore a little heart locket, a sunflower-shaped pin, and a few star-shaped pins for his hair. Stan felt so honored that his friend did everything to keep his memory alive. Jimmy went as far as delivering water on the days where he felt less shitty than usual. That filled Stan with so much appreciation and love. He wished he could thank Jimmy.

One night, a full two weeks after Stan’s funeral, Jimmy was treading down the street with Stan’s spirit when he suddenly got a text message from someone he didn’t want to see ever again: Alabaster Slim.

“So, Aurora, you thought you could avoid me without consequence, hm?”.

Jimmy’s heart dropped fearfully.

“You’re gonna pay for this, he-bitch”.

Recognizing that he was in danger, Jimmy stumbled back, turned around, and sped away to get to the safety of his apartment. Stan followed, still completely unseen by everyone. Jimmy’s efforts to escape were halted though when he was suddenly grabbed by the arm and yanked into an alleyway. He pushed and shoved at the stranger, noticing there were three of them and angrily telling whoever it was to let go. It didn’t take long for him to realize that these three massive thugs were past sex clients. “Shit, p-please don’t hurt me” Jimmy stammered out as he anxiously reached into his pocket to retrieve his knife, ready to kill all three of these sons of bitches.

Unfortunately, the man that was holding onto his wrist took note of the tricky movement and easily stole the weapon away from him, tossing it aside “Stupid whore, we wont be needing that~” Jimmy shook in terror as the vile man ran his hand up Jimmy’s clothed chest and pressed his palm to the younger one’s throat “now be a good little he-bitch and open that mouth of yours”.

Tears brimmed Jimmy’s eyes, but he stayed strong “I’ll bite your fucking dick off” he warned.

The ugly criminal grumbled in irritation and squeezed Jimmy’s neck “Fine. Have it your way, pretty boy. We’re going to make this harder than it has to be.��

Stan watched in horror as the three men worked to get Jimmy undressed. They pulled his jacket away and ripped off his jeans with a mighty force. They felt up his body and violated him in any way they could, one of them licking and biting the young man’s neck roughly. Jimmy tried fighting back, but the three thugs were way too strong. So, just accepted his fate, and allowed his arms to go limp. Being unable to hold it back anymore, he started weeping quietly.

“Stop bitchin’, you little slut” Barked one of the bastards.

Stan couldn’t take this anymore. The sight of his best friend being tormented like this angered him to his core. So, just before the douchebags could get Jimmy fully naked, Stan rushed over, grabbed one of them, and harshly shoved him to the ground. The thugs stopped in total confusion, looking around for anyone who could’ve done that. The one on the ground got up and clenched his fists “SHOW YOURSELF!” he growled.

This gave Jimmy the chance to run away, so he scrambled out of their hold and tried making a run for it. Sadly, he failed, and the annoyed criminal shoved him to the brick wall and kicked him in the stomach when he fell to the ground. Jimmy cried out, shaking pathetically on the ground like an injured dog. An enraged fire ignited inside of Stan, and he, without hesitation, threw his fist directly into the crook’s face. The vicious man shouted and painfully held his now broken nose “FUCK! FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! AHHHG! FUCK!” he screamed. Stan then attacked the other two, throwing one against the ground and shoving the other against the wall. In a confused panic, the three attackers ran away as fast as they could, terrified of the mysterious force that was defending Jimmy.

Stan was breathing heavily, fury still pulsing through him. He was so mad that he didn’t even realize that he was finally able to physically touch people.

With shaky arms, Jimmy pushed himself up to his feet, completely baffled yet relieved that he was saved. The beaten man wasted no time in throwing his jeans and jacket back on, and hurrying back to his apartment. Stan followed like always, really wishing he could ask his friend if he were okay.

When they got home, Jimmy plopped onto his bed and stressfully pulled at his bright yellow hair. A sudden wave of emotions overwhelmed him, and before he knew it, he was sobbing. Stan just stood in front of him, his own tears falling knowing that he couldn’t hug Jimmy or tell him that everything was going to be okay.

“Stan… oh Sunflower” Jimmy cried, gripping the heart locket and holding it close to his chest “my sweet sunflower…”. He stayed in his bed like this for a good 15 minutes, only calming down when he felt his empty stomach growl hungrily. That’s right… he hadn’t eaten anything at all the day before, and only had a small sandwich for lunch. He should really eat something before hitting the hay.

Stan sauntered into the kitchen with Jimmy, always being just two steps behind him. Wanting to go to bed as soon as possible, Jimmy just threw together a little bowl of cereal and walked over to the counter to eat. As if his bad luck had a sick sense of humor, Jimmy slipped and accidentally let go of the cereal and milk-filled bowl “SHIT!” he sputtered out, steadying himself and preparing for cereal, milk, and glass to shower the kitchen.

Reacting on instinct, Stan grabbed the bowl before it could hit the ground “I got it!” He said, letting out a sigh of relief when he successfully prevented a big mess. It took a few seconds, but Stan soon realized that Jimmy was staring at the floating bowl with wide eyes and a terrified pale face. “Oh, sh-shoot!” The flustered ghost placed the bowl safely onto the counter and hid his hands behind his back, as if he were ashamed of a crime he just committed.

Jimmy took a few steps back, his eyes frantically scanning his surrounding area “Shit. I’m going crazy. SHIT!” he thought to himself worriedly.

“Nice going, Stan. ..You really did it this time” Stan muttered sheepishly, feeling like a pathetic loser. Shockingly though, Jimmy flinched as if…. he could hear him. Stan perked up “Jimmy! ..C-Can you hear me?”.

Jimmy could definitely hear the disembodied voice. He shouted and jolted backwards, his back pressing up against the kitchen wall. Just when he thought he couldn’t lose his marbles any further, a blue shine of light materialized in front of him, and the shape of a six foot human formed. Before he even knew it, Stan appeared in front of him, finally being fully visible. Jimmy nearly forgot to blink. The sight was unbelievable.

“J-Jimothy, can…can you see me?”.

The younger man screamed “N-NO NO NO NO, Th-This isn’t real. You’re not real. You’re dead. You’ve been fucking dead for weeks. ..Sh-Shit shit shit” he began hyperventilating, and Stan was worried he would faint.

“N-No no! Jimmy, I-It’s really me! Stan the water man!”.

Jimmy was still scared and in total disbelief, looking like a cornered animal. Tears raced down his face. Was this his punishment? Seeing his dead friend right after getting sexually assaulted? Was the whole world out to get him?

“Oh, no no no, Jimothy… p-please don’t cry. I promise it’s me. I-I’ve been with you for the past two weeks. I’ve been trying t-to get your attention all this time” Stan stepped closer, and the other man just tried to get away, but there was no where to go. Instead, he sank to the ground and hid his face, basically cowering in the kitchen corner. “Jimmy, …” Stan kneeled in front of him and gently placed his cold, transparent hand onto his friend’s leg as a sign of comfort.

Jimmy uncovered his wet face and looked into Stan’s deep blue eyes “Starshine? I-Is that really you? I-It can’t be…”. The thought of Stan as a ghost crossed his mind, but he still couldn’t believe it. Stan inched closer and held his hand out to his fearful friend. Jimmy gulped silently and slowly rested his hand onto the sparkly sky blue appendage. When they made contact, they could finally feel each other. Jimmy’s bottom lip quivered and his vision became blocked with brimming tears “STAN!” he cried as he threw his arms around the ghost and hugged him tightly, holding onto him for dear life. Jimmy cried and cried and cried, running his hand through the back of Stan’s hair and gripping onto him as if his life depended on it.

Admittedly, Stan was a little startled at this reaction. He expected it, but he had never been held like this, so he was a little overwhelmed. He quickly returned the loving hug and tenderly combed Jimmy’s hair with his frigid fingers “Shhhh, Jimtohy. I’m here… I’m here. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Jimmy didn’t even care how little sense this made; he was just so relieved to hold Stan in his arms again. His friend looked very different, his whole entire body was colored with different shades and tints of blues, and so were his clothes. Tiny little sparkles glimmered around his body, and he was very cold. But this cold was a nice kind of cold. It was cool, and extremely comforting. Jimmy just melted into Stan’s arms, never wanting to be apart again. They stayed like this for a good amount of time, until Jimmy’s gentle crying drifted him off to sleep. Stan pulled away from the hug, still holding the sleeping man close “Oh Jimmy…” he muttered softly “let’s get you to bed”. With that, Stan stood up and carried him to bed, tucking him in and turning off the lights. That night, Jimmy had the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

The next morning, Jimmy woke up feeling actually kind of refreshed for once. As soon as he got out of bed, he remembered seeing Stan’s ghost last night. “Damn, what a wild dream” he thought with a humorless chuckle “At least it was much nicer than my usual ones…” . Having the rare motivation to shower, Jimmy left his room and pulled his shirt off on the way out. He stopped in his tracks though when he saw a sparkling, blue-hued Stan floating just a few feet away from him.

“Jimmy! Good morning!” The spirit said, floating back down to the ground with a welcoming smile. He blushed a deeper blue at the sight of his bare-chested friend, but he just tried to act normal “Did you have a good sleep?”.

Jimmy was so startled that he tripped over himself and fell backwards, landing on his back. He anxiously backed away, still on the ground “Y-You’re—y-you’re- you’re..” he stuttered, in complete shock and disbelief.

“Not again…” Stan thought to himself “Calm down, Jimmy. It’s okay. It really is me, I promise” he stepped forward and lent Jimmy a hand in getting back up .

“This can’t be happening, …Stan, y-you’re… you’re dead.”

Stan nodded “I’m very aware of that, Jimothy” he stated softly “but I’m here” he looked down at himself “I guess… I’m a ghost.” Kind of an awkwardly blunt thing to say, but it’s all he could think of.

“Welp, I’ve officially lost it” Jimmy spoke flatly, placing his palm against his forehead.

“No no, Jimmy! I really am here! What I said last night was true! I’ve been following you around for the past two weeks, unable to talk to you or touch you! But, for some reason, I was finally able to last night.”

Jimmy’s usually tired eyes lit up “W-Were you the one fighting off those fuckin’ rapists last night?” he asked as he put his shirt back on.

Stan slowly nodded.

“Y-You… you really are here” Jimmy stepped closer, and the two carefully embraced in an unsure hug “S-Stan… O-Oh Stan, I missed you so much…” the waterworks started up again, and he squeezed his friend closer.

“I’ve missed you too, Jimmy. I’m so sorry it took this long… I couldn’t stand seeing you cry yourself to sleep every night, b-but I had no choice! I could only touch objects, but I didn’t want to freak you out or anything..”.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’m just so glad you’re here. I-…I can’t describe how badly I missed you” They pulled away from the comforting hug and looked into each other’s eyes “… I, … never realized how much I needed you, Stan. You’re my best friend, a-and the only person who’s ever showed genuine kindness to me”. Stan didn’t say anything, he just let his loving smile do the talking. It worked, because Jimmy returned the wide smile. Stan missed that handsome smile of his so much, it was a rare sight, even back when Stan was alive. “Fuck, I-I can’t believe you’re actually here!” Jimmy suddenly laughed excitedly as he hugged Stan yet again.

Stan giggled and squeezed him close “Who are you and what have you done with Jimmy? I’ve never seen you this happy!”.

“Of course I’m happy!” Jimmy responded cheerfully “Staniel Wheeler is still kickin’, even after death!”.

They let go of each other once again and Stan rubbed the back of his neck “Y-Yeah! …” his smile slowly faded “….y-….yeah”.

It took no time for Jimmy to realize “O-Oh, …r-right. Sorry, I know you’re probably really messed up after all of this. ..Um, … if you… don’t mind me asking, … what happened to you?”. Stan looked at him with a sort of, …sad confusion. “Sorry. I-I meant, just… why did this happen to you? You… overdosed on oxy. You didn’t… do that on purpose, ..did you?”.

Stan shook his head solemnly, relieving Jimmy of his worries that his best friend committed suicide “It was an accident. I just, … took too many I guess.”

“Oh”.

The two stayed silent for a moment, until Stan thought of something “Hey, I um… know you haven’t eaten in a while. How about you grab something to eat while we catch up?”.

Jimmy smiled and nodded “That would be great.”

—

“So you can float, huh?”.

Stan, 3 feet off the ground, giggled at the question “Yeah! Isn’t it so cool?” He levitated back down and sat on the couch next to Jimmy. The druggie finished up his bacon and eggs and took a swig of water “Hey um, ..Jimmy?”.

“Yeah, Fanny pack?”.

“Um.. H-…How many… How many people showed up to my funeral?”.

Jimmy’s eyes widened in horror at such a intense question “O-Oh, …Stan. Tons of people showed. Even some people I didn’t know. You made a lot of friends, Stan” he gave the once blonde, now blue-haired, ghost a friendly smile.

Stan returned the smile, but it was short lived “… M…Maybe this is a dumb question, b-but… Um…were Denise and Roy there?”.

Jimmy’s head slightly lowered, but he took Stan’s hand and looked up at him “I’m sorry, Stan.” Tears brimmed the ghost’s eyes, and he leaned against Jimmy’s shoulder, crying into it quietly. Jimmy wrapped an arm around him “Hey, forget them. They don’t deserve you, Stan. If they can’t see what an amazing person you are, ..u-um, were… well then, to hell with them!”.

Stan sniffled “B-But my baby boy…”.

“Stan. I’m… sure … Roy… loves you very much” he lied, but he knew he had to “but, you know how Denise is. You should focus on the tons of friends that attended your funeral. Kiki was there, Tyrone…, Selene, …Mel, Ziggy, … and I think I even saw Brenda!”.

Stan wiped his eyes “R-Really?”.

“Really.”

“Th-Thank you, Jimmy. That d-does actually make me feel a lot better”.

“No problem, bud. Oh! …uh, … that reminds me. I need to thank you too.”

“Hm? Thank me?”.

Jimmy nodded “Yeah. You’re the reason I’m still here”. Stan looked at him as if he had said that fire was cold. Jimmy noticed the confusion and realized that Stan might not even know his that his heart is in Jimmy’s chest “Well, Stan, when I heard the news of your… Death, I…apparently had a heart attack.”

Stan looked at him in shock “What? Heart attack? B-But, you’re not even 30 yet!”.

Jimmy nodded and rubbed the back of his neck “Mhm. It’s called Broken Heart Syndrome. My heart failed at the… Stress, I guess” he shrugged “I needed a new heart, and… You just so happened to be an organ donor.”

“That’s right…” Stan said softly, remembering when he signed up to die as an organ donor “so… That means… My heart is… In your chest?”.

Jimmy nodded “funny, isn’t it?” He commented with a bittersweet smile as he rested his hand on his chest.

“Oh, I’m so honored! Now I can be sure that my heart went to someone good” Stan wrapped an arm around his friend and pulled him into a nice side hug “so… You had a heart attack… At the news of my death?”.

“Of course I did, Staniel. You’re my best friend. I love ya, man.”

Joyful tears brimmed Stan’s eyes and he grinned gratefully “I love you too, Jimmy!”

The two just enjoyed their hug for a moment, the both of them being so incredibly grateful to have one another again “So.. You’re a ghost, huh?”.

Stan pulled his arm away and looked at his hands “Yeah…”.

“Do you have unfinished business or something?”.

The spirit stayed silent for a few seconds, as if he were lost in a trance “No… No. I think, … I think I’m going to stay with you as a ghost until you die”. Stan’s words were spoken in a strangely flat way, almost like an empty demon had possessed him.

“What?”.

“I don’t know, Jimmy!” His cheerful attitude returned out of the blue “something tells me that that’s just the case. I’m sticking with you until you die. And then, we can both rest in death”.

“That’s…. The creepiest fucking thing you’ve ever said” Jimmy stated, raising and eyebrow and leaning away from his friend.

“Sorry. My gut’s just telling me that’s what’ll happen.”

Jimmy stood up “Well, how about I shower and then we can make some water deliveries! Maybe get into some trouble, I dunno. OOH! We could totally prank some assholes with your ghostly abilities.”

Warmth filled Stan’s, rather metaphorical, heart, and he smiled ear to ear. It was such a relief to see his best friend back to his old self “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Friendly J!”.

#friendlypack #stan the water man #jimmy bending #au #gifted heart #friendly j #my art #fanfic

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dramaticwrites · 5 years

Text

Conversations in the Dark

Title: Conversations in the Dark

Fandom: Be More Chill

AO3 Link: Here

Pairing: Rich & Jeremy Friendship, Jeremy/Michael, Rich/Jack

Summary: Jeremy can’t sleep so instead he and Rich talk.

“You make it sound like I was awful before.” Rich’s spat out, his lisp catching on the s sound.

“N-no I didn’t mean like that.” Jeremy said quickly. “I mean, y-you were pretty bad with the Squip but I mean I was j-just curious which parts were real.”

“A-are you scared?” Jeremy's voice crept out of the darkness, not even sure if Rich was awake. The room had been quiet for the past half hour except for the whirl of some of the machines occasionally, mostly from Rich’s side of the room. The lights had been turned off for at least an hour and with all the sleeping he had done lately Jeremy thought for sure the trend would continue for at least a few more days, or at least he had hoped that would be the case. It turns out his insomnia didn’t really care too much about exhaustion or sleep, at least anymore than it ever did before he had a Squip to be his own mental valium. The only downside was the Squip caused even more exhaustion than his insomnia ever did which was saying something due to all the tears he had cried trying to get himself to fall asleep when his head was being too loud in the emptiness of his room.

“Are you talking about of the dark.” Rich’s voice called back, and Jeremy if his heart racing was happiness that Rich was awake to talk with or lingering nerves reminding him this was the guy who tormented him for over a year. “I mean you can turn on a light if you want”

Jeremy was grateful for the cover of darkness to cover up what was probably a bright red face. “No I-I mean like of life without the Squip.” In his hands his fingers messed with the frayed edges of the hospital blanket hoping to distract himself from the current conversation.

“Nah...no…I mean I guess a little” Rich said, taking long pauses between each word, clearly trying to think of the most honest answer. In the past year of being tortured by Rich, Jeremy can’t remember him ever sounded as pensive as he did at this moment. “But like there’s a lot of me I missed.”

“Like what?” Jeremy asked,

“You make it sound like I was awful before.” Rich’s spat out, his lisp catching on the s sound.

“N-no I didn’t mean like that.” Jeremy said quickly. “I mean, y-you were pretty bad with the Squip but I mean I was j-just curious which parts were real.”

There was a long pause and Jeremy was starting to think Rich may have fallen back to sleep until he heard, “I like video games and doodling...I always used to doodle on my homework.” Rich said slowly, as if he was trying to think carefully. “And I had a dozen D and D books, but I mean I never played before because that required friends.” His voice trailed off as if remembering a story he didn’t want to think about

“I’ve never played before either.” Jeremy volunteered. “Maybe you could teach me.”

“Really?” Rich asked eagerly.

“Yeah could be fun.” And to his surprise, it did sound kind of fun. He had never really had any desire to play but people talked highly of it. Plus, it seemed to make Rich happy which Jeremy was surprised to find also made Jeremy a little happy. It wasn’t happy in the way pleasing people made him feel with the Squip, like he was was just adding a notch in his belt. No, this was more like the way he felt when he made Michael smile, like he was back in first grade getting a star for being something.

“Think Headphones would be willing to join us?” Jeremy rolled his eyes at the nickname on impulse.

“Maybe? You can ask him if you want?”

There was a snort on the other side of the room. “Aren’t you two pretty much married enough to speak for the other?”

“Pretty sure I fucked that up incredibly with this whole mess.” He sighed, gesturing to the room, even though Rich couldn’t see. “I can’t believe he can even look at me anymore.” Hell, Jeremy could barely look at himself anymore. Not that it was a new feeling for him, he had spent the past few years looking in the mirror and seeing every flaw that the Squip saw. Not strong enough, not funny enough, not brave enough, not enough...

“Dude I wish I had someone to look at me the way he looks at you.” Rich said firmly, bringing Jeremy out of his thoughts.

“I left him alone. I called him a loser.” Jeremy spat each word sounding more pained than the last. Even with Michael here, he could barely look at him without thinking those words. “I’m sure once he knows I’ll be okay he’ll be gone...I can’t even blame him.” He had one friend before the Squip, gained some friends, and now he was going to end it all alone. Not that he didn’t deserve to be alone.

“Hey, that’s nothing.” Rich said optimistically and Jeremy couldn’t tell if he was happy Rich was trying or sad that Rich had to try. “I burnt down my best friends house and caused him to break both his legs and holy shit!” The last part was shouted from the otherside of the room and caused Jeremy to jump.

Jeremy looked around, panicked. “W-what?” His mind was thinking every awful thing that could have happened.

There was a small moment of silence until he heard Rich squeak out, “Come over here and hug me.” In quick rambled words, his lisp standing out.

“What?” Jeremy asked, unsure of anything that Rich had just asked.

“Just do it.” Rich demanded, though he sounded shaky which had Jeremy climbing out of his bed. Reaching out, Jeremy steadied himself against the frame of the bed feeling his legs go weak under him. It wasn’t the first time today he’d cursed the Squip and most likely wouldn’t be the last, but it was at least nice to blame it for taking his energy rather than everything Jeremy loved. Still, Jeremy reached out and clung to the wall as a support as he shimmied along the wall until he was close enough to fall forward and land against Rich’s bed.

While he thought the biggest problem would be getting over to Rich’s bed without landing face front on the floor, now that he was here he realized this was the easy part. “How do I do this without hurting you?” He asked, eyeing Rich up and down at all the bandages wrapped around him.

Now that he was closer, he could see Rich crack a smile of that for some reason as he spread his arms to the side just slightly. “Just go right here.” He said nodding to the space on his chest.

“Okay.” Jeremy said as he carefully climbed onto the bed as slow as possible. Slowly he lowered himself onto Rich’s chest until the were flush against each other. When it didn’t seem like Rich was in pain, or going to find someone way to bring him into the bathroom and give him a swirly, Jeremy wrapped his arms around Rich as carefully as he could and rested his head on his shoulder. “So not that I don’t mind hugging you but why am I doing this?”

From under him, Jeremy could feel him take a deep breath. “You have to promise not to tell anyone. Except Headphones…you two seem married enough that you share anything.”

“Were not anything but yeah I promise.”

Rich let out an exaggerated groan. “I just realized I’m in love with Jake.”

“Wow.” Jeremy paused, “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Is he-,” Jeremy hesitated, “you know.”

“Pan.”

“Well, then you have a chance.” Jeremy said encouraging wishing Michael was here. He was so much better at the whole comforting thing.

“I burnt down his house.” Rich said, each words more and more weighted down.

Yeah that’s not really a good start to a relationship.” Jeremy nuzzled down into Rich’s shoulder softly, letting his hair brush against Rich’s chin hoping that it was at least slightly comforting to know he was there.“

It seemed to work because he felt Rich rest his chin against Jeremy’s head. “Wanna sleep here tonight or would Headphones be jealous?”

Jeremy let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. If someone had told him back in August that he would be happy to share a bed, he would wonder what strain of pot Michael had got and if he could get some more. “People help my insomnia. And for the last time Michael and I are just friends.” Not to mention Michael was very familiar with his insomnia, having to deal quite often with a sleep deprived Jeremy.

“But you wish you were more than friends.” Jeremy felt himself tense up as he closed his eyes. “I mean come on I just told you I’m in love with Jake. I don’t even have anyone to tell.” Rich said with a kindness Jeremy didn’t think was possible from a guy who used to shove him into toilets.

“Michael is the best person I know.” Jeremy explained carefully, his eyes closed focusing on each word as he waited for Rich to start laughing. When he didn’t he added, “I realized a long time ago I could never be good enough for him.”

“That’s bullshit.” Rich exclaimed loudly causing Jeremy to wince.

“It’s true.” Jeremy said simply with a small shrug of his shoulder.. “I mean I accepted it long ago so it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

Jeremy could feel Rich attempt to move his arms to wrap around him just slightly despite all the bandages. “It matters to me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my friend.” Rich explained as if it was the most obviously thing in the world.

“Really?” He couldn’t seem to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“What you don’t want to be my friend?” Despite the confidence of the words, Jeremy could here the hurt in his voice. Jeremy was a master of knowing that crack in the words.

“N-no! No I mean it's just weird to be friends with someone who tortured you. Like I look at you and see the guy who shoved me into closets,” Jeremy explained quickly, fumbling over his words “B-but listening to you talk? It’s nice.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say because he felt Rich nuzzle the top of his head. “Yeah well if anyone tries to shove you in a closet now they’ll have to listen to me.”

“Thanks.” Jeremy said with a laugh, tightening his arms around Rich I’m glad I’m friends with you...the real you that is.”

“Stop being sentimental and go to sleep.” Rich laughed, nudging Jeremy with his chin but he could almost feel the smile on Rich’s face. Jeremy thought about moving away from Rich’s chest, but he figured if Rich didn’t tell him to move, it was fine with him. And if it wasn’t, closing his eyes for a few moments wouldn’t kill them.

——

“Where’s Jeremy?” Michael asked slightly alarmed at the empty bed that greeted him as he walked into the room holding a tray of brightly colored drinks

“Michael?” Jeremy said, his head poking out from under the pile of blankets on Rich’s bed. His hair seemed to curl in every single direction as he blinked owlishly at his best friend. “What are you doing here, aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

“And you’re supposed to be in your own bed.” Michael responded, his eyebrow raised. While Jeremy wasn’t sure, he was pretty sure that if Michael wasn’t holding a tray of drinks he would have his hands on his on his hip. Though there was another look in his eye, something dark that Jeremy couldn’t quite grasp, at least not this early in the morning and without loads of coffee with lots of sugar.

“Insomnia.” Jeremy said plainly with a slight shrug.

With that all of the judgement flooded from Michael’s face, after all the times he came to pick Jeremy up in the morning to find him crying in a closet about just wanting to sleep he knew how bad it could get. “Shit really? I thought the whole exhaustion thing would have covered it. You should have called a nurse.”

“Didn’t really feel like doing drugs.” Jeremy said grimly causing Michael to wince/

“Plus I’m a great cuddler.” Rich piped in happily, dropping his head on top of Jeremy’s who just snorted without looking up.

Michael paused a moment, staring right at the two of them with a small head tilt. “Right well I brought breakfast.” Michael explained, holding up the tray of brightly colored drinks. “Figured you’re picky and would end up not eating so I brought you a smoothie from that place you like. Got you one too Rich.”

“Man you’re amazing.” Rich said, “Like seriously. You know my penis isn’t burnt right?”

Jeremy turned bright red at that comment however Michael just blinked. “I did not. But I don’t think I needed to know that.” He turned to Jeremy, setting the drinks on the nightstand next to Rich’s bed and offering his arm out to Jeremy. “Now I think you should get back to your own bed.”

“Thanks Michael.” Jeremy said, allowing Michael to help grabbing his elbow and guiding him out of the bed. Jeremy moved, wrapping himself around Michael who slowly guided him across the room in a half hug. “You know you’re my favorite person.” Jeremy added sincerely as he sat back down on the bed.

“That’s really gay.” Rich pointed out.

“Keep it up Rich and you’re not going to get anymore treats.” Michael scolded as he walked back to grab the drinks, but still held one out to Rich before taking the other back to Jeremy.

“Seriously though, you’re way too good for me.” Jeremy said, taking a long sip from his smoothie. He hadn’t realized how long it had been that he had something that wasn’t a stupid protein shake the Squip insisted he drink or the awful hospital replacement food.

“I know.” Michael said, pleased. “I also know you’d die without me.”

“That’s true.” Jeremy agreed with a smile, which made Michael laugh. A warmth spread through his chest.

Michael looked at his phone and gave a quick swear. “I have to get to class, I already missed first period. But text me if you need me. For whatever reason. Oh wait you don’t have a phone. Call your dad to text me. Or just call me, I’ll put my phone on vibrate, detention be damned. I got sneak level 100, I can get out of that.” He struck a video game style pose which name Jeremy laugh.

“Okay. You’re the best” Jeremy agreed knowing full well Michael probably would drop everything if Michael asked, which is why he wouldn’t do that.

“You know it.” Michael said, leaning in and giving Jeremy a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Give Jake a smack on the ass for me.” Rich requested.

Michael paused in the doorway. “I will not be doing that.” He said with a laugh giving Jeremy one last smile before retreating down the hall.

“Damn.” Rich groaned leaning back on the bed.

#Be More Chill #jeremy heere #rich goranski #micheal mell #boyf riends #bmc

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