#my back hurts ive been slouched over this entire time

[vlassk]

Banshee part 4

An- Oh boy am I excited for the new part of stranger things but ya know. I'm also really scared. Sorry this chapter might be short, ive been pretty busy and I'm still trying to get out new chapters.

Summary- As you watch over eight and become closer to her your mistreatment by your Coworkers start to seep into your Brain more and more. You realize how Messed up this place is

Paring- Henry Creel x reader

Song-

Warnings- language, gun violence, death, missing children, grief

1974--

When each year would pass you would all have a mini celebration with each other. All the workers would gather around with Brenner after the children were put asleep and Brenner would give everyone a talk about the New Year.

It was depressing each time. There was an obvious difference with You and Peter and everyone else who works in the entire building. You two were once the 'children' of Dr Brenner. They all saw you as a threat some of them even having to apprehend you both at some point, and it remained that way throughout your years working there. Sometimes you would catch the nurses giving you dirty looks. Every time someone saw peter with you, you felt their judgment and hatred more.

"They are staring at us..." You say sitting in the Employee lounge. Usually you both were alone but today was a busy day, you and peter were in charge of watching the three year old Eleven with Eight.

"Who cares" peter goes back to reading his book. You both were sat side by side on one of the couches. Everyone knew you liked Peter but no one knew his own feelings. Sure he flirted With you but he never did anything else but the occasional kind gesture.

" It matters to me... You know I hate how they treat us." You sigh And begin to lay your head in your lap.

"Jesus Y/n don't slouch here" peter knocks your head slightly, as your head fell up he still gives you a warm smile.

"Are you excited to babysit?" You smile and poke at peters Arm. His smile only get bigger as he looks back down at his book.

"Just a little, I know you love Eight but, I feel like Eleven is going to be different" peter closes his book and puts it down turning to you.

"Plus..she's adorable and very kind unlike two and the rest.." He gives a faded smile. You take his hand and hold it for a moment

"I'm glad you're having fun here. Better than our actually daily work" you stand up still holding his hand

"Let's go greet the babies!" You smile as peter stands up as well, you were ready to let go but for some reason He stayed holding on to you. As you both walked out hand in hand you pass by a few nurses standing by the door. Without being able to dodge anything one of them kicks their foot out, tripping you over, instinctly you close your eyes

But you still held peters hand, something the nurses didn't see, as you fell He lifted his arm and used the other to catch you. As if he just tipped you over during a fancy dance.

You slowly opened your eyes being greeted by Peters big blue ones. A small giggle was given by the nurses. The one who tripped you was obviously annoyed you didn't fully fall.

Peter turns his head to look at the nurses, he glares at them and they turn their heads. Beginning to walk out of the room.

He turns back to look at you, still holding the position you were on.

"Uh..." You slowly let go of his hand out awkwardness.

"Sorry" as you say this you quickly lose balance freaking out and grabbing onto the man holding you up. As you freak he also loses balance and falls on top of you.

"Ouch" you quietly groan out, peter already picking himself up

"I'm sorry I probably hurt you" he starts to lift himself up off of you, making sure his full weight isn't on you. You were still slightly holding on to him, for everyone who might walk in the position was definitely odd.

"No im sorry I lost my balance and freaked out". You shake your head at your own stupidity, realizing how close you were you started to blush just a bit. You just hopped he didn't notice.

"Gosh you always fall for me.." He rolls his eyes and starts to fully get up, not noticing your arms around him. When he notices though he stops moving. Looking down at your arms still stuck and back at you. His face goes red as you let go, he quickly gets up, reaching out a hand to help you.

"Sorry i guess that panic really sent me huh?" You awkwardly dust yourself off.

"No its fine. Falling can be an uncomfortable feeling"

"Yeah...anyway shall we?I miss eight" you turn to leave, Peter grabs on of your shoulders to turn you. He slowly moves his hand up to your face, slowly picking off an eyelash. Your face goes to an even deeper red.

"Why so red?" He raises an eyebrow and smirks. You shake your head and push him away.

"We must pick up eight!" You grab peters hand amd storm out of the room and into the hallway

You speed run down the halls, peter chuckling at his own words.

You refused to let him see you all blushed and flustered. Finally you both arrived at the rainbow room, eight sat alone in one corner as the children played, brenner already sitting inside talking to five. As you both slowly stepped up Peter walks slowly to Brenner.

"Dr. Brenner we are here for Number eight. May we take her right now. I know its a bit early" He leans down to Brenner getting at his height

"Both you and y/n? I assume?" Brenner takes his attention off of five, they give peter an annoyed look.

"Yeah... Only if its still okay with you" he gives Brenner a small smile. Brenner glances at you, you were already interacting with Eight, when he looks back at Peter he sees him also looking at her.

"Fine, but remember Eleven is still iffy with people" Brenner nods Peter off and turns back to Five. Who instantly smiled at her PaPa.

Peter sits up and starts walking to you and eight, a big smile on his face as he sits down next to you both.

"Who's ready for a play date?" Peter smiles patting the girls head, she smiles and looks up at you, your smile being even bigger. You take her hand as you all begin to walk out walking down to the room they keep the children under 5 go. You knock on the door lightly and a nurse opens it. You both exchange smiles and And she walks out leaving you three with Young Eleven, as eight goes to play with three you take a seat on the small chairs provided. This was one of the only rooms with good carpet. Peter takes a seat next to you, sometimes Eleven would walk towards him handing him whatever building block she was playing with. It was sweet and comforting.

Once the play date was over you helped pick up and sat to wait for the nurse for Eleven.

" wasn't this fun" you say holding onto eleven tickling her a little bit

"Yeah it was. Seems like eight though is a little jealous" peter smiles, once you turn your head you see eight staring at you as you hold onto eleven, peter takes her from you And gently sits her on his lap.

"She's a cute one isn't she? So nice compared to Six..." Peter boops Elevens nose.

"Hah yeah thats true. Didn't they bite you?" As you laugh out Eight runs to you. And hugs your leg. You slowly pat her head in comfort.

As you were all settling down the door clicks open a nurse comes and instantly looks at Both you and peter. Her face slowly turns to disgust as she sees eight holding onto you.

"I'm here now. You all can leave. " she says, turning back to you and eyeing you up and down.

You roll your eyes at her, peter puts Eleven in her bed and just stand and hold onto Eights hand.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" The nurse asks faking a confused tone.

"No no definitely not" you say in defense putting one hand up.

"Stay in your place. This time you can't call for your 'papa'" the nurse moves aside waiting for you to leave with peter.

"How about you? Stay in your place, did you forget who we are? What we can get away with" the nurse was about to reply, but peter pushes you and eight out. Ignoring whatever else the nurse would have said.

"Hey what the hell?" You say trying to go back in.

"Stop picking fights with those idiots. Gosh you'll get into trouble you-... You're so annoying" peter sighs and begins to walk. You walk along as well leading Eight onto the rainbow room with the others. you drop her off as she goes back to her corner. Picking up some toys and playing by herself.

As you leave the room you see peter waiting outside.

"please promise me you won't do anything to piss anyone off..." Peter turns his head to look at you, You slowly walk to the side of the wall he's leaning on, His head following you as you do.

"I'm not, they just hate us. they hate you a lot but if I get it there will be less consequences" you lay your head on his shoulder, tired and angry at the nurse still.

"They hate us sure but don't give them any reason to act on that hate. You should know by now this place isn't sunshine and rainbows" peter gets up from the wall. Going to stand in front of you. You hold your breath as he gets closer

"Please promise me you won't give them any reason to hurt you" peter leans in close, almost whispering his words.

"Peter..." Before you could say anything else a door opens, spooking you both, you slowly turn to see a security guard walking out of the bathroom.

"Uh...uhhhh.....okie" the guard awkwardly walks off after staring at you both for a second. You both watch him leave, then turning to each other once you both were in the clear.

A large buddle of laughter leaves both of you, as you throw tour head back peter leans down putting his head on your shoulder as he hides his own laughter. He slowly begins to rise his arms to your side. As he looks up a small subtle smile appears on his face

"What?" You try holding I'm your laugh, trying to drop your own smile.

"You're the only reason I can get through my days y/n"

You giggle at his words, peter instantly looks down regretting what he said.

"Look who's the one Falling..." You smile more turning your head to the side. When peter finally looked back up his smile was the brightest thing I'm the building.

"Shut up.." He rolls his eyes letting go of you, You smile at him trying to hide his smile, you lean up a bit and kiss his forehead, pushing him back softly and walking off.

"See you at dinner lame-o" you laugh Hysterically as you turned the corner.

Peter puts his hands In his pocket as he leans against the wall again. Looking up at the ceiling and smiling.

He heard the familiar Footsteps as it snapped him out of the thoughts he was having.

"Peter... I see you're getting closer to her" as peter turned his head to look at Brenner he instantly rolled his eyes

"Okay i can see the sass...what's wrong" brenner stands next to him. Peter stood up straight looking Brenner head on.

"You already know papa..." He begins to walk away, brenner holding his shoulder so he stops.

"I know... And I know I said you should stay away but..." Brenner trails off. Not knowing what else to say or how to.

"But what. You said to stay away so I have to...and so I am" peter takes his hand off already taking his hands off.

" peter no no... I was wrong. I see that you both are doing really good, it was wrong of me to put your pasta against you, especially knowing how Y/n feels myself" brenner seemed sad. He knew he somewhat cared for the children he raised. Both You and Peter were his firsts, and The way he got Y,N to trust him was unbelievable. As he grew and only cared for more he knew it was unfair to them.

"Its unfair to stop whatever is going on when I took at least her opportunity to have it... So do whatever, be stupid and have fun whenever you both are off, I see how happy you are taking care of the kids and its...its made me think about how different it would be if you were just an employee." Brenner keeps looking at peter, as he didnt turn around. He sees the young man look up amd sigh as he looks back down shaking his head slowly. As he walks off. Brenner turns around himself, walking back to his old office.

As you sat alone at the cafeteria table you stare at the other employees who were just about to get off. You saw how some of them were friends, some might have been dating and how some where simply too tired to do anything. You started eating your food and watch as the door opened. Peter walks in and smiles at you, you wave back as he went to get his own food. But before the door shut completely you saw Eight. Who was supposed to be asleep.

She pointing at you and then pointed at a closet next to the cafe. As you raised your eyebrows you slowly got up, turning back to see peter have a small conversation with the old lady at the counter.

Walking out of the Cafe you see eight closing the door of the closet, a small note was hanging from shelf. No eight was found.

It read ' I love and will miss you and peter. I hope we can play again' a small smile creeps up on your face. You fold the paper and hide it in your pocket walking back to the cafe. You see peter sitting down, confused about why you left.

"Sorry i was uh... I don't know its weird" you laugh a little as you sit back down eating your own food.

"What is it. Trust me I'll understand" peter smiled and stole a grape off your plate. You roll your eyes and smile, taking the note out of your Pocket and sliding it under the table to him

"Isn't she cute.." You smile stealing one of peters broccoli.

Peter reads the note and looks up confused.

"Who made this" he flips the note around trying to look for clues

"Eight...you know what she can do" you eat more of your food as Peter slides the note under the table as he eats as well.

"Yeah thats true. I'm glad she has fun with you." He smiles and steals another grape.

"Oh you little shit..." You laugh a little ready to steal more of his, your dinners were normal Food and some type of desert or sweet. You usually went for his veggies though as the cool always seasoned them well. Before you reached over peter breaks his cookie in half, shoving half of it in your mouth.

"Shut up and eat" he smiles and watches you eat the cookie. Enjoying every bite.

As you giggle and joke around dinner finally ends, Peter always walking you to your room teasing a bit and then heading back to his room.

The morning lights came on, you get dressed and right when you exit the Room you're greeted by Peter himself

"Good morning sunshine" he winks at you and turns to walk, you follow getting ready for your morning duties. The both of you go to the cafe, seeing the children eating and smiling. But as your eyes roam the area you can't find eight, you tell peter you will be back, as you walked down to eights room you knock lightly. Stepping inside you don't see anything. Not Eight some of her drawings gone. You feel your body go cold

"E-eight..." You stumble inside. Searching the place as you begin to cry. Saying her number over and over, you know you want to scream, tear this place down, but you can't, even if you tried it would hurt too much to be worth it.

As you walk back to the cafe you think of what could have happen. But all you want is peter. You stumble inside. Peter stands up and looks at you, seeing how sad you look.

"Y/n?" You walks towards you, beginning to wrap his arms around you, as soon as his arms reached out you fell into him, feeling the dead feeling you felt when you lost your mother. Feeling the pain of not being able to know if she was alive or dead.

The guards came around as peter talked, all you could hear was a fuzzy white noise. A few minutes later a lockdown was made. The whole facility was searched for the little girl but nothing happened.

You stayed in your room for two months. Peter and Brenner would bring you food. Some how brenner understood, he let you sit around as long as peter could work. No matter how many times peter comforted you and helped you couldn't get over what happened. It was another horrible loss.

"Y/n?"

It was a long two months but you finally decided to get up shower and go to work again. Peter sat in a chair instantly standing up once he saw you

"Hi how are you?" He runs walks towards you, hugging you instantly once he saw you

"I'm really good, feeling like today's a good day" you hug the man back and then you both head to the rainbow room to do your works.

It was September 9th 1974

Everything started off normal, the kids where playing some going to study and be tested. And all of a sudden the Feeling of absolute dread washes over you. You were watching over a few tests, but as you transitioned to another room the sound of gunshots throughout the building startled you, As your ran with the children to safely you got up, telling them to stay put, as you slowly walked out you still hear the echoing of the gun, you slowly walk around, seeing peter shield his own group of kids, you smile at him slightly as the look of fear is showed. He tried to smile back as you slowly make your way towards the gunshots.

Peter sees this only to freak out more, but he also knows he can't leave the kids while they are out in the open.

You see three kids run to the downstairs door. The door shuts and you can't leave as the doors where locked now. You wall back to peter, as you all slowly and carefully walk to the children you left before.

"What ia going on?" Peter whispered to you, making sure you were pulled aside enough so the kids wouldn't hear.

"I don't know...I can't even get to ground level" you look over at the kids, only having about 7 of them.

As the hours pass a guard finally comes in, helping all of you to get back in a safe place, once the kids were out to sleep all staff was pulled aside to know about what happened.

Brenner speaks in front of you all. Explaining a crazy woman came in To try to get her daughter back, letting out three kids. one sadly being shot. the staff was confused and sad at the loss of one of them and the ones that ran.

It didnt feel right to you. Nothing was normal. You slowly turned to peter, a worried look on your face, peter returned the same facial expression, as you both slowly turned back to Dr. Brenner.

"This place is going to go downhill very fast" peter whispers to you. Making sure no one heard.

"We need to leave..." You slowly turn your head to him, his eyes meeting yours as you swallow, and try to hold In the tears.

[gravene]

𓆩♡𓆪𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄𓆩♡𓆪

hiii! im vin. my pronouns are they/them and im pansexual :) - pls ignore how I put orange, there isn’t a yellow and it’s pissing me off 😨 (update nvm i found the pee color)

i’ve always had an interest in writing/drawing, nd once i discovered smut djshfjsdsjgj literally i was so hooked on just logging into tumblr everyday and at least reading over 5 nsfw fics everyday. crazy ikr??? then i decided...BOOM! why dont i just start writing smut on my own!! took a lot of time to think abt it, half a year maybe? i dunno LMFAOO bbuuuttt here i finally am! thanking my friend for encouraging my lazy ass to get my butt up from bed and finally put my huuuuuuuuuuuuuuge freak brain to use.. i guess i should probably introduce myself? dunno how introductions work i mean do you really expect someone thats writing smut to be a social person most of the time? i dont really think so,,,,, cuz im not. LMFAAOOO

✿ my favorite colorrrrrr is sage green, purple and red *smooch smooch*

✿ i LOVELOVELOVEEEEE cats as you can tell from the gif, sadly i dont own one at the moment, but i will one day! meow :3

✿ i am canadian! surprising i know. and yes we do have milk in bags and i definitely have a maple tree growing on the top of my head yup yup

✿ i am 5′8 not sure if thats any useful info and i doubt anyone cares but there ya go

✿ i love binge watching anime and reading a shit ton of manga. i am a HUGE HUGEEEEEEEE fuckijgm simp for naruse from namaikizakari (you should def read btw)

✿ even tho english is my first language i make a shit ton of spelling mistakes, and sometimes youd be able to notice id be reusing words because my vocabulary is literally so small its so embarrassing (does anyone else get excited when they finish a fic? cuz i just get so happy that im finally done w it and most of the time i proofread, if i dont then i probably have a headache or somethijgm idk)

✿ im not sure if ill be writing for other fandoms, but if i would be its still going to be mostly genshin impact since its what im primarily writing for rn

✿ my page is most likely going to be split in a sub/dom reader type of pov, since im a switch myself and depending on the character and the vibe im giving them or just depending on the day im writing or how i feel the perspecitve can vary, unless i get specifically asked

✿ my favorite genshin characters are xiao, kazuha, scara, and albedo! at the time of writing this i have c3 xiao, c1 kazu, c1 scara, c0 albedo.

✿ i have an addiction to staying up late. yes i know its a bad habit but i literally can’t stop myself from staying up i feel like its an actual addiction? im not even sure n 2 lazy to search up duhhhhhh. so dont be surprised if you catch me online at like 3 in the morning cuz rn as im typing this its 4:54am

i just wanted to say thank you if you actually read to the end! you deserve a pat on the head *pat* 

i should probably go to bed...maybe........hopefully.......

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Chapter Three

Previous

AO3

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is tired. She’s tired of emotional terrorists and liars and classes with a teacher who cares more about keeping the peace than teaching. She’s also just plain tired. Taking a long swig of coffee, Marinette jumps slightly as someone flounces down next to her. Wearily glancing over, she frowns at the look on her best friend’s face. Her mind runs a million miles a minute as she searches for the reason for the look on his face. The conversation on the roof with Jason flashes in her mind and she frowns, realizing why he looks so sad.

“Adrien-” She starts, but he shakes his head.

“I know, Mari. I know he’s our best suspect but...it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” He says, slouching so that he can lay his head on her shoulder. Marinette sighs in response

“You’re gonna get in trouble sitting back here, kitty.” She mumbles, trying not to laugh at the absolutely adorable pout on his face that forms once she’s done talking.

“It’s worth it. I hate sitting by Lila.” He grumbles, the sad look on his face breaking Marinette’s heart.

“I-Well, maybe Mme. Bustier won’t notice.” She offers with a small smile. The smile falls almost immediately as a loud gasp rings throughout the room.

“Mme. Bustier, isn’t Adrien’s seat in the front row? Has the seating chart changed again?” Lila asks, her voice wobbly with tears. “Do I- do I have to sit by myself?” She adds. Marinette groans and drops her head onto the desk.

“Adrien? Why don’t you come back to your seat. We’re going to start class soon.” Mme. Bustier calls out.

“Sorry, guess I spoke too soon.” Marinette mumbles from her spot against the table. Adrien groans, but drags his bag down to the front row, furrowing his eyebrows as Lila immediately attaches herself to his arm. Marinette rolls her eyes, trying her hardest to pay attention to the lecture when all she wants to do is sleep. Between Ladybug duties, commissions, and homework, Marinette was lucky to get more than a couple hours of sleep each night. Add in the fact that once she could go to sleep her brain wouldn’t shut off, and Marinette was ready to petition her parents for an IV drip for her coffee. Having been completely zoned out for the entire class, Marinette jumps when the telltale sound of an akuma alarm suddenly blares throughout the room. Pulling out her phone, Marinette curses under her breath. Another element based akuma. Quickly grabbing her bag, Marinette follows the rest of the class towards the akuma shelter, silently slipping away and into the bathroom. She wastes no time in transforming, instead swinging herself out the window and to the fight.

----

Glancing down at his computer, Jason frowns. Gabriel Agreste has a kid. A kid Damian’s age, who lives in Paris. If Gabriel Agreste really was Hawkmoth, he was doing it knowing that his kid could get caught in the crossfire. Damn shitty parents. Letting out a shaky breath, Jason tries to think about things that calm him. Breathe. Can’t get pissed off here. Can’t make it harder on those kids than it already is. Deciding enough is enough when it comes to research (especially since he didn’t give Replacement specifics, just told him to look into anything sketchy with Agreste), Jason walks over and glances out the hotel window. A sudden alarm blaring through the hotel makes him sigh in frustration. It was the same alarm from last time, when he watched Paris flood and hundreds of bodies float in the streets. Climbing out onto the fire escape, Jason hurries up to the roof, scanning the horizon in hopes of seeing the akuma.

“Shit.” He says, eyes widening at the sight of flames twenty feet high. Regretting letting Bruce convince him to leave the helmet in Gotham, Jason has no choice but to watch the akuma fight from afar. Even if the two heroes hadn’t recognized him, Jason was in Paris on “official” W.E. business. Being recognized as Bruce Wayne’s adoptive son while fighting a supervillain? Probably not the best idea. He’d do more damage than help, and at least by staying away from the fight, he could help the kids later. And maybe track down the son of a bitch who decided focusing the majority of his attacks on a school was a good idea.

----

Jason grit his teeth as the lights flashed and ladybugs flew around, fixing up the city. This battle took almost three hours, and the smell of burning flesh was lingering, despite all of the corpses being reanimated. Huffing, Jason climbs back off the roof, only thinking one thing. There was no way in hell he was leaving Paris until Hawkmoth was out of commission.

----

Landing softly on the rooftop, Marinette glances over at the strange man. Jason. The man who, for some reason, was willing to train them late at night on top of a roof, just so they could fight out of the suits. Not that he understood everything that the suits could do, but that was for the best. Even though his intentions seemed genuine, Marinette had learned not to trust easily anymore. Ever since Lila came, Marinette was wearier, and more likely to ask questions before accepting someone.

“Here’s your mask, if you wanna go ahead and change and start doing some basic stretches.” Jason instructs, getting right down to business as he passes the black domino mask to her. Marinette nods and flits behind the chimney.

“Spots off.” She says quietly, grinning at Tikki.

“Is this really a good idea?” Tikki asks, her face scrunched up with worry. Marinette sighs at her friend.

“He’s gonna help us find Hawkmoth. And he has a point. What happens if I can’t transform but someone still needs my help? I don’t want to be helpless, Tikki.” Marinette says.

“Just be careful, you don’t have the suit to stop you from being too injured.” Tikki warns before flying to the top of the chimney. Marinette hesitates a second before sliding the domino mask on, blinking to get used to the eye cover. It was...weird, having a mask on that wasn’t magic. With the mask that came with her suit, Marinette couldn’t feel it. It was just there, part of her. The domino mask, though, was solid. She could feel it resting on her face. Taking a breath to steady herself, Marinette walked out from behind the chimney.

“Chat Noir’s changing over there.” Jason says when he notices her, nodding towards an air duct on the opposite side of the roof.

“Thank you, for offering to help us.” Marinette says, Jason nods, a tense smile on his face.

“No problem.” He says.

“Did you happen to look into Gabriel Agreste today?” She asks.

“Yeah, what kind of asshole decides to be an emotional terrorist in a city where his kid lives?” Jason asks, a dark look crossing his face. Marinette flinches, looking at Jason nervously. If he had the means to train them, she really didn’t want to deal with him as an akuma.

“Gabriel Agreste, apparently.” Adrien says, finally joining the two, his arms crossed. Marinette frowns at him. It was much harder to read his face with his eyes hidden.

“So did you guys want me to look more into Agreste?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks between the two. Marinette glances at Adrien, letting out a small breath when she sees his small nod.

“Yeah. Even if it’s not Gabriel, we need to know for sure.” She says. Jason nods.

“Alright. That gives me something to do tomorrow. Now, stretch and warm up. I don’t wanna have to drag your asses off this roof ‘cause you pulled something trying to jump right into things.” Jason says, a teasing grin on his face. Marinette grins back, finally feeling lighter. Maybe training would be a good thing.

----

Training was hell. Okay, maybe not hell, but it was not easy. Gasping for air, Marinette dramatically collapses on the roof.

“Aw come on Pixie, you can do better than that.” Jason teases, still standing in a sparring stance.

“Jay, I swear. We’ve been training for over a week. I’m exhausted. And you’ve already kicked my ass twice. I’m giving up.” She says, throwing her arm over her face to block out the lights from the surrounding street lamps.

“Come on Bug, don’t give up!” Adrien cheers from the side, a smirk on his face. Marinette sits up and narrows her eyes at him, despite knowing the mask wouldn’t let him see her eyes. And the level of done that was visible there.

“Why don’t you try again?” She asks in a taunting tone. Adrien snorts.

“You and I both know that I can’t beat Jason.” He says, shaking his head in amusement.

“Not with that attitude. Come on kid, let’s go.” Jason says, turning to face Adrien instead of Marinette. An idea flashes into Marinette’s head and she smirks, lunging forward and yanking Jason down as his attention is completely on Adrien. Grabbing his wrists as he falls, Marinette manages to twist him around so that his face is against the rooftop and his arms are bent behind him.

“Okay, okay, I tap out.” Jason chuckles, accepting Marinette’s hand when she jumps up and reaches out to help him up.

“I won.” She says with a wide grin.

“You totally cheated.” Jason replies with a snort.

“Nah, Kitty and I just worked together to outsmart you.” Mari says.

“Don’t drag me into this, I had no idea what was happening ‘til Jay was on the ground.” Adrien says, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Traitor.” Marinette huffs, sticking her tongue out at her best friend.

“Hey, you guys are gonna have to go home soon.” Jason says, glancing down at his watch. Marinette frowns.

“What about the Plan?” She asks. “I thought we were gonna work on that tonight so that we have an actual plan to stop Hawkmoth instead of just letting him run around and terrorize people nonstop.”

“Pixie, it’s late. I promise we’ll start with planning tomorrow. But you guys need to go get some sleep. Chat told me you’re already living off of coffee alone. That’s not healthy.” Jason says. Marinette rolls her eyes, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout.

“Coffee is my life fuel and I will not apologize.” She says, making both Chat and Jason groan.

“You’re worse than my brother.” Jason says and Mari grins.

“I’m sure we’d get along swimmingly.” She says, and Chat shakes his head.

“Nope. I draw the line at your coffee addicted butt meeting another coffee addict. I’m not about to watch that train wreck.” He says, grabbing Mari’s hand and tugging her behind the chimney so they can transform. Saying their phrases quickly, the two dart back over to Jason.

“Same time?” Marinette asks with a bright smile. Jason nods. Marinette waves, running over to the edge of the building and swinging away, waving at Adrien as he vaults towards his house. As she lands on her balcony, Marinette can't help the wide smile that stretches across her face. Maybe they could finally end this.

Next

[sugawara-sweetheart]

𝔰𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔢 (𝔪)

❥yamaguchi tadashi x fem!reader

❥warnings: yandere, dubcon, ill-prepped sex, bleeding, guilt-tripping & manipulation, jealousy and possessiveness, toxic relationship, vomit (not like that dw)

❥word count: 3.7k

❣︎anon: Hello love! I hope you’re having a good day :) I was hoping to request a yandere!yamaguchi fic where he’s the team captain and reader is the manager. Maybe after a really bad practice game he manipulates reader into dating him by saying sumn like “oh if we are together the teams foundation will be stronger”. And like through out their relationship it shows how he will guilt her into staying and fucking him but she doesn’t realize he’s toxic and is just like “ he just loves me a lot and is kinky lol” (sorry idk if this makes sense essentially just Yan!yamaguchi dating manager!reader lol)

he strikes when morale is low.

you can see devastation etched on everyone’s faces. hinata’s shoulders slouch with utter dejection, kageyama’s jaw is clenched tightly and there’s worry and shame across the first years’ faces. a sense of hopelessness.

you want to cry. being manager wasn’t something you were new to- you’d been working as one of them since your first year- but this was yamaguchi’s first year of being captain. this was the first practise game of the year and the loss was devestating. any chance of going to nationals this year seemed like a far away dream, like trying to grasp smoke.

“don’t mind, guys.” you hope your smile isn’t shaky but you don’t get much of a reply as the boys head to the clubroom, leaving you and yamaguchi the only ones remaining outside the gym. the air feels cool on your skin, the sky tinged with streaks of pink and a warm glow as the sun sets below the hills.

“i’m not doing great as captain, am i?” yamaguchi murmurs. you frown at him, mouth falling open but he contunues, staring off at the scenic distance with the tangerine sun reflected in his round, dejected orbs. “i shouldn’t have been captain- if tsukki or kageyama-”

“no, tadashi.” he looks stunned and you hope you don’t look as flustered as you feel as you smile gently. “you’re an amazing captain- this was just a tiny bump in the road but i know you’ll lead the team syccessfully, just like ennoshita, just like daichi.” the mention of your former captains makes him smile slightly, a wistful longing apparent in his face. “i know you will. don’t worry, this was just one practise match and everyone knows dateko is a bitch to play with.” he chuckles, nodding and as you gaze at the setting sun you notice him edging closer towards you.

“i’m really glad you’re our manager, y/n.” he beams and your heart flutters at his sweet words, warmth tingling through you as you grin. “i feel like you’ll really help our team feel so much stronger as manager, but..” he trails off with an awkward chuckle that has you narrowing your eyes.

“tadashi?”

“no, you’ll think i’m stupid- i’m just being dumb-” hesitation is etched all over his face, brewing with anxiety and it makes your chest twinge as you shake your head, trying to ignore how endearing he looks with his freckled cheeks flushed pink.

“no, no, don’t think that! tadashi, what is it?” the corners of his lips tug in a shy smile as he rubs the back of his reddened neck.

“uh- i-i was thinking...well, you’re really pretty and i’ve always liked you, but because you’re manager too, if we- um- you know- we’d be such a stronger team…”

his cheeks glow bright pink, doe eyes widened and you can’t help the smile that stretches across your face, utter warmth flooding through you. so innocent, so sweet, your heart drums against your rib cage as you try to resist the giggle that escapes you.

“tadashi, are you trying to ask me out?” he looks worried, a little crease between his brows as he stammers over his words.

“i-ive always liked you- it’s not just for the team, that’s more of a bonus- it’s okay if you don’t want to, i know...i know i wouldn’t be a girl’s first choice but-”

“nonsense.” he falls silent, blinking in shock as you slide your fingers into his, squeezing his warm hand tight. “you’re my first choice.”

the thing with traps is that they never look obvious. a serpent under the innocent flower. and yamaguchi was the perfect trap.

it starts off sweet- it always does.

you’re not sure how such a sweet angel has been single for so long because your life becomes entirely better with yamaguchi brightening it up. he’s there every morning at the end of your garden bolding a can of coffee and his other outstretched for you to slip yours into, to let him place a gentle kiss on the back of it before you make your way together to school. he’s so proud to tell the team you’re dating- it’s such a thrill to have him announce it with a sense of pride, his eyes softening as he gazes at you whilst hinata cheers him on and yachi is bursting with questions to ask you. and he’s so besotted with you, every bit of free time he wants to spend with you- tugging your hand during breaks at practise, pulling you into empty corridors at school to make out with you pressed against the wall, his leg nudging between your thighs, his hand always entwined with yours whenever you’re both walking, every evening and weekend spent together.

until it starts to feel like too much.

“y/n,” you sigh heavily when hinata clings to your sleeve, resting his head on your shoulder with his brown eyes wide and pleading. “please, please- i’ll buy you meat buns!”

“shōyō, what are you on about?” you’re half-amused by your friend, the friend you’d had since your first year at karasuno, the same friend that encouraged not just yachi to be manager of the volleyball team but you too. if there was anyone you trusted more than yamaguchi and yachi, it’d be hinata- the sweet, vivacious boy you’d spent so many happy times with.

“help us study!” he cries, gesturing to himself and a sheepish-looking kageyama stood a few steps away. “we’re going to fail the exams without your help!” you can’t help but laugh at the same occurrence that happens every exam season without fail, nodding slowly as smiles brighten up the two boys’ faces.

“fine, fine. we’ll study tonight and on the weekend- but next time come to me earlier! you know maths is on tuesday-”

“what’s going on?” you can’t explain why your chest suddenly feels tight when yamaguchi’s bright, tender voice fills your ears. his soft scent of linen envelopes you as he takes his seat on the bench beside you, tsukishima right by his side and you’re not sure why a smile seems to hard to plaster on your face as your boyfriend slides his arms around you.

“y/n’s helping us study for our exams!” hinata beams. you’re aware of tsukishima scoffing, the three volleyball players beginning to squabble childishly, but all you can focus on is yamaguchi’s eyes burning into you. from the corner of your eye you can see the hurt flashing across his face, his head tilting to the side as he speaks quietly.

“you’re helping them study?” you frown slightly at the tone of his voice, nodding with an awkward smile tugging at your lips.

“yeah- just tonight and on the weekend. why?” yamaguchi’s face scowls slightly as his lips are pulled into a thin line. you don’t like the look that lingers in his eyes, the same look he has when you’re chatting away to a classmate instead of him, when you compliment kageyama or the second years on their abilities, when you ask hinata tenderly if he’s okay after he’s had a ball to the face. why does he always look so scorned? you hate the heavy feeling that twinges in your chest when he does.

“alone?” you have to laugh- it’s the only one way to brush it off but he doesn’t look pleased, even when you force yourself to relax in his arms and brush your lips against his cheek.

“don’t be like that, tadashi.”

but he is like that. it seems to be a regular occurrence, and it worsens. anxiety brews in your stomach, weighing you down and making you feel sick every time. hinata hugged you for a moment too long after a successful practise game, his head buried in the crook of your neck and his arms wrapped around you, and yamaguchi refused to even look at you the whole way home, a sour look on his face and his eyes fixated on the road ahead whilst you pleaded and begged for his attention. but nothing- he just left you on your doorstep sniffling and your throat raw from the constant apologies. one time you walked with tsukishima to practise after a lesson with him, smiling and laughing as he shared with you his warm childhood memories of yamaguchi, but your boyfriend didn’t see it like that. your heart dropped the moment you locked eyes with him standing by the gym expectantly, utter betrayal and hurt etched on his face you wanted to sink to your knees then and beg for his forgiveness.

“girls don’t really like me.” he’d sniffled afterwards in your bedroom. “they just use me for tsukishima, they always have- i really thought you liked me for me, y/n.”

“i do, tadashi, i do.” your eyes are hot with frustrated tears as you crouch before him, nuzzling your face into his thigh. “please believe me when i say it wasn’t like that! you know i love you.” his wet eyes sparkle when you say that, face lighting up.

“r-really?” you nod eagerly, not resisting him when he cups your face and brings your lips to his, kissing you sweetly and tenderly. and when you think it’s all solved dread begins to seep into you again as he takes your hand and presses it against his hardening cock.

“t-tadashi,” yamaguchi’s face crumples at the tone in your voice. “i-i’m not ready- you know that-”

“i thought you liked me.” he spits bitterly. it’s the same words, the same words that always makes you feel so pathetic, so useless and shitty, breaking yamaguchi’s heart over and over. so you hold back the salty tears and try not to think too hard about it when you let him use your mouth, trying not to feel hurt. this is normal, you tell yourself. yamaguchi deserves it, you hurt him earlier, but you still hate every moment of it.

eventually you start avoiding people. it feels like every interaction yamaguchi watches goes wrong and ends with him upset, hurt, betrayed, insecure and the guilt of it, the consequences where you have to make amends weighs down too heavy on you.

“you treat me like shit, i just feel like you don’t care.”

“a good manager doesn’t flirt around with the other players- you’re supposed to be my girlfriend!”

“why am i never good enough for you? i’m not even good enough for the team and now I'm not good enough for you.”

the simple thing is just to simply stay away.

the team are confused when you’re suddenly curt and cold towards the first and second years, no longer sweetly encouraging them with enthusiastic compliments and kind words. you have to hold back the tears that prickle your eyes when you see the look of hurt flash across hinata’s face, the sparkle dulling in his brown eyes, when you push him away when he tries to hug you but yamaguchi’s eyes piercing into your back serves as a reminder. your friends see less of you when you decline hanging out with them at lunch to be with yamaguchi instead and you hate how they frown at you with unfamiliarity.

“what’s wrong with you, y/n? why do you keep ditching us now that you have a man?” you want to explain, you really do, but how do you tell them that you don’t want to hurt yamaguchi too, you don’t want him to cry to you about how he feels neglected and pushed aside like you don’t care anymore? how do you tell them you don’t want to have to use your mouth or hands to make it up to him? so you let them be hurt instead, you pull away till they pass you in the hallways without even so much as glancing at you.

you think it’ll get better, that yamguchi will be happier now. but it all breaks down at the inter-high tournament when winning is so close, so close you can almost taste the sweet victory on your tongue. the gym is tense and the boys are playing hard and you’re holding your breath, heart pounding as you will them to win the semi-finals. they’re so close to getting through. it’ll save you if they do.

but they lost. bile burns in the back of your throat when the referee blows his whistle and the shock and dejection floods through the team. your bitter tears match theirs but for a different reason altogether. your body shakes when yamaguchi envelopes it, his tears staining your shoulder and you hate his fingers pressing into your body because you realise you’ll probably have to use it later.

he asks you to come over to his later that night. his eyes are bloodshot and freckled cheeks stained with tears when he asks, his voice cracking and with the rest of the team surrounding you, you can’t say no. you’re their manager, a pillar of the team, and yamaguchi’s girlfriend. how could you say no? so you go, inhaling the cold air and ignoring the dark dread that festers inside you.

“are you cold?” yamaguchi sniffles as you walk, his eyes focused on your shaking hand. you shake your head but as he reaches for you, you have to will yourself not to flinch. you’re not scared of him, you can’t be.

“i’m a rubbish captain.” he mumbles later on, shoulders slouching with dejection. your chest twinges as you sit beside him on the end of his bed, gazing at his forlorn eyes that he can’t even bear to look at you with, utter sympathy flooding you as you reach out for his hand. “everyone thinks it.”

“no one thinks that, tadashi.” you murmur softly, edging closer to him and squeezing his hand. he looks up at you slowly, his dark eyes wide and adoring. “you’re an amazing captain-” you’re cut off by his lips pressing against yours, the kiss hot and feverous as he slides your entwined hand down to his crotch, pressing it enough for you to feel his erection hardening under your touch.

“tadashi-” you groan when you try to pull away but yamaguchi just kisses you more, his other hand cupping the back of your head as he tries to force his tongue into your mouth as you grimace. “tadashi-” you push him away, saliva coating your lips you can’t help but scowl as you wipe it away, yamaguchi watching you with his face falling. “not now, i’m not re-”

“so now i’m a rubbish boyfriend too!” he cries.

you’re stunned as you watch him twist away from you, his pouting lip beginning to tremble and your heart wrenches when you see the tears beginning to flood his eyes, his freckles cheeks becoming flushed as a heaviness settles in your chest.

“i didn’t say that.” you murmur. how stupid of you. he was already feeling sensitive and now you’re making him feel worse, letting his insecurities flood him more and more when you’re supposed to uplift him. how are you messing this up so badly? “don’t say that, tadashi, you know you’re wonderful.”

“then why don’t you want me? every time you say no-” he sniffles, rubbing at the reddened tip of his nose. “why can’t i just do anything right?”

“tadashi, it isn’t like that.” a thick lump rises in your throat as he stares at you expecrantly when you wrap your arm around his shoulders, tenderly ruffling the back of his head. “i’m sorry- you do everything right.” you try not to whimper when you slide your other hand along his thigh, goosebumps pebbling your skin as an icy chill runs down your spine. “i’m sorry- let’s- we can do this.”

you try not to tremble when he peels off your clothes, mouthing kisses at your cold body as his hands roam over you. it feels weird- you’d never been touched before but it hurts when he pinches your nipples and you force yourself not to squirm when he pushes you onto the bed, straddling you as he spreads your legs.

“tadashi-” you whine when he touches your folds, a horrible coldness washing over you. it doesn’t feel like when you touch yourself but you push it away from your mind, telling yourself you’ll like it when he actually does something, you’ll get wet when he fingers you or something. but yamaguchi doesn’t, instead pulling off his clothes and your heart thumps when you realise how fucking big he is. he’s thick and long, painfully hard with the reddened tip leaking precum, a deep moan escaping him as he strokes himself.

“i’ve been waiting for this for so long- you’re going to feel so good.” he groans as he slides his cock along your folds. it feels weird and you’re not even wet but yamaguchi doesn’t take any notice of your squirming.

“tadashi- wait, i want to-” he slaps away your hand when you reach down to touch yourself, instead twining his fingers with yours and pressing your hands flat against the mattress.

“don’t worry,” he coos as he kisses you, lips tasting salty. “i’ll take care of you.”

you can’t even scream when he shoves his cock into you. it burns, the pain agonising and your back arches off the bed, mouth dropping open with silent screams. blood rings in your ears, yamaguchi’s moans as your nails drag down his back sounding so distant like you’ve been plunged under water. it feels like you could die. your tight walls are ripped apart by his thick cock, anguish burning in you and hot tears stinging your eyes as soft sobs escape you.

“oh- you’re so warm, you’re taking me so well. pretty girl, i’m so lucky to have you.” you cry as he kisses you, disgust seeping into you as he fills up your cunt. how could he be so oblivious? or does he simply not care?

“ta-tadashi- i c-can’t!” he ignores you, busying himself with kissing away your tears and you can’t fight him off as he cages you in. it’s torture when he drives his hips into yours, ripping through the flesh and you’re almost grateful for your body’s natural lubrication when you feel the odd moisture between your legs. that’s until you see the redness coating his cock when he pounds it into you and your vision is blurred by the hot tears, your sobs barely shushed by yamaguchi’s soothing hushes and tender kisses that feel so jarring, so wrong.

“i love you.” he grunts. “i love you so much- you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” hot tears run down your cheeks as you turn your head to the side, staring blankly out of his window as the sharp pains run through your body every time his cockhead bruises your cervix. “i love you.” he wants you to say it back but you just feel sick and pained, a cold sweat breaking over your body. when will this be over? you clench your eyes shut, trying to swallow the bitter taste on your dry tongue, trying to pretend it feels okay, bearable even, but it doesn’t and you’re relieved when his throbbing cock pulls out. hot ropes of cum splatter over your folds and you feel like you’ve been split apart.

“you okay?” your heart drums when you see the pinkish fluid clinging to your pussy, the deep scarlet trickling out of your abused hole. “wow, you were a virgin?” yamaguchi’s smile makes you feel sick, your stomach churning. “i can’t believe i was your first. and you were mine.” he reaches out to take your hand into his but you’re quick to turn away, to hold back your hair as you can’t fight the urge to puke all over the side of the bed, tears stinging your eyes and the back of your throat burning.

*

“hey, y/n. what are you doing here?” you can’t help but start at the sound of the voice, but relief floods through you and your racing heart calms when you see it’s just yachi, a sweet yet confused smile on her face as she approaches. you’re sat against the brick wall behind the gym, staring out at the fields and hills stretching out into the distant blue sky. “aren’t you coming to practise?”

“i don’t know.” you murmur, pausing to take a sip of your water. “i’m actually considering resigning.” you don’t want to meet yachi’s eyes when she yelps with surprise, her eyes widening.

“what? why? a-are you crazy? the team loves you so much, i don’t want to be manager alone!” you can’t help but smile dryly at her desperate wail, glancing at her from the corner of your eye.

“you’ll have the new first year manager.”

“it’s not the same.” yachi pouts, her shoulders slouching. but then the look on her face becomes serious, anxious almost, as she shuffles closer to you, her eyes a little wide. you don’t like the look of cautious sympathy evident in them, her hands clumsily fumbling with the hem of her shirt.

“y/n, is this because of yamaguchi?” you freeze. blood pounds in your ears as you stare at yachi, the look on her face too serious for this to be a joke.

“what? no!” your laugh sounds forced and she doesn’t even crack a smile as she narrows her eyes, scrutinising you carefully with a look of worry etched on her face.

“please tell me if something’s not right. h-hinata says you’re getting really distant from everyone, and sometimes you look a bit...scared? is something wrong?”

yamaguchi forcing his cock into your dry hole. his cries to weigh you down and smother you with guilt. suspicious whispers that leave you scared to even smile at a classmate. his constant presence, his hand gripping yours, because he tells you he doesn’t ever want to be apart from you, he loves you too much not realising he’s drowning you.

“no.” yachi looks surprised as your strong declaration. “he loves me a lot. and i love him. everything’s fine.”

but your face falls as you hear the harsh snapping of a stray twig and yamaguchi’s standing by the corner, his hands curled into a fist and betrayal burning in his eyes.

[drabblily]

Bad Confessions

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, of course. Fluff. 

Word Count: 2.1k

Synopsis: Y/N seems to have fallen in love with a certain hotheaded blonde, might as well confess and get rejected to move on with it, right?

A/N: First Post! Hope you enjoy <3

------

Falling in love was scary.

There was nothing gentle about it, hence the “falling” part of it. You were either all in or not in at all. You could be pushed, you could take that jump, or you could accidentally take one certain step and fall to your impeding doom.

And it was so, so fucking terrifying to you. When you fall in love there is supposed to be someone waiting for you at the bottom to catch you, that was the fortunate option. The unfortunate side was that when you fall in love, that person could move at the last second to let you splat to the ground.

You guess, that’s what made you so scared of it. That someone would move to let you die. To be manipulated. To be used like that. It scared the hell out of you.

That was probably why you never noticed the signs when you were in it. The constant checking of a text message to see if he texted you, the sweaty hands and speedy heart whenever he walked by, the overthinking about him, trying to grab his attention by looking pretty.

It was torturous and you thought nothing of it, perhaps you were going crazy, though. Because you definitely should not be feeling like this.

So, you visited the school nurse, Recovery Girl, in hopes that she would cure your unknown disease.

“Hello? Recovery Girl?” You knocked on the open door to alert her that you were there before stepping in.

The old woman turned towards you with a smile on her face, “Hello, Y/N, are you hurt?”

You gulped, fiddling with your fingers, what if she weren’t able to help you? What if it was a fatal deadly disease and you couldn’t be cured no matter what??

“Well…actually, not really. I just think I might be feeling sick and wanted to ask you for your advice on how to help me out with it?”

She patted the hospital bed she had, implying for you to take a seat, so you did.

Recovery Girl silently grabbed her thermometer, going across your forehead to see if you had a temperature. You didn’t, normal temperature. She grabbed a stick and told you to open your mouth and say, “Ahhh…” With her gloves, she felt around your throat to see if there was anything that could hint at you being ill.

Unwrapping her gloves and throwing them out, she finally spoke with that constant smile of hers, “Well I did the minimum and it doesn’t look like you are sick. You don’t have a fever or any signs of a sore throat. Are you sure you feel sick? What are your symptoms exactly?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, there was no way you couldn’t be sick. Oh my god, what if you were right. What if you were uncurable!! Leg slightly bouncing in anxiousness, you told her, “W-well, actually, I think my mind is all fuzzy. I’ve been getting urges to check my phone when we are out of class…I sometimes get really feverish around people and it feels like my stomach is twisting when around somebody…do you think a villain could’ve used their quirk on me to make me feel like this?”

Your elder slightly chuckled, as if she knew a little secret, smiling even wider with a slight tint of pink to her cheeks, “Oh dearie,” She patted your bouncing leg to calm you down, “you sound like you’re in love.”

Your eyes widened, blood rushing throughout your entire face, “What! With who?”

“With whoever you want to be around, or whoever you think about most.” She clasped her hands together, nodding her head to convince you further. You couldn’t believe it though. You? In love? Doubtful, you were a future pro-hero! You had no time for love!

The bell rung, hinting you should be at your first period class soon, “Well, dearie, you better get to class now. You know how your teacher acts when you are late.”

You numbly nodded, jumping off the hospital bed and walking out of the nurse’s room. On your way to class, you felt heavier, your mind racing with ideas of who exactly you could be “in love” with. No one came to mind. It was torturous.

Finally, you made it to class, opening the door—luckily Aizawa-Sensei wasn’t here yet—and walking to your seat. Eyes scanning the chatter filled room, you made eye contact with mean crimson eyeballs, your heart picking up pace and your tummy feeling nauseated again.

“Got somethin’ to say, damn extra!?” His rough voice asked you loudly, looking to pick a fight.

Your bottom lip quivered in realization, breaking eye contact and sitting down in your chair. You put your head on the table between your arms, “No no no no no no…him?? Really? That cannot be true, he’s an asshole for crying out loud, what is wrong with you??”

You felt a loud slam on your table, “Hey! I’m fucking talking to you, dumbass!”

Your head jolted up at the suddenness, your big eyes staring up at your crush and classmate, Bakugo in confusion and sudden fear. Your cheeks flushed and you licked your lips, feeling thirsty out of nowhere now, “I…”

You noticed a deep red dust his ears as he opened his mouth, “Nevermind.”

Heart skipping a beat at his unexpected calmness, your eyes trailed his body as he stomped away to his chair with a slouch in his posture.

You felt a tap on your right shoulder, your close friend, Mina leaning over to whisper to you, “Bakugo’s never that nice to anyone, he’s totally got the hots for you!!” She squealed in excitement.

You choked on your air, sputtering out words, “N-No! I doubt that’s it, he probably just didn’t want to deal with Aizawa-sensei, he could’ve walked in at any second after all…”

The pink alien playfully punched your shoulder whilst giggling, “Hah! Yeah right, he doesn’t care if he gets in trouble, he totally has a crush on you, I can tell!”

You opened your mouth to respond when your teacher walked in with a ‘dead inside’ expression plastered onto his face, the entire class going silent so they wouldn’t get in trouble.

----

Ever since you found out your crush on your hotheaded classmate two weeks ago, you’ve done your best to avoid him as well as possible. No eye contact, no walking near each other, no talking—which meant also doing your best to not piss him off so you wouldn’t have an excuse to talk to one another. You did whatever you could in hopes of your stupid crush on him to fade away.

But nothing was working. So, you could only come to one reasonable conclusion.

Confess to him. You knew rejection was coming and you just wanted to get it over with so you could wallow in self pity instead.

Maybe that’s why you were here, standing in front of Bakugo Katsuki’s door, a rather large lump caught in your throat as you raised your hand to knock on the door. Swallowing it down, your fist quivered, hesitating to actually knock.

You couldn’t do this. It was way too nerve wracking and you were too much of a coward to actually do it. Placing your hand back down to your side in defeat, you pressed your head on the wall next to his door with a sigh.

“Why can’t I just tell him…” You murmured to yourself, looking down at your hands, imagining his rough ones holding yours. Which was stupid, considering it would never happen, you told yourself, pushing the silly daydreams away.

“What the fuck did you just say, damn extra?”

The sudden voice made you yelp, jumping away only to trip on your own foot and fall straight onto your ass. You groaned at the impact your palms and butt just got, both in extreme pain. You brought your hands up to your line of sight, inspecting how they were red and felt like it burned.

The man above you clicked his tongue in frustration before offering you his hand, “Dumbass. How did you hurt yourself from that?”

“I...” You started, grabbing his hand hesitantly; staring at your hands connected made blood rush to your face, “You scared me. I didn’t see you there.”

The blond snorted, “Idiot. How are you going to become a hero if you just jump from hearing my voice.” He mocked, narrowing his eyes at you before tugging you up and off the ground.

You flushed, reluctantly pulling your hand away from his to cover your face in embarrassment, “Shut up…”

“What the fuck are you doing in this hall anyways?”

“I just, um, you see…”

“Spit it out already, idiot.”

You peeked through your fingers, making eye contact with him, and taking a deep breath, “I just…wanted to tell you something.”

Bakugo crossed his arms—which you couldn’t help but admire how his muscles tensed and moved—raising one annoyed eyebrow at you to signify to continue.

Okay. You had to do this now or never. If you didn’t do it now, youd be a failure, a disgrace. Maybe rejection was what you needed! Maybe if he rejected you, your feelings for the hothead would dissipate and you could focus on more important things, like being a hero. Not fantasizing what kissing your classmate would feel like in the middle of a test.

‘Okay, just spit it out. You can do this’ You told yourself, putting your hands together and gulping.

“Alright, just listen,” You glanced towards him, seriously, hoping he wouldn’t interrupt you until you got your words out so you wouldn’t feel like a fool midway, “I, well to put it simply, I think…I think I like you, a lot. And its terrifying because ive never felt this way about anyone before. But I know you don’t feel the same way, so…please—”

Before you knew what was happening, Bakugo pushed forward, uncrossing his arms to grab ahold of you.

This was different. A lot different than how you expected.

Soft lips captured yours, passionately. You froze up, your mind going haywire trying to figure out what the fuck is happening right now. You noticed two things, does this mean he liked you back? It had to be right? That thought made you dizzy, there was no way this man liked you back. Bakugo fucking Katsuki, no way.

The man in question pulled away, taking note of your flustered expression, smirking at it waiting for you to speak again.

You reached up to touch your lips, still unbelieving that just happened. The second thing you notice was that his lips, oh god. They were heaven. You expected them to be chapped, rough, but it was far from it. Of course! This man would be perfect like this, after all he did seem like one to take care of himself.

Suddenly snapping up to your senses, your eyes widened, “W-what was that!? I said not to interrupt me!”

Katsuki snickered, “Seriously? I just fucking kissed you and you’re thinking about how I interrupted your stupid confession?”

“N-no! The kiss was nice!” His smirk widened. “No! It wasn’t nice, that’s not what I meant! Well, it was nice, I mean I liked it of course! B-but—”

“You’re stupidly cute when you ramble, you know?”

Your breath hitched before reaching over to smack his arm for teasing you, his strong hand catching your wrist and tugging you into his arms, his free hand coming to grip your waist.

“Stop teasing me!” You whined, struggling against his grip to leave your embarrassment.

“Hell no. Its fun to see your expressions when I do.” Bakugo grinned, his grip tightening for a second, “Your confession was ass though.”

You placed your head on his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. You knew it was bad, but he didn’t have to point it out for crying out loud!

You felt the pressure on your wrist disappear only for it to show up on your chin, “Hey, look at me.” His vermillion eyes surprisingly gentle, his tongue coming out to lick his lips.

You were the one to lean in this time, tilting your chin up to kiss him, after all, you didn’t exactly reciprocate it when he did. However, Bakugo immediately responded, his mouth moving against yours with a passion.

After what seemed like an eternity to you—which in reality was about thirty or so seconds—you pulled away, speechless and breathless.

His forehead leaned against yours, his eyes snapping open to make eye contact with you, “I like you too dummy, don’t forget it.”

[momentofmemory]

FICTOBER 2020 - day twelve

Prompt #12: “Watch me.”

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Melissa McCall, Scott McCall

Words: 1306

Author’s Note: A series of four vignettes featuring Melissa & Scott’s relationship, culminating with the fallout of 2x10 (Fury). Fluff that slowly descends into angst. Melissa POV.

>> i saw your eyes (they looked like they were mine)

“Watch me, mama!”

Scott’s head just barely peaks up over the counter, his hands reaching up to grab for her attention. “Look!”

Melissa laughs, gently hip checking him to the side so she can cover the bolillos with a towel to rise. “Just a minute, mijo, I’m coming. You don’t want flies to get into your food, do you?”

Scott pauses, having somehow managed to get flour in his hair already. “Do flies need it?”

“I’m very sure they can get food somewhere that isn’t my house,” Melissa says, dusting Scott’s nose with flour until he falls back, giggling. “Now, what’ve you got for me?”

Scott’s eyes light up as he grabs her by the hand, decorating the floor with even more flour, and drags her into the living room.

“I fixed Roxy!”

The dog in question is sitting placidly on one of the couch pillows, the McCall’s medicine kit open and its contents strewn all over the floor. She’d gotten into a fight with the neighbor’s cat the day they’d gotten her, and while the cut she’d sustained on her ear had long since healed, Scott’s been rather taken with making sure she’s okay ever since.

Which is probably why there appear to be over a half dozen bandaids covering the poor terrier’s ear, along with an incorrectly though painstakingly placed Ace bandage.

“Wow,” she says, making sure to give Roxy a few extra scratches as a reward for her patience. “You do this all by yourself?”

“Yeah!” Scott bends Roxy’s ear up, eager to show off his handiwork. “I even got one on the—scapha, like Dr. Deaton said.”

“Oh ho, I see. Scapha’s a big word.” She moves from ruffling Roxy’s fur to Scott’s hair. “You gonna be doctor someday? Dr. McCall?”

Scott shrugs. “Is that what you do?”

“Sort of, sweetie. No doctorate here, but. Yeah. Close enough.”

“Then I’ll be close enough,” Scott says. “So I can be like you.”

Melissa feels a swell of warmth, and kisses the top of Scott’s head. “You’re already far better than that, mijo. And I’ll be there to watch the whole thing.”

_________________

“Mom.”

Melissa looks up from the pamphlet she’s been reading, and Scott looks so small on the hospital bed. “Yeah, sweetie?”

“Am I breathing?”

Melissa’s heart twists in her chest. “Yeah, baby. You’re breathing. Does your chest feel okay?”

Scott nods, his lips pursed close together. “It felt okay before, too.”

“I know.” The signs were there—the coughing at night, the perpetual fatigue, the muscle and determination for sports but not the stamina. “But you’re okay now, I promise. The doctors have got you fixed all up and you’ve got plenty of medicine in case it happens again.”

Scott frowns, staring down at his hands. “So it’s going to happen again?”

“Not this bad, mijo. Not this bad.” She nods towards the inhaler on his bedside table. “That’s what the medicine’s for, remember?”

She wishes, sometimes, that she didn’t know quite so much about everything that was happening in her baby boy’s body. The bronchodilator via nebulizer to open his airways. Corticosteroid drugs in his IV to lower lung inflammation. Oxygen via nasal cannula to bring his blood oxygen levels back up. The trigger that’d caused the swelling and mucus production to threatened him to begin with, still lurking in his genes to strike at any moment.

Not that she’d tell him that.

“You’re okay, Scott,” she says. “I promise.”

“But what if it happens again while I’m sleeping?”

Melissa sets the pamphlet down and goes to sit on the edge of the bed. She takes his hand into hers. “Then I’ll be here the whole time, okay? If you stop breathing, I’ll make sure you start again.”

Scott bites his lip, tracing patterns on the hospital sheets. “You’ll watch me?”

“I won’t look away for even a second.”

She doesn’t, and Scott sleeps, uninterrupted and unafraid and breathing, through the entire night.

_________________

“You couldn’t have picked literally any other extracurricular?”

Melissa frowns at the dollar signs on the sign-up sheet, mentally tallying the costs of the uniforms, equipment, and not to mention rescue inhalers he’d need to play lacrosse, of all things.

“Lacrosse is like, the football of Beacon Hills!” Scott says, all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I can definitely do this.”

“I don’t know, Scott,” she says. “Your asthma’s been even worse than usual this season, and I don’t want you to commit to something like this and have to bow out halfway through.”

“I won’t,” Scott says, with all the total confidence only a teenager could have.

“Uh-huh.” Melissa sets the paper down and folds her arms over her chest. “Scott, I know you’re angling to get more popular than you were in middle school—”

“Mom!”

“—but I don’t think picking something that’s going to be—” Melissa hesitates, fishing for the most tactful word—“unconducive to your health is the best way to go about it.”

Hurt blossoms across Scott’s face. “You don’t think I can do it.”

‘Oh, no,” Melissa says. “You wander around the house without a shirt on more than enough for me to know you’ve got the muscle tone for it.”

“Mom.”

Scott’s incredibly tenacious once he gets his mind set on something—which is what moves his chances up from snowball’s chance in hell to snowball’s chance in, say, Nevada.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” she says.

“And you won’t. I can do this, mom—just watch me.”

It’s a bad idea. From definitely a financial standpoint, and probably a health one, too..

She sighs. “What time to tryouts start?”

“You’re coming?”

It’s painfully obnoxious and incredibly adorable how quickly he goes from sullen and determined to exuberant.

“Yeah, you dumbass,” she says. “If you’re going to go on some ill-fated mission to rise through the ranks at risk of life and limb, I’ll be there.”

His answering grin is so bright, she thinks he might actually do it after all.

_________________

“So.” Melissa licks her lips, fingers threaded together on the counter in front of her. “You’re a werewolf.”

They’re standing in the kitchen, the single unburnt bulb in the ceiling light shining down on them. Scott’s slouching, or maybe hunching, in the corner of the room; the island staking out the neutral ground between them. He’s not meeting her eyes, or maybe she’s the one that’s not meeting his.

Scott clears his throat. “Yeah. I’m, uh—a werewolf.”

It feels like the setup for an interrogation.

(She wishes she knew which of them was on trial.)

“Uh-huh.” Melissa taps her fingernails on the granite, waiting for him to expound. He doesn’t. “Okay, so how does it—is this a once-a-month thing? You change when the moon’s out?”

"No. I can—I can shift whenever I want, now.”

Now implies it hasn’t always been that way. Now implies a then. Now implies her son’s been a werewolf (a werewolf) for more than just a few days, and she hasn’t noticed anything other than a few slipped grades and out-of-character absences. Now means he did all that without her.

“Do you want to watch me do it?”

Melissa flinches before she can think twice about; Scott flinches in return. “Watch…?”

“Watch me shift,” he says. “I can control it really well, I could—we could just do claws maybe, or my eyes?”

Scott’s beautiful, deep brown eyes stare hopefully at her, eyes he got from her, and the thought of them turning the angry gold he got from someone else hurts too much.

“That’s okay, baby,” she says. “Maybe—maybe not right now.”

“Okay, yeah. Sure.”

His lips quirk up in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and Melissa can’t get her mouth to open far enough to handle the promises he needs.

She says nothing.

[poorrichardslegacy]

Kacxa Week 2020 Day 6 - Battle Injury

Words

SUMMARY: Keith and Acxa’s daughters have passed their Trials of Marmora and embark on their first combat mission, against the pirates of Penzarance. The girls learn that words can cut just as deeply as any Luxite Blade, and just as importantly they learn about the power of forgiveness.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26910880

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Acxa/Keith (Voltron) Characters: Acxa (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Original Blade of Marmora Character(s) Additional Tags: Kacxa Week 2020, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family Dynamics, Family Bonding, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

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

It was the call Keith hoped he would never hear.

“Dad…please…come quickly…Mom’s down!”

His heart about to explode in his chest from its rapid beating, Keith races across the battlefield to his daughter’s position.

This raid was the first combat assignment with Blade of Marmora for both of his daughters since the successful completion of their Trials of Marmora two decaphoebs earlier. Keith had high hopes for this mission. This would be the opportunity for his girls to prove their worth, that they can function as full-fledged members of the Blade of Marmora.

Unfortunately, events began to spiral out of his control even before the start of the engagement on Penzarance.

And now it seems things have gone horribly wrong.

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

Twelve Vargas Earlier

Against Keith’s wishes, Acxa sets the assault team rosters so that Mireya is a member of her team. As Blade Master he does not countermand her decision because he does not want Acxa’s authority undermined within the Blade of Marmora. He also knows that he will catch hell from at least one of the women in his family no matter what he does.

However, he warns her about how this move will be perceived not only by the other Blades, but by Mireya.

Mireya is anything but pleased about this turn of events. To her, this is another example of her mother hovering over her, nitpicking everything she does. This time, Mireya decides to stand up for herself. She confronts her mother in front of her father, great uncle, and sister, and starts a rather vociferous argument over the assignment. Anyone observing it would call it a blowup of galactic proportions.

“Why, Mom? Dad explicitly stated that he wanted Cataleya and I assigned to Uncle Meltok’s command. I don’t get it. Why are you doing this?”

“There is nothing to ‘get’, Mireya. I’m the tactical leader of this operation, and I have the final say on team assignments. I am not used to having my orders questioned and I will not tolerate it now. You are a Blade of Marmora going on a combat mission. You are expected to obey orders, and I expect you to obey these orders.”

Mireya, just turned 18, storms out of the briefing room but not before screaming at her mother.

“You’re suffocating me, Mom! I hate you! I HOPE YOU DIE! Maybe then I can finally breathe.”

Not happy with his daughter’s choice of words, Keith calls after her just as she slams the door to the briefing room. “Mireya you don’t mean that.”

Cataleya, just as upset with the situation as her sister, takes a deep breath before trying to calm her visibly upset mother.

“Mom, she didn’t mean that.”

Cut deeply by Mireya’s words, Acxa tries to hide the hurt from Cataleya. “I don’t know Cataleya…your sister and I have been butting heads for so long now.”

“Mom that’s because you two are so much alike in personality. Stubbornness and all. Give her some space. She’ll come around.”

Keith starts to go after Mireya, but Cataleya stops him.

“Dad, wait. Let me talk to her. No offense, she might listen to me.”

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

The scene is the nightmare scenario Keith feared it would be.

His wife lay in a bomb crater, bleeding from a shrapnel wound to the stomach. Her right arm and shoulder are badly lacerated. He thinks to himself that it is a good thing she is unconscious. The pain must be unbearable.

He races to her and begins treatment to stabilize her. He does his best to keep his emotions in check as he works to save the life of the woman who said she would be his until the day she died. He does not want today to be that day.

“Mireya did you call for medical backup?”

“I…uncle…coming…”

She stands there, frozen by the sight of her critically injured mother.

Meltok leaps into the crater and quickly moves to Acxa’s side, his first-aid kit already open. “Medivac is on its way, Keith. Bars is talking to them. Let me check her.”

Keith steps back as his uncle, an accomplished field medic, hurries to stabilize Acxa until medivac arrives. Cataleya joins them and stands next to her shell-shocked sister.

Struggling against the flood of his own emotions as he battles to hold it together, Keith turns to his daughters.

“Cataleya, take your sister to the rear. I’ll meet up with you two once your mother is stabilized.”

Keith looks calmly at his daughters, both now frozen by the sight of their injured mother. He speaks to them in a calm and level voice. “Go on, soldiers. I gave you an order. Move to the rear.”

Cataleya snaps out of it and manages a shaky, “Yes sir.”

Blade of Marmora Sergeant Bars joins Keith and Meltok. “Medivac is incoming. They’ll be here in two doboshes. Master Chief, how bad?”

Meltok does not pull any punches. “Bad, Bars. Really bad.”

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

As the medivac team moves in to prep Acxa for evacuation to the field hospital, Meltok reminds Keith of something.

“Go back with her and talk to her.”

“What?”

“Remember what she did for you after you nearly got blown to kingdom come by one of Honerva’s white mechs?1 Talk to her. Give her a reason to hang on until the docs back at the field hospital can stabilize her. Don’t worry about this operation. I’ll take command and mop these pirates up. You worry about your wife.”

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

Keith goes with the Acxa and the medics to the rear. After seven hours of surgery, with Keith present, she emerges, in critical but stable condition.

His aunt Miara, a first-rate doctor in her own right and in charge of the field hospital, comes in to keep a close eye on her.

“Keith, you need to talk to Mireya. She’s been inconsolable since Cataleya took her to the rear. Come to think of it, Cataleya isn’t doing much better.”

“I guess the sight of their mother…in that state…that would do it. Aunt Miara, would you send them in. They need to see that their mother is going to be ok”

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

The girls are ushered into the room by Miara. Mireya rushes to her mother’s bedside, takes her hand, and begins sobbing inconsolably.

“Mom…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t want you to die. Please, Mom, don’t leave.”

Cataleya sits on the other side of her mother’s bed, holding Acxa’s left hand. She remains silent, but her tears flow just as freely.

Keith goes to console Mireya, taking her in his arms and letting her get her emotions out. When she finally calms down enough to speak, he asks her what happened.

“We were pinned down. We were taking heavy ion rifle fire and we couldn’t move forward. Mom was so calm. Dad, she was amazing. She said the only way we could beat them was to distract them, flank them, so that we could get close enough to lob grenades into their position to take them out. She asked me if I could do that…I said I could. I wanted her to trust me and this was my chance. Two of us made a flanking maneuver around the right side of the pirate defensive line. We drew their fire, and Mom was able to get close enough to throw two grenades into their position.”

“One went off. The fuse on the other was defective. One of the pirates threw the grenade back into her position. It exploded before she could take cover. I saw Mom go down…and I freaked out.”

“Freaked out in what way, honey.”

“I was so mad that I charged the pirate position single handedly. I think I took out, seven, eight pirates?”

While Mireya explains what happened, Meltok joins them and, standing at the entrance to the room listens to most of her explanation. When she gets to the part where she guesses at how many pirates she took down, he clears his throat to get Keith’s attention.

“That’s not quite true, Mireya. You didn’t take out 8 pirates. It was more like 20.”

Shocked, Keith looks first at Mireya, then at Meltok. “She did what?”

“You would have been proud of her, Keith. She took out twelve with her blaster pistol. Twelve shots, twelve kills. The last eight she took down with her Blade. Watching her with the pistol, she reminded me of her mother; watching her with her Blade, she reminded me of her father.”

“For the record…Cataleya is no slouch in those categories either. She’s just as good as her sister and she proved it today. She took out and entire gun line in the bunker complex, about 20 pirates, by herself.”

Mireya looks at her father hopefully. “Dad…is Mom going to be ok?”

Keith calls his daughters to him and gives them both a tight hug.

“She’s going to be sore, honey, but she’ll pull through. Your mother is tough. She’s been through worse than this. Let’s see, she’s crash-landed inside the belly of an intergalactic space worm, she was poisoned by Bralarian Hyenas after flying her ship to Braylar IV with a broken arm2 , she was almost skewered by Sendak after fighting him on top of a cruiser that was plummeting to Earth3…and she gave birth to you two hellions. She’ll pull through. Besides, she loves you girls too much to leave you now.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret. Mom heard everything we just said. She heard Uncle Meltok say what you both did today. I know when she wakes up, she’ll tell you proud she is of her daughters.”

A still very agitated Mireya is not so sure. “Yeah…if she ever forgives me for being an ungrateful little bitch…”

“She knows you are not that, honey. Hey, I have an idea. I think Mom would like it if the three of us sat here with her and talked to her for a bit. Would you be willing to do that with me?”

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

Six vargas later, Acxa wakes up from her ordeal.

Vaguely aware of her husband’s presence, she reaches out for him. “Keith…?”

Keith squeezes her hand and leans closer so she can see him. “I’m here, love.”

“Thank you…for staying here with me. And talking to me. I heard you. Where…where are the girls? Are they…?”

“They are safe, and they are well. Aunt Miara took them to get something to eat.” Keith gently strokes her hair and horns. “You my dear have two heroes on your hands. Cataleya took out an entire gun line in the middle sector by herself. Mireya single-handedly took out the heavy rifle emplacements in your sector. It would seem that our daughters are now seasoned combat veterans. They’re not little girls anymore, Acxa.”

Acxa closes her eyes for a moment as she desperately tries to hold back the tears. Opening them, she turns towards Keith, sadness reflected in her deep blue eyes. “Where are my girls? I need to see them. I need to…”

From the shadows, her daughters tentatively emerge. “We…we’re here Mom.”

Mireya rushes to Acxa’s side and buries her head against her mother’s arm. “Mom, I’m so sorry about what I said before the mission. I didn’t mean any of that. When I saw you go down, I…I went crazy. Mom, please forgive me. I’m a horrible daughter.”

Fully awake now and aware of her daughter’s mental state, Acxa easily slips back into Mom mode. “No Mireya…you are a wonderful daughter. I forgot how much you’ve grown these past two decaphoebs. You’re an adult now. It’s time I started treating you like one.”

She looks at Cataleya and calls her over. “It’s time I started treating both of you like the adults you are. I’m so proud of both of you.”

Keith looks on with pride at his family.

“Acxa, you need to rest. I’ll sit with you. You girls need to get some rest as well.”

Cataleya does not want to hear that. “Dad, we’re not leaving. We’re staying with you and Mom.”

Acxa looks at Keith. “You know they get their stubbornness from their father.”

“Said the pot to the kettle. Go to sleep, woman!”

“No! I’m going to lay hear and let my daughters entertain me with stories of their exploits.”

Keith looks first at Acxa, then at his daughters.

“And your mother says I’m the stubborn one…”

1 Rejected by the Galra, Chapter 14 The Shared Path

2 Return of the Prince, Chapter 14, Cry of the Wolf

3 Rejected by the Galra, Chapter 12 Lions Pride

[angst-king]

Stuck in this Static void pt 5

((TW: mention of abuse, suicidal behavior, depressed behavior, and violence)) Walking into the ER’s waiting room, she sets him down in a chair. As he’d done in the car, he curls up still shaking but now his fingers are digging into his cold, clammy skin. At the front desk Fuyumi urgently asked. “Can I get some help please?!” There were a small group of nurses who looked to her, about three of them. “What can I help you with ma’am?” One of the youngest nurses at the desk asked in return. “M-My brother he tried to drown himself in the bathtub, he’s bleeding and he’s still got suicidal thoughts.” The nurse furrows her brows. “Did you pull him out?” “n-no he came out himself and told me”  Coming out from behind the large desk area, the nurse goes over to Shouto. Stethoscope around her neck which she untangles as she gets down to the boy. “Hi there, what's your name?” She spoke gently as if she were talking to a toddler, Shouto looked at her and quietly replied. “Sh-shouto….T-t-Todoroki” “Alright Shouto, well you can call me Itsuki...now can you sit up a little I need to listen to your chest okay.” Shouto hesitantly sat up which had him coughing, finally a bit more water came up but then he gagged. He’d coughed enough to make himself feel nauseous. Itsuki noticed this and quickly grabbed one of the trash bins nearby and placed it under shouto’s chin. Then she looked at the women at the front desk. “Hey can one of you get a doctor over here like now!” For being so small she could command a room even at 4’8. Her voice boomed with authority which had the other nurses up and paging a doctor. 

Her attention was back on Shouto as she heard more liquid come up but it’s not just water. Vomit gushing from his shaking gaping lips, Fuyumi is right next to him rubbing his back. Itsuki couldn’t do much at this time but asked Fuyumi questions. “How old is Shouto?” “he’s gonna be 14 on the other side of the year.” “Does he have any medical conditions, or any diagnosis of anything?” “No nothing he’s physically healthy but...I don’t know about mentally any more.” The way Fuyumi’s last sentence came out made Itsuki frown with sympathy. It was when the vomiting stopped, it had only lasted a minute, but Shouto felt weak on his feet. Moving the trash can Fuyumi sat shouto back down, she could feel his entire body shaking in her hold. The doctor comes over “Alright what’s going on here?” Itsuki looked at the doctor and explained that Shouto had suicidal behavior and thoughts that he’d tried to drown himself. Looking at Fuyumi he asked “and who are you to this young man?” “I’m his older sister” “okay that’s what I thought, let's get him to bed. Jima can you grab a wheelchair?”Itsuki nods to the doctor and hustles off to grab a wheelchair to put shouto in and wheel him off to a bed and give him a proper check. 

When the chair is placed beside Shouto, he’s asked if he himself can get in. He nods and stands on shaky feet just barely making it to sit down. He’s wheeled off to one of the beds where the nurse points out the coloration in Shouto’s lips. “I don’t like that blue color in his lips, doctor.” “Alright we’ll see if we can fix that, I wanna see his oxygen levels and vitals in general. He may have coughed up the water but it can still cause side effects to his lungs.” All this talk was making Fuyumi anxious, what was gonna happen to her little brother. Would they focus on the fact that this was a suicide attempt, would they put him on anti depressances? Would they question them about their home life? Is it safe enough to tell them about their father’s horrible behavior? What would they do, could they even do anything about that? All these thoughts began to have Fuyumi shaking. Fear gripping her, chilling her saliva and making her feel as if she were drowning in her own cold abyss of perturbation.

 “Ma’am...Ma’am!” She’s pulled from her spiraling thoughts and she sees that they’re in a hospital bay behind the curtain. Shouto’s been lifted onto a bed and the nurse is looking at her concernedly. “O-oh s-sorry, did you need something?”Itsuki sighed in relief before replying. “No you just looked to be spacing out, I never got your name by the way.” Fuyumi blushes at the kind woman and she says to her. “Oh sorry, my name is Fuyumi Todoroki.” Then the doctor speaks. “His breathing is better than I’d thought it’d be, which is great, though Itsuki these lacerations are a bit deep, the bleeding has stopped but these need suturing. Could you grab the suture kit please while I check to see if shouto  has any mobility?” Itsuki nods at her doctor’s request, going to fetch the suture kit leaving Fuyumi and Shouto with the doctor. “Shouto I have a question for you.” He states while he places IV lines into shouto’s other arm. Looking up at him acknowledging the man and giving him his full attention. “Shouto are you still feeling suicidal? If so can you explain why?” 

Shouto frowned, he had to think before answering and he still stammered through his words. “Y-yeah I-I do. I-I um….”He then looks at Fuyumi and she recognizes this look, she knows that Shouto is scared to tell people and keeps those things a secret. She gave him a nod so he continued. “I have a-a rough h-home life. F-father b-beats and sc-screams at me….T-tonight he t-told me to d-die.” The doctor looked horrified, Fuyumi confirms this. “He’s always hurting Shouto, gas lights him into a depressive and suicidal condition. He’s hit him so hard he threw up to the point of being dehydrated. He wants Shouto to be his business successor and wants him to be perfectly like him.” The doctor couldn’t help but give a sad look to them. 

“How long has this been going on?” “the feelings or what our father does?” “your father’s behavior.” Fuyumi answered this one “It started even before Shouto was born, he tried it with one of our late siblings...his name is Touya, he died sometime ago.” “Alright” The nurse returns with the suture kit, grabbing a syringe and filling it with a numbing agent. “Alright Shouto we’re gonna numb your arm up a bit okay then we’ll get started” The doctor warns before sticking the needle into Shouto’s arm, he didn’t wince as if he couldn’t feel it. Shouto felt numb physically and emotionally. Fuyumi was a little saddened by her little brother’s lack of reaction.

Shouto’s arm was bandaged up in no time and the doctor told them that he’d like for Shouto to stay here for a little while. Fuyumi was old enough to admit her sibling through the paperwork so they didn’t have to call Enji which was a big relief. Now came the part Fuyumi dreaded, the doctor came over to her quietly while Shouto was resting, they’d put him on a nebulizer to treat any potential lung infections. She’d been lulled into tired silence by the machine until she was approached by the doctor. “Hello Fuyumi, I need to talk to you about something.”  He says, alerting the girl who’s eyes darted towards him. She sits up fully from her slouched position in the guest chair. “Yes, what is it?” “I think Shouto needs to be admitted into a psychiatric unit. You’ve said he’d been gas lit several times into such thoughts and behaviors, sure medication could work but. His home is not a safe environment for him to try medications.” Fuyumi sighed “not again” she muttered as she’d remembered her mother being admitted to a psychiatric hospital due to Enji’s behavior towards her. Shuddering at the memory she’s interrupted by the curious doctor who hears her. “Again?”  He repeats making Fuyumi blush from knowing he’d heard her. She had to tell him, so she did, not in the most vivid detail but answered him with an explanation. Explaining that Rei had been admitted to a psych ward when Shouto was younger because she’d had a mental breakdown from Enji’s abuse and poured scalding water on Shouto’s eye. 

The doctor seemed to understand and knew of the concerns yet he held patience and replied back. “Well he’s gonna need to take a few tests and that will decide on whether he needs to be admitted so it's not definite but. It's a better option.” “So when will the test be done?” “Well it can be as soon as tomorrow, or sometime during the week or so.” Fuyumi looks down into her lap with a small nod of acknowledgement of the reality she’d be facing. Her little brother potentially being placed in a psychiatric ward. It worried her yet, she also knew that he’d be away from their abusive father.

 This would give her time to try and figure out living situations. Shouto didn’t have any friends and lacked good social skills due to his upbringing. So he couldn’t stay with someone for the time being even if he weren’t to be admitted to a mental hospital. Still she didn’t know if she could support shouto, or if she could even get him away from Enji permanently. She’d need adult help and most likely a lawyer but. Fear came in, what if Enji had the power to bribe those deterring them from helping Fuyumi setting her back further to keep shouto under his rule. She needed to figure out something. It didn't matter if Shouto would be admitted or not, she had to do something for her little brother. “I’ll leave you to rest, miss, you seem to be tired and it's almost 3 am and you’ve had a long night.” The doctor says politely bowing and giving Fuyumi the time to thank him before he leaves.

The next day, Shouto didn’t wake up till sometime in the afternoon and boy did he hurt. His body was aching, and he still had a slight cough yet he couldn’t care any less. He just curled up wanting to go back to sleep but right as he was about to shut his eyes to block the bright light of the hospital and the sunshine. The doctor knocks on the door, not only startling shouto and making him grumble but. Waking up Fuyumi who had fallen asleep in the small chair. Letting himself in the doctor smiles seeing his patient and sibling are awake. “Hello there Shouto, nice to see you’re awake. I’m gonna check your vitals, then we’ll talk about the important stuff.” Shouto just sighed with a dull tired look on his face. His breathing and oxygen are checked, his heart was great, everything was great except for the fatigue and emotional numbness. 

Putting his stethoscope back around his neck, the doctor took a seat in the spare seat opposite Fuyumi. “Alright Shouto, lets talk.” Nodding the doctor started his talk. “You’re going to be psychologically tested to see how we can treat this. Whether you just need medication or you need to be admitted to a psych ward, you need to be honest while answering okay.” Shouto nods remaining silent, “You’ll be taking a test or two soon, a nurse will come in and will help you if need be but all answers will be on you.” When the doctor had finished, Shouto then asked. “Can I go back to sleep now?” Huffing the doctor shakes his head. “Sorry kiddo, you have to eat something. Can’t let you starve yourself.” Shouto frowns as the doctor gets up but he knows that it's for his own good.

Eating was a challenge, he didn’t have the motivation or strength, or even the appetite, but. He tried and got some of it down by the time the nurse came in the tests and a pencil. The test wasn’t long and took no time yet it was still a draining process, then adding them having to take blood from him afterwards he really wanted to sleep now. Some of the questions  stayed on his mind and whether he answered correctly or not. ‘Are you still considering suicide?’ Well Shouto hated living, sure he wanted to be happy for once in his lap but, he felt that he could only be happy if he were dead. ‘Do you starve yourself?’ Well he didn’t starve himself more like the rigorous beatings made him sick enough to not want to eat. Or he didn’t have the motivation to feed himself. ‘Do you cut?’ Yes he does, he had for a while now and it was his only way of feeling something, it let him cry which meant expressing emotions that felt forbidden when he wasn’t cutting. Then one last question rang through his head ‘Would you like to get help?’ Well that would depend, would his father have to consent to this? Could he willingly get help himself? Would he get away from Enji? He didn’t like feeling suicidal, or feeling empty inside, he wanted to feel normal but he never got to feel that so. How could he tell what normal was? Maybe they’d help him figure that out? Would they shove pills down his throat? Would the strap him down to a bed or put him in a straight jacket or even a padded room? Were those types of places real or were those just movie’s over dramatic depictions of a psych ward?

These thoughts surprisingly put Shouto to sleep, or those were the drugs.

Meanwhile Fuyumi was with Natsuo, she’d stopped by to tell him what happened and maybe get some advice? “So let me get this straight, father gaslights Shouto to the point of him trying to commit suicide, he stopped himself and asked for you to take him to the hospital. They’re saying that his best option would be to be admitted to a psychiatric facility so we can figure out how to get him away from father?” Natsuo reiterated taking in the information. Fuyumi nods “I-I just I don’t know if it really is a good idea, and I don’t know if either of us could financially support shouto on our own. We’re adults but we’re not as stable as our father is and most adults but. I think him going to the ward will give us some time to figure something out.”

 Natsuo rubs his temples, “I couldn’t agree more, I mean we’re both in school and so is shouto, not that it would be the worst thing to try and take him but. It's sudden and we need time.” he hated to hear about what happened to Shouto, it reminded him of their mother but this time he didn’t want things to get any worse with Shouto and. From how much better their mother has been doing, they both knew the doctor’s suggestion would be the best option for their little brother. “I’ll come with you next time to see shouto, when are you going back?” Fuyumi thought for a moment before answering. “Most likely tonight” “Okay then call me and I’ll meet you there.” With that promise Fuyumi grabbed her bag and slipped on her shoes but right before she left Natsuo called out. “Hey, I love you and...good luck with him okay” Fuyumi gave a small smile to her brother “I love you too” She waved him goodbye and left the dorm complex.

Time went by and Fuyumi found herself calling Natsuo to tell him it was time to meet up at the hospital. She soon stood in the parking lot, the street lights were turning on as the sun was setting. She smiles a little as she sees Natsuo walking towards her after hopping off of the bus. “Hey there, you ready?” He asked, Fuyumi nods “yeah, let's go in.” she says and leads him inside, she strolls towards the elevator till they’ve reached the ICU. She follows the placards till she reaches Shouto’s room. Knocking softly there isn’t an answer but she opens the door anyway.

Opening the door, Shouto is laying in bed, he’d seemed to have eaten a small dinner not long before the siblings had arrived. “Shouto?” Fuyumi’s voice calls out softly, heterochromic eyes flutter open with slight bags underneath them. Despite him resting most of the time, his eyes still held a tired look to them. “Hm?” He hummed quietly, walking further into the room Natsuo announced his presence. “Hello Shouto” Recognizing his voice, Shouto looked at them both seeing Natsuo he frowned. “Y-you dragged Nats into this Fuyumi?” Fuyumi knew what he meant but shook her head. “No Shouto, I didn’t drag him. I needed him to know so he could help us, help me, and help you.” Natsuo came over to his youngest sibling’s bedside, then brought him into a hug. Shouto tensed and flinched in Natsuo’s hold until he spoke. “Shh, I’m sorry about him and what he’d made you do and how you’ve been feeling...I’m here because I want to be able to help you get better. I know you may not want to go to the psych ward but. We’ve talked it over and it's the best option for you.” Shouto nods his head “I-I know it is….I thought about it actually”  Natsuo stands up letting him go so as to not squeeze the life out of him. Both the older ones seemed curious and asked for Shouto to elaborate. So he shared his thoughts, he knew he’d be better off in a hospital, he’d get away from his father and he hated these feelings even when he indulged himself in them. 

Shouto’s explanation pleased them, it made them happy that Shouto wanted to get better and was willing to do it. During this conversation the doctor came in as did another person. A woman who was sharply dressed like the man next to her. “Hello guys ah, another family member. Are you his brother?” Natsuo faces the man and shakes hands with him as he introduces himself. “Yes I’m Todoroki Natsuo” “nice to meet you, I have another person for you all to meet.” He gestures to the woman who’s holding a clipboard of paper and a pen in her chest pocket. She smiles sweetly to them all “hello I’m doctor Fumiya, I’m a pediatric psychologist.” She looked down to her patient in the hospital bed and approached him. “You must be Todoroki Shouto, yes?” The half and half colored male nods “Well I’m here to go over your test results with you and your siblings.” With a nod of approval the woman starts.

“You seem to obviously have depression but this seems to be chronic, seeing as you’ve stated that you’ve been having these feelings for so long. You do have anxiety which is traumatic induced. You don’t exactly have an eating disorder, it's more of the depression and anxiety making it hard and I’m going to guess that you’ve been beaten to the point of vomiting?” Hearing Dr Fumiya’s prediction, Shouto had to sadly confirm it. “Okay and with all of those things in consideration you’ve also stated that you’ve still considered suicide…. But you said you’re willing to get help. Is that still true?” “Still having thoughts of suicide or willing to get help?” “both.” “Yes to both of them” "Now how willing would you be to be admitted to a psych ward?"

 Shouto shrugged, his tone held exhaustion but also a small hint of desperation which could faintly be detected when he said "I'm just so tired of this life, and if I could be helped then I'll try it I guess." With that Dr Fumiya wrote down some things before replying. “That’s good, first we’re going to admit you to a ward where you will be given medications and such to try to see what will work for you. You will have a doctor who you will talk to as well as a therapist but it won't be everyday seeing as they obviously have other patients. You will also have group therapy and other types of ways to develop better coping mechanisms and life skills.”

 With this information Natsuo asked “Now from what I’ve heard about psych wards, there are certain things Shouto can’t take with him right?” “yes most of the rules apply to just about all psychwards. Though certain things can be gained or permitted if he’s under super vision. Like. He can’t have drawn strings in his clothes or have shoe laces. No razor shavers, no staples, anything that he could hurt himself with. He also can’t take his phone in with him and he may have 1-1 supervision, so someone may come in and check on him or be with him outside the door while he’s showering or in the bathroom. His door will never be locked and will most likely be open through the day time and unlocked during the night time.” She continued to explain more things and general rules most psychwards have. 

It was a little overwhelming but what did they expect? They were young adults who were admitting their abused, depressed and suicidal little brother to a mental health hospital. “So when will he be going and where?” “Well there’s one not too far from here and he can go as soon as tomorrow afternoon actually or as soon as the doctor is willing to release you here. Though his release date from the psych ward will be unknown for a while it depends on how cooperative you are, how well you’re handling things and as well as if it's safe for you to go back considering your living situations.” “O-oh so it all has its determining factors? How much should I pack for him?” Questioned Fuyumi “I’d say pack two weeks worth of clothes, they all have laundry days and schedules so he’ll be able to wash his clothes.” “Oh that's great” Natsuo joined, then Fuyumi’s phone rang, she looked to see who it was before frowning. It was Enji.

“What is it sis?” Asked Natsuo, he leaned over and saw who was calling and paled. “Shit, I take it you didn’t tell him?” “Right, and I don’t know what to tell him.” Then Dr Fumiya suggested, “let me talk to him, I’ll see what I can do.” hesitantly Fuyumi hands the woman her phone, she soon leaves the room. Sitting anxiously, Shouto's room is silently waiting for the psychologist to come back. They’re watching the door which soon opens after a minute and she hands the phone back to the eldest todoroki in the room. “He will be here soon, so doctor I suggest you alert security right away to keep an eye out for him.” The doctor nods and leaves the room after confirming Enji’s name, Fuyumi twiddled his thumbs a little thinking about what she was gonna do. She still lived with her father but that was to keep shouto as safe as she could. “Hey, you can probably live in one of the safety lots for people who escape abusive partners or family.” Suggested the psychologist, fuyumi listened with a quizzical look on her face. “You just explain your situation to them and they’ll let you stay. Though if you feel scared going to pack you and your brother’s bags you could always ask them to have an officer or two escort you to protect you.” With this option displayed to her, Fuyumi knew it would be safer for her to live in a safe home and be escorted by officers than try and go alone. “Alright thank you Dr Fumiya” Shouto then spoke up “Fuyumi….I-I don’t want him to c-come here” everyone could hear the anxiety in his voice and then they saw him. Shouto was shaking like the previous night he’d come into Fuyumi’s room. 

Eyes melting with sympathy and warmth for the teen who’s eyes welled with tears and fear. “Oh shouto sweetie” She cooed gently standing up, she goes over to him and pulls him so he’s facing into her midsection, Fuyumi is gently rubbing his back as he cries. “Shhh we’re not gonna let him near you, I promise.” Shouto’s still trembling body relaxes a little, still his hands lightly grip her sweatshirt he sobs. Natsuo added himself to the group and came to comfort his little brother, gently running his fingers through his hair. “We promise you shouto, you’re gonna be safe.”

 It took a minute for the teen to calm down enough to let go of his older siblings just in time the doctor came back. “Alright I’d told them about your father, and if he somehow gets in, don't hesitate to hit the emergency call button that’s on the side of shouto’s bed and on the wall next to the door” Advised the doctor who smiles at the sigh of relief of the small family. “See shouto we’re safe, the doctor has taken precaution and knows not to let him in.” Shouto just started to play with his fingers as a way to distract himself. “Well guys if you’ll excuse me I will be taking my leave to check on other patients, have a nice night.” “Thank you so much Dr Fumiya”  Just as she leaves the nurse comes in to take Shouto’s blood, which Shouto willingly gives. Not like he has much of a choice though.

Fuyumi had been there for a while and hadn’t eaten much so she’d gotten out of her chair to get something to eat. “Hey boys I’m gonna get something from the vending machine, you guys want anything?” “hm could you see if they have any instant ramen?” Fuyumi giggles at Natsuo’s request but she nods “Will do lil bro, you want anything Shou?” “u-um c-can I have milk please...strawberry?” “sure thing, I’ll be back.” She leaves the room and searches for the vending machines around the hall.

It wasn’t a long walk to find some vending machines in a small room, she found the instant ramen one and got Natsuo the spicy ramen he liked, she got herself the shrimp ramen. Next, getting a carton of milk, it took some figuring out since it ate her dollar but as she waited for her milk to be dispensed she heard a loud scream from down the hall. It made her jump but she still kept a hold on her food. 

Then a crash came and she had a horrible feeling that made her run to see what was going on. ‘What’s going on, where is it coming from’ the white haired woman thought then she saw it. The door to Shouto’s room was open and one nurse was shaking on the floor while the other was protecting shouto. And right in the center of it all was him, Todoroki Enji. The red head was yelling and trying to get to shouto with force but the small woman who Fuyumi could tell was Itsuki from the night before. She wasn’t backing down, her stance was defensive but ready to throw a punch at any moment. Eyes widened as she watched Itsuki, she then noticed why her stance was defensive, she was holding a needle full of something in her back hand as she warned Enji. “Look Mr Todoroki either calm down or I won't hesitate to inject you with this!” She says in a serious but calm manor, Enji on the other hand growled at her with a sneer on his face, “Oh and was it, probably just saline, not enough to put me out even if it was a sedative.” He shoved her but, her stance allowed for her to easily maintain her balance, “Leave now sir.” Her voice is low “Why the hell should I, you’ve got my stupid son here? I want him back!” “you’re a threat to his safety and you’re abusive to those around you. I won't let you take him” Itsuki doesn’t notice Fuyumi but seeing the other nurse who had some sort of head injury Fuyumi quickly dropped her food and ran with adrenaline down to get more staff members and hopeful security. 

She didn’t want to leave Itsuki to be the only barrier between Enji and Shouto but. What else could Fuyumi do! She can hear more of Enji’s yelling, more things crashing and clattering to the cold chemical tile floor. She flinches even as she’s doors and doors down. Getting to the front desk she frantically yells “please help! One of your nurses is injured and my father somehow got up here and he shouldn’t be. Please the only one protecting my brother is a nurse!” Crash! Then another scream but this sounded lower in pitch. “Shouto!” Fuyumi cried and almost ran back but grabbed someone who held her as staff members arose and went to help. It is the doctor looking after Shouto. “Hey hey he’s gonna be okay, Itsuki can take care of this I promise.” Fear paralyzed her into remaining still the doctor lets her go and it isn’t long before security shows up rushing past them to deal with the situation. 

Natsuo came down the hall and security came down not long after them. He sees Fuyumi’s worried look, and becomes concerned. “Hey Fuyumi what’s going on? You okay, why aren’t you with shouto?” Fuyumi explained what had happened and as she spoke she began to shake a little. Tears raining down as she’d remembered her promise to shouto. “W-we broke our pro-promise Nats.” At first Natsuo couldn’t remember but one look of seeing Enji being dragged away in restraints by security frowned and hugged her. “I know Fuyu, I’m sorry, he won't be mad at us though. Knowing Shouto he’ll be scared but not mad, if we can get to him now he should be okay.” “o-okay, let's see if we can go th-then.” She says as Natsuo holds onto her hand protectively after letting her out of his loving hold.

Hurrying down the hall they get to shouto’s room which is a mess with shattered medical supplies and Itsuki is right there calming a disquieted Shouto who was pale, otherwise unharmed thankfully. Sighing in relief Fuyumi came over and bowed to the nurse with lots of admiration and vederanation. “Thank you so much Ms Itsuki, I’m sorry you had to deal with our father though.” Huffing a little, the small nurse shrugged her shoulders. “I did what I had to do, but it's okay, it's not your fault that man is so horrible he doesn’t deserve to be called a father.” Fuyumi then looked at Shouto “I’m sorry he tried to get to you Shouto, are you okay?” Talking through shaking lips Shouto replies “H-he didn’t hurt me...ju-just sc-scared.” Fuyumi smiles a little, kissing his forehead gently. “I’m also S=sorry I dropped your food running to get help.” Shouto and Natsuo rolled their eyes “hey don’t apologize, it was the sleeze bag’s fault. I’ll go get it this time, you stay with Shou okay.” Natsuo offered with a small chuckle before looking at Itsuki who went back to checking Shouto over. “Ms Itsuki, would you like me to get you anything...kinda a way of thanking you for protecting our little brother.” Itsuki peers over at the tall white haired teen who’s giving her a genuine smile. “Dear I’m just glad you all are safe, that is enough thanks for me..” Her voice trails a little as she focuses her mind once more. Natsuo just nods, he heads to the vending machine area and gets the milk, ramen, and a bottle of water for Itsuki. Even if she hadn’t asked for anything, he couldn’t not repay her back.

When everyone was given their respective things. Sitting down they had time to each other again in silence. At this point silence meant peace no heart ache but silence also meant suffering and they knew that Shouto would be going to the psych ward soon. Hoping to rid of his suffering whether for good or temporarily enough to find time to find even better help in a healthier. All they could do was try.

[silver-imagines]

Bad Liar II

Part I

Oh, hush, my dear, it's been a difficult year

And terrors don't prey on Innocent victims Trust me, darling, trust me darling It's been a loveless year I'm a man of three fears Integrity, faith and Crocodile tears Trust me, darling, trust me, darling

- Bad Liar (Imagine Dragons)

Warnings: FFH spoilers, some swearing, a scene that might be considered dark ?

Word count: 3.6K+

Summary: Aiming to live up to her sister’s legacy, a whole lot of trouble is in heading for (Y/n), trouble in the form of a Blue eyed devil.

Hi guys! Part two is here, thank you for the love on the first part, especially to those who gave me the nice messages to keep continuing, I have not really proof read this but hope you guys all enjoy, story gets real after this part !

“Sir, I don’t mean to disrespect you, but you gave Peter Tony’s glasses?” She asked in disbelief, wondering why on Earth he would give the most advanced weaponised system over to a 16-year-old kid.

“Romanoff, as you can see, Stark left it behind for Parker, and who are we to stand in front of a wise man’s Will?’ Fury replied, brushing her off. ‘But Sir, he’s still a kid-“

“That’s enough agent, if I needed your opinion, I’d ask, so I suggest you return to your job and do it well, something your sister excelled at without questioning my orders.” He remarked, not exactly in the mood to deal with one of his agents questioning his decisions. Straightening her back, she swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat, Fury had no right to attack her like this, not after everything she had given up for him and SHIELD.

______

Groaning in anger, he threw his helmet on to the floor, running a hand through his hair out of frustration as he sat down onto the chair. (Y/n) noticed the loud bang of the helmet hitting the floor, her gaze following it up to its owner, finding him slouched on the chair.

“Is everything alright?” She asked, it was around 3 o’clock, SHIELD had booked out the entire floor of the hotel in Venice and currently, her and Beck were the only ones awake.

“I won’t be able to, I can’t do it alone” He signed, throwing his head back as he ran a hand through his hair again. “Have some faith in yourself Beck” (Y/N) chuckled, sitting on the desk next to his chair, giving him a soft pat on his shoulder.

“I already failed my people, my family, I shouldn’t even be alive honestly” He continued, looking up at her, his blue eyes becoming a little glossy. Her heart sank for him, losing his family, his friends, his entire world. No one deserved that, why did the best ones have the worst fate she bitterly thought.

“It’ll be alright Beck” she softly said, ‘This life isn’t easy, pain, loss, betrayal, they don’t come in the job description but they sure as hell come along with it.” She chuckled bitterly.

“I guess it’s up to us to make the hard choices.” He sighed, reaching forward to grab her hand, causing her to flinch backwards. “I’m so sorry, it’s just a habit.” He spoke, voice slightly breaking as he pulled his hand back, noticing her tensing up.

“You said I reminded you of someone, back on your Earth, who was it?” She asked, she had been playing with the thought of confronting him with this, especially after what happened earlier today.

She was busy, making arrangements for their departure to Prague for tomorrow night, handling the logistics and arranging the transport of the required equipment. He finally had her alone as she sat in front of the computer screen, furiously typing away as he approached her.

“Honey you need a break.” He softly whispered, making sure everyone else on the other side of the room couldn’t hear him. “Uh Beck, are you talking to me?” she asked, turning her head around to see him leaning against the desk.

“Yes Darling.” He gave her a soft smile, his eyes twinkling as he leaned forward and kissed her head.

“It’s going to sound crazy but hear me out, all the different Earths, it’s the same people, same, just different fates.” He began, placing his hands on the desk in front of him. “Well, on my Earth, 616, well, I knew you, well, her name was (Y/n) (L/n) not (Y/n) Romanoff, so I guess maybe there are some differences.” He continued, his eyes scanning her emotionless face as she nodded along.

“Romanoff isn’t my real last name.” She softly said, letting her hair cover her face as she hung her head low, she still grieved her sister, she had done so, so much for her. For some reason, she felt safe and warm around the blue-eyed hero, maybe it was his soft voice, or his sparkling eyes or the way he showed concern for her, and maybe one day she would be able to share her grief with him.

“What do you mean, an alias?” He questioned, finally, he had already tried to find anything he could about her but seemed like SHIELD kept her off the radar for everything, the only ever mention of her was buried in the fine prints of the Sokovia Accords, a brief mention, of (Y/n) Romanoff. “That’s not important, but continue” She gave him a weak smile, not particularly keen on getting into her past.

“Well, I knew your multiverse counterpart, she was, she was a special person to me” He trailed off, playing with the wedding band on his finger, drawing her eyes to it again.

“Wait, was I married to you?” (Y/n) asked in surprise, special, ‘honey’, the kisses, the constant looks, the wedding band, they all pointed to one thing, either that or her brain was failing her. He reached over for her hand again, and this time, she let him, the warmth of his hand grabbing hers spread throughout her body, sending chills down her spine. His fingertips dug into her wrist, sure to leave marks on her wrist.

“We were so happy.” He whispered, head hanging low, ‘we were so happy, so, so happy” He continued, gripping her hand tightly. “I’m so sorry Quentin” She softly spoke, placing her other hand on top of his one, addressing him by his first name for the first time. The way his name rolled off of her tongue, it made his heart strings tug.

“You died in my arms…. I couldn’t save you, I failed you…... and our child’ He looked up at her, tears threatening to fall out of his eyes.

“I’m so sorry Quentin, you didn’t deserve to lose her.” (Y/n) softly squeezed his hand, trying to give him some reassurance. She didn’t know what else to say, there was some version of her, some version that was free to love and did, and it was obvious she got that even more love in return, but the (Y/N) of this Earth wasn’t so fortunate.

“I won’t lose you again, I won’t let it kill you this time.” He spoke, his voice lowering, becoming more growl like, his grip on her hand tightening as he looked up at her, reaching forward and cupping her cheek, grazing the small scar on the left cheek with his thumb.

“I’m not losing you again (Y/n), no matter what.” He vowed, looking into her (e/c) eyes, observing her solemn expression as she gripped his hand tighter, giving him comfort. On the surface, it was all just an act but deep down, maybe the cause of his increased heart beat wasn’t the fear of getting caught, but rather the warmth of the cold handed girl.

_______

She was running, running so fast her legs ached, but she kept running, she had no choice. Her lungs were begging for oxygen, not being able to keep up with her fast pace. Her legs hurt, so much, the burning on her skin getting hotter, her knees buckled, and she fell.

Hitting the cold hard floor, the pain vibrated through her knees, it hurt, so, so much.

“Please, make it stop, please.” She begged, her back giving out, no longer holding her up straight as she collapsed on the floor, the coolness of the hard floor soothing her burning skin.

“Shhhh little one, won’t be much longer, just submit” The all too familiar voice boomed in her ears, she gasped for breath, it was as if the room was shut off from the world, no oxygen for her to breathe, no air left to keep her alive. “It should... h-have been me.” She barely choked out, her raw throat begging for water, any sort of salvation. The black cloaked figure stood in the corner, the rest of the room turning into the colours of Vormir.

“Hey Kiddo.” An all too familiar voice called out, causing her head to turn upwards, her eyes landing on the black and blonde hair of her sister.

Nat?

“N-natasha, yo-you’r-re al-ive’ She barely choked out, the fire in her throat getting worse as her gums ached, her tongue feeling too heavy. She crouched down beside her, softly caressing her hair, her cool skin giving the (h/c) girl comfort as she leaned into her sister’s touch as her heavy eyelids shut.

“Shhhh, it’ll be ok, I’m here now, I’ve got you” Natasha cooed, putting her hand behind her neck and helping her sister up sit up, wiping the dirt and sweat off of her forehead with the other. “I’m so sorry, I’m s-so s-orr-y.” (Y/n) cried, holding Natasha’s hand, tears dropping down her cheeks, ‘I’m so sorry I failed you” She cried, the burning in her throat was back, her lips quivering as her body shook. The pain was getting worse, as if it was something trying to burn her heart from the inside.

“You did, you were always a failure and will be.” Her sister hissed, her facial features turning bitter as she yanked her hair backwards, causing her to look upwards as she let out a scream.

“You’ll never be nothing more than a failure, nothing.” She bitterly hissed, pushing her forward onto the harsh ground, causing her to hit her forehead on the rocks, cracking her head open. The all too familiar music began playing on a piano, the music that had never stopped haunting her. The room felt smaller, her weak and quivering body lying in the middle, darkness taking over the room as the lights went out.

“You’re nothing, you failed us all.” The booming voice came back, the pain in her chest getting worse as she let out more whimpers.

“You let me die.” Came Natasha’s voice, echoing in the room that seemed to be getting smaller every moment. The walls got closer, the room felt hotter, ‘No, no, please-“She cried, not being able to keep herself composed but by this point, her eyes were running out of tears.

“(Y/n), (y/n)! Wake up, snap out of it!” Another voice called out, waking her up. Opening her eyes, she realised the beads of sweat and tears running down her face as she looked around, meeting a pair of familiar blue eyes, he had shaken her shoulders, causing her to snap out of her bad dream as she sat up, her (e/c) rapidly moving around, trying to distinguish the difference between dreams and reality.

He had heard her screams from his own room through the thin walls and having pushed her door open, he entered her room, finding her sprawled all over the bed, constantly tossing and turning. Messy hair, puffy cheeks, forehead covered in sweat, the constant whimpers falling off of her lips, he had to wake her up.

“(Y/n), are you alright?” He asked, using his hand to move the hair that was sticking to her skin away from her cheek, helping her sit up as he sat in front of her. “I-I-uh, I” She was still so rattled, it felt so real, so, so real.

His blue eyes scanned her, keeping her under their intense gaze as he studied her, small scars decorating her neck and shoulders, visible due to her tank top, her skin covered in a small layer of sweat, hair either sticking to her skin or shooting up in all directions, drops of blood seeping out of her bottom lip due to a very obvious cut.

What he did next surprised them both, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulder, he pulled her close, pulling her head against his shoulder as he hugged her close, caressing her hair.

“Shhhhh, it’ll be ok, it was just a bad dream.” He cooed, caressing her hair as she stayed limp in his arms, still shell shocked, not responding to anything around her. “I ki-kiled her.” She softly said, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes getting wider by the second, tears rolling out.

“Shhh, (Y/n) it’s ok, it’s over, you’re safe’ He whispered in her ear, giving her a kiss on the head as he held her slightly quivering body in his arms. Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing, trying to drown out the voices from her conscious, inhaling and exhaling deeply, her body leaning into his touch as his warm body radiated heat, giving her comfort.

“Just breathe, it��ll be ok honey” He whispered against her hair, keeping his hand on her cheek as he caressed it with his thumb. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him, his blue eyes digging into her (e/c) orbs.Suddenly coming to her senses and realising the situation, she tensed up, putting her hands on his arm, she pushed him away, feeling ashamed of herself for being so pathetic and weak, especially in front of him.

“I, uh, please get away from me.” She softly spoke, pushing him off of her, causing a confused expression to wash over his facial features. “Are you alright Romanoff?” He asked, addressing her with her last name, causing another tug at her heart, Romanoff.

“Please just leave me alone.” She whispered again, pushing him off of herself completely as she moved slightly away from him, his eyes softened as he reached forward to reach for her again, but she moved further away, her back hitting the headboard.

“(Y/n)…” He trailed off in a soft voice, but she cut him off before he could do anything.

“I don’t need your help Beck, you don’t need to care for me, I’m not her so spare me the pity.” She spoke, voice dripping with venom, turning her eyes away from his gaze, not wanting to be further embarrassed in front of him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked again, swallowing his pride but she cut him off, raising her hand, ‘Beck cut it out, she’s gone, I’m not her so just leave me the fuck alone please” She growled, wanting nothing more than to be left alone to deal with her own misery. Nodding at her words, Quentin gave her a soft look, as if tears were brimming his eyes, before getting up off of her bed and leaving her alone, letting the door close with a soft thud behind him.

She sighed as she lied down and brought her knees up to her chest, resting her head against her knees, her head throbbing as she curled up under the covers, wishing to forget everything.

_________

Grunting as she wiped the sweat off of her forehead, the (h/c) girl sighed, feeling her lower muscles ache in agony as she sat down on the small bench in the park, catching her breath. They had arrived in Prague this morning, the Fire Elemental wasn’t predicted to strike until tonight at 7 o’clock and for now, she was off official duties.

Leaning back against the backrest, she closed her eyes, the rising sun’s warmth engulfing her skin in a warm hug, the sound of birds chirping in the park ringing in her ears as events of last night still haunted her.

(Y/n) was beyond angry, not at Quentin, but at herself. How could she have been so pathetic in front of someone, especially him. He had lost his entire world and yet he was here, not breaking down like some pathetic idiot whereas she on the other hand couldn’t handle a simple nightmare. She was just so, so angry at herself and to make matters worse, she had essentially rubbed a man’s dead wife in his face, he probably hated her at this point, damaging whatever barely-there relationship they had.

Running a hand through her hair, she looked up at the sky, deciding it was too bright, she settled on the on the lake in front of her, the water sparkling lightly but her eyes fell on a familiar figure situated at the end of the small pier that lead into the middle of the lake.

Feeling a pit form in her stomach, she swallowed the lump in her throat, recognising who it was, she had to apologise to him, she had crossed all sorts of lines two nights ago, and it was pretty obvious from the fact he had been avoiding her as if she was the black plague.

She got off the bench, her legs no longer aching from her vigorous 10km run but rather feeling weak, guilt was always hard to carry. Slowly making her way to the end of the pier where Quentin was seated, she sat down next to him, causing his head to turn.

“What are you doing here Romanoff?” He asked, looking back out into the lake, not making eye contact with the (h/c) girl.  

“I uh I, Bec- Quentin, I crossed the line that night, I uh, you were only trying to h-help me.” She half mumble stuttered, she wasn’t exactly experienced in apologising to people or even having any type of friendship or relationship with anyone, let alone with someone whose dead wife she resembled.

“I heard your screams, you sound just like her, I couldn’t stand to see you in that situation.” He explained, looking up at her, the rising run reflecting in his eyes, making them twinkle as he gazed into her (e/c) eyes.

“It felt like I was losing her all over again, she was my everything Romanoff, my absolute everything.” He continued, shifting a little so his body was turned towards her frame as he inched closer.

“I uh, I appreciate the help you gave Quentin, you didn’t have to do it but-“She began again, but he cut her off, chuckling. “Are you trying to apologise Romanoff? You kinda suck at it” He laughed, nudging her shoulder with his as she diverted her gaze.

“I’m not really good at such stuff, I was always taught, treat others like objects, you don’t want to get attached to others, keep distance or it won’t end well….” She trailed off, feeling a pit form in her stomach as she struggled to find more words. Quentin watched her with an amused smirk, he had her withering.

“Hey hey hey, it’s ok.” He mumbled, placing one hand on left cheek, tilting her face up so she would look up at him, and that’s when he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the tiredness in her eyes, the slight swelling of her eyes and cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Quentin, I’m so, so sorry, sorry won’t even make up for what I did, if there’s anything that’ll make you forgive me, I’m read-“ Before she could finish, he did the unexpected. Pulling her face closer to his, he brought her closer to him, noses touching, his warm breath hitting her face as he closed his eyes, whispering ‘shhhh’ to her. “It’s alright my love, shhhhhh, it’s ok.” He whispered ever so softy, his thumb caressing her cheek she stared at him with wide eyes as she tensed up, she absolutely did not expect this.

“I would forgive you for anything (Y/n), you were, and always will be my everything” He whispered, using his hand to further tilt her face and with a brush between heaven and hell,  he placed his sinful lips onto her innocent ones, innocent as they weren’t yet touched by another but guilty of having spewed poison.  

The warmth of his lips engulfed the (h/c) haired girl, spreading through her body like a wild fire as she regained her senses, firmly planting her hands on his chest, she pushed him away almost instantly. Her lips still tingled, a faint buzzing ringing in her head as she looked up at his clouded eyes, the rejection evident on his face.

“What, what was that?” She asked, moving backwards, putting some daylight between him and herself, afraid that he might try to kiss her again. His blue eyes stared back at her, not blinking as he struggled to find words to explain himself.

He had no idea as to why he had done that, was it because it was a part of his plan?

Yes

But was that the only reason?

No, no, no

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he subconsciously fidgeted with the wedding band on his finger, trying to think of his play here. “I’m sorry (Y/n), but at the same time, I’m not” He began, his voice continually becoming softer as a solemn look washed over his face.

“I can’t help but love you, you’re so much like her, heck, you are her, you’re my (Y/n).” He began, his voice displaying an urgency that she couldn’t understand as he gave her a soft smile, eyes turning slightly red as he averted his gaze and he got up, knowing it was his time to now walk away before doing more damage. (Y/n) stared at him, eyes fixed on his retreating figure as she watched him walk down the pier without saying another word. She didn’t know what to do or say, her lips still tingled as she subconsciously raised her hand to feel her lips, he was her first kiss.

If he had done literally anything other than this, she knew a million different things to say and do in return but to this?

Never in a million years did she think her first kiss would be with a man from another Earth, especially who’s dead wife she resembled.

But whatever it was, it left her with butterflies in her stomach, a warm feeling spreading throughout her body despite the mere seconds of contact with his warm lips.

[littlebitoffanfic]

By Your Side

Fandom: Overwatch Characters: Genji, Angela Relationship: Genji/reader Request: Ive seen a junkrat x reader on your blog, but would you write for genji? Perhaps the reader is Angelas assistant shes the best for dealing with cyborgs so she sees to him regularly but one days shes injured and hes worried. “You’re late.” You called over your shoulder as you heard the door open and quiet footsteps open. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Genji walk over to the bench so he could sit on it. “My apologies.” He bowed his head to you with genuine sorrow for upsetting you. “I started to think you had forgotten about me.” You chuckled as you turned and walked up to him. “Never.” His voice was soft as you reached out and pressed the pads which released his armour. You couldn’t help but smile softly at the gentleness in his voice. When he first came here, he was an angry man, filled with hate and sorrow. He worked with Zenyatta and was able to tame a lot of his anger. You and Angela had worked tirelessly to help him. You were the one who crafted his new body while Angela was able to bond the human body to the metal in as little pain as possible. You both gave him the chance to live again, to fight for what he believed in and to grow. He was grateful for that and he always showed it. Genji had great respect for both you and Angela, but if was you that he grew closest to in the whole base. He saw you nearly every day, either in passing, briefs or during his weekly check ups. After missions, he came straight to you to make sure nothing had seriously injured both his physical body and his cyborg one. Today was just a check up. you carefully looked over every joint and mechanism, checking to make sure there were no issues. Genjis eyes watched you the entire time. “y/n]?” Tracer popped her head round the door as she knocked. “You coming out for tea?” “No, ive still got work to do. You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.” You smile at her, laughing when she pouted but disappeared. “You can do. I can wait till tomorrow.” Genji suddenly spoke, his voice soft. “No, don’t be silly.” You wave him off as you reached up to take off his visor and mask so you could check and make sure it was fine. You pulled it off his face, holding your breath for a moment as your eyes met his own. His real eyes. His entire face was scared but his eyes were as beautiful as ever. It was the first thing you noticed about him when he first ended up in front of you. “Who says I don’t prefer spending my time with you?” you asked his, raising an eyebrow at him and you saw those beautiful eyes light up. “Then, perhaps, I could take you out tonight?” He asks tentatively, immediately making your heart beat fast in your chest. His voice no longer had the metallic ring that came with his helmet but either voice could bring you to your knees. Was he truly asking you out? but before you could reply, Angela rushed into the room. “[y/n], I need your help. Reinhardt hurt.” She quickly told you before rushing back out. “oh god.” You handed Genji back his helmet. You saw the way his shoulders slouched and his eyes lost their glint. “im really sorry. Perhaps tomorrow?” “Tomorrow?” Genji immediately perked up and you couldn’t help but smile as you rushed to grab your lab coat. “Yes, when I get back tomorrow.” You nod, feeling a flutter in your chest at how happy he now looked. As you raced past him to the door, you pressed a very light kiss to his cheek before disappearing, leaving genji with a soft glow in his cheeks. ----time skip --------------- You sat up in bed, your book opened on your lap. You were really only half concentrating and had to keep rereading paragraphs as you waited for Angela to come back with more pain killers. You weren’t normally out in the field during battles like Angela, but she had been busy, and you had been asked to go. It was meant to be a quick mission. Get in, get info, get out. Winston and Tracer had assured you of this. But once you got inside, you discovered it was an ambush. while you managed to keep everyone else alive, you took some bad blows yourself. Thankfully, Winston was able to pick you up and escape with Tracer right behind him. They had taken you straight to Angela, who had gasped when she saw your state. You had fallen unconscious on the way back and only came too a few hours ago with Angela at your side. She reassured you that you still had all your limps and that you hadn’t been out long. You had a lot of bruises and cuts on you, but nothing detrimental. your attention was drawn up to the door as it opened, and you expected Angela to walk in. But it wasn’t. “Genji.” You couldn’t help but instantly smile as he enters the room. He looked rather smart; all things considered. He wore a black and white suit that fit sell over cyborg body without being too obvious. In fact, he was rather dashing. You felt yourself melt at his appearance. He reaches up and removed his helmet the second the door closes before rushing to your side. You saw the fear in his eyes as they darted over your body. “Are you alright?” he asks desperately as he reached out to cup your face, carful not to touch any cuts. You instantly lean into his ouch, reach up to cup your hand over his own. “Im fine, I promise.” You smile. But then the memories of your encounter with him the day before came flooding back to you. “oh Genji, I forgot about our date. Im so sorry.” You started to ramble as you bolted to sit up but the bruising on your ribs cause you pain and you let out a cry. Your hands clasped over the area of pain as genji instantly placed a hand on your back and his other one atop your own. He guides you to lie back down but smiles at you. “ive waited a long time to ask you out. I can wait a little longer for you to heal.” He speaks softly to you, soothing your fears that he might be annoyed with you. “You’re incredibly sweet, Genji.” You smiled before letting out a soft giggle. “What?” He asked, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. You did love it when he did this, especially when he was wearing his helmet because it looked so cute. “You got all dressed up for me, and I turn up like this.” You gesture to your battered body. “Still beautiful.” Genji mumbled to you, a soft smile on his lips. You couldn’t help but giggle, even out of embarrassment as your cheeks shone red. “So, where were we going to go? Seeing as you’re dressed up so fancy?” You ask, pushing yourself up a little as Genji sat on the side of your bed. “A surprise. I’ll take you there when you’re healed.” Genji smiles as he reached out and takes your hand in his own. “And until then?” You ask, pouting out your lip. “I shall stay by your side, as you stayed by mine.” Genjis voice made your heart flutter as he spoke. You couldn’t help the blush that dawned your cheeks or the smile that pulled on your lips. Before you could respond, the door opened and Angela walked in, your tablets in the palm of her hands. “This should be enough for-“ She stops when she see Genji and the rather intimate moment that had been taken place. “oh, I should come back later.” She smiles sweetly at you, placing your tablets on the side before leaving, probably to go and tell Winston and Tracer. It was a down side of her knowing about your crush on Genji. “Do you need anything?” Genji turns back to you. “A glass of water would be nice.” You respond with a small nod. Genji smiles and rises from the bed. He bows his head to you before leaving to retrieve your drink. Once he had left, Angela was straight back inside, apparently having been waiting. She was beaming at you. “It seems you have your own personal doctor.” She smirks, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You have to get me better as soon as possible.” You sit up, a little slower than before. “As long as im you’re maid of honour.” She smiles before dodging the pillow you throw at her with a chuckle.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

with you [2/6]

Summary: Clementine pops the question. 

Preview:

“Fine.”

Violet pulls her cleaver out and tosses it down the hallway.  

“You wanna talk?” She shoves her door open, turning to glower at Clementine. “Let’s talk.” 

She walks into the dorm room, straight to her desk. She takes her chair, turns it around, and sits facing Clementine, waiting.

Suddenly, she’s terrified. Not the kind of terrified like when there are walkers, or like the terror she feels when someone gets hurt or doesn’t come back on time. This is a terror of facing Violet with the possibility of saying the wrong thing and shattering that little piece of lost hope for their friendship.

This is her last chance.

Warnings: There’s a little passionate smooching but no actual sexual content. Willy doesn’t know how to knock. Mitch is a level 10 tsundere. Violet’s very angsty this time around. Angry arguments happen. This one is pretty long, too. 

Author’s Note:   Ha ha remember when I said this’ll only be a 2 part story?? Well, that was before I went an got an idea that added two completely new scenes and made this WAAAAY too long. However, I’ll be posting part 3 after I finish up the new scenes and edit.  Might take me a while but this story has thrown me into hell already so I’m committed.

EDIT: ha ha remember when I said this’ll be 3 parts? I lied it’s 4 it’s 5 now.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Read on AO3

---

Before breakfast, Clementine sneaks away to give the string back to Mitch.

When she finds him, he’s digging around in one of the hallway drawers, muttering curses to himself. He takes the string without a word and hurries back outside. Odd, she thinks, but sometimes Mitch is hard to figure out. So, she lets it go.

She needs to find AJ now.

Considering he didn’t come back to the room last night, she assumes he had a sleepover with Tenn last night.

Thank goodness, she thinks. Not only would he have walked in on something, well, intimate, but AJ has a hard time leaving Louis alone after one of his nightmares. Clementine’s warned him about being clingy, but all AJ says back is, “I just want him to be okay.”

Louis always insisted he’s fine, that the nightmares aren’t really that bad, that he barely remembers them. She knows he still tells AJ that to reassure him. He used to tell her the same thing, only she knows better.

She can still remember the first time she told him to stop lying to her.

“Louis, stop. Just… stop. Lying to me isn’t going to make it any better. You can’t carry this on your own and I can’t fully be here for you unless you’re completely honest with me.”

She’d never held someone whose entire body rocked and crumbled with so much regret, so much fear.

That was the first night they slept in the same bed.

He moved in two days later.

She can only hope that tonight will be better, that he can find peace in his dreams again.

Clementine leaves the school and steps out into the fresh morning air and inhales the intoxicating scent of dew ridden grass and dirt. She spots AJ at one of the tables, scarfing down his breakfast next to Louis, James and Tenn. Even from a distance she can see how tired Louis is, even if he’s smiling and laughing with the others.

“Clem!” Omar waves her over, holding up a plate. That’s when the scent of breakfast hits her, causing her stomach to growl. She’s about to hurry over there until she sees Violet loading up her bowl. Their eyes meet for a split second, and that’s enough to make Violet jerk around and head to the farthest table possible. Clementine watches her go as she approaches Omar.

“Good morning,” she greets him.

“It is, isn’t it? I’m glad there’s a little breeze today,” he says happily.

“Yeah,” she agrees. She crosses her arms and brings her voice to a whisper. “Hey… did she say anything to you?”

Omar gives a sad frown and shrugs a shoulder. “Just thanks. Nothing else.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, have you seen Mitch this morning? He hasn’t grabbed his food yet.”

“Oh, um, I haven’t,” she lies.

“He’s in the basement!” Willy exclaims from behind her, causing her to flinch. Somehow that boy manages to be both too loud and too quiet. He’s a good sneak, she’d give him that.

“Again?” Omar asks thoughtfully. “He’s been down there a lot this week.”

Ruby comes over to them now with anger knitted in her brow and her cheeks puffed red.

“Oh, he’s been banging around down there all mornin’! I went to fetch him fer breakfast and he hissed at me like some sorta rodent,” she scowls, “tellin’ me to fuck off, he’s busy! What’s he been doin’ down there that’s so important?”

“He’s making something super awesome!”

“Oh, God,” Ruby groans. “And what would that be?”

Willy shrugs with faux innocence before shooting Clementine a knowing smirk that makes her freeze. 

“What’s he makin’?” Ruby asks more sternly.

“It’s a surprise!” Willy exclaims before pointing at himself, “And I’m helpin’ him with it.”

No, no fucking-

Clementine has to refrain from slapping her forehead. So much for keeping quiet.

“It best not be another cherry bomb ‘cause I will whip his-”

“It’s not! Honest! Don’t worry, you’ll see!” He smiles at Clementine again, baring all his crooked teeth. She glares back. That seems to straighten Willy out. He looks down at the dirt and says nothing else.

“Well, either way,” Omar hands Willy a plate, “take that to him. I don’t want to hear him complain he’s hungry when he finally comes outta there.”

“On it!” Willy almost spills the food when he takes off towards the basement doors.

“Willy!” Clementine calls after him. “Hold it!”

He stutters to a halt in front of the basement doors. When she gets closer, she can hear a repeated banging echoing from down the stairs. They both look around to make sure everyone else is out of earshot. Deeming it safe, she leans down and demands, “What did he tell you?”

Willy grins. “Said he needed my help fixing your wedding ring,” he loudly whispers. Clementine’s hand shoots out to cover his mouth.

“Shhh!” Clem glowers. “Who else has he told?”

“No one,” the boy answers honestly, shaking his head. “And I ain’t gonna tell anyone either, I swear.”

“Willy-”

“Really! I even promised Mitch!”

“Clem!” She hears AJ calling for her. She turns to wave at them, letting them know she’s coming.

Willy gives her a sincere smile. “Don’t worry, Clem, we got it all figured out. Just  leave it to us.”

With that, he hurries into the basement, calling out for Mitch. She sees some of the food slosh over and fall on the stairs.

She can’t help but sigh.

 At this rate, Louis’ll find out before she even has a proper ring.

Doing her best to ignore the nervous frustration spreading in her belly, Clementine grabs her breakfast and joins the others at the table.

Interestingly enough, she finds that they’re done with their food. Instead, papers and colored pencils are scattered all over the table. AJ and Louis hunch over their papers in full concentration mode. James is sketching all over his paper lightly, his eyes darting up constantly to look at AJ.

Just as she sits down, Louis sits back, flashes a big smile and holds up his picture. “Ta-da!” The other three boys stop and look up. They say nothing as they study the drawing. Clementine leans over to see as well.

“...What is it?” AJ asks.

“What is it?” Louis repeats, his confidence wavering. “What does it look like?”

“Like…” AJ squints, cocking his head to try and piece together what the drawing depicts. Finally, he settles on, “A bunny?”

Louis’ eyes go wide. “A bun- what?” he exclaims. He re-examines his picture. “It’s not a bunny! It’s Rosie!”

When Clementine gets a better look, she can tell that it’s… sort of like a dog. It’s the same color as Rosie, but the face is very… odd. And the ears are definitely too big.

AJ takes the picture from Louis and shakes his head. “No, not Rosie.”

“Everybody’s a critic,” Louis snatches the picture back and holds it up to her. “Clem, you can tell it’s Rosie, right?”

She blinks up at him before slowly shaking her head. She can’t help but grin a little at the distress on his face as he looks at his drawing.

“I think it kind of looks like her,” Tenn says.

Louis sulks, resting his chin in his palm and slouching over. “Thanks, Tenn.”

Clementine rubs his back and offers an encouraging smile. He grins back at her and steals a potato chunk off her plate, popping it into his mouth.

“Clem, look!” AJ hands her his drawing. It’s of him, her and Louis standing together with a large beach ball hanging in the air. “We’re playing catch!”

“Wow,” Clementine beams. “You’re really becoming a great artist.”

Louis leans against her shoulder to look. His face scrunches up in consideration. “Hmmmm,” he turns the picture upside down for a moment, then right-side up. He glances at the young boy with a smirk. “Looks great, little man. This’ll look awesome on your wall.”

Pleased with the compliment, AJ laughs.  He takes his picture back and signs it. When he goes to grab a new paper, he asks, “What’re you drawing, James?”

“Huh? Oh, um,” James snaps his head up, his hand instinctively moving to cover his page, “I was just… well,” he gives a sheepish smile, “I haven’t had a chance to draw in a very long time, so, AJ, I hope you don’t mind but…”

When he holds up his paper, Clementine gasps.

The portrait of AJ on the paper looks so… real.

“Dude!” Louis exclaims, amazed.

“Hey!” AJ gasps. “That’s me!”

James puts the paper down and looks away. “I-I’m a little out of practice, you see. The proportions aren’t exactly right, and I always had a hard time with ears-”

“Dude, are you serious?” Louis laughs. “That looks just like him!”

Clementine can tell the portrait has left Tenn astonished. And a little insecure. He covers his picture with his arm and starts pressing his fingers together nervously.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” asks Louis, dumbfounded.

James smiles. “It’s what I used to do, before. Charlie and I… we both drew. He’s a lot better at it, though.” He picks his pencil back up, looking fondly at the portrait. “He could do amazing things. These huge scenes with so much life and so much character. Me,” he chuckles lightly, “I could only ever do people.” He looks at Louis with a comforting grin. “I’m terrible at doing animals, too.”

“Damn,” Louis breathes.

“You’re a real artist!” exclaims AJ. “Just like Tenn!”

Tenn stills, looking back at his picture and tucking it under his stack. James notices the young boy’s hesitation and looks to Clementine with questioning eyes. She returns his look with a smile and a small gesture towards Tenn.

“Um,” James awkwardly places a hand on Tenn’s shoulder, “I could show you. How I draw like this, I mean. If you want.”

“R-really?” Tenn stutters. He takes a glimpse at the portrait. “I could draw like that?”

“Of course,” James smiles, “anyone can.”

“Even Louis?” Clementine teases, pointing at his picture of Rose.

“Hey,” Louis takes the picture and holds it to his chest protectively, “I worked hard on this.”

“No doubt,” Clementine laughs. Then, she turns to Tenn. “Taking lessons from James could be a lot of fun, Tenn. What do you think?”

The young boy nods, still not entirely sure, but willing to try. “Yeah, I,” he turns to James, “I want to draw like that.”

“Me, too!” AJ butts in.

“Actually, AJ, I need your help with something today,” Clementine says.

“Me? Why?” AJ complains.

Clementine picks up her plate and stands from the table. “C’mon, kiddo. You can draw with Tenn and James afterward. It won’t take too long.”

“But, Clem,” he whines.

“What do you need help with?” Louis asks. “Maybe my services could be used instead?”

She grins at him but shakes her head. “Sorry, Lou, need AJ for this one.”

“But-” AJ tries again.

“Now,” she says firmly.

James offers AJ a comforting smile. “I’ll give you a personal lesson when you get back,” he says. “Promise.”

“Okay,” AJ sighs.

Just as AJ and Louis are going to stand, James says, “Actually, Louis? Can you stay?”

“Dude, don’t mean to undermine your talent, but I don’t think even you could teach me to draw like that,” Louis tries to laugh.

James shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. We need a model.”

“A model?”

“To draw,” he explains, “drawing from life is the best way to learn.” He gives Clem a knowing look. She’s relieved at how intuitive James can be.

“Modeling, hm?” Louis sits back down, puffing out his chest and adjusting his jacket. He flashes a big, bright smile. “How do you want me? Happy? How about sad, distraught? Seductive, perhaps?” Pursing his lips, Louis winks up at Clementine.

“Still, looking straight ahead, please,” says James.

“Right, gotcha.”

AJ sighs loudly.

She nudges him, eyes warning. Before they can turn to leave, Louis reaches out for her hand.

“Hold on,” he says, pulling her closer. She leans down and he plants a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Have fun,” he smiles.

She squeezes his hand. “You, too.”

James places two blank sheets of paper in front of him and Tenn and hands him a pencil. Tenn takes it eagerly.

As she and AJ walk away, she hears Louis say, “Make me look good, fellas!” and she can’t help but giggle, just a bit.

“Can’t we go on patrol later?” AJ asks.

“Trust me, kiddo, this can’t wait,” she says. “It’s pretty important.”

“Did something happen?”

“No,” she says. “Not yet.”

---

Rosie’s tail wags happily as she trots out through the gates. She doesn’t go far, always sticking close to them as they walk the perimeter. If she ever does wander too far all Clementine has to do is whistle and Rosie will rush right to her side.

“James is a really good artist,” says AJ, “even better than Tenn.”

“He’s had a lot more practice than Tenn has,” she replies. “With enough help, Tenn can be as good.”

“You think so? You think he can teach me to be that good?” AJ asks hopefully.

“He said he would, didn’t he?” she smiles at AJ’s excited face.

AJ continues to gush about James as they walk. Clementine remains mostly quiet, only answering when AJ expects her to. When he’s run out of things to say, they’ve already gone all the way around.

“No monsters,” AJ says firmly. “And nothing else.”

“Looks like we’re clear.”

“Yeah,” AJ nods.  He starts for the gates. Clementine places a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s walk around one more time,” she says.

“Why? It’s clear.”

“I know,” she nods. “But, I need to tell you something, remember?”

AJ frowns. “Is it bad?”

“No, not bad at all.”

“Oh.”

Clementine whistles for Rosie and they continue walking. She takes a deep breath and speaks the words she’s been repeating in her mind the entire walk.

“AJ, you remember the couple at the train station, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And, you remember what Louis said about them? After you found that picture?”

“Their wedding picture,” AJ nods. “He said they were in love.”

“Right.”

“A kissing love.”

“Right,” she says again. AJ waits for her to continue, but now, she feels at a loss for words. She stops walking and scratches at the back of her neck. “AJ, you know that I love Louis, right?”

“‘Course you do. You guys kiss all the time,” AJ teases.

Clementine feels her cheeks flush. “Yeah, yeah, right,” she murmurs. She goes and sits on one of many bulging rocks thrown about and inhales deeply. Rosie sits by her feet, dropping the stick she held in her mouth.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she finally says, “about that day and about that walker couple. You may not fully understand it because it was before you were born but… I’m going to ask Louis to marry me.”

AJ doesn’t say anything, not immediately. She can tell from his puzzled eyes that hundreds of questions are forming in his head. He starts with, “What does that mean?”

“Well,” she starts, “it means that, if he says yes, he won’t be my boyfriend anymore. He’ll be my husband.”

Husband.

Let me introduce you to my husband, Louis.

“And you’ll be his, uh…” AJ thinks hard, trying to remember the word.

“I’ll be his wife.” Just saying it makes her feel strange. Not a bad strange, of course, but a… nervous strange.

“His wife.” AJ sits on this information, mulling it over. “And you’ll be married. So, things will be different?”

“Well, no, not really. We’ll have rings on- well, he’ll have a ring on, maybe. But, nothing drastic.”

“A ring?”

“Remember the walkers?” she asks. “At their wedding, they gave one another one to seal the deal, I guess. That’s what that picture was.”

Then, AJ gets excited. “Okay,” he says. “So, you guys’ll have a big party?”

“Maybe we will, but I have to ask him first,” she says. “Last week, when I went to look for James, we went back to the train station to take their rings. Couldn’t find the lady’s, but the man still had his on.”

“You’re gonna give it to Louis?”

“That’s the plan.”

AJ has a wide grin on his face. “This…” he draws out, “this is a big thing, isn’t it?”

“It kind of is,” she answers honestly, “at least, to me, it is.”

“Me, too,” AJ laughs. “I like this. We’re gonna throw a huge party! We haven’t done that in forever! We can pull out that, uh, that… music thing! And play games! And-”

“Woah, hold it,” she stops him. “I haven’t even thought of a way to ask him.”

“Well, go ask him now!”

“No, AJ.”

“Why not?”

“That’s not how it works.” She stands up and places a gentle hand on AJ’s shoulder. “I want to do this right. If I just asked him like it was any other question, then it really wouldn’t mean anything. There’d be no weight to it, no point. I want it to mean something. I want it to be special,” she looks back at the school, “in a world that’s so fucked up, that’s taken away so much from all of us, where any moment could be our last… I want him to know how much I love him. How much I want to be with him in... a different way. That’s why I went back and got that ring, and that’s why I’m not just going to ask, I’m going to propose.”

AJ’s mouth parts silently as he stares at her.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” she sighs, “I love him, and I want to give us something that we thought was lost forever. Does that make sense?”

AJ grabs her hand. “I… I think I get it.” Then, he wraps his arms around her waist, holding her tight.

Clementine hugs him back. “Good. So,” she giggles, “that brings me to what I really wanted to ask you.”

“What?”

“Do I have your blessing?”

“My blessing?”

“Are you okay with me asking Louis to marry me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay? I love you, and I love Louis, too. We’re family.”

Clementine’s throat tightens, and so does her grip on AJ. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

---

Once they pass through the gates, AJ goes straight for James and Tenn. Louis is still sitting there, cracking jokes and trying his best not to move while the two boys draw. James points to various parts of Louis’ face before motioning to Tenn’s paper.

She figures she can safely leave AJ to catch up on art lessons with James. He promised her he wouldn’t breathe a word of this until she had everything all planned out.

She spends most of the day helping around the school, doing usual repairs to the gate and their walls. She helps Omar clean out the fire pit and gather fresh wood. When the sky finally turns a lovely mixture of pink and orange, she decides to go inside.

Louis is kneeling on AJ’s desk with a roll of duct tape hanging from his mouth when she walks in. There’s a stack of papers next to him. He’s taping up one of the portraits of himself on the wall.

“Ey!” He waves at her before spitting the tape out. “Look at these!” He hops off the desk and points at the one he just hung up. “That’s the one James drew. Charming, isn’t it?”

She’s startled at the amount of detail put into it. It’s a fully shaded-in head portrait of Louis that seemingly stares right at her. Even the little details, like his freckles and the scar on his chin, are noticeable.

“It’s way weirder than I thought it’d be,” he says, “having someone stare and dissect every part of your face. Did you know I have a very angular jawline?” He tilts his head up to prove his point. “And James said I have a nice eye shape,” he smirks.

“He did do you justice,” she says, still admiring the picture. “Very handsome.”

His chuckle comes out loud and anxious, clearly not having expected her to say that. “Hah, yeah, except,” then Louis pushes his jacket back to place his hands on his hips, “um, do you think my nose is big?”

“What?”

“James said I have a wide nose. He drew it bigger than it actually is, right?”  

“You have a very cute nose.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Clementine giggles. “Your nose is fine, Louis.”

He eyes the portrait, still uncertain. He brings his thumb and pointer finger up to measure the width of his nose. When he pulls his hand back, he becomes sullen.

Then he gasps as if he’s just remember something. “Oh, wait though, ready for this?” He searches through the pile before plucking the one he wants out. “This is the one Tenn drew.” He proudly holds it up.

She can’t say she’s not impressed. It’s nowhere near as proportional or advanced as James’, but Clementine can definitely see the charm within the lines. Definitely Tenn’s work.

“Wow,” Clementine smirks, nudging him. “I see it now. James is right, you do have a big nose.”

“Hey,” Louis reaches up and playfully pinches her nose, “big talk from little button nose over here.” Louis sticks Tenn’s portrait on the wall, next to James’. “There. We’re getting quite the art gallery.”

“One’s missing, though.” Clementine grabs Louis’ picture of Rosie off the desk and tapes it up.

“Seriously?” he asks sheepishly.

“Oh yeah. We’re never taking that one down.”

“Terrific.”

Louis continues to look through the rest of the drawings. He hums to himself lightly, a tune she recognizes but can’t place. He sticks more drawings on the wall; ones that AJ drew of him and Tenn, one he drew of Disco Broccoli.

He pauses when he comes across the one of AJ, Clementine and him. The one with the beachball. He smiles fondly at it before sticking it up there with the rest.

She sits on AJ’s bed, leaning against the frame. She closes her eyes and listens to his cheerful humming. 

She’s come to realize that one of the many things she loves is the comfort she has when he’s around. 

Like now. It’s a comfort she never thought she’d find again. Before the school, she and AJ never had time for comfortable peace. When it was just them, there was always that lurking feeling, that bitterness, that lingered in her thoughts. Now, she had a place they could call home. 

Clementine can’t imagine where they would’ve ended up had she not crashed the car. They’d still be out in the world, scavenging every little bit they could to survive. They never would’ve met the people she now considered family.

She and Louis never would’ve met.

That’s a real shitty thing to think about.

 She sneaks a glance at him, and thinks, he has no idea. 

He’s staring at her.

She raises a brow. “What?”

He shrugs, his grin sorrowful.

“What?” she asks again.

“You.”

It’s like the weariness of their previous night has caught up to him, like something triggered a sinking reality that weighs him down. The shadows along his face from the setting light do nothing to hide the sadness betraying his eyes.

She slowly approaches him and reaches out to grabs his hand, tugging him closer to her. “Hey,” she murmurs.

“Hey.”

“You feeling any better?”

“Of course.”

“Really?” Clementine locks their fingers together. “It’s been a long time since you’ve had one that bad.”

He keeps his stare focused on their hands. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Louis.”

“Clementine.”

She uses her free hand to tilt his chin up. “It was about that woman, wasn’t it?”

He says nothing, but she can see the answer clear in his eyes.

Yes, Clem, you know it was. It always is.

The first and only living person Louis ever personally killed, and it was purely accidental. It frustrates her that it still haunts him and that it’ll always haunt him. She knows. That kind of guilt, no matter how irrational, never stops.

“Dorian.”

“Hm?”

Louis closes his eyes and leans forward to press his forehead to hers.

“Her name was Dorian.”

“Lou…”

“I know.” He pulls back, squeezes his eyes shut and forces a smile. “I know.” His gaze falls on her nose. He pinches it again. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Is that okay?”

She smiles sincerely. “Yeah. Just… want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Well, I’m always better with you around, so...” He bites his lip, shakes his head and lets out a dry laugh. “You don’t have to worry about me so much, Clem. There are more important ways to spend your time.”

With a quirked brow, her eyes dart down to his mouth.

More important? 

Well, she wouldn’t put it that way.

Without any hesitation, she kisses him. It’s a quick, soft, comforting peck that catches him off guard.

 Another kiss to his lips, and then another. She holds onto the nape of his neck and moves to his chin, his cheek, placing soft, intimate kisses against his warm skin. 

He looks at her with lidded eyes before his hands caress her cheeks.

He kisses her, eager for every press of her mouth. He doesn’t stop kissing her, even when she tightens her grip on his jacket and pulls him back with her. The desk hits her hip. He lifts her up onto the surface, almost knocking over her venus fly trap.  

A pleased sigh escapes her lungs. She desperately moves to his jaw, down his neck. His breathing is quick, shallow. His pulse is as quick as hers. 

“Clem! Clem!”

Louis yanks back, their lips parting quickly with a loud smack. She nearly topples over when he rips himself away as the bedroom door slams open and in barges Willy. 

She’s disoriented, lightheaded, blinking rapidly and frantically searching for any sign of danger. All she finds is Louis, who’s now over at AJ’s desking humming incredibly loud, and Willy hurrying in with a triumphant smile.

“Clem, it’s read-!” The second he sees Louis, he stops and gasps. “Oh no!”

“Oh, look, darling!” Louis stops pretending to look at the pictures and glares at the young boy. “It’s Willy, the boy who doesn’t know how to knock! Nice of you to pop in unannounced!”

Willy’s face flushes a scarlet red as his gaze darts between the two. 

Clementine slips down from the desk and tries to casually straighten out her jacket and adjust her hat with an unfazed face, even though she’s positive that her skin is blotchy with redness. However, it seems that even Willy got the sense of what was happening before he ran in. 

“I’m sorry!” he blurts out. “I’ll knock next time! I swear!”

“Uh-huh,” Louis frowns. “Said that last time, didn’t you?”

Now she’s not sure who’s redder, her or Willy.

“Willy, what do you want?’ Clementine sighs. She composes herself and approaches the boy.

His eyes went to Louis before meeting hers. That’s all she needs.

“Is it Mitch?” she asks calmly.

Willy nods.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute. Go wait outside.”

Willy leaves without another word. Clementine holds back an annoyed sigh. The previous mood is completely gone now.

Louis gives a thoughtful frown. “I’m a little worried about him,” he says, “about Mitch, I mean. He’s been down in the basement every day for the past week. I went to check on him yesterday, down in the basement.”

Panic shoots through her stomach and into her heart.

Louis continues, “When I tried going down the stairs,  he threw a shoe at me.”

“A shoe?”

“Yeah, he about hit me in my big nose!”

“Oh boy,” Clementine rolls her eyes. “Again with the nose thing?”

“I’ve accepted its abnormally monstrous size,” he says. “Anyway, I don’t know what he’s doing down there and I’m not sure I want to know. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone shout ‘no!’ and ‘out!’ that many times in a ten-second time frame. It was pretty terrifying.”

“Mitch is…” Clementine’s at a loss. While she’s thankful for Mitch’s ability to think on his feet so quickly, she wasn’t sure if she approved of the shoe method. “...Hard to understand sometimes.”

“Understatement of the night,” Louis grins. “So, why does he want to see you? Not to throw the other shoe, I hope.”

“He’s working on a project,” she says lamely. “He probably wants a second opinion on it.”

“A bomb project?”

“Yeah.”

“Better not let sweet Ruby know,” Louis says. “She’s still got a personal grudge towards Mitch’s bombs ever since that thing in the greenhouse, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” she smirks. “ ‘A bomb? I will whip his ass!’”

Her Ruby impression gets a chuckle out of him. “Hope he knows a shoe’s not enough to stop her. If anything, that’s just provoking the beast.”

“He’ll have to learn that for himself,” she smiles. “Will you be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, darling.” He grabs her hand and kisses her cheek. “I was gonna go tickle the ivories a little bit anyway. Maybe you can pop in when you’re done? Assuming Mitch doesn’t blow you up, of course.”

“Tuning the piano?” she asks with a grin.

“I’m thinking we try a real duet. You up for it?”

“Absolutely.”

She gives him a long kiss goodbye before she leaves. Her face still feels warm after all the excitement, and she’s still a little annoyed at the interruption, but if she’s right about what Willy was trying to imply, then she has to hurry. She can only hope that Mitch found a way to fix the ring.

The wait is starting to make her anxious.

---

Clementine yanks the basement doors open and a nauseating scent of vinegar knocks her in the face. “What the hell?” she gags.

“C’mon!” Willy grabs her arm and hurries down the stairs, dragging her with him. “Mitch! Clem’s here!”

Something heavy and metallic drops hard to the cement. “Shit!” Mitch curses. “Told you not to do that, Willy!”

“Sorry!”

She follows the young boy deeper into the basement and finds herself amazed at Mitch’s set up. The work desk is completely covered with drills, hammers, saws, files, batteries, a few of their solar panels and other machines she didn’t recognize. Flashlights are wired in the air pointing directly at the anvil Mitch sits in front of. There’s a chipped bowl filled with a clear liquid sitting on top.

“Finally,” Mitch says when he sees her. He stands from his stool and tosses a dirty rag away. Willy rushes to help him scoot the various tools aside so Mitch can reach something closest to the wall. It’s a small, brown box.

Clementine approaches the two boys, trying to hide her eagerness as she asks, “Well? Were you able to fix it?”

Mitch scratches at the back of his neck and turns away. “Not exactly,” he says, “It sorta snapped when I messed around with it.”

Her heart drops. “You broke it?”

Mitch whips around, holding up a hand. “Don’t cry about it,” he says quickly, “it was a shitty ring, anyway.” He grabs a small wrench from the table and swings it around on his finger nervously.

“Mitch,” she can’t help that her voice came out so miserably angry. “If you couldn’t fix it then you should’ve left it alone! What am I supposed to do now?”

“Woah, hey, don’t freak out, just listen,” he says. “I, uh, didn’t mean to break it. I started messing around with some stuff to try and melt it back together but there was no saving that thing. Kind of a piece of shit. So,” he looks away as he shoves the brown box towards her, “I did you one better.”

Willy’s practically vibrating with excitement next to them as he motions eagerly to the box. “Open it! Open it!”

Clementine takes the box and pulls the lid off. It takes her a moment to process what she’s seeing. 

There’s a clean piece of fabric bunched up at the bottom, and within the folds rests two matching silver bands. Her head snaps up and her jaw drops. His shit-eating grin is enough of a confirmation that what she’s seeing is real. 

“Oh my god!” she gasps. “Where did you get these?”

“Made ‘em,” Mitch says. 

“What? You-” she blinks up at him in disbelief, “-you made these?”

“Super awesome, huh?” Willy laughs. 

“It’s not a big deal. Oh, and the smell’ll wear off, too,” Mitch says, “had to polish ‘em with vinegar.” 

Clementine carefully lifts the bigger of the two rings out of the box. “How- How did you-?”

“Quarters,” Mitch smirks. “Willy here keeps a pretty impressive coin collection.”

“We made a shit ton of them!” Willy reaches into his pocket and pulls out various different rings, most of them scratched up or disfigured in some way. 

“It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it,” Mitch shrugs. “Just gotta hammer them then drill out the middle, do some filing and hammer some more. Once I knew what I was doing, I used the measurement I took of your finger and made yours. Just needed Louis’ to complete the set. ”

 Clementine runs her finger over the smooth surface, “Mitch, this is-” she stops when she notices something engraved on it. She blinks, but it’s still there scratches into the shiny surface.

C + L

“That part was Mitch’s idea,” Willy points at the tiny letters, “had to use a really sharp nail to get it that clear.”

“We’ve all seen the piano,” Mitch quickly explains, rolling his eyes, “figured it’d be a good finishing touch. No big deal.”

She puts the box on the workbench. Without any warning, she throws herself at Mitch, wrapping her arms around his now very tense body.

“Woah, hey, um-!” Mitch panics and sticks his arms out to avoid touching her.

“Mitch, you have no idea what this means to me.”

“Uh-!”

He turns to Willy, bewildered. The young boy begins to laugh as he points at Mitch’s panicked face. 

Then, like the realization that they’re hugging finally hits him over the head, he jerks back. He nearly trips over his feet when he turns away back towards the work desk. He clears his throat.

“Said it’s not a big fucking deal, just,” he grumbles, fumbling with the wrench, “... consider it a wedding present, or whatever.” 

Clementine can’t help but laugh at how weirdly cute it is that he’s embarrassed. She picks up the rings again to pull out the smaller one. It fits perfectly on her finger.

“I don’t know if I could ever thank you two enough for doing this.”

“Yeah, well, y’know,” Mitch nervously scratches his cheek, a rare smile betraying his lips, “whatever.”

”Mitch! Ya still down here!?” Ruby’s voice echoes from the top of the stairs. “Lou’s in the music room! Did’ja find the box of spare candles? We’re gonna need a lot to fill the whole place up!”

“Oh, shit-” Mitch hisses.

Clementine closes the small box and shoves it into her pocket before turning to face Ruby.

“Clementine!” she gasps. Now, it’s Clementine’s turn to receive a surprise hug when Ruby practically tackles her. “Oh, hon, I heard the news! Why didn’t ya tell me!? This is so excitin’!”  Ruby pulls away to ask the boys, “Did’ja give ‘em to her yet?”

Clementine slowly turns to glare at the two boys.

Willy lowers his head in shame and Mitch fake coughs into his fist. Neither of them answers the question, nor do they dare look Clementine in the eye.

“Mitch-”

“Before you flip the fuck out,” Mitch starts, ”she’s the one who came in here demanding to know what we were doing! She tried to wack me with one of Omar’s wooden spoons!”

“Oh, no I didn’t! I said I would wack ya with one if ya didn’t explain yerself!” argues Ruby. “I thought ya were makin’ another bomb!”

“I haven’t messed with that shit for, like, weeks!”

And, suddenly, Clementine’s exhausted.

“Okay, stop!” She raises her voice above theirs. The basement’s quiet again. She takes a deep breath. “I’m not mad.”

“You sound mad,” says Willy.

“I’m not. You guys were going to find out about it anyway, though I can’t say I expected it to go down like this. Does anyone else know?”

“No,” says Ruby and Mitch.

“Uhm, well…” Willy nervously laughs.

“Dude,” Mitch frowns down at the young boy.

“I didn’t mean to! Aasim saw me going through my coin collection earlier! Then he started asking all these questions and it just came out!”

Great, she thinks. She’s not worried about it, though. Aasim is a lot of things, and a great secret keeper is one of them. 

“Anyone else?” Clementine asks.

Willy shakes his head.

So, of the people in their group, AJ, James, Mitch, Willy, Ruby, and Aasim all know.

That just leaves Omar, Tenn, and… 

And Violet.

She’s about to speak, but Ruby grabs her hand to admire the ring. “Wow, it’s even prettier on,” she gleams. “Gotta say, boys, ya did a real good job.”

“Well, yeah.” 

“How’re ya gonna ask him? We were thinkin’ that you do it in the music room, of course, and we’ll help ya decorate it with candles and lanterns, make it real romantic.”

“Gross,” Mitch murmurs.

“Hush,” Ruby warns him. “Or, on the roof, under the pretty stars! Or, we can even decorate your bedroom! Whattya think? Omar can cook ya something special and, oh! I found some real pretty classical records fer ya to play!”

“We can make some cool fireworks, too!” Willy exclaims.

“Oh, no you won’t! No bombs, no fireworks!”

“Wow, Ruby,” Clementine’s astonished at the girl’s excitement. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“‘Course! I know I may be buttin’ in a little but I never thought I’d get to witness somethin’ like this after all that’s happened! I mean, ya don’t hafta take my suggestions! You can ask him any way you want! Just know that we’re all here to help! Oh, and the wedding!”

“Oh, God,” Mitch groans.

“We’re definitely plannin’ a wedding!”

“Geez, who’s really getting married here?” Mitch asks, irritated. “You or Clem?”

“Oh, can it! Why can’t you just be excited?”

“Excited about what? Does nothing for me.”

“Y’know, thinkin’ ‘bout someone else fer a change won’t kill ya!”

“Okay, please stop fighting!” Clementine interrupts them. “Look, let me get through the actual proposal before we start doing anything else.”

“Shit,” Ruby curses herself, “sorry, Clem. Guess I got a little excited.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Willy asks eagerly.

Clementine peers down at the ring on her finger, and says, “I think I’m going to do it tomorrow. In the evening. I like your idea, Ruby, about the candles in the music room.”

“Thought ya would,” Ruby grins. “We keep a bunch of ‘em down here. We’ll all help ya decorate, ‘cept keepin’ Louis outta there might be a task.”

“That’s easy,” Mitch says. “Send him hunting for the day, him and Aasim.”

“My goodness, there’s an idea,” says Ruby, “that way, Aasim can keep an eye on him and make sure he don’t wander back here unannounced.”

“James, too,” Clementine adds. “Just in case Louis doesn’t listen to Aasim, or they get in a tight spot.”

“Right!” Ruby claps her hands. “Oh, I’m gettin’ excited again!”

“I think you’re more excited than she is,” Mitch shakes his head.

“No,” Clementine smiles. “Believe me, I don’t think anyone’s as excited as I am.” She holds up her hand to admire her ring one last time before slipping it back in the box. “We just have to be careful now. Louis can’t know anything.”

They all turn to Willy, who hangs his head in shame once more.

“I said it was an accident.”

“I know,” Clementine sighs. “Maybe you should avoid him for now, Willy. Just in case. And, Mitch,” she turns to him, “don’t throw any more shoes at him.”

“Hey, you want him wandering down here? No, you don’t. Thought we established that. ‘Sides, the ring’s done. Nothing left for me to work on.”

“Right, but still, you can’t be acting suspicious. He’s already worried about you. That’s why he tried to come down here yesterday.”

“Pfft,” Mitch scowls. “Worried…”

“Well, while we know Lou’s in the music room, I’ll gather everyone and we can discuss the plan. Don’t worry, we’ll be discreet,” Ruby assures her. “Mitch, yer on candle and match duty. Willy, tomorrow mornin’ I want ya ta go out and pick as many pretty flowers as ya can.”

“Aw,” Willy pouts, “how come I got flower duty?”

“It’s either that or ya gotta help Omar cook. Yer choice.”

Willy doesn’t argue. Omar’s a genuinely nice guy, but he’s also brutally honest and a very particular cook. Willy wasn’t going to willingly put himself into that nightmare.

Soon, they have all the details worked out.

Aasim and James will take Louis far away to go hunting until evening, giving them a few hours to set up.

Ruby will work on setting up a little picnic area for them on the floor and figure out the music. Willy will go around with Tenn and AJ to pick enough flowers for a bouquet, as well as decorate an old vase to put them in. Omar will cook them something extra special, and Mitch will gather all the candles and place them in the safest places around the music room.

As for Clementine herself, she’ll help fix things up in the piano room, sure, but there’s something else she wants to try. Something that she’s been contemplating for the past week.

She hides the box in her jacket with a big, dumb grin stuck on her face. She still can’t believe that Mitch and Willy actually made her a matching set of wedding rings. She tries not to show it, but the very thought of both her and Louis wearing them makes her giddy.

But, there’s still an issue pressing in her mind.

“Ruby?” Clementine’s grin is replaced with a worrying frown. “Are… are you going to tell Violet?”

And, just like that, the room becomes tense.

“Violet?” asks Willy.

“Oh, well, shoot,” Ruby mutters, “didn’t even think of Vi.”

“Don’t fucking bother,” Mitch snaps. “She’s not gonna give a shit, and if she does, she’ll just ruin the whole thing.”

Ruby looks up at Mitch with distraught eyes. “We gotta tell her, Mitch. She’ll be left out-”

“Oh, don’t start with that bullshit. Why do you anyways try to include that bitch?”

“You bite yer tongue, right now!”

A sick feeling comes over her. Clementine can’t quite place what it actually is, but it always boils within her whenever the idea of talking to Violet strikes her.

Over the past two years, she’s tried talking to Violet. Not big things. Saying, “Hello,” or “How are you?” or “Are you okay?” And every single time, Violet doesn’t mutter a single word. All she gives is a glare and the view of her back as she walks away.

She’d told Louis once how much she missed Violet.

He had watched her suffer after losing Violet as a close friend. There were a few nights just after the delta that Clementine found herself crying, and he was there to hold her, to promise her that Violet would come around, she just needed time.

When Louis tried to fix things between her and Violet, it became apparent that he just cares too damn much.

She can still remember that night. He’d snuck into the darkness of the room. AJ was fast asleep.

Clementine can remember the rage filling her insides when she saw the bruise forming on his face and the tears slipping down his cheeks. She barely made it to the door before Louis grabbed her, begging her not to go after Violet, that she didn’t even know what happened. AJ woke up, and Louis lied about what was wrong. It was only when they were alone in the hallway that he told her what happened.

They’d gotten into an argument, Louis and Violet. An argument about her. Louis defended her and tried to understand Violet’s animosity but she refused to talk. She only cussed and shoved him away. He’d gotten too close, and like a reflex, she swung.

Violet didn’t come out of her room for two weeks after that. She spoke to no one but Tenn when he brought her food. 

She didn’t come out until Louis spoke to her again.

And it all happened because of her…

“Don’t worry about it, Ruby,” Clementine speaks up. “I’ll tell her.”

“The fuck you will!” Mitch‘s brow furrows in fury and his fists curl.

“It’s not like she’ll try to stab me just for talking to her,” Clementine argues.

“Oh yeah? Just like how she didn’t try to stab you after the delta, right? For fuck's sake, had Louis not stepped in you would’ve had a nice big gash right between your eyes! She’s a fucking traitor, Clem!”

“Mitch!” Ruby gasps out. “Don’t talk so ugly! Maybe it’s time they finally sort this out-”

“Fuck that!”

Clementine straightens herself out and confidently stands up to Mitch. “I appreciate your concern, Mitch, but-”

“My concern?” Mitch glares. “What, my concern that I’ll have to dig your grave when that bitch snaps and puts a cleaver in you?”

“Mitch!”

“She wouldn’t really do that, right?” Willy says, eyes widening.

“No, she wouldn’t,” says Clementine.  “And Ruby’s right. I’m tired of this. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life avoiding her. It’s time to end this. Maybe we won’t ever be friends again, but we can at least be on speaking terms."

“How can you say that? After everything she did? She’s not gonna give a shit. Fuck, if anything, she’ll sabotage your wedding!”

“Not when Louis is involved,” Clementine meets Mitch’s glare. “I’m going to talk to her whether you like it or not. She’s not going to hurt me, and she’s not going to do anything. She may hate me, but if she really does care about Louis, she won’t try and hurt him again.”

Mitch fumes with rage, his lips pressed into a hard, thin line. Willy cautiously grabs ahold of Mitch’s sleeve, worried about what he might do. Ruby steps up beside her and places a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

“If it’s really what’cha wanna do, I can’t stop you,” she shoots Mitch a look, “and neither can he. Just... promise you’ll be careful?”

“Thank you, Ruby.”

“Fucking shit,” Mitch hisses under his breath before pointing at her. “You’re not going alone. I’ll go with you and make sure she doesn’t pull anything.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Yeah, I don’t have to do anything,” he frowns. “But, I’m gonna.”

Clementine softens a bit. She had to admit that having backup did make her feel a little bit better. While she was sure Violet wouldn’t try to physically hurt her, it didn’t hurt to be careful. Then again, she might be doubly pissed to see Mitch, as well. “And you won’t threaten her?”

“No promises.”

“Mitch.”

He stares, then lowers his head in defeat. “I won’t say nothin’ unless I gotta.” Then, he turns to Willy. “You okay to clean this place up yourself?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Willy smiles.

“Well, ehm, guess I’ll get Aasim and James and tell ‘em ‘bout the plan,” says Ruby. “Violet should be in her room. She usually turns in early when she doesn’t have watch.”

Clementine nods. The feeling’s back, twisting in her gut and accelerating her heart.

With that, they leave the basement.

---

Violet’s door is shut. 

Clementine makes no move to knock.

Mitch is beside her, waiting. 

Her arms feel heavy, weighed down with dread. She didn’t even know what to say. She ran through different scenarios in her head and they’re all a jumbled mess.

She hears a sigh. Mitch leans over and knocks on the door. 

They wait.

He knocks again, this time harder. 

Nothing. 

“Shit,” Mitch mutters. “Either she’s not here, or she’s ignoring us.”

Neither option would surprise her. 

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” she whispers to herself. 

“I coulda told you that,” Mitch mumbles. He knocks again. 

Footsteps turn her attention down the hall. 

Violet stands alert, angry eyes focused in on the two of them and arms crossed. It’s enough to send any normal person to hightail it out of there, but not her. Clementine closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, telling herself to remain calm.

“Violet,” she says, though not with confidence. 

“What the fuck do you two want?”

It’s like someone injected ice into her veins. “I-” Clementine clears her throat. Her voice feels so small, insignificant. She pushes all her feelings aside, just like how she used to. “We need to talk.”

Violet scoffs. 

“It’s important, Vi-”

“Fuck. Off.” 

Then, they’re close, face to face. Violet’s glare bores straight into her. Mitch pushes her back and stands in between them. 

“Watch it,” he warns. 

Clementine moves from behind Mitch and pleads, “Please, Violet. I just want to talk-”

“I don’t really give a shit what you want.”

“Can you just fucking chill?” snaps Mitch. 

“Can you go fuck yourself?”

“You-!”

“Mitch! Knock it off!” Clementine exclaims. “You’re not helping.” 

He backs off, but not much. He keeps his attention on Violet, watching the girl’s every move. 

Clementine tries again. “It won’t take long. It’s about Louis.”

That catches her attention. 

“Can we talk?” Clementine asks again, this time much softer. “Privately?”

“Before that, though,” Mitch holds out his hand. “Give it.”

Violet doesn’t move. 

“I know you have it.”

The tension between the two as they scowl at each other is suffocating. Clementine reaches and pulls out the knife she always carries.

“Here,” she offers it to Mitch. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off Violet, even when he takes the handle. 

“I’m unarmed now,” Clementine says. “Please, Vi…”

She breaks her gaze away from Mitch to look at the floor. 

“Fine.” 

Violet pulls her cleaver out and tosses it down the hallway.  

“You wanna talk?” She shoves her door open, turning to glower at Clementine. “Let’s talk.” 

She walks into the dorm room, straight to her desk. She takes her chair, turns it around, and sits facing Clementine, waiting. 

Suddenly, she’s terrified. Not the kind of terrified like when there are walkers, or like the terror she feels when someone gets hurt or doesn’t come back on time. This is a terror of facing Violet with the possibility of saying the wrong thing and shattering that little piece of lost hope for their friendship. 

This is her last chance. 

Mitch gives her a firm nod. “I’ll be right out here.” She knows he says it more to Violet than to her. 

Clementine closes the door behind her. 

They’re alone. 

Fuck.

Where did she even begin?

She can’t bring herself to look at Violet, so she does a quick glance over of the room. It’s similar to hers, but with only one bed and nothing to decorate the walls. It’s empty.

“Well?” Violet asks. 

Clementine digs deep inside herself. She decides that she has to be as honest as possible, otherwise this whole thing could backfire. 

“It’s been two years,” she starts. “Two years without really talking to you. I know that you still hate me, and I know that I’ll probably never be able to change that, but I just don’t understand why.” She waits for a reaction but gets none. “I don’t want to fight with or avoid you anymore. I- ...I really miss you, Vi.” 

“You are un-fucking-believable.”

Clementine bites the inside of her cheek. Breathe in, breathe out. She tries to ignore the absolute loathing that vibrates from the other girl, and she recalls that last time someone looked at her like that.

Why… that had to be when Sarita died. 

“Is that really all you have to say?” Violet asks. “You miss me? Fucking really?”

“We used to be friends before everything happened. Remember my first night here?” Clementine asks. “When you came in looking for that pencil box and we talked? And the card game and-”

“I remember,” Violet interrupts, “I remember being grateful to have another girl around to talk to. You said I kicked walker ass. You were so nice, and you listened to everything I had to say.” 

She looks down to the wooden floors.

 “I also remember AJ shooting Marlon. I remember everyone turning against you, ready to throw you both out right then and there. I also remember stopping them. I stood between you and a group of kids ready to tear you apart with nothing but my meat cleaver.”

 Violet leans forward with her burning gaze. 

“You know what else I remember? I remember voting for you to stay. I remember telling them that it was bullshit that you had to leave. I remember leaving you out there in the woods and then seeing that boot on your neck and shooting my bow to save your life. I was at your side the entire time, being the only one to defend you, to listen to you! I let you back into our school! But, do you know what I remember the most?”

“Vi-”

“I remember when the raiders finally got here and the bomb went off. I saw you fall off the balcony and I saw Lilly point her fucking gun right at you. And I stopped her. I tackled her to the ground.”

Violet stands.

“I saved your life.”

Clementine remains still, even as Violet advances towards her, slowly, one step at a time. 

“And I remember looking for you. Seeing you.”

They’re barely a footstep apart now.

“And you just let them take me.”

“That’s not what happened!” Clementine protests.

“Then, what did happen, Clem? Why didn’t you save me?” Violet spits. “Because I have a pretty good idea.”

“What? Vi, I told you, I- I didn’t have enough time or a clear shot-”

“Bullshit,” Violet says. “Tell me the truth.”

Clementine searches the fury held in Violet’s eyes and finds she can’t speak. She opens her mouth, stuttering. 

Violet leans close, whispering.

“You chose him.”

The words hang in the air between them.

“You chose him,” she repeats. “He wanted you gone. He wanted to leave you out there in those woods to die. He wanted nothing to do with you or AJ. And you still chose him.”

“Vi, that’s not-”

“Shut up!” Violet snaps. “I was there for you, not him! And you still saved him! Why? Because he batted his eyes at you and said sorry?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“The fuck I don’t! You two barely said a word to each other the whole time we prepped-!”

“That’s not true-!”

“-and then we play some stupid card game and you’re suddenly putty in his hands? Suddenly you have feelings for him? You decide to play that stupid piano with him instead of preparing for our fucking doom? Like fucking around with him was more important than our lives?”

“That’s not how it went down and you know it!”

Violet lets out an angry groan, turning around and kicking at her bed frame. “Just admit it, Clem, you left me to rot so that you and Louis could live to kiss another day!”

“Don’t twist it around like that!” Clementine glares. “I couldn’t let them take him-”

“Oh, but you were happy to let them take me?”

“No! I saved him but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try to save you or anyone else!”

“Bullshit!”

“Raiders were everywhere and then the walkers came in! I did the best I could to try and protect as many of us as possible!”

“Well, you did a shit job.”

Clementine’s nails bite into her palm as her fists tighten. Her heart is hard in her chest, it’s beat vibrating her entire body. “I’m sorry that they got you, Vi, I am. I always will be, but there wasn’t anything I could do except plan to save you. We all risked our lives to go back for you!”

“You should’ve just left us-”

“How can you say that? You’re here, alive and at home because of what we did!”

“So? You have no fucking idea what it was like on that ship, Clem. What they did to us.” Violet turns back to face her. “What they did to Minnie. They threatened us with inhumane things like it was nothing- Like we were nothing! Just dogs ready to be mutilated and thrown out if we didn’t sit down and roll over!”

“Then how can you say that I should’ve left you?”

“Because at least I would’ve had Minnie-”

“Violet, you were there when she admitted to killing Sophie! You were there when they tried to cut Louis’ hand off! When they took AJ away! They threatened you! And you still tried to stop me from breaking out! We’d all be dead if I hadn’t done anything and you know it! That wasn’t the Minerva you knew! How could you-”

“Do you know what it’s like to lose someone twice? Someone you loved more than you could ever love yourself? No, you don’t! Minnie never would’ve let them hurt me! She protected me, told me how to be safe while I was locked up! All you ever did was abandon me when I gave you so much. I never would’ve left you.”

“If that’s the case, then put yourself in my position!” Clementine roughly pokes Violet in the chest. “If it’d been you with the bow, and you had to try and save both me and Minerva, what would you have done?”

For the first time in several minutes, the room’s quiet.

Clementine steps back to steady herself. “You already know your answer. You would’ve tried to save us both but you also know that you would’ve tried to save her first.”

“It’s different- I loved Minnie-”

“I loved Louis-”

“You barely knew him!”

“I barely knew you!”

“It’s not the same thing, Clem! You may love him now but you didn’t love him then, so don’t even try and pull that shit with me!”

Violet turns her back to her, still shaking with resent.

Clementine’s throat is sore, and her chest aches. Frustration wets her eyes. Her head, filled with so many thoughts and so many emotions, feels ready to cave in under the pressure of the room.

“...What do you want me to say?” Clementine whispers.

Violet shakes her head. “There’s nothing you can say. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change that I thought you cared about me more than you really did.”

“I did- I do care about you, Vi. Why do you think I’m here?”

“Because Louis sent you.”

“No, he didn’t.”

Violet scoffs.

“He didn’t,” Clementine reassures. “I’m here because I want to be. I meant what I said, Vi. I miss you, and I want us to be friends again. I know that’s asking for too much, that you will never forgive me for what I did. But, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Violet. I hate that I can’t just talk to you like I could before. I hate that we can’t play stupid card games together with Louis. I hate seeing you hide away from everyone. We all miss you.”

Violet faces her again with an unreadable expression.

 “Okay, Clem,” she says slowly. “Say I forgive. Say we work this out and become friends again. We’ll play our stupid card games and have a grand ol’ time.” Violet shrugs her shoulders, weakly motioning to her. “Everything’s all sunshine and rainbows. But, what happens when a new set of raiders come knocking on our doors?” She brushes her bangs out of her face, holding her hand against her head. “What happens when they break in again and I need your help?”

“That’s not going to happen-”

“No? It’s not?” Violet gives a dry laugh. “Let me tell you what’ll happen, Clem. I’ll look for you, and all I will see is your back when you run to Louis’ side.”

Clementine closes her eyes and lowers her head.

“You’ve made your choice,” says Violet. “And I won’t be hurt again because of it.”

She moves to the window, peering out. Clementine watches her with nothing to say. What can she say? That none of it is true? Keep denying it so they stay in this constant loop of arguments.

“Most days, I hate him, too.”

“What?” Clementine asks.

“Did he ever tell you what happened? After you knocked Minnie out?” Violet peers over her shoulder at her.

“Just that he and Aasim helped you out.”

Violet turns back to the window and runs her finger over the glass, smudging it. 

“Louis had to carry me out. I kicked, punched, screamed, scratched, bit… anything I could to get him to put me down. Got him right in the chin a couple times, made him bleed. And he just wouldn’t let me go. He dragged me out of there… and we just left Minnie lying there.” She presses her forehead against the cool glass. 

Clementine knew that they’d left Minerva there. Louis had confessed it to her one night after one of his nightmares. He had cried about it until he physically couldn’t anymore.

Even though Louis hated her in those last moments, hated what Minerva had become, he still occasionally wept for the girl he used to know.

“Know what he told me? After we got back?”

Clementine almost doesn’t hear her she’s so quiet.

Violet smiles, actually smiles. “He said he loved me. Called me family.”

Clementine’s lip curls, just a bit, into what could be a smile, as well.

Until Violet says, “I hate that he loves you.”

“...What?”

“It drives me insane, the fact that you love each other. He thinks the world of you, y’know. He never talks about you when he’s with me, but I can just see it on that stupid face of his. He fucking adores you. You and AJ.” She goes quiet. “You’re his family now.”

“He still loves you, Violet.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “He tells me all the time.”

“So, why do you hate him? Because of Minerva?”

Violet shakes her head. 

“Honestly?”

Clementine risks taking a few steps closer.

“Because now I’m no one’s first choice,” she whispers. “He’d pick you first, always. He proved that after we escaped… after I attacked you. He didn’t even hesitate.”

After the delta ship completely sank and they all regrouped, Violet had lunged at her, knocked her to ground. But, she didn’t stand a chance, not with everyone there. Not even with the knife she’d stolen off of Clementine. 

But, it was Louis that stepped in front of her, shielded her from the distraught girl she once called a friend. He was ready to wrestle the knife away from her if words didn’t work. 

Thankfully, it never came to that.

“I’ll always be taken.” Violet’s voice cracks.

It takes the tears spilling over to make Clementine realize she’s actually crying.  Her first instinct is to reach out and grab her, but then Violet turns and glares at her again.

“Violet-”

“You got what you wanted. We talked. I don’t think there’s anything else left to say.”

That’s far from the truth. There’s still so, so much more.

I wish I could take your pain away.

I wish I could have saved you, too.

Louis loves you. Tenn loves you. I love you. We all love you.

We miss you.

You don’t have to be scared.

You don’t have to be alone.

And, of course, the whole reason for this.

Violet, I’m asking Louis to marry me tomorrow.

But, she doesn’t say any of those things.

Instead, she wipes tears off her cheeks.

“I’ll never let anyone take you again, Vi,” she musters up all her confidence. “We’re family.”

“...You need to leave.” Violet turns her back to her one final time. “We’re done.”

She doesn’t want to.

She hesitates, waiting for Violet to change her mind.

And when she doesn’t, she leaves.

Mitch is there, right next to the door with a sullen expression. There’s no doubt in her mind that he heard nearly every word spoken between them. 

The door closes with a soft click.

 His hand touches her shoulder gently. 

“You okay?”

She shakes her head. 

“It’s late,” she says. “I- ...I need to find Louis.”

Mitch nods. With a comforting hand on her shoulder, the two head down the hall.

They stop when there’s an anguished scream and the sound of broken glass. 

Clementine whips around and dashes for Violet’s room.

The door flings open and Violet runs out. She goes the opposite direction, turning the corner and out of sight.

“Violet!” Clementine calls.

Mitch stops her from going after her.

“She’s probably going to Tenn’s room,” he says. “Best not to get in her way.”

Shit.

She feels Mitch watching her. She rubs at her tired eyes and pushes all the air out of her lungs in a heavy sigh. She looks over into Violet’s room. The cause of the breaking glass sound is evident on the floor. From here, she can see it’s a framed photo of Violet, Minerva, and Sophie.

“Look,” Mitch says, “I’ll follow her and make sure she gets to Tenn fine, okay?”

She glances up at him and tries to smile. “Thank you.”

He pats her shoulder one last time before going down the hall.

Now, she’s alone in the middle of the hallway with a lump in her throat and an overwhelming desire to be in Louis’ arms.

---

“Oh, there you are!” Clementine finds him back in their room.

“I was starting to get worried when you didn’t show up to tune the piano. I thought Mitch really did blow you up this time.”

His laugh is warm and contagious.

“I got caught up…” she says.

“Right, well, I was about to leave to go find you and-”

Now that he’s closer, it’s no doubt that he can see the redness ringing her eyes or the stains on her cheeks. She turns away from him, slipping her jacket off and putting it over the back of her chair.

“Clementine?”

His warm hand grabs hers tenderly. The lump is back. Her chin quivers.

“Hey,” he pulls her to look at him and seeing his sincere, beautiful face breaks something inside her. She buries herself in his chest and holds onto him for dear life. She’s immediately enveloped in his warmth.

Violet’s words echo and repeat in her mind. The guilt, the sorrow, it makes her knees weak. She crumbles.

Louis is there to hold her up.

He rubs her back, kisses her forehead, her cheeks. His thumb brushes away any loose tears. He murmurs reassurances in her ear.

They end up in bed, wrapped around each other comfortably with an old CD player resting on Louis’ hip. They share a pair of old, dingy headphones. Classical, soothing piano hums in her ear.

It’s their favorite CD.

Sometimes, Louis’ nightmares get so bad that the music is the only to bring him back. Sometimes, when it’s been a particularly stressful day, or when the exhaustion catches up with them, they lie in bed and listen. They enjoy the comfort of each other’s touch, of each others breathing and beating hearts.

He traces the letters of her name on the back of her hand.

She plants a tender kiss on his chin, right where his scar is.

“I talked to Violet,” she murmurs against his skin.

His hand stills.

She doesn’t say any more. He doesn’t need her to. He pulls her closer, pressing her free ear against his chest. His heart thumps calmly as if in beat with the calm piano.

She tries to put Violet and her words, her face, out of her mind. She thinks about how filled with glee AJ was when she told him the news. She pictures her and AJ standing side by side with their arms hooked together, ready to walk. It brings a small smile to her lips.

She thinks about the rings tucked safely away in her pant pockets. She tries picturing the ring on Louis’ finger. That makes her smile grow.

She considers pulling them out now. She could do it. She could propose now, and they could celebrate the night away.

But, she won't. Not when she has something even better planned.

She glances up at him. His eyes have fluttered shut. A grin remains on his lips.

Tomorrow is so close.

“Louis?” She whispers.

“Clementine?”

“I love you.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

“I love you, too.”

[bunnymaknaereacts]

Monsta X’s Reaction to Your Insecurities - Hyungwon (��원) - “Nobody would miss me anyway…” - PART 2

WARNING -This might be very triggering to you if you have/had a mental illness or suffer from anxiety/depression or have attempted or know someone who has attempted/committed suicide. Please read with caution.

It was your third night in the hospital and you still hadn’t woken up. Which meant that Hyungwon hadn’t slept in three days. He already missed the signs of what you were about to do. He wouldn’t miss anything else. Not until he heard your voice. Saw your beautiful eyes. Made you promise to never do this to him again. The doctors said if he had gotten home just five minutes later you would be dead right now. Hearing that terrified him almost as much as what he saw when he got home that day. The thought that if he hadn’t made it in time it would be his fault. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself.

Hours passed by. Eventually exhaustion won out, pulling Hyungwon into unconsciousness.

Time rewound to a week earlier. For a few days, things were back to normal. You were laughing, smiling. But one day you told him you weren’t feeling well. Hyungwon offered to stay and take care of you but you insisted he go to work, not wanting to make trouble for his hyungs. He fought you but eventually gathered his things, kissing you on the forehead before heading out. Keeping his mind off of his sick girlfriend proved difficult, but he made it through the day and couldn’t be happier to return to you. He thought about stopping for food on the way home but put it off, wanting to check on you first. When he got home he called your name, hoping you’d be awake. When you didn’t answer, he shrugged, taking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket like he normally did. Figuring you must still be sick, he grabbed you a glass of water before heading to the bedroom to wake you up. After walking closer, it donned on Hyungwon that something was off. Usually you snored quite loud when you were sick, but approaching the bedroom door all he heard was silence.

“Y/N?” he called as he slowly opened the door, not expecting to see what he saw.

“NO!!”

Hyungwon cried out, his body jerking upward as he woke from the terrible nightmare. His eyes scanned the room wildly for a moment before finally landing on you. Realizing it was just a dream he let out a sigh of relief, leaning back against his chair and rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Not since he found you. He wasn’t sure why, but he was grateful. He needed to be strong for you while you were asleep. Maybe if you sensed it somehow it would help you wake up. Hyungwon looked at his phone to check the time. It was 2am. The last time he checked it was 8pm. Strange. He didn’t feel like he’d slept for that long.

Another thing Hyungwon saw when he checked his phone was a text message from your sister, not too long after he fell asleep.

8:25 pm - Y/S/N: Doctor said they’re going to try to wake her up in the morning. You should get some sleep. Please? =(

Hyungwon sighed, ignoring the message. Your sister had been at the hospital almost as long as Hyungwon, only going home after the sun goes down. She took off work for the time being, but it was still hard to see you in the hospital bed. She blamed herself a lot. She was your big sister. She’s been there your whole life. She knew you best. She should have seen something was wrong. Once she goes home every day, she makes sure to check in on Hyungwon every couple of hours. She may be able to hide her feelings well, but she knew Hyungwon couldn’t. She knew how much harder it was for him. He had mixed feelings about it. He felt guilty. He wanted to be stronger for both you and her. But he was also grateful that he wasn’t totally alone.

The rest of the morning seemed to drag, more so than the last few days. As much as he wanted to see you awake, he was afraid of what would happen. What you would say. Why you did this. If you were going to try again. If you even woke up. Your doctor finally came around at about 8am. He gave you a shot in your IV and left again after checking your vitals. All that was left now was to wait. Hyungwon sat down in his chair and took your hand, rubbing circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, something you usually did to calm each other down when you were nervous.

“Please wake up,” Hyungwon whispered. “I know… I haven’t been paying as much attention to you as I should have been. I know I took you for granted. I didn’t mean to… I’ll be better. I’ll make sure you never feel like you need to do this ever again. Just come back to me…” For the first time in days he cried. Saying it out loud made him feel so much worse, but he meant it. He would fix this.

.

.

.

Waking up after nearly dying was very weird. Your body was very heavy. You couldn’t really move at first. Lots of emotions were involved. Disappointment and anger. Something had obviously gone wrong if you were alive. You must have taken too long writing your goodbye letters and been found. Confusion. Looking around you noticed you weren’t at home. But this didn’t look like a normal hospital room. It was more casual, like a hotel room with hospital equipment in it. Surprise. Looking to your side you saw your boyfriend, slouched in a chair fast asleep, grasping your hand. Guilt. Looking closer you saw that Hyungwon’s eyes were stained with tears. You expected that before you left, but you never thought you’d live to see it. It made you regret what you’d done. If he was sleeping here, he must have been here the entire time, which made you feel worse. He shouldn’t be here. Just as you were going to try moving again, Hyungwon stirred, his eyes barely open as he sat up, keeping a hold on your hand. You didn’t have enough strength to sit up, but you were able to squeeze his hand. As soon as he felt it, his eyes flew wide open. He looked at you in shock for a moment before calling the doctor. It kind of hurt. You thought he would have at least said something first.

“How do you feel?” The doctor asked once he checked your pulse and blood pressure.

“You’re joking right?” You replied. Your throat was dry, so you didn’t have much volume, but there was still bite in your voice. “I just tried to kill myself, and failed. How do you think I feel?” Out of the corner of your eye you saw Hyungwon flinch, but your eyes stayed on your doctor, who was unaffected by your snarkiness.

“I mean physically.”

“Sluggish. Heavy. I can’t really move much.”

“Well you were unconscious for three days, so that’s expected. Just keep trying and it’ll go away. What else?”

“Just a dry throat.”

“Well that’s good. Um.. we’ll get you some water and I’ll be back to check on you in a couple hours. There’s other things that need addressed but since you just woke up they can wait until tomorrow, okay?” He smiled, scribbling something on his clipboard before leaving. The silence in your room was deafening. Hyungwon stood a few feet away, his eyes never leaving you since he called the doctor in. After a minute you started to feel awkward, clearing your throat.

“Can you.. um.. get me something to drink?” He remained silent as he poured water into a cup and adjusted your bed so that you were sitting up. You downed the entire cup half out of thirst, half out of nervousness. Afterwards you sat quietly for another few minutes, not really sure what to say. You knew you needed to talk. You owed him that much. You just didn’t know how to start. Taking a deep breath, you stared at your hands, too ashamed to look at him while speaking. “Won-”

“Why?” Hyungwon interrupted, his voice cracking. “Why did you do this to yourself? Why did you do this to me? I thought things were getting better. Why did you try to leave me?”

“Hyungwon.. I didn’t think..”

“No. You thought too much. I’ve told you over and over. I love you. So much.. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m not going anywhere. You aren’t alone. I thought last time you had finally started to understand that.”

“I do..”

“Then why? Look at me and tell me why.” Reluctantly you looked up at Hyungwon. He looked absolutely heartbroken. It made your throat swell and your eyes water. The realization of what you’ve done finally hits you like a truck. You hated yourself. How could you do this to him?

“I don’t know..” You answered meekly. “I just.. Feel so worthless.. and incompetent.. and inferior.. all the time. I’m nothing but a burden to everyone.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s nothing anyone did.. Like you said, I was getting better. But after a while it just started rushing back and pounding in my head. Eventually I just lost it. I thought, ‘I should just kill myself. Nobody would miss me anyway.’” Hyungwon took in a sharp breath but you kept going. You wanted to make things clear so he didn’t blame himself anymore. “I didn’t want to when I first thought that. I was still hanging on somehow. But eventually I started to believe what I was telling myself over and over. So finally I did.” You sighed, feeling the slightest bit of relief after letting it out. But glancing around and seeing where you were, the feeling was short-lived. “It obviously didn’t work..”

“It almost did.. And I’m glad it didn’t. Because if it had.. if you had..” Hyungwon paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I honestly have no idea what I would have done.”

“You would have got through it.”

“You don’t know that!” He sighed. He didn’t want to raise his voice. This was a very serious conversation and he needed to get through to you, not make you feel worse. He leaned forward, taking your cup and setting it on your bedside table so he could take both of your hands in his. Looking deep into your eyes his did his best to convey the sincerity of his words, desperate for you to believe him. “Listen to me. You mean the absolute word to me. Even if I can’t always be there for you you’re always there for me. No matter how exhausted I am, you keep me sane. The first and last thing I think about every single day is how much I love you and how much it would devastate me to try and live without you. And it’s not just me that needs you. The boys miss you like crazy already. I didn’t tell them how bad it was.. It didn’t feel right.. like it wasn’t my place. Don’t even get me started on Y/S/N. She holds it together while she’s here. But she starts to break down on her way out the door. She’s been worried about the both of us. I think she’s texted me more in the last few days than in all of the time I’ve known her.” You chuckled at that. Your sister never disliked Hyungwon, but she was always apprehensive about being close with him when you weren’t around. You tried to reassure her it was fine, that she had nothing to worry about, but she still gave the two of you your space unless specifically invited. But hopefully that would be different from now on. “But my point is, you aren’t alone. You’re not an inconvenience. You’re loved. All you need to do is not shut us out. Let us back in. We’ll take care of you. Even after you may not need us to anymore.” Not wanting to start bawling, you simply nodded. It would be really hard for your depression to fade into the background. But seeing how this affected him and how much he really cared, you wanted to try.

.

.

.

You wanted to live.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Blackjack (X)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jungkook

Rating: 18+ (explicit violence)

Warnings: action / violence (including guns/knives)

Word Count: 15,024

Summary: Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as ‘the shadow.’ When you become indebted to the worst of the worst – how, exactly can you find a way out?

[ Chapter IX ]

• Y/N • 

You and Jungkook are the first ones to enter.

The first ones to sit, the first ones to wait and the first ones to watch while the others trickle in. It is the reverse of the first meeting you attended, when all of Bangtan stared and you were set on display.

Now, you are firmly engrained in the atmosphere, your head on Jungkook’s shoulder and knees drawn in your lap. It is a position of relaxation; mildly deceptive on your part, since you feel anything but.

Your teeth grind, absent-minded while your hands play in your lap. This conversation is crucial – asking for help has never been your strong suit, especially not from people like Bangtan. Jungkook sits beside you, feet planted firm on the floor. There are dark circles under his eyes and you know he feels the same way as you do: no longer certain if your plan is good, crazy, or workable – only that you need to do something, anything before it all goes to hell.

Namjoon stands at the front, mostly hidden behind the oak of his desk. He watches everyone enter, meeting each gaze in turn. When all are sitting – Taehyung last, closing the wood door behind him – Namjoon exhales.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he says.

Taehyung sinks lower in his chair, barely restraining from rolling his eyes. “Namjoon, we all live here.” His expression is inscrutable. “We have literally nothing better to do.”

“Says you,” Yoongi mutters, three different mobile devices open before him. Scrolling through one, he searches for information to enter into another. “I’m trying to rebuild our crumbled technological fortress, thanks.”

“And whose fault is that?” Taehyung blinks, unrepentant. 

Yoongi growls, deep in his throat. 

Seokjin groans. “Shut up,” he tells Taehyung. “And Yoongi, we’re aware you’re saving our asses. We love and appreciate that fact, but don’t make us suck your dick over it.”

Lip twitching, Yoongi reburies himself in his devices. “No need,” he says. “I still have that video of Jungkook and Y/N.”

“Yoongi!”

Yoongi ducks when Seokjin throws a wadded-up tissue at his head. “Kidding, kidding,” he says.

Jungkook glares at them both, slouched in the seat beside yours. His fingers drum over your knee, a careful pattern to soothe. “Anyways,” he says, turning his head. “Back to Namjoon.”

“Thank you, Jungkook.” Namjoon lowers his gaze to you all. “As many of you know, we were attacked by the Vine last night.”

“… who here doesn’t know that?”

“Shut up, Taehyung.” Namjoon says this pleasantly before continuing. “As all of you know, we were attacked by the Vine last night.”

Silence follows, the room unnaturally silent. Despite Taehyung’s witticism, he is tenser than usual – his gaze continues to dart towards the door, hands wrung in the center of his lap. Stomach sinking, you know to where his mind wanders – or rather, to whom. Word came to you much too slow of Lena’s injury in the attack against Bangtan. Although honestly, any speed beyond immediate was reprehensible to you.

The moment you heard, it felt as though the floor had cracked open. Suddenly nauseous, you raced from the room in search for your friend. Jungkook followed you, calling out, but it did not really matter, since you barely heard what he said. The halls and staircases blurred, pointless obstacles between you and your best friend. When you found Lena, skidding to a stop in her doorway, you barely contained your sob at the sight of her in a bed. 

She seemed so small. The exact opposite of Lena in real life. She was small, swallowed up by the white of her comforter and the IV lancing her arm. When you entered the room, your gaze raked her body. She had bruises on her face and both arms were contused. You shuddered, fury filling you the longer you looked.

“Are you just going to stand there watching me sleep?” Lena mumbled, opening one eye. “I hated Twilight the first time I watched it, Y/N. I don’t need a remake.”

Choking on laughter, you rushed to her side. “Len,” you said, awkwardly kneeling beside her. “You’re awake.”

Jungkook caught up at that point but wisely, did not interrupt. He remained silent at the door, watching you both. Reaching out a hand, you brushed hair from Lena’s face – she frowned at this, mock- biting your finger.

“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice was weaker than usual. “They’re just being overprotective, you know.” 

“Two cracked ribs?”

You both looked up to see Jungkook at the foot of Lena’s bed, holding a chart. When you lifted both brows, Jungkook set it back down. “Sorry,” he said, stepping aside. “It’s just – two cracked ribs, a minor concussion and a sprained ankle.”

“Exactly.” Lena nodded, eyelids fluttering shut. “Nothing serious.”

You snorted, appalled by her perverse humor. “You dick,” you said lightly, stroking her hand. “I’m supposed to be the mess, not you.”

The corner of Lena’s mouth twitched. “Normally, I’d agree. In this case, though – there are people I’m willing to get messy for.”

“No.”

Taehyung’s voice made you jump. Your head whipped around, not having realized he was there. Rubbing both eyes, Taehyung stirred in the chair he had clearly slept in.

Squinting his eyes, he focused on you and Jungkook. “What...” Taehyung licked his lips, yawning. “Sorry – what are you guys doing here?”

Jungkook regarded his friend with an odd look of pity. “Y/N heard Lena was injured. You should have sent word earlier.”

Jungkook sounded tense, so you reached out quietly to take one of his hands. It was not as though you could have visited before then, anyways. Jungkook exhaled when you touched him, relaxing a bit.

Taehyung frowned. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Sorry about that. Lena was injured in the aftermath of the fight –  she came looking for me when I didn’t immediately return.”

“We had a plan,” Lena said quietly. “You agreed to be back in the room before midnight, or I would come and find you. I was merely following orders.”

Taehyung’s gaze narrowed. “It wasn’t midnight yet.”

Lena hisses under her breath. “The mansion had been quiet for fifteen minutes,” she said. “And you’re welcome, by the way, for saving your life!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have!”

At this, Lena started to laugh. You lunged forward, cautious about her IV but Lena was already snapping her gaze to Taehyung’s. “If I hadn’t gone, you would be dead!” 

“Then, I would be dead!” Taehyung shouted. “At least you wouldn’t be hurt!”

Lena’s gaze darkened. “How many times,” she seethed, trying – and failing – to push herself higher. Both you and Jungkook reached out; she shooed you away. “Do I have to repeat myself? If you die, I might as well die too.”

Taehyung stared at her for a long moment in fury. Then, his face crumpled. “I – you,” he said, gaze flicking towards you and Jungkook. “Not here, Len.”

“Then where?” Lena demanded. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I heard the entire fight. I heard it all from behind a door, so I heard when it quieted. I waited,” she whispered, broken, “as the minutes ticked by and no one returned. It was driving me crazy.” 

In the corner, Taehyung lowered his face to his hands.

“I left to go find him,” Lena continued, raising her chin. “When I turned the corner though, I saw a Vine member lying in wait. Taehyung ran towards me, not seeing and the Vine member attacked. If I hadn’t...” Lena swallowed, remembering the moment. “If I hadn’t hit him with that vase, he would have killed Taehyung.”

“And instead, what happened?” Taehyung’s head snapped up. “The guy whirled, grabbed Lena and beat her against the wall. I barely was able to intervene before –” Abruptly, Taehyung stopped talking. His jaw clenched. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Well, it did,” Lena shot back. “And I’m not leaving.” 

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not!” Lena said, outraged. “You can’t just kick me out, you dick! You stole my heart and I swear, on whatever god your horrible ass prays to, I’ll report this to the police! Cops will bust down those motherfucking doors and drag you to jail before I leave you!”

Taehyung stared, shocked by her sudden declaration. He only lasted a moment before launching himself out of the chair, crossing the entire length of the room. Bending at the bedside, he kissed Lena’s lips – tenderly, while you rose from the floor. The discussion no longer seemed to concern you.

“I’ll check in on you later,” you whispered, grabbing Jungkook’s hand to lead him out in the hall.

Jungkook followed suit, pulling the door shut behind you. He paused, back firmly pressed to the wall. “Well,” Jungkook said, shaking his head. “At least they love each other?”

Starting to laugh, you kissed him again on the lips. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice,” you mumbled against him.

Now, Taehyung continues to stare at the door and you know he is only half present. It is only Namjoon’s orders which dragged him from Lena’s side. Watching the pain clear on his face, you lean into Jungkook. Other than a brief nap this afternoon, you still have not slept. All this time you have spent planning, talking until up seems down, left is right and you have no idea what makes sense anymore.

It seems reasonable that someone could die from something as simple as lack of sleep. The haze is akin to alcohol, a fog which surrounds you. Resting your head on Jungkook’s shoulder, you fight to remain conscious. This conversation is important.

“It won’t be the last time they attack,” Namjoon says, lowering his fist to the table. “The Vine will be back, we know this to be true. Already, Yoongi has seen communication between members of the Circle and the Head, requesting back-up.”

Hoseok turns to him in surprise. “Already?”

Yoongi nods, solemn. “In addition to repairing our technological walls, I’ve been hacking the Vine.” He sighs, rubbing his eyes. “It wasn’t too difficult, since their attack on us was effective, but crude. It blew a hole in our defenses – and allowed me to see into theirs.”

“Right.” Seokjin blinks. “And what does that mean in normal people speak, Yoongi?”

Yoongi looks up at the ceiling. “It means I’m inside their comms. And while some of their stuff is encoded – not all of it. From what I’ve deciphered, they’re already planning another attack. This time, they have no clear objective – just... chaos.”

Namjoon’s lips tighten, since he suspected as much. Jay plans to come get you and this time, he will not let you go. Sinking back in your seat, you feel a pang of regret. Perhaps if you had returned before you met Bangtan, or if you had never run in the first place, Jay would not act like this. As though sensing your thoughts, Jungkook leans in.

“It’s not your fault,” he murmurs, hand over yours. “It’s his.”

Slowly, you nod. You know he is right, but emotion has little concern for the relevancy of logic, you have found.

Namjoon nods. “The Vine will come back. They will come for Y/N and if we wait for that moment, it will arrive on their terms. Y/N – along with the rest of us – will live constantly looking over her shoulder and waiting to die.”

“Or,” Seokjin says, interrupting Namjoon’s bluntness. “We could attack them, first.” 

Namjoon shrugs. “Or, that.”

Taehyung’s gaze shifts between them. “Let me get this straight,” he says, sitting up in his chair. “The probability of luring them all out is slim, let’s admit that. Has Yoongi been able to detangle their coordinates?”

“Yoongi has not,” Yoongi says, thumbs moving frantically.

“Then.” Taehyung frowns. “I’m afraid I see a problem with the plan. How will we attack Jay if we don’t know where he is?”

“Excellent point.” Seokjin clasps both hands behind his head. “If only we could get Jay alone. If only we could draw him out and bring this pointless vendetta to a close. If only we could lure him to a pre-decided location and end this all on our terms.”

Jimin speaks for the first time tonight. “Seokjin,” he says, legs crossed lazily before him. “Get to the damn point.” 

“Right. What we need,” Seokjin says, pausing dramatically. “Is for Y/N to die.” 

Silence greets this.

“U-uh.” Taehyung nearly chokes from inhaling too fast. “I’m sorry – what?”

“Y/N needs to die,” Jungkook says, gaze fixed straight ahead. “Jay wouldn’t risk coming for anything less.”

The shocked silence which follows is louder than any verbal reaction.

“I...” Hoseok pauses, brow half-furrowed. “I think we’re missing something here. You want us to… kill Y/N. Y/N, the woman Jungkook is madly in love with. Y/N, the woman we’ve all worked our asses off to protect – whom we’ve come, for the most part, to enjoy as a human?”

“Wow. High praise, coming from Hoseok.”

“Shut up, Taehyung,” Hoseok says smoothly. His gaze flicks to Namjoon. “What gives?”

“It will all be pretend,” you clarify. “Yoongi will spread a rumor for the Vine to conveniently receive. He’ll say I was injured during the fight and that I died late last night. In one of the messages, he’ll let slip my location.”

Despite your steady tone, you squeeze Jungkook’s hand. This is the part you keep returning to, keep continuing to ask whether you are crazy. Well, the plan is crazy – you know that. What you keep asking yourself though, over and over, is whether it will work. Seokjin gave you the idea in the first place with his offhanded remark about Romeo and Juliet. You, the daughter of one mafia and Jungkook, the son of another. In the tragedy, there is a scene where Juliet fakes her own death in order to reunite with the man she loves. It is this which birthed the plan of tomorrow.

The only thing is – things did not end very happily for Romeo and Juliet. Your plan will be different. It will not reunite you and Jungkook, it will reunite you and Jay. He will come for you. You know know and what is more, he will come for you alone. If anything could shock humanity into him, it would be the loss of his sister.

As Namjoon so shrewdly explained, people go to many lengths for the people they love.

“He’ll come for me,” you say, firm. “I know he will and when he does, we can solve this conflict on our terms.”

Hoseok leans back, considering. 

To your surprise, it is Jimin who interjects. “Isn’t it dangerous?” he asks, glancing at Jungkook. “Won’t Y/N be in danger? 

Jungkook’s grip tightens, opening his mouth for Taehyung to butt in.

“Too much can go wrong.” Taehyung’s eyes are wide, fingers tapping restlessly against his chair. “The Vine could not take the bait. Jay could see through the ruse. He could show up with the Vine, could notice Y/N is alive and leave before we even know he’s stopped by. There are too many variables, too much permeation.” 

His eyelids flutter, as though picturing it all.

“Well,” you exhale tightly. “That’s where you come in – you need to lower the possibilities for us, Taehyung.” 

Silence greets you, before Taehyung laughs. “You’re fucking mental.”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook growls. He is clearly trying his best to stay calm, the veins in his neck standing out from the effort.

“I’m sorry.” Taehyung shakes his head. “I fail to see how I’m the one in the wrong when you’re the one talking about stuffing your girlfriend in a coffin.”

“Right, so–”

Wincing, you lift a hand. “Okay – no coffins,” you interrupt. “Just… put me somewhere in the house. An inside room, one Jay will have to seek out to find, and when he does – I’ll confront him. The death thing is just a ruse, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says. “There’s too much that can go wrong.”

“What should we do, then? Wait for Jay to come find me again? This attack was my fault,” you insist. “This vendetta is personal. It’s because of me and I can’t just sit here and do nothing while people die. Isn’t it enough that Jungkook was hurt? That Lena was hurt?”

Taehyung tenses. He exhales loudly and you know you have struck a chord. In a strange way, Taehyung is fighting this so deeply because of Lena. You are her best friend, Jungkook is in love with you and if you died, it would hurt the people he loves. Hell, maybe it would hurt Taehyung, too.

“You’re right,” he says after a moment. “Jay loves Y/N. He’ll come. But – why do you think he’ll come alone?”

For the first time, you hesitate. About this, you have no real logic – only a feeling. “I just think he will,” you say softly. “I think Jay would want to say goodbye to me… alone.” 

Up until now, the rest of the room has been silent while you argued with Taehyung. This silence is broken when Jimin leans forward. “I agree with Y/N,” says. “Despite the danger, it’s worth the risk to try.”

The lower half of Jimin’s leg is bandaged. Despite this, he seems more rested than you have ever seen him. It is as though a weight has lifted from his chest. It makes all the difference in the world.

Jungkook exhales. “It’s the best plan that we have,” he says dully. “Which is why we need all of your help.”

“All?” Taehyung arches a brow. “Even Yoongi?”

Yoongi lobs a paper wad at his face. “Shut up. My job is the most important of all,” he mutters. “More important than yours, that’s not even a question.”

“Yoongi’s job is to find leverage,” Namjoon explains. “Even once we have Jay here, we need to convince him to give up on Y/N. We need something to convince the Head of the Vine to leave us – well, Y/N – alone.”

“Sure.” Taehyung blinks. “And what the hell would that be?”

“I’ll let you know when I find it.” Yoongi picks up another device – this, he sticks in between teeth. “Until then, sit down nitwit and let the big boys play.”

Wisely, Taehyung chooses not to respond. 

“Enough,” Namjoon declares. “We’ve wasted enough time arguing. Will you help – or, will we be forced to seek out another option?”

Taehyung sighs and slouches lower. “Of course, we’ll help.”  

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jungkook mutters.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Taehyung states. “Everything I say is all an act of love. I’m playing devil’s advocate to help, poking all the holes in your plan – you know, so later, the Vine won’t have to.”

Namjoon stares at the ceiling. “I know. You’re a useful member, if an annoying one. It’s why we keep you around.”

“Thanks, dude. That got me right – here,” Taehyung says, hand held over his heart. 

This seems to be the cue everyone is waiting for. You watch as the room dissolves into side conversations. Yoongi remains bent over his laptops, cell phones and whatever else remains open before him. Taehyung stands from his chair, exiting and you have no doubt in your mind he has returned to Lena.

Jungkook remains seated, discussing something with Namjoon and you – you stay seated beside him, staring down at the floor. Taehyung’s words run like a broken record through your mind. It is dangerous to try.

But then, it is dangerous not to.

Even though you say you are not tired, Jungkook insists upon going to bed. “It’s not an option,” he says, one shoulder to the wall. “If you don’t, you’ll drop dead from exhaustion.”

You are now seated behind Namjoon’s desk, scribbling diagrams on papers. Namjoon gracefully allowed the two of you use of his office. 

“Yes,” you say, holding a pen between teeth,” but think how realistic that will look once Jay arrives.” 

A crumpled-up paper hits you in the middle of your forehead.

“Hey!” you yelp. Your jaw drops at the action, because – well, you never imagined Jungkook would resort to such childish tactics.

He grins, unmoving from his stance on the wall. “Don’t make me resort to further violence,” he says, and you smile.

“Violence by paper cut?” you ask, brandishing the paper ball like a weapon. “No wonder you’re feared, o Shadow of darkness. I would cower, too, in the face of such onslaught. Now begone, and let the important people work.”

Snorting under his breath, Jungkook crosses the room to lay both hands on the desk. “No,” he says quietly. “You still have tomorrow to plan. You need your sleep – and so do I,” he adds.

That is not fair. Your needs can be easily pushed aside, but his – squinting upwards, you make it painfully obvious you are displeased by his antics. “Ugh,” you say, rising from the chair. “You’re so needy.”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself, sure.”

“It’s not even midnight,” you say, letting him take you by the hand.

“What does that matter?” Jungkook pulls you into the hall. “Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”

“Oh, god,” you say, fighting back laughter. Following him up the stairs, you wrap both arms around his chest. “You’re so corny. Were you this corny when I met you? I don’t think I would have slept with you if you were.”

“Please. All ladies love a good pun,” Jungkook says, grandly pushing open the door to his bedroom.

Following suit, you remain attached to him like a koala. “Do they,” you mumble, burying your face in his sweater. “I don’t recall learning that in Ladies 101.”

“Huh.” Jungkook stops in his tracks. “I have two follow-up questions. One – where, exactly, is this class held? And two – do they accept walk-ins?”

“Shut up,” you laugh, letting go of his waist to walk into his bathroom.

Jungkook trails after you, leaning one shoulder to the door. As you begin washing your face, you are reminded of another morning and certain events which followed. Fighting a smile, you turn the knobs of the faucet. Jungkook’s eyes glint, as though he also remembers – but his expression sobers the longer he looks at you.

“Stop it,” you scold, wiping your face.

Jungkook’s lips press together. “Stop what?” 

“Stop looking at me that way.” Turning to face him, you fix him with your steeliest glare. 

“Like what?”

“Stop looking at me like I might die tomorrow.”

Jungkook does not respond. Despite this plan being his, you know Jungkook despises it. It is why he was so quiet during the meeting, why he let you do all the talking. If Jungkook voiced his true opinion, it would be the same one as Taehyung – it is too risky, too dangerous and not worth risking your life for.

As you step closer, you cannot help but feel that – like Lena – there are some things worth risking yourself for. Jungkook happens to be one of them.

Sliding your arms gently around him, you rest your chin on his chest. “I’m here,” you remind him. “I’m okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes.” Jungkook pushes his hands through your hair. “To be honest, that’s the part of this story which always seemed too good to be true.”

“Well, sure. Until you remember I turn into a pumpkin at midnight, so…”

“Now, who’s the corny one?”

“Sorry,” you say, squeezing his waist. “From now on, cheese is at a minimum.” 

Jungkook smiles, lapsing into silence once more. Staring back at him, it is hard not to let his mood seep into yours. Dark, anxious thoughts for a dark, anxious evening. Not wanting to consider tomorrow, you disentangle yourself.

“Bed?” you ask, walking into his bedroom.

When Jungkook does not respond, you turn and find him unmoved in the doorway. The bathroom light frames him, shadowing Jungkook’s face in a way which makes his gaze raw. You have heard emotions called that before – raw. Never though, did you stop to consider what it meant. Some moments in life are sharper than others, some moments rip you apart to bare you at the seams.

Unable to face his emotion, you turn to his dresser and find your hands shaking. Pulling open a drawer, you pause and lift your shirt overhead.

“What’s the point?” Jungkook asks quietly, much closer than you expected.

Your fingers freeze, scrunched in the material. Regaining your senses, you tug your shirt off. 

“What do you mean,” you say, grabbing his t-shirt to pull over yourself.

Jungkook’s fingers wrap around your wrists, turning you slowly to face him. “Let’s say your brother does come,” he says. “Let’s say Jay comes, he comes alone and admits he’s the Head of the Vine. What then?”

“Are you asking me if I’ll kill him?”

Jungkook remains silent and you consider the question. It is not one he has asked you before, but it is one you have considered all the same. Before tonight, you wondered whether your Jay still existed. Your Jay – the brother you once loved, the family you needed. Now, you realize Jay has been telling you the answer for some time. You simply have not been listening.

The way Jay treated Lena in that alley – it was as if she were disposable, just another pawn in his games. The words he said to you about Bangtan, about your mother. If Jay thought he could sway you with violence and anger, then he does not truly understand you at all. And then the attack from the Vine last night. Over and over, Jay has put those you love in harm’s way.

Straightening, you realize the Jay you once loved is gone. Still, this is not enough to make you a murderer.

“I won’t,” you say, shaking your head. “I won’t – I can’t kill him.”

A flicker of something crosses Jungkook’s expression. “You don’t want revenge?” he asks, no condemnation in his voice. He would not blame you if you did; he just wants to know. 

“I just want this to be done with,” you say in defeat. “Blood demands blood. It would do no good to cut off the Vine’s Head – another would grow in its place. No, there has to be another solution.”

“Yoongi will find it,” Jungkook says, insistent. “If there’s something to find, Yoongi will find it.”

“I know.”

“Y/N...” Jungkook hesitates, debating with himself. “This isn’t the only option, you know.”

“No?” you ask. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to wait,” Jungkook says. It is clear from his expression that he has thought this for awhile.  “You could wait until Yoongi gets a message to your brother. You could wait until there are better odds, until more even variables exist. Just… give us more time,” he whispers, his voice dropped to a plea.

Though your heart aches, you shake your head no. “There isn’t more time,” you say. “Yoongi said it himself, the Vine is already mobilizing.”

Jungkook continues to stare at you, tortured. “I know you want to act, I know you want to do something. But if this turns out to be the wrong path…”

Unable to take it any longer, you bury your face in Jungkook’s chest. “I won’t leave you,” you whisper fiercely. “I promise.” 

Jungkook’s arms tighten around you. “Don’t say that,” he murmurs. “Those kinds of promises are made to be broken.”

He is right, but you cannot help but make them. “Still.” You lift your lips to brush his. “You’re a part of me that can’t be undone.”

His kiss returning is soft, brief. “Then, I suppose there’s nothing to do now but wait,” he says.

“And sleep,” you tease, turning around to walk towards the bed. Pulling back his covers, you turn over your shoulder. “Or, did you forget?”

As you sink down on the mattress, you watch Jungkook walk closer. Crossing his arms, he tugs off his shirt and you exhale, unable to believe he is yours. Every feature, every freckle, every scar – yours. When Jungkook moves to his belt, pushing both this and pants to the ground, you scoot aside on the bed to make room.

“You need to actually sleep,” he commands, lowering one knee to the mattress. “Or I’ll go sleep with Seokjin, I swear.”

“Don’t make those kinds of promises,” you mock, wrapping your arms around him. 

Jungkook chuckles into your hair. “What kind?”

“Ones you can’t keep.” 

He laughs – a true, joyful sound and you smile, eyelids closed as you snuggle against him. For that sound, his laughter, you would do anything. At a different time in your life, this thought would have terrified you.

No longer.

The next day is quieter than you thought it would be.

Now that you have a plan, the execution seems to happen too fast. Yoongi continues searching for leverage to use against your brother – even while he plants the first seeds of his message, spreading a rumor that you were injured in the fight last night.

In reality, you are seated in a chair at the long kitchen table. Jungkook is beside you, planning something with Namjoon and your fingertips drum on the wood, a nervous pattern. You try to focus on something, anything that is not the uncertainty of tonight. Yoongi’s schedule is very specific. At 4:37 PM, he will release the message for your brother to see. Well, along with certain members of the Circle – in case Jay truly is not the Head. 

You know he will try and see you before the funeral, which – according to Yoongi’s false message – is being held tomorrow. Somewhat nauseated by the thought, you swallow. The plan is cruel. Allowing your brother to think you dead is cruel, but then you remind yourself that you might as well be. If things continue the way that they are, there is little difference.

Returning to the conversation at hand, you attempt to concentrate. Now is the time for logic and planning. The likelihood that Jay will enter from the north versus the south, the discussion of where to post Bangtan’s forces. The plan necessitates a delicate balance – the security of the mansion must be lax enough for Jay to enter, but not so lax that Jay thinks it is a trap. Bangtan has just been attacked; you would not leave the mansion undefended so quickly.

It was Hoseok who suggested moving his team to another site. After a long, drawn-out argument, Namjoon agreed. It means you will be less protected at the mansion, but will give Jay less reason for suspicion. It would be logical for Hoseok to mobilize elsewhere in preparation for a counter-attack. 

It will be Yoongi’s job to pretend your video surveillance is down. He will leak footage to the Vine indicating as much, all while he tracks Jay’s movement through the house.

It is all planned down to the wire – which is exactly why your stomach twists, since it is in moments like this when everything goes to hell. 

A hand touches your arm, forcing your gaze upwards. You are startled to see the light is already fading.

“It’s time,” Jungkook says. “Are you ready?”

You nod, unable to trust yourself with words. If you speak, you are almost certain the answer will be no. No, you are not ready. No, you cannot do this. When you look at Jungkook though, you nod in confirmation. You can do this, you tell yourself. You have to do this.

Namjoon remains seated, waving you away as you exit. 

Outside, the hallway is quiet. Jungkook turns quickly to face you. “Yoongi hasn’t found anything,” he says and you nod. 

Given that the two of you had not heard from him yet, you imagined as much.

“Okay.” Staring down the hall, you see the metal shutters are still lowered over the windows. “Then… I’ll have to make do without, I suppose.”

It would have been nice to have leverage. It will be harder to convince your brother with nothing. But then, it is not as though you have nothing – there are years and years of knowing him, understanding the way Jay thinks, how he acts. If he is the Head of the Vine, you can be a pain in his ass, as he was in yours. You could be to Jay what Jungkook was to the government. That is the deal, you realize.

With Jay alone – you can convince him. You are sure of this. The last time you spoke, you were still holding out hope. You did not know what to say to Jay and found yourself unprepared for the ghosts of your past. Now though, you will not back down until they leave.

Straightening your shoulders, you nod. “I’m ready.”

Jungkook takes you by the hand and leads you down the hall. You have chosen a room near the entrance to wait. The other member of Bangtan will corral Jay this way once he enters. You will meet him in the foyer to talk, since there are many shadowed alcoves here in which Bangtan can hide.

This is where Jungkook will be, waiting.

Inside the room, you wrap both arms around you. The place is quiet. Too quiet with Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi all offsite. Yoongi is working on the necessary deceptions and the others are hell-bent on carrying them out. Goosebumps prick  your skin and you rub your arms up and down, struggling to stay calm.

“I can stay,” Jungkook says, seeing your panic.

You shake your head no. “That would defeat the point. I need to do this alone. He needs to think we’re talking alone.”

Jungkook nods and slowly drops his arms. “Okay.”

He looks at you for a moment, words caught on his tongue. You say nothing back, unable to think of anything new. Everything has already been said. You are his, he is yours. There is just one, final obstacle to face.

“Together?” you ask, staring up at him. 

Jungkook’s face softens. “Together.”

  • JAY •

To Jay, the night has never been a stranger.

Even when he was young, he never understood why the rest feared it, why some people felt shame and horror at its touch. People fear the dark because it is unknown but to Jay, this has never been the issue. The unknown has always seemed safer because the known has always been a nightmare.

Closing his eyes, Jay deeply exhales. It was only a few hours ago he deciphered the message from Bangtan. Luckily, he was the only one who saw it. Jay usually receives messages first, trickling them down in order of importance. Unless, of course, Jay reads the message and decides to delete it.

This is what he did tonight with the message about you. Opening his eyes, Jay stares at the wall. The mansion of Bangtan curves to disappear in the sky. It was almost too easy to sneak onto the property. If Jay did not know the exact whereabouts of Bangtan – Hoseok’s men and Seokjin’s people are all down at the docks – he would say it is a trap. Bangtan is off planning their next attack on the Vine though, which is good – the Vine is also preparing for the battle they will bring.

Jay tightens grips his gun, surveying the walls. It would be easier to go in on the ground floor. It would be more surprising to come in through the top, but this is precisely why Jay hesitates. Their risk man, Taehyung, is too good at this game. He would find the second floor more surprising as well, which is why Jay thinks this is where their security lies.

Most of the first floor is blocked by large metal shutters. Bangtan will think that is enough and that they do not need men in those halls. Smiling, Jay pockets his gun and begins to circle. Every now and then, while he was being held captive, Jay would be let out of his room. Usually for exercise, but this resulted in Jay seeing snippets of the house – Jay learned from a young age that everything is an opportunity.

He memorized the layout as much as he could. If Jay’s calculations are correct, there should be a bathroom at the easternmost wall. Sliding through the dark bushes, Jay tries not to make any noise. He keeps his focus, concentrating on placing each foot before him.

This is a trick learned from his mother, of all people. Take each day, each step at a time. The trick is distracting and keeps him from the pain of the present. Even so, Jay cannot ignore the pit of fear in his stomach. There still is this hole, this emptiness where you should be in his life.

The message haunts him. It teases the edge of his subconscious: your name, the time of death and location until the burial tomorrow. The words are burned into his retinas and each time Jay closes his eyes, he sees you. Cold. Stiff. Broken and beaten.

His feet falter, unable to move and Jay quickly inhales, forcing himself to breathe. Until he sees you he cannot fall apart. He cannot break down without knowing if you are dead.

Forcing himself to continue, Jay walks until he sees the high, circular window set in the wall. Glancing behind him at the gardens, Jay observes several white birdfeeders. Obviously cameras, but none of them move and Jay knows they are dead. This much, he confirmed at the Vine before leaving. Bangtan’s hacker, Yoongi, has not been able to repair their system.

Grabbing the wall, Jay pulls himself up on the stone. It is a short but strenuous climb to the top. Punching open the latch of the window, Jay waits a beat but hears no answering alarm. Swinging himself in, he enters a dark, empty room. 

No one runs out.

Taking a slow step forward, Jay waits to get caught. He knows this plan is reckless. Had it been one of his men who proposed it, Jay would have beaten them himself. Risking yourself is just as idiotic as risking another, but Jay finds he cannot stop when it comes to you.

His stomach plummets when he remembers the message. The image flashes before his mind of you, motionless and he nearly gives up. Jay thought he had already saved you. He thought he had succeeded when he stayed with the Vine to protect you. Since you left, Jay managed to work his way upwards – always, always with one objective in mind: keeping you safe. Hiding you from him. If Jay knew where you were, he could ensure the Vine did not.

Until you met Bangtan. Until a Vine member who was not Jay spotted you outside the club and reported you to rest. Jay was the one who volunteered to come find you. He never promised where he would bring you, though. His original plan was either to A) let you run, or B) kidnap you and bring you where you would easily escape.

You threw a kink in his plan that night at the party. When you hid behind Taehyung – Taehyung, of all the unholy cocksuckers – and accused him of everything Jay feared he had become. He remembers the way his gut twisted when he realized the girl he had was your best friend, Lena. Jay knew her from the photos of you. Always half-happy, half-scowling – Jay remembers how you came alive after befriending her.

And there he was, with a gun to her head. Jay did not blame you for thinking he was a monster. He understood why you would – he just hoped, against all odds, he would get the chance to explain. 

As soon as you were alone though, he blundered it all.

You were not the same girl he remembered. Or, if you were – you were no longer a girl, but a woman. One far stronger and braver than Jay ever was. He knew he was a coward. He could not bear facing you, could not explain the monster he had become. Looking at you, he could not reveal the things he had done. The people he killed in order to keep you alive.

Taking the lives of others has damaged his own. Jay felt it the first time he killed and every time since, the black stain of it has grown.

Jay has never been afraid of the night, though.

Slipping out of the room, Jay’s lip curls at the shadows which welcome him. Shadow – a ridiculous name but Jay can hardly deny the truth in it. Jungkook came into your life so easily, obscured you so completely that now, your brother can hardly see you. He does not understand you, does not understand why you would side so easily with another against him.

Your words continue to ring in his mind. Jungkook is a better man than Jay is.

Jay supposes this could be true. Most men are better than he is. He holds no misguided conception of who and what he is. Pushing open a door, Jay peers down the hall. There are no lights to welcome him, nothing but darkness and he takes a step forward.

If only he had more time to be sensible, but this is the one thing he does not have. Not if – his grip tightens on his gun – that message was true and you really are –

Jay does not allow the thought to actualize.

He cannot consider that until he sees your face and knows for himself. His plan is idiotic and yet, Jay moves deeper into the halls. The mansion is silent – almost too quiet, but Jay has no choice but to continue. He keeps to the sides, hesitating around each bend before moving on.

It is barely three minutes before he encounters another soul – almost three minutes exactly, judging by the count in his mind. Jay is paused, halfway through a door when he hears a low laugh from behind him. The voice stops him cold, recognizing it instantly.

He has heard that voice many times in his mind. 

Slowly, Jay turns.

Park Jimin stares, loaded gun held between them. Jay’s gaze finds the barrel, assessing, but he does not need to ask to know that it is loaded. Of course, Jimin is prepared to fire.

Jimin does not move. His gaze on Jay is calm and collected. Jay feels exactly the opposite – he glances quickly down the hall, knowing his time is running out. He is so close to you but now, he must wait. Straightening slightly, Jay calls his mask into place.

“Surprise.” Jimin walks down the hall, not bothering to chase. “Missed me?” 

“Can’t say that I have.”

Jimin’s eyes narrow, betraying some of his long-buried rage. “You.” He exhales, the word nearly a hiss. “Worthless, spine-bent, sewer-dwelling piece of scum.”

Each word of his is careful, articulate – as though Jimin has thought this many times over and is only now saying out loud. Jay understands. He also has demons he wishes to face.

Subtly, Jay grasps the gun in his jeans. He calculates how long it would take him to draw – draw, aim and shoot – before realizing Jimin would kill him before impact. The only option is to do something Jay has not done in a very long time.

Tell the truth.

Jimin’s gaze darts over Jay’s shoulder. The room beyond is wider, draftier and Jay hopes no other Bangtan members are lurking inside.

“Where are the rest of you?” Jay takes a careful step backwards. “Where is Y/N? Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s jaw tightens. “I’m asking the one asking the questions here.”

Jay nods, deciding no sudden movement. His best chance of survival is convincing Jimin not to kill him – which, admittedly, will be hard. Especially since Jimin thinks Jay killed –

Jay shakes his head. Too painful.

Jimin, it seems, has no such qualms. “You killed her,” he says, taking a slow step forward.

Somehow, Jay knows he is not talking about you. He is talking about another woman they both know; one who has haunted Jay for a long time. Staring at Jimin, Jay lets the mask fall. This cool, calm façade he always wears – Jay lets it drop and shows Jimin who he is. A broken man. A beaten man. Irreplaceably so.

“Yes,” Jay answers. He might as well have.

Jimin’s eyes flash, shoving his gun in his belt to punch Jay in the gut. Jay gasps, doubling over. Seeing stars, his hands grasp his knees. Jimin punched him, which means the gun is not loaded. Jimin did not shoot him, which means –

Jay does not know what that means. Why would Jimin not shoot him?

Jimin’s fist connects with his stomach again. Jay stumbles backwards and enters the next room. He uses something – a table, a chair – to steady himself, whirling around to face the oncoming onslaught. Jimin strides forward, teeth bared at the insult.

“I admit that I killed her,” Jay gasps, twisting away. “But not like you think I did!”

Jimin does not listen, lunging for Jay – he barely misses, crashing into the table. This is a dining room, Jay realizes, spinning around. Scanning the walls, he searches for an escape, only to gasp when Jimin tackles him from behind. Jay’s knees buckle, hitting the floor. With a grunt, Jay shrugs Jimin off to roll from his grasp.

“Oh?” Jimin springs upwards. His chest rises and falls, gaze wild. “And how, exactly, do I think you killed her?”

“Odette –”

“Don’t SAY her name!” Jimin roars, closing the space in between them.

The next punch is aimed at Jay’s face. He whirls, counter-attacking and Jimin strikes his side. Jay doubles over, the air knocked from his lungs. Stumbling backwards, he holds up both hands. 

“Wait,” he gasps. Adrenaline and sweat make it difficult to see. Jay glances sideways and sees a door – three steps back, one more to the side.

He needs to get out of here because, while Jay is a good fighter, he is no match against Jimin. Park Jimin of Bangtan – Jimin, who has it all wrong. Jimin, who thinks that Jay killed Odette and Jimin, whose anger has been entirely misdirected.

“Wait,” Jay repeats. “Wait!”

To his surprise, Jimin pauses. His chest rises and falls, sweat dripping from his neck to the floor. There is pure hatred in his gaze, looking at Jay.

“I loved her, too,” Jay rasps.

Jimin’s slowly re-grips his gun. “I don’t give a fuck,” he says, walking closer.  “I’m not supposed to kill you but...” Jimin lowers the gun to Jay’s kneecap. “No one said anything about harming you.” 

The back of Jay’s neck tingles and he fights to remain calm. This is not going the way that he planned. He needs to say something, anything to make Jimin understand.

Then, to his complete shock, Jimin cocks his head. Curiosity enters his gaze. “When you said you did not kill Odette in the way I imagine. What did you mean?”

Jay slowly exhales. For so long, he has kept his memories buried inside. For so long now, he has repressed all strains of truth until he can no longer be certain about what is real and what is not. Odette was real, though. At least, she was to him.

Staring at Jimin, Jay’s body sags. “I saw you with her.”  

“Saw me with whom?” 

“Odette.” Faltering, Jay closes his eyes. “I saw you with her and I was jealous... furious… so, I told someone.”

“Who did you tell.”

“Someone in the Vine,” Jay explains. He opens his eyes. “They were the one who realized she was playing me – playing us, playing everyone that she targeted. I didn’t know it then, but her name was put on a list.”

Jimin clenches his jaw. “She was put on your list,” he corrects. “You were the one who shot and killed her.”

Jay’s expression twists. “No.” 

“No?”

“No.” Jay swallows. “And yes, I suppose.” 

“You –” Jimin’s face is red, hands clenched around his gun. “Just fucking tell me what you mean!”

“I didn’t fire the gun.” Jay presses one hand to his chest. It feels as though he was the one shot, remembering that night. “It was my intel, though – it was my information which put her name on that list. I tried to stop it,” he admits. “I went to her apartment. I tried to stop them, but I was too late.”

Jimin is silent for a moment. He stares at Jay and Jay knows he is remembering the same night that he is. Jimin recalls it, as Jay so often does, but from a different perspective. He remembers Jay’s hands, covered in Odette’s blood, running from the building and disappearing.

“I couldn’t...” Jay inhales, fumbling backwards – just two more steps now, and one to the side. “I couldn’t save her.”

Jimin’s gaze narrows, seeing Jay inch towards the door. “I saw you leave the building.” 

“I had just seen her die. I didn’t know what to do.”

“I saw…” A flicker of hesitation crosses Jimin’s expression. He lowers the barrel, maybe a half-inch. “I saw you leave the building.”

“I know. I couldn’t save Odette. But.” Jay grits his teeth, grabbing his gun from his pants. “I’ll be damned if I let the same thing happen to Y/N.”

Jay spins, darting into the safety of the hall. Jimin’s shot rings out, striking wood and making Jimin curse. Jay breaks out in a run, barely paying attention as he sprints through the hall. His lungs burn, tired from fighting but close behind, he hears Jimin pursue.

He will catch up to him in a minute, maybe less. At the end of the hall, Jay skids to a stop. He stands in the foyer – Jay recognizes this from being dragged out by the Vine. The chandelier has not been swept up and crystal shards still litter the floor. When Jay takes a step forward, glass crushes beneath him.

Twisting around in a circle, he formulates a plan of attack. The mansion is enormous and you could be anywhere – now that Bangtan knows he is here, it will make things infinitely harder. Jimin emerges, sprinting into the clearing and Jay’s stomach drops, realizing this has become a suicide mission.

“Jay?” 

Head whipping around, Jay points his gun at the threat. The barrel freezes in place, finding you whole. Jay’s feet falter beneath him, eyes wide. You are not dead. He blinks, attempting to clear the mirage but then Jimin barrels into him, tackling his frame to the ground.

“Fuck,” Jay grunts, dodging the blow and throwing up his fists. 

“Who.” Jimin grunts, throwing another punch. “Who killed her?”

Behind him, Jay thinks he can hear you yelling. You are screaming something, darting towards him but Jimin is inconsolable, teeth gritted with fury 

“It wasn’t me,” Jay gasps, bucking his hips. “I swear!” 

“Then who?”

“Ahem.”

A new voice makes the room freeze. In unison, all three heads slowly turn to face the rungs of the stairs.

“That would be me.”

• JUNGKOOK • 

Jungkook hovers in the door of the bedroom at the top of the stairs. His fingers are white on his gun and from this vantage point, you are basically invisible beneath him. Shifting his weight, Jungkook pushes his nervousness aside. It is pointless to feel that – most emotions are useless, but nervousness most of all. 

You are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. Besides, whichever Bangtan member runs into Jay first will protect you. Jungkook has nothing to worry about.

This is precisely when all hell breaks loose below.

Fuck. Jungkook had considered the possibility of Jimin finding Jay first. He trusts Jimin, but only so far as realism and pragmatism allow. Jimin loved Odette, is a person ultimately ruled by passion and Jungkook is not sure he will be able to stop.

Hearing you speak, Jungkook presses forward. You only say Jay’s name, but Jungkook sees your brother stop, whipping around to yank his gun from his belt. Jungkook growls, lunging forward but it does not matter, since Jimin arrives to tackle Jay to the ground.

The gun leaves Jay’s grip when he falls. It is hard to hear what they are saying, but – Jungkook’s eyes widen when a sentence gets through. Jay is protesting he did not kill Odette. He is telling Jimin it was someone else, but it is hard to focus on the conversation with you rushing forward. You – you, always you – are the focus of Jungkook’s attention.

Hard, cold metal presses to the curve of his spine.

“Move,” a voice whispers pleasantly into Jungkook’s ear.

• Y/N • 

Inside the foyer, the mansion feels cavernous. The moment you heard the sounds of fighting, you exited the waiting room and came to stand here. Hands clasped tightly, you try to keep them from shaking. Every few seconds, you glance towards the landing where Jungkook is watching.

He is the back-up plan, should something go wrong. Curling your fingers against your palms, you stare down the hall. It is quiet, except for the muffled sounds of someone fighting through the dining room. Every few seconds, garbled words meet your ears. You cannot understand what they are saying.

He is here, though. Jay came, spurring an odd combination of hope and panic within you. Hope that he came alone – and perhaps something else. Hope that your brother still cares, but this you press to the back of your mind. Panic is much easier to digest. 

Their voices grow louder. Palms sweating, you grasp your knife in one hand. Jungkook offered you a gun and you know he would prefer that, but somehow, this feels more natural. Besides, Jay will be armed with a gun. Two of the same weapons would end in an impenetrable standoff.

Footsteps pound down the length of the hall. Your breath catches at the first glimpse of your brother. Unable to stop yourself, you glance upwards and hope that Jungkook remains hidden. Something moves in the shadows but before you can identify what, Jay enters the foyer.

He skids to a stop, scanning the walls. You are grateful he does not see you at first, since you do not know what to say. It suddenly strikes you how desperate he seems. The last time you spoke, he did not seem that way.

“Jay,” you say, and his head snaps around.

His eyes find yours and winder. As he turned, he grabbed for his gun and the barrel is now pointed at you. Jay falters, not pulling the trigger. His lips move in a sentence, but no sound comes out. His gaze is full of shock, awe and you barely stop yourself from running forward.

His expression crumbles. Both at the party and when you last spoke, Jay was not the brother you knew. Now, he stares at you openly. Yoongi’s message worked, you realize – Jay truly thought you were dead. Blinking, hope enters his gaze and your heart wrenches, wondering what you have done.

Jimin barrels into the room, tackling Jay onto the floor. Jay grunts, air escaping as his gun is knocked sideways. You yell and rush forward – no longer, do you consider the conversation which must happen. No, now you are only thinking of Jay.

Jimin pulls back to punch your brother again. Jay’s head lolls, hips bucking in panic. Jimin is smaller, center of gravity lower and his grip remains solid as he draws back his arm.

“Who.” Jimin grunts, his eyes wild. “Who killed her?”

Your brother no longer sees you, entirely concentrated on the man trying to hurt him. “It wasn’t,” he gasps – bucking again, trying to throw Jimin off. “Me!”

Feet faltering, you come to a stop. You should try to help but something about this sparks a memory. Jimin once explained why he hates your brother. It was a girl – Odette – who deceived both the Vine and Jimin. It was a girl your brother, Jay, ended up killing.

Except – maybe not.

Jimin rears back. “Then who?” he yells. 

“Ahem.”

The voice sends a chill down your spine. Someone else stand in the foyer, someone who is not Jungkook, you realize, turning around.

The Man walks towards you through broken shards of chandelier. 

Barely do you have time to digest this before you see Jungkook. He walks slowly forward, the Man’s gun pressed to his back. The Man smiles at you over the top of his shoulder. 

“Hello, Y/N,” he says. “What a long time it’s been.” 

The inside of your brain is white noise. All witticism leaves you and instead, you are filled with a strange sort of buzzing. It is the calm before the storm and your limbs go suddenly limp, barely holding onto your knife.

The Man’s gaze does not leave yours. “John,” he says, jerking his chin. “You and Atanna – secure her.”

Shapes blur as your arms are wrenched forcibly behind you – your knife hits the ground as men and women begin to flood down the staircase. Not only the stairs. Two men cross the foyer to shove open the doors. More men and women flood in, dressed all in black.

The hall around you is no longer silent. Chaos erupts when Bangtan breaks from the shadows. They melt from the mansion, fighting the intrusion – fleetingly, you wonder what the hell has gone wrong. Something must have, in order for Yoongi not to have seen this – for him not to have warned you, no to have warded off their advances.

The Man watches your struggle, smiling serenely from the center of the room. Too much of Bangtan is missing, you realize. All of Hoseok’s men are down at the docks and instead, all of the Vine is here. The Man barely has to fight in order to win.

Turning in a slow circle, he surveys his surroundings. When his gaze lands on Jay, you realize your brother is no longer held down. Now it is Jimin beneath him, Jay’s gun at his throat. Jimin leers at him, teeth snapping and Jay simply rolls his eyes.

“Jay.” The Man tuts, shaking a finger. “It seems you’ve gotten yourself in a bit of trouble, haven’t you?”

Your brother does not respond, grip tightening on his gun. “A situation?” he says, quiet. “What do you mean?”

“Well.” The Man gestures his gun at Jungkook’s back. “This young gentleman was waiting for you upstairs. Even if you did manage to have a conversation with your – fortunately, not dead – sister, he would have shot you.”

Jungkook grunts when the Man shoves his shoulder. He remains silent, though, refusing to play. Everything fades before you but him, both arms pulled ruthlessly back by the Vine. Your brain sparks with survival instinct, screaming at you to run. Run, fight – do something besides stand here and yet, your legs continue to shake.

It is only – the Man. Seeing him here, in Bangtan’s foyer, is incomprehensible. For years, you wondered whether he was alive. You wondered if your own personal hell, own personal demon existed, but never dared ask. Jay never mentioned him and, upon realizing this, you know you asked the wrong questions.

All this time, you assumed Jay was the one hunting you down.

Slowly, you meet the gaze of the Man. When he smiles, it is a twisted imitation of the gesture. Fighting back a shiver, you drop your gaze to the ground. It is easier to concentrate on this, rather than face him.

The Man is here, along with the Vine, meaning – they are not commanded by Jay. Realizing this, your head jerks back up. Jay is still kneeling, holding Jimin at bay. He looks at the Man, like the rest of the Vine. Which means –

“Yes.” The Man sighs, tilting his head. “I am the Head of the Vine. Not your brother.”

The world grows suddenly dizzy. In your peripheral, you see the Vine continuing to fight. Bangtan counters valiantly, pushing them back but even so, you know it is fruitless – much like your own struggle, with two men pinning you back. They yank your arms tighter. When you twist, attempting to knee one in the groin, he forces your shoulder forward – nearly out of socket.

Jungkook hisses and jerks forward – as three more guns click, barrels aimed at his head. The Man smiles, as if this kind of thing happens every day. Jungkook freezes in place, his chest rising and falling. He is no good to you if he is dead and that is the only reason he stops. Staring at the room, you seem him search for a way out. The problem is, there is none.

“Connor,” Jay says quietly.

You start. It has been a long time since you heard the Man’s true name. In your thoughts, you never let him have one. This is your one, small act of rebellion. Painting him as nothing but evil is easier for you to grasp, than imagining him human. 

Jay looks at the Man. “Aren’t you being a bit cocky? Stating you’re the Head, as though I’m nothing?”

The Man’s smile does not falter, though the lines of his mouth seem to tighten. He weighs his gun, contemplating before facing Jay. The gun does not leave Jungkook’s spine.

“Ah, yes,” he says. “How rude of me. Jay is my second. He’s very… important to the Vine.”

A smile crosses your brother’s face, even as he keeps Jimin pinned to the ground. Odd, you think. Although Jimin is down, he does not appear to be fighting. Jimin simply lies still, staring up at the ceiling. In all the time you have known Jimin, submission does not seem to be his style.

You do not have long to wonder about this when the Man calls your name.

“Y/N,” he sing-songs, waiting until your gaze returns. “Ah, yes. There you are. Good.”

A hiss escapes you. The Man blinks, surprised and so are you. Up until now, you have remained silent. Paralyzed with horror but now, your voice returns. The anger within you is not directed at the Man, though – but at Jay.

For a moment, you almost thought he was in there. For a moment, you truly thought he cared for your death. But now, you find out he is the Vine’s fucking second.

“Liar!” you hiss, jerking towards him.

Jay looks up in surprise, nearly releasing Jimin.

“You.” Choking on the word, the Vine tighten their grip on your arms. “You liar! You did kill her, didn’t you?” 

A shadow crosses Jay’s expression. He opens his mouth to respond – only to close it, glancing sideways at the Man. 

He looks on curiously. 

“I did what I had to do,” your brother says coldly. 

The Man chuckles, low in his chest. “Oh, Y/N,” he says, prodding Jungkook to walk forward. “You have always been so idealistic.”

As he moves, you realize the foyer has changed. The mansion around you is quiet. Bangtan still fights, but not so much as before. Only a few battles remain, each of them on the first level. Namjoon is in the northeast corner, thrusting a man against a door while backhanding another. Taehyung uses the butt of his gun a weapon – it seems he has run out of ammunition, forced to fight in a chaotic combination of limbs.

Sweat and blood mar both their faces. Your stomach sinks, realizing they are cornered. Of course, they are – men are not meant to fight for this long. Above you, the stairs and landing are quiet, full of the Vine. They line each of the halls, guns trained carefully on Jungkook.

Funny. Even now, he remains a danger to them.

“Ah, Y/N.” The Man clucks his tongue, lowering his gun. “How lovely, to be reunited. I’ve missed you.”

Age has not been kind to the Man. 

It is as though the years have reached out and stolen the ones taken from others. The Man’s hairline is receding, cheeks pockmarked from smoking. His yellow-white hair is thinning – and still, he looks strong. Still, he is more powerful than you and when he comes to a stop, the Man smiles.

“Go to hell,” you spit.

He chuckles, unfazed by your vehemence. “Your men will soon be overthrown.”

He is not talking to you. 

Twisting around, you see Namjoon dragged into the Circle. He is worse for the wear, but at least they have left him sentient to talk. Bruises line his jaw, his neck and there are no less than four men holding him hostage. Namjoon straightens, knocking one of them off to let him walk forward. Staring at the Man, blood drips from his arm to the floor. 

“Perhaps the men will be,” Namjoon agrees. Smiling sharply, he makes a joke of the Man’s words. “I would not discount our women so easily.”

The Man scowls and you scan the remnants of the fight. Hoseok, Seokjin and Yoongi are nowhere to be seen. Seokjin and Hoseok are probably still at the docks, too far to save you, even if someone did send out a signal.

Surprisingly, it is Jay who speaks up. 

“Why are you here, Connor?” he asks. “I was doing fine without all this… nonsense. You’re aware their main force isn’t here? They’re down at the warehouse – how long do you think until they come back?”

“Shut up,” the Man drawls, not looking at Jay. His gaze remains fixated on Namjoon. “Your opinion is not wanted. Especially,” he adds, “given that you failed to pass on the message about Y/N’s... health.”

Several of the Vine members pause, glancing around. It appears this is new information to them. Rather than be disturbed by this though, Jay throws back his head to laugh.

“Get up,” Jay snarls, shoving Jimin. 

To your surprise, Jimin obeys. Pushing himself to his feet, he glares at each one of the Vine. A good portion draw back in fear; it is clear Jimin’s reputation precedes him. 

“I didn’t tell you about the message because I couldn’t verify the authenticity. Obviously,” Jay hisses. “In fact, it seems I was right to do so, because Y/N is still very much alive.”

The Man pauses while he considers. “Indeed.” He shrugs. “Either way, I couldn’t let my second have all the fun.”

Namjoon snorts at your side.

The Man turns. “What is it?” he asks “Don’t be quiet on my account.” 

"It’s just odd,” Namjoon says. “We thought Jay was the Head.”

“Clearly, you were wrong.”

“Clearly.” Namjoon smiles, unperturbed. “It’s just – the Vine spent so much effort to get Jay back. More than they did for you, many years ago.” 

A shocked silence follows as the Man stiffens. “Shut up,” he hisses, ramming the barrel of his gun into Jungkook’s spine. “Shut up, you impertinent, little brat – or I’ll kill you, just like I killed your low-life father.”

Namjoon does not flinch. “There’s a certain poetry in that, isn’t there? To be killed in the same way as the man I tried so hard not to be.”

The Man regains a semblance of calm. “Poetry, trash,” he says. "It’s all the same when you’re dead.”

Jungkook exhales wearily.

The Man’s gaze darts to him, as though he forgot he was there. Multiple men and women straighten, guns retrained on the man at its center. Jungkook smiles, understanding the effect he has on them – rightfully so, given his infamous reputation.

“What’s your price,” Jungkook asks. He is still looking at you.

The Man blinks once. “My price?” he says, curious. “What makes you think that I want something?”

“Well,” Jungkook points out. “We’re not dead, are we? That means you want something. What’s your price?”

Jay’s gaze shifts to the Head of the Vine. The Man glances from Jungkook to you, then at Namjoon and – to your utter horror – starts to laugh. The sound is grated, wheezing but unmistakably laughter. When the Vine joins him, your stomach drops even further. 

The fight is over, you realize, staring around the room. Even Taehyung has been beaten, held limp between the arms of two men. He is breathing, true – but barely, blood dripping from wounds which rise and fall with each push of his chest.

“You’re right,” the Man chuckles, readjusting his weapon. “You’re not dead because there is still something I desire – besides, obviously, the utter humiliation of Bangtan.”

“Humiliation as recompense for your own?” Namjoon interjects. One of the men holding him knees him in the back.

The Man seems livid until Jay interrupts. “What is this?” he sighs. “Some kind of personal vendetta? Everyone knows the story. Namjoon, the new Head of Bangtan, kidnapped you and held you for ransom until you turned over a trade route. Get over it.”

A strangled noise escapes the Man. “If you don’t fucking stop talking, Jay,” he seethes, shoving his gun forward. “I will shoot your sister’s boyfriend – I swear that I will.”

Jay rolls his eyes, but he stops. He is still holding Jimin in place, still looking as though he does not care but – he stops.

“We’re the Vine,” the Man says. “We’re built on fucking petty vendettas – so, don’t act like you’re above it. Or have you forgotten just how many men you killed trying to rescue your sister?”

Jay’s smile vanishes. “I said I’d go alone,” he snaps. It is the first display of anger you have seen from him all night. “You were the one who insisted on everyone.”

The Man’s lips stretch in a poor imitation of a smile. “Had you not gotten yourself captured,” he says smoothly. “It would have been successful.”

“Or maybe, if you’d just gone yourself – we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Their dynamic is interesting. Although the Man is the Head and Jay is his second, just as many members of the Circle look at Jay. Jungkook seems to have noticed this as well, scanning the room.

The Man snorts. “Fuck off,” he mutters, returning to you. “Lover-boy is right. This could all go away, if you just came with us.”

“Me?” You should not be as shocked as you are by this demand. Trying not to heave, the room spins before you. “I – why me?”

The Man smiles, but his eyes remain cold. “Well, love. It was a pity your mother was taken before her time. Don’t you think? And you do look so much like her...”

Bile rises, stinging the back of your throat. Shoving aside nausea, you attempt to answer, but Jungkook beats you to the punch. He growls, lurching forward and at least four people step backwards. More people raise guns though, trained on his chest and he stills. 

Expression livid, Jungkook examines the situation. He is searching – always searching – for a way out.

So are you, but you both arrive at the same conclusion. From the moment you saw the Man, you knew it would be this. If you are being entirely honest, you have suspected this might happen since the day that you ran. All your life, you have fled and now, it seems your problems have finally arrived.

There is one key difference between now and then, though. Now, you have people you wish to save. Now, your actions affect more than yourself and there are more lives than yours which hang in the balance. Jungkook looks at you frantically, analyzing and reaching the same conclusion as you. 

There is only one way out in which all of you survive.

Panicked, Jungkook wrestles forward. “No,” he gasps.

“I’ll do it,” you say, lifting your chin. The Man’s eyes gleam, betraying his eagerness in a way which makes you feel sick. “On one condition.”

“No,” Jungkook growls, lunging again. 

This time, the Vine do move. Swarming, they constrain the arms of your shadow. He gasps as he is dragged backwards and although Jungkook fights, it is no use. There are too many of them, he is already disarmed and you watch, eyes blurring, as his knees hit the floor.

The Man watches all this in satisfaction. Once Jungkook is restrained, he waves a hand. “I’m listening.”

“They live,” you demand. “All of Bangtan lives. I’ll leave with you, stay with you – but you let them all go.”

The Man weighs his options. On the one hand, all of Bangtan is before him. If he kills them, it would wipe out a competitor. His land would double, his wealth would double. On the other hand – there is you.

Squaring your shoulders, you do not look away.

“If you do not,” you say lowly. “I will go with you, but I will continue to fight. I will fight you at every chance that I get and I will escape again. Just spare them and I... I promise to stay.”

Smiling blithely, the Man pockets his gun. “Done. What a lovely compromise. I knew we could arrive at a… mutually satisfactory conclusion.”

Jungkook wrenches himself forward, almost free – but more Vine swarm, pulling him backwards. Someone punches him in the nose, his head jerking back as blood sprays on the floor. The Man does not even look, crossing the room. You are suddenly grateful for the men holding you up, since your knees have gone limp. It is one thing to make a brave statement; it is another entirely, to live it.

The only thing keeping you sane is knowing that Jungkook will live. He will survive, he will be free and for that – you would do anything. 

The Man comes to a stop, reaching out a hand to hover over your shoulders. His fingers brush the delicateness of your collarbone, making you shiver. 

The Man’s smile widens. “Y/N,” he exhales, almost tender. “It’s been so long. Haven’t you missed me?”

He smells like chewing tobacco. Like tobacco and meat and sweat. Clamping your lips shut, you try not to think about tomorrow. Nor of the next day, nor of the next – you only think about right now, saving Bangtan from harm. You have already brought them enough terror. The least you can do is end it.

In your peripheral, you see Jungkook continue to fight. He yells something to you, or he tries – the men beat him harder, forcing him down. “Don’t hurt him,” you gasp, jerking forward.

The Man reaches out, stopping you from moving. “Stop,” he says. Behind him, you see Jungkook’s legs hit the ground. “This is indelicate,” he sighs, turning you to face the door. “You shouldn’t be watching like this.”

Three steps forward before the Man spins you around, pressing your back to his front and forcing you to watch. “You should watch like this,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “Watch him beg for you like this. It’s so easy, isn’t it? The power that love gives you over someone else – marvelous. You’ve reduced the powerful Shadow of Bangtan to… nothing.”

Jungkook stares at you, chest heaving. “Please,” he says, broken. Blood drips from his nose, one eye black from a burgeoning bruise. “Take me instead. Kill me instead.”

“No,” you whimper, from the cage of the Man’s arms. “Don’t you dare, Jungkook!” 

Expression unchanging, Jungkook stares at the Man. “Please.”

His grip only tightens. “No,” says the Man. He begins pulling you backwards, forcing you to walk. As you move towards the door, you stare at the ceiling. It is easier than watching Jungkook disappear. 

As though on a cue, all hell breaks loose. Taehyung twists suddenly sideways, grabbing a knife from a belt. He slashes his captor, stabbing another before they can scream. Someone yells, stumbling backwards and this seems to be another sign. All around you, similar fighting breaks loose. Namjoon throws two men off him, grabbing a gun as your stomach sinks through the floor. This is obviously fruitless.

The fact that they would try, though – you swallow.

The Man laughs behind you. “Kill them all,” he yells to Jay. “Starting with him,” he adds, pointing at Jungkook.

Jay’s eyes widen in alarm. “What?” 

“Kill him,” the Man hisses, tightening his grip on your frame. He twists your head, forcing you to look at the room. “Kill Jungkook, kill the Shadow – kill Namjoon, the Head – kill them all! Now!”

Sobbing, you wrench your way forward but this is exactly what the Man desired by dragging you this far away. You are just far enough that there is nowhere to go, nothing you can do to stop the horror from happening. A shriek escapes you, struggling from the weight of his arms holding you back.

Your head spins, searching for something – anything – to use as leverage but there is nothing. In a desperate maneuver, you twist in his grasp. Wrenching one hand free, you manage to backhand his face. Hands scrambling, you search for your knife – only to realize it is somewhere on the floor. Soft parts of the body, you remind yourself. Thrusting a hand out, you try and poke out his eyes – but the Man grabs your wrist, twisting hard.

Pain. Pain, oh sweet lord, the pain. It lances, bright and burning while you sink to your knees. Somewhere above you, the Man find his knife. He stabs downward, slicing open your shoulder to pour blood on the floor. On reflex, you reach for the wound – only to scream, realizing your wrist must be broken.

Red taints your vision, followed by black as you tremblingly crawl forward to escape. You only manage a few feet before a shot rings out above you, and everything stops.

You look up.

Jungkook grasps for his chest, stumbling backwards as he stares down in horror. Shakily, he lifts his palms – and they come away white. No blood. You frown, room swimming as, beneath your own palms, you see the blood. 

Warmth touches your skin, sticky and wet. You shriek, scrambling backwards to soak your clothes in the process. It smells horrible, of burnt flesh and blood; along with other, less savory smells. You try to move, since the blood just keeps flowing but this proves to be impossible with the pain in your hand.

Teeth chattering, you glance at the damage. Whimpering, you see that both thumb and forefinger are at completely wrong angles. Vision swimming, you manage to crawl another foot before your arm collapses beneath you. From here, flat on the ground, you see the source of the blood.

The Man sways above you, dangerously so.

He is clutching his chest, as Jungkook did earlier. When he pulls his hands away though, a much different visual results. Red, so dark it is black dribbles between his fingers. The front is not the worst. Much of the blood comes from his back, where bullet exited and the wound is much worse. You try and move out of the way – failing, because the pain is too much – but the Man takes a shaky step forward.

He groans. 

The sound is a gurgle, lungs filling quickly with both air and fluid. The Man’s eyes glaze, lips gone slack. When he takes another step, he somehow sees you. “Y-,” is all he manages to say before his eyes roll back in his head.

Slowly, one by one, his knees hit the ground.

The room is ringing.

In your mind, the room rings but when you look up in a daze, you realize how wrong you are. Chaos reigns, fists flying, and guns sparking in darkness. Jungkook is surrounded by bodies and it is unclear from your angle whether they are unconscious or dead. He fights agilely, with a snarl on his face. Taehyung whirls in front of him, punching a man despite the large wound to his shoulder. In the corner, you see Namjoon and Seokjin fighting back to back – you do a double take at this. 

Seokjin.

And there is Hoseok, over by the door. Stomach lifting, you realize what has changed – the tide. Bangtan streams in from all sides, freshly rested and pushing the Vine from the mansion. On the landing above, movement catches your eye. You look up to see Yoongi, emerging from a room with two machine guns.

“SAY HELLO TO MY – oh, fuck,” Yoongi swears, spinning around to whack the woman who has snuck up behind him. You do not watch him for long since there is so much going on. Too much to digest and before you can react, someone breaks through the crowd.

“Y/N,” Jay gasps, falling to his knees. He slips in the blood that surrounds you, faltering twice before his arms pull you close. “Y/N,” he blurts, burying his face in your neck.

Slowly, you sink into him. Everything hurts; your hand and side are the worst, but somehow this moment cuts through the haze. “Jay,” you whisper, unsure he can hear you over the commotion.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, clutching you closer. You wince, realizing your ribs must be bruised. “I’m so, so sorry. I – you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Understanding dawns then, as you realize it was Jay who shot him. The Man ordered Jay to kill Jungkook and Jay killed him, instead.

“J-Jay...” Your upper lip trembles. “How? Why?”

Jay refuses to let you go, pressing you to him. “All this time,” he whispers. “I’ve never forgotten my promise.” 

Someday. 

Understanding dawns in that moment. Someday, Jay would kill the Man. Someday he would free you – someday, someday, someday. It would appear the day is today as slowly, you lift your head. Jay stares back at you, gaze hard and you realize that things are not so different than before.

For Jay, this has been about revenge. Now that his revenge has been had, though – what will he do? Achingly, you wonder if this was worth it. Jay spent so much of his life on the desire to win. You were not entirely wrong, when you assumed your brother was gone. He has not just managed to survive the Vine, he has become it.

Jay stares at you, expression unreadable. “I told you someday, I’d get us free.”

When he swallows, you see traces of the boy he used to be. Gangly, too smart for his own good and beaten to a pulp every day by the Man. The Man, who now seems more like a Connor when sprawled out on the floor. With your one good hand, you clutch Jay tighter.

“I know,” you whisper, staring over his shoulder. “I know. You did it, Jay.”

Namjoon slugs a member of the Vine, dropping them to the floor. You frown at this because behind him is another Vine member – only, they fight another member of the Vine. Gaze darting around, you see a similar phenomenon happening elsewhere. Bangtan and some of the Vine work together, pushing the remaining faction of the Vine out the door.

“I...” You frown, shaking your head. In the corners of your eyes, the colors are fading and dimly, you recall a WebMD definition of shock. “What’s... going on?”

“I’m the Vine’s second.” Jay slowly withdraws, sitting back on his heels. “Second in command, second in charge. Now that the Head is dead – I’m his successor.”

Limply, you let your hand fall to your lap. Jay looks at your injured body part, concerned but you pay this no heed. “So,” you say, gazing around. “This is all your doing?”

Jay gently nods. “After I shot Connor... after I killed him – I told my people within the Vine to stop fighting you.”

“And?” you repeat, dazed. “Did they?” 

The war around you seems to be dying but this time, it is Bangtan winning.

Jay exhales. “Most of them did. The ones who did not – I told my men to force out.”

Your gaze snaps to Jay’s. You wince at this, the movement too fast. It is harder to breathe now, the bones of your body beginning to shake from the shock.

Jay’s brow furrows in recognition. “Y/N,” he says, helpless. “We need to move you somewhere safe.”

“In a minute,” you breathe, fighting to remain upright. “I need… to make sure…”

Scanning the room, you search desperately for Jungkook. When you do not immediately see him, find him, the shaking worsens.

Without a word, Jay stands. His shoes are coated in blood; both yours and the Man. “Stay here,” he demands. “Hide yourself and stay until it’s over. I’ll be back for you soon, Y/N, I promise.”

Mutely, you nod. If tonight has taught you anything, it is that your brother is true to his word. Nodding, Jay grabs his gun and strides into the crowd. You watch him go, aiming and firing without warning. His ensuing laugh is mirthless, a similar style to Taehyung without any of the joy.

Once he is gone, you remain seated. Jay told you to move, told you to hide but you find you cannot. Energy is not something you have in abundance right now and each time you move, the nausea worsens. Red is smeared on the floor, no longer warm to the touch. You wonder at this, how easily life is snuffed out. Life, being snuffed. The thought makes you giggle, unbidden on your lips – clasping a hand over your mouth, your eyes widen. That is not funny. Is it?

Room blurring, you sink to the red roses around you. No, blood. Blood, not roses – but what is the difference? Blood, flowers. Good, bad. Your brother, a savior. Your brother, a madman. You laugh once again, no longer caring what is right and wrong. It all seems relative.

Through the fading surroundings, a shape breaks through the gloom.

Colors fade, blurring and you almost smile when his face sharpens above you. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook gasps. 

You manage to smile. It seems fitting for your last sight to be of him. Liquid trails from your shoulder, limbs falling limp as his arms latch around you. Your thoughts fade, curling into his warmth. 

Poetry, trash, all the same after death.

“Y/N!” he yells, the words fading in air.

[Master List]

Author’s Note: Not to worry!!! There is still an Epilogue. Thank you for reading :))

© kpopfanfictrash, 2018. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[hysterialevi]

Abraham - A RDR2 Fanfic

Fanfic summary [NO SPOILERS]: Lyle Morgan and his eleven-year-old son have a conversation about Beatrice’s death, only for the boy to witness a second one.

Warning(s): Mild language

Author’s note: Bear with me if not everything in this story is correct. I’m not entirely sure where Arthur’s originally from (all I’ve heard is that he’s from somewhere in the north), so I just made something up lol. Also, this fic will only be one part. Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

From Lyle’s POV

A FOREST SOMEWHERE IN MONTANA

SUMMER, 1874

Strollin’ through the tall, thick grass, I led my mount around the forest at a casual pace while my son sat on top, consumed by his journal as always. It was an hour or two before midday, and right now, there was a radiant blanket o’ sunshine bathing the entire forest, painting everything with a golden tint. It was beautiful, and I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day out here...but this feeling of annoyance just wouldn’t stop naggin’ me, and I knew exactly why.

I briefly glanced over my shoulder, peering at my son as he scribbled something down in the weathered pages of his journal.

A quick sigh escaped me.

I didn’t know who the hell Arthur got his interest in art from, or why Beatrice even bothered buying him that book, but that child just couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from it. Every time I came across the boy, he was always scratchin’ down some fantasy world of his, or creating images of a utopia I ain’t ever seen. It was pointless.

He spent more time daydreamin’ in that book than he did playing outside, or hunting, or fishing -- hell, he didn’t even know how to read -- and yet, Beatrice seemed perfectly content with it.

Or at least...she did.

Beatrice weren’t around no more. She was killed by bandits a few months ago. Robbed. Left on the side o’ the road for the crows to feed on. But Arthur didn’t know that. Sheriff told him it was a wild animal that took her. A wolf, to be exact. And he believed him.

I dragged a hand down my face, suddenly feelin’ exhausted just thinking about it.

Had I done the right thing, not tellin’ Arthur the truth about his own mother’s death, I wondered? I figured the kid didn’t need to know the morbid details, or even the entire truth, but I still felt like a piece of shit for not revealing the full story -- especially considering that them bandits who killed Beatrice...killed her ‘cause of me.

I had stolen something from them. Somethin’ valuable. And before it fell into their dirty hands, that “something” apparently belonged to a rich plantation owner who really wanted it back. Ended up gettin’ one of the bandits hanged, and left them thirsty for revenge. But they didn’t have the strength to go after the plantation owner. So, they came after me instead.

They chased me for quite a while. They chased me across the mountains, across the swamps, across the goddamned snow...until finally, they came to their senses and realized there were much better, more convenient ways of hurtin’ me. And thus, their paths diverted to my wife and son.

Those bastards managed to corner her while she was ridin’ to town to do some shopping. Found her on some secluded road between here and the nearest settlement, and ensured she would never return. That was when Arthur went lookin’ for help to find his missing mother hours later, and the sheriff assured him a wolf had gotten to Beatrice.

Christ. I really was a terrible father, weren’t I? Not only did I pay more attention to a bottle o’ whiskey than my own wife, I had also neglected Arthur for years on end, and indirectly gotten his mother killed. And the boy was only eleven.

He had spent half of his life not knowing a damned thing about where his daddy was, or even what he did, only to lose the one parent he already had before he could find out.

Lord...there had to be some way to make this up to him.

I looked back at the boy, suddenly feeling an urge to say something -- anything -- to him.

“Arthur,” I called out, catching the kid’s attention as his head perked up from behind the journal’s pages, “put that damned book away for a moment, will you?”

The boy hurriedly marked his place in the journal with a pen and shut it closed, resting the object on the saddle’s surface as he hung his head low in shame.

“...Sorry, sir.” He murmured.

I shook my head, lettin’ out a concerned breath.

“You spend far too much time in that journal. It was a mistake to buy it.”

Arthur’s eyes wandered to the trees towering around us.

“I’m sorry, dad,” he apologized timidly. “But I like drawing.”

I scoffed. “Yeah? Well, I like Poker. But I ain’t got time to play it. Too busy worryin’ about survival, and keeping the both of us fed. You can’t always do what you want, Arthur. You gotta provide. Things like drawing, gambling...they’re frivolous. We got better things to worry about.”

The child quirked a brow. “Friv-uh-less...? What’s that mean?”

“It means we don’t need to do it,” I explained. “What we do need, however, is to eat. So put that journal away and keep an eye out for deer. You was the one who suggested we come out here in the first place.”

Arthur frowned in a discouraged manner. “Yes, sir.”

I gave him a stern nod. “Good boy. Now...you said you seen a big buck out here?”

The boy pointed ahead. “Yeah. It was by the river.”

I gave the reins a little tug, urging my horse to follow me. “Then that’s where we’ll start. C’mon, Boadicea.”

Continuing our little hunting trip, Arthur and I traveled deeper into the lively woods as creatures of all types scurried around us, rustling blades of grass and alerting the tiny insects that hovered above the plants.

There was a rather peaceful mood to the forest today -- a welcome change considerin’ how chaotic my life usually was -- and I had to admit: some part of me enjoyed being here with Arthur. I rarely ever got to see the boy because of my work as an outlaw, and when I did, he always seemed reluctant to leave the house. Whether that was because he was more of an indoors person, or simply ‘cause he weren’t eager to spend time with me -- I didn’t know. But it was good to be with him regardless.

Approaching the large river, I came to a temporary halt as I crouched down and examined the ground, carefully searchin’ for any tracks that could’ve possibly led us to the buck.

The area here appeared undisturbed -- save for the fish flopping in and out of the babbling water -- and as far as I could tell, there weren’t no deer running around this section of the forest. Not at the moment, anyway. Maybe they were at a different part of the river.

I took a closer look at the grass, only to be torn away from my thoughts when Arthur raised a question.

“Dad?” He asked softly. “Can I...can I ask you something? About momma?”

I paused, thrown off-guard by the sudden change in tone.

“Momma?” I repeated, slowly turning towards the boy. “Why you wanna talk about her?”

Arthur’s expression sank with sorrow.

“It’s just...you knew her better than I did. Or longer, I guess. And I don’t remember her that good. ...Do you?”

I gazed at him in a puzzled manner, admittedly still a bit taken aback by the abrupt question.

“...Clear as day,” I replied, unwilling to sift through the painful memories. “But that don’t matter. She’s...she ain’t coming back, Arthur. No one does, once they die. Ain’t no point in lingerin’ in the past when it can only haunt you. All we can do is move on. You understand?”

Clearly a bit hurt by my response, Arthur dropped the subject and averted his eyes from me, peering over at a nearby gathering of flowers instead.

He slouched despondently. “...I understand.”

That wasn’t good enough for me. I took a step towards him.

“Look at me when you say that, Arthur,” I demanded. “It’s important you look people in the eye when you speak to them.”

The boy brought his line of sight back to me, his face veiled behind a very subtle layer of fear.

He straightened his back a bit. “I understand.”

I nodded in approval. “Good. Now...let’s get back to huntin’ this buck. You sure it was around the river?”

Arthur gazed around. “I saw it this morning when I was playing with Copper,” he confirmed. “It was drinkin’ water right here. That’s when I came to get you.”

I observed the dirt underneath me, squinting my eyes as I searched for clues. The grass in these parts was quite thick, so that made it even tougher to spot fur, or dung -- and I still didn’t see any deer tracks -- but it certainly looked like another animal had been around here.

I kneeled down, shuffling the grass outta the way with my hand.

“It looks like some wild horses might’ve passed through this area,” I examined. “But no sign of deer. Oh, well...the day is still young, and we have some time, so we’ll keep looking.” I gestured to a nearby bridge. “Let’s try over there.”

Grabbing my horse’s reins, I continued to guide it through the woods as Arthur scouted the area for me, his big blue eyes scanning the sharp horizon while the sun escalated in the sky. There was a certain determination in his temperament now, and the longer we carried on trying to locate this buck, the more my son seemed to be enjoying himself.

Perhaps there was hope for us, after all.

“...Dad?” The boy called again, making me flick my eyes to the side. “What if there are wolves out here?”

I encouraged him to stay calm. “Now, don’t you go worryin’ about that. If we see wolves out here, we’ll be fine. We’re armed, we’re fast, and we’re smart.”

Arthur wasn’t convinced. “...Momma was smart.”

I sighed in a melancholic tone at that. “Yes...she was. But...Momma was killed by a different type of wolf.”

He tilted his head in a puzzled manner. “What d’you mean?”

I gestured to my rifle. “Not all wolves are the same, Arthur. Some use their teeth, some use their guns, and some use their tongue. You gotta be able to identify them when you see ‘em.”

The kid didn’t say it flat out, but I could tell he knew what I was really talkin’ about.

“Those sound more like people.” He replied. I let out a gentle chuckle.

“People can be worse than wolves, Arthur. In fact, I’d prefer a wolf over some o’ the people I’ve met.”

Arthur leaned forward in the saddle, his body swaying along with Boadicea’s steady speed.

“What kinda people have you met?”

I lowered my voice, thinking back to the bandits who killed Beatrice.

“Killers. Thieves. Deceivers. Men who will constantly betray each other even though they share the same motive: greed.”

I turned to Arthur with a remorseful look, hopin’ to do at least one right thing in my life, and use myself as a cautionary tale that money weren’t as clean as it seemed.

“...Greed,” I told him, “it breaks people, Arthur. They may not realize it, ‘cause greed can get you far in this world...but the reward ain’t worth it. Not compared to the things you have to sacrifice. In the end, you’ll have tons of cash, only to realize that there are luxuries not even millionaires can afford.”

His innocence took over. “Then why do they do it?”

That was a question I asked myself everyday. I shrugged in a disheartened fashion.

“Because they don’t care. So long as their pockets is heavy, and their bellies is full, they’ll keep on going. But like I said, greed poisons you. It kills you. And you won’t even notice until you’re already sittin’ in a grave. So promise me, Arthur, promise me that when you get to my age...you won’t become a wolf.”

Despite evidently bein’ a little confused, the child was able to make some sense of what I just said and agreed to the promise, reassuring me with a small smile.

“I promise.”

“Good boy,” I praised, bringing my mind back to the main reason we came out here. “Anyway, here’s the bridge. Why don’t you hop down and help me find this buck?”

“Okay.”

Sliding down the saddle, Arthur effortlessly climbed down and joined me, scurrying ‘round like a mouse while he searched for any signs of the buck. But so far, there was nothing in sight.

“See anything?” I checked. The boy shook his head.

I wiped some sweat off my brow, letting out a fatigued sigh. This animal was certainly proving to be a challenge to hunt down. We had already been in this forest for a couple hours now, and our efforts still hadn’t paid off. Part o’ me was almost starting to suspect if Arthur even saw a deer in the first place, and not some other kinda animal.

I decided to take a short break, and turned to ask the boy.

“You positive the buck was roamin’ around in these parts? Or that it was a buck at all? I haven’t seen any tracks so far.”

A soft rustle suddenly reached my ears, interrupting my conversation with Arthur as I reached for my gun, only to be stopped by a sound I didn’t expect.

It was a man’s voice.

“...Don’t even think about it,” the stranger warned, cocking his own gun. “I will shoot if necessary.”

Freezing at the intrusion, I remained perfectly still and didn’t utter a single word as a pair of footsteps steadily approached me from behind, followed by two more men coming in from the front on horseback.

They were all dressed in similar outfits donned with Nevada hats, and I couldn’t help but notice the star-shaped badges shimmerin’ blatantly on their chests.

Shit. These were lawmen. What the hell were they doin’ out here? I never expected the law to travel this far into the country. This was definitely odd.

What really puzzled me though, weren’t the fact that there were three lawmen just...waitin’ for us out here -- it was more the fact that Arthur didn’t seem phased by any of this in the slightest. Just what exactly was goin’ on?

Trotting closer to me, one of the mounted men glowered in my direction as he ordered his deputy to restrain me, his firm, steel eyes never wavering.

I recognized him instantly.

“...Sheriff Buchanan.” I muttered through gritted teeth.

He returned the greeting, scowling from under his hat’s rim.

“Lyle Morgan.”

I shrugged at him, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“What is this shit? What’s the sheriff doing all the way out here?”

Buchanan glanced at Arthur, standing in front of him in a protective manner.

“I told you I’d use every option I had to get you behind bars, Morgan...and I meant it. You made the choice not to heed my warning.”

Taking a second to process what he just told me, the realization suddenly hit me like a bullet to the gut as I stared at Arthur with a sense of immense betrayal, unable to believe what was happening.

There never was no goddamned buck.

Things was never gonna work out for me and Arthur.

This was all a trap.

My own...son...had turned me in.

He was the bait, and Buchanan was the true hunter.

I clenched my jaw in rage, doing my absolute best to shield my emotions as the deputy kicked me to my knees.

“...A-Arthur...?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

The boy looked me straight in the eye, standing adamantly beside Buchanan as his deputies tied me up. I threw a glare at the sheriff, damning him till my last moments.

“You bastard, Buchanan...!” I cursed. “You turned my own damned son against me...?!”

The man showed no guilt and tightened his grip on his rifle, silently advising me to stay back.

“No need,” Buchanan denied. “You drove him to me all by yourself.”

He placed a gentle hand on Arthur’s shoulder and guided him towards the second deputy, ordering them to bring him back to town.

“Clayton, bring the boy back to the office. We’ll figure out where to send him later. For now though, just keep him safe, and look after him.”

“Right away, Sheriff.”

Preparing both his horse and mine for departure, the deputy left Arthur next to the sheriff as the boy stood firmly in place, his innocent yet damaged gaze never leavin’ mine.

Despite the hint of remorse clouding the child’s eyes, it was pretty obvious Arthur felt he made the right decision in turning me in. And just as Buchanan’s second deputy started to drag me away, I couldn’t help but notice a beautiful Whitetail buck wanderin’ around in the distance, its majestic antlers standing out like a crown on a monarch’s head as it bathed in the golden sunlight.

The animal swayed its head in my direction, almost as if trying to communicate with me.

“I’m sorry, dad,” Arthur whispered as he walked towards Clayton, blocking the buck in the process. “...But you made me promise.”

Taking his leave, the boy finally mounted up and steadily trotted away from the scene, only to reveal an empty spot where the buck once stood as he left the forest.

Well...I may have found the buck like I planned, but it weren’t my job to kill it.

And it certainly weren’t my place to look for it.

I could hunt them down to my heart’s content, and kill ‘em all I wanted for my own desires...but in the end, they would always be able to afford the one luxury I’d never obtained.

Peace.

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 52

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 19. Go to previous. Go to next. Deenwood’s mirrors are just broken enough. TWs: discussion of chemical artillery, hair clippers, some manner of identity politic maneuver.

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“Now then,” Angel remarked as ‘Choly stepped out of the enlisted barracks’ baths. “We can all collectively agree to be civil, can’t we?”

“I don’t think either you nor I can be civil, all things considered,” ‘Choly quipped as he hopped up on the Handy’s foot pegs for a ride across the compound grounds, already dreading what could come next. “Today, I’m in uniform and ready to get tasks taken care of. We’ll be agreeable. Sticks can be civil.”

A Gutsy rushed up to give directions.

“Not entirely correct, to consider Sticks a civilian, Captain Carey. Come with me. The General is in Wing IV of the R&D.”

Sticks noticed both the army green robot’s verbiage and the chemist’s flinch as to where they headed next, and he straightened to stuff his hands in his khaki pockets to pretend he hadn’t noticed anything at all.

The Gutsy, G-5, led them to the smallest but most fortified of the three standing warehouse-like buildings on the property. In previous visits this week, Deenwood’s robotics had escorted ‘Choly here to Olivia’s office, but today, he was taken past encrypted pneumatic doors to the high-security laboratory floor. It was the most minor of consolation to ‘Choly, that this was not the floor where he and his colleagues had developed the Psycho which they perfected through exacting trial and error--but it was, instead, an area which required even higher clearance, and none of the equipment here was familiar.

Under the mixture of fluorescent and incandescent lighting, ‘Choly nearly didn’t recognize the back of Olivia’s head at the terminal where she sat, already hard at work supervising the computer-assisted manufacturing process. She heard the doors open and shut, and footsteps and flames approach, but she didn’t look up, only waving a hand at the Gutsy to dismiss it.

“Thank you, Green Five.”

“At your beck, Madam General.”

“I’m sorry to say you’re ahead of me. The synthesis process is still yet incomplete. When I said to give me a day, I meant twenty-four hours or so.” After a moment poring over figures, she saved the programming variables and spun about face on the swivel stool to clap her hands with a firm smile for her company. “Still, though, we can discuss the game plan while we wait.”

“A hundred units of X-Cell-Root,” ‘Choly parroted dully, dismounting Angel to look around. “This is the wing where they created X-Cell, isn’t it.”

“There were thirteen wings during your last tenure on base, for ten branches of research. Most of them are no longer in use. Right now, you’re currently standing in the only known laboratory on the Eastern Coast with both the precursor and formula for Day Tripper.”

“I’m sure you spend a lot of time in this room, then,” the chemist remarked a little too sharply.

Sticks snorted with a dumb smile, and shook his head at him.

“I’m sure I do.” A strange knowing glint filled her dark eyes. “The raw materials I needed for one of the shells we’re to use against the Rust Devils are stored, and best processed, here.”

“I’m going to pretend you’re pulling at least a few punches,” Sticks quipped, no longer of any humor. “Mixed artillery, I’m guessing?”

“Artillery? What are you--” ‘Choly shut up abruptly, recalling how she’d mentioned the day before that MKExcell had begun as a Chem Corps study, only to shift to a Pharm Corps study. “You’re planning on using the Day Tripper ‘Root’ on the Devils.”

“Quick on the draw.” Olivia grinned, appreciating the fact ‘Choly could keep up. “You’ve got it backwards, though. Klutz was engineered from Day Tripper. We researched both X-Cell’s pharmaceutical refinement as well as its weaponization, remember. Once under the influence of the gas grenade, the affected party is far more readily plied. Provided key frequencies, someone affected by Klutz also exhibits a tendency to spontaneously disrobe. Klutz shells are shaped such that they...” she snickered at the thought of it, pantomiming the trajectory, “whistle one such pitch.”

“They’re notorious for wearing heavy armor gutted from robotics,” Sticks nodded, appreciating the disarmament tactic. “Not questioning the use of the Klutz... but you still haven’t said whether it was only Klutz.”

“The game plan, Sticks. Are you going to let me speak yet?” When he crossed his arms and watched expectantly, she slouched back on the stool and lit a cigarette. “The Furriers’ greatest skill set is their stamina hunting and their ability to set traps. Provided proper firearms, they’re exceptional snipers, but my Eyebots that survey Lowell and Chelmsford estimate three hundred raiders in Back Central, and at least another hundred in RobCo Towers. Deenwood has less than a hundred robots at her employ, and the Furriers don’t even have a hundred heads. Considering the Devils--”

“I dunno,” ‘Choly mumbled under his breath, “one of them might have a hundred heads.”

Olivia glowered at him for acting as her peanut gallery. He looked over to Sticks, who was straining not to die laughing.

“...Considering the Devils have their own handcrafted robotics,” she continued, through her teeth, “much of which is crafted from robotics they have captured and stolen from Deenwood, we must have the element of surprise on our side. Or we will lose.” She stood, to pace with her smoke. “That said, I plan for the Furriers to shepherd the Back Central Devils into one central location to maximize the efficiency of the gas grenades. Once the Furriers utilize the indicated formation to pin the Devils in position, my Sentry Bots will fire Rad-I-Canned shells. We’ll do the same with RobCo Towers once we’ve secured Back Central.”

"Rad-I-Canned!” Sticks blurted out. Incredulity flung his fists to his sides and his face into an exasperated scowl. “You’ve only used that once before, to my knowledge! I know you could cut the conflict tension with a knife here, but do you really take this for some Gordian knot! Surely we can achieve this with less.”

She took a long hit off her cigarette, and she stopped and turned to make unblinking eye contact with Sticks while she exhaled all the smoke his way, through her nasal gap.

“Wars have been started over less.”

‘Choly finally noticed where the Assaultron Helen had been in waiting all this time, by the door where they’d entered, and couldn’t stop staring at her. With a coughing fit, he broke the uncomfortable silence with his guts full of moths.

“About making me colonel... Green Five still called me captain earlier. You did mean it, that you wanted to make it official, right? Colonel Carey?”

Getting caught in her misdirection, she softened in place and resumed pacing. Sticks appreciated the shift in subject.

“Oh, I just didn’t consider it all that time sensitive. Figured we could get into all that after this debacle’s through with. But, if you insist, it probably wouldn’t hurt to look the part of the colonel in charge of the Voire troop.” The ghoul general strolled over to the nearest standing ashtray, took one more hit off her smoke, and extinguished it in the sand. “Go get your prescription updated. Those godawful glasses aren’t regulation issue. And you’re going to have to get a haircut, if you plan on wearing the officers’ martial dress uniform, you know.”

She made a buzzing motion with one fist at her own nape in a mild jeer, then glanced to her steel-tone Pip-Boy to flick a series of dial settings. ‘Choly touched the temple of his glasses with a frown, then felt of the back of his head with anxiousness. Green Five reappeared while he stressed, and he straightened when he noticed he was visibly losing his cool over a handful of superficial alterations. She held out an upturned hand expectantly.

“Before you get out of my hair for a few hours, fork over your nameplate and ribbon rack. I’ll update the RFID data while you get cleaned up, so that the base responds to your... new rank. I’ll have your designations, and new uniform, delivered to your rowhouse.”

“Leave the supervision of Mister Hawthorne to me, Miss Francis,” Angel offered helpfully as its owner complied. “I’ve already been his shadow this morning, whether he likes it or not.”

Olivia picked her eyes up before her head, glancing first to Angel, then to Sticks. Her brow piqued as her lips furrowed in thought, and she paced some more while Sticks sweated.

“You know, I could fix that. Reboot Angel’s imprint matrix. Reintroduce yourselves to its fixed variables. It would have to relearn who you both are, of course, but the second time it gets acquainted would go much faster since it’s already learned both of your personalities.”

‘Choly gawked between them all in a stupor over what was being proposed. Sticks nearly cut through the pause to agree on ‘Choly’s behalf, but ‘Choly cut him off.

“--I don’t want to wipe Angel’s memory of me.” He hemmed, hating where this was going. “I, I’ll think about it. Let’s get going, Green Five.”

“We’ll come with you,” Sticks blurted out, drawing Angel along as he stayed twenty paces behind ‘Choly.

“I’ll send for you all when I’m done with the Furriers’ chem cache,” Olivia called after them fake-sweetly. “Don’t bother me again until then.”

“Was that a gesture or a threat, to offer that... service,” ‘Choly asked with a flat distress, once they were no longer in her presence.

“Probably both, knowing her,” Sticks replied, just as terse. “Angel, you don’t have any arrangements with me. Could I bum a smoke and light off you?”

“Certainly,” it provided without skipping a beat. It also gave ‘Choly his cane, which he appreciated. “Do you need one as well, Mister Carey?”

“Why the fuck not,” he resigned, nearly concussed by being jerked around by so many different individuals. The leathery taste did little to soothe his nerves, or his disorientation, but he persisted.

Once ‘Choly stepped inside the storage hangar, and the Quartermasters’ Wing, Green Five directed him to the left hall. Angel and Sticks remained outside.

“The General has instructed that you begin with Optometry. As you’ll recall, the barber is at the other end of the hall once you’re done.”

“Why hello!” the Miss Nanny inside the office greeted in a soothing, effeminate affect. Green Five vanished again on its way, trading off ‘Choly’s care to the white robot. “It’s been so long since I had someone to examine! Let us get started with the phoropter, shall we?”

‘Choly took the ashtray from the waiting area with him, and puffed at his cigarette intermittently throughout the examination. The Handy, nicknamed Lunette, did not object provided that ‘Choly kept it out of the way and kept the ashes tidy. With a flurry of numerical annotations and shuffled lens metrics, Lunette determined his prescription. It felt like the Nanny leaned nearer when its optical lenses craned into his face to inspect him, and he sat back in the high-back exam chair, cradling the ashtray close to his chest with a frown.

“Our diagnostics equipment indicates that your cataracts are severe enough to require surgical correction. The cause of these is unknown, however, and it seems to chiefly impact your light sensitivity rather than the acuity of your vision. We would have to refer you to an ophthalmologist to receive corrective surgery, but it’s my understanding that it’s neither necessary nor afforded at present. I can script you medical permission to wear a visor or other such brimmed head gear on duty, if you like, Sir.”

He nodded tersely, and put his round frames back on. Lunette eased off the personal space intrusion, to retrieve a catalogue and provide it. To skim through it, he put out his cigarette and set the ashtray aside.

“Our inventory hasn’t been updated in around two hundred years, I’m afraid,” it apologized. “The General hasn’t revised dress code to forbid any of them, at least. Hopefully there’s still something available to your liking.”

The booklet fell open in his lap when he found the crescent-shaped acetate frames were still listed. He pointed at them, shakily, and Lunette snatched up the catalogue to see the model number he’d indicated.

“Ah yes! My records indicate you ordered these 218 years ago. Gravitating towards the familiar! We’ve still got several. Shall I fill your prescription with these then?”

“I’d like that very much, Lunette. Thank you.”

“As you like! Off you go, then. I’ll bring them down the hall to you once I’ve got the lenses cut. Shouldn’t be but fifteen minutes or so.”

He caned his way down to the barber’s office, to sit in the chair. A Mister Handy with a cockney accent approached him.

“What’ll it be, Gov?”

“I’m in a bit of a predicament, Burns. I’m told I... have to get a cut appropriate for the officer’s martial dress uniform. But between you and me? I don’t want to cut off my hair.”

“I hear you. Remember you objected to a crew cut in 2066, too. Martial uniform, though.” It gave him a thoughtful whistle. “‘Bout to get a might bit hairy, I imagine.”

The pun made him flinch, and the Handy guffawed.

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“Oh, say no more. Leave it to ol’ Burns. I’ve got just the thing for ya. It’ll take a Love guide to get it trim proper 'nough for regulation, but you’ve got the Burns guarantee you’ll appreciate the results.” Its tendril attachments whirled to comb, snips, and an electric razor. “Let me take a little off the bottom ‘ere, mark the state a yer Barnet off the list of things you could possibly be worryin’ about.”

He swallowed, and sat up straight as Burns fetched the barber’s cape.

“I trust you.”

“Attaboy!”

Given the indication to begin, the Handy removed ‘Choly’s glasses. Then it unpinned his hair and brushed it out, and it proceeded to pin back sections to isolate the patch from his nape to just above his ears. He tried to watch, but couldn’t really see in the cracked mirror, with or without his eyesight. The sensation of the clippers jolted down his spine and he shivered, barely keeping still enough for Burns to steady the attachment along his scalp. It touched up the hair in front of both ears, then with scissors trimmed his split ends as well. Once done snipping away, the Handy swiveled the chair one-eighty to dip the back to the counter at the wall. It gave him a quick rinse and blow dry, and propped him back up to use fresh bobby pins to return his hair to a taut, slick french twist, positioned slightly higher up on his head than before.

By the time Burns was done with him, Lunette entered.

“Burns, I’ve got Colonel Carey’s prescription ready,” the Nanny said.

“Ah, yes! Let’s have ‘em. Perfect timin’. He’ll get to see how it matches up with the ‘do we’ve done him up wif.” As he took the glasses gratefully from Lunette, Burns turned the chair to his right, to face the wall where a full length mirror remained in tact. “How’s about it, Gov?”

To have heard the Nanny say Colonel, though, he thought to himself. Olivia must have just gotten finished with his designation updates. He shivered, and put on his new glasses. He let out a low whistle, his face long as he turned his head to run a hand over his shaven nape. He could see. Truly see.

“Doesn’t feel so bad, after all,” he appreciated quietly, both awing and dreading the context which such a cut came requisite. He repeated flatly, “The colonel of the Voire troop. Huh.”

“Just one step left before you’re off to your camp, Colonel,” Burns remarked, watching him appreciating the trim. “Gen says Green Seven’s en route to your place as we speak. Better get goin’.”

“Oh, tell me they’re to your liking,” Lunette begged.

“It’s perfect,” he ingratiated, his head ringing when he saw the hair Burns now swept up into a dustpan. He started off toward the front door of the hangar, trying not to think about it too hard. “Thank you, both of you.”

Where’s your loyalty lie, Carey? Do you even have to be Carey anymore? Does Carey even exist now? Should I have asked her to program my nameplate to truly be Melancholy? To properly be Melano Kara? Is becoming Melancholy a step forward? Would becoming Kara again be a step backward?

He choked down the urge to ask Angel for a Mentat, or another cigarette, only to open the door to find neither the Handy nor his ghoul had waited up for him. He snarled and hobbled along back to the rowhouse, knowing G-7 would without question beat him home.

Go to Next »»»

[megabadbunny]

Minuet, Part VI

“Why’d you kiss me, if it was wrong?” Rose asks. The Doctor bristles. “Why did you push me away, if it wasn’t?”

***

(ten/rose angsty post-gitf au/fixit; here there be smuts (but sfw version can be found on ff.net)

(full-size image)

Minuet, Part VI

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII

Rose is pulled from her sleep, rather violently, by the sound of hammering on her door. “Rose,” hisses a voice on the other side. “Rose, it’s Mickey. Open up. Please?” Groaning in response, Rose yanks her pillow over her aching head. When did Mickey’s whispers get so loud? “Rose?” says Mickey’s voice, louder. Swearing under her breath, Rose slides out of bed, squinting against the lightning blaring overhead and steadying herself with a hand to the wall as she slouches her way over to the door--it’s an actual door, thankfully, not that magical hole-in-the-wall thing, which is a blessing, because Rose has no idea how that knock thing works, and she’s fairly certain her brain can’t handle anything more complicated than a doorknob right now. She pushes the door open to find Mickey standing in the hallway, clad in satiny jimjams and a plush robe; yet another set of amenities provided by Uruud or one of the other Votaries, Rose thinks. “Can I help you?” she grumbles. “I wanted to check in. What’s going on with you right now?” Rose sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. It doesn’t help the pain (in fact, it might make it worse), but it at least helps allay the sensation that her head is going to inflate and float away like some kind of wine-filled balloon. “It’s...nothing,” she says after a moment. “It’s stupid. I’m just being stupid.” “Rose,” Mickey says, admonishing. “Mickey,” she replies flatly. Mickey crosses his arms. “Okay. Fine. We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want--” “Great,” says Rose, pushing the door closed. “Wait! Rose!” Groaning in frustration, Rose pulls the door back open to find Mickey looking stricken. “Why are you really here?” she asks. “Just spit it out.” “Oh my god, he won’t stop talking, okay?” Mickey blurts out. “It’s driving me up the bleeding wall. No, scratch that--it’s driving me all the way off the planet, out of the galaxy, into a neighboring universe. He just won’t. Stop. Talking!” Rose squints in confusion. “Who?” “The Doctor,” Mickey replies, exasperated. “Who else? Ever since we got back to the room, he’s going a million miles an hour, Allstorm this and barometric pressure that and something about Therran politics and just all this stupid nuttery nonsense and he won’t bloody shut up.” His mouth quirks downward in a lip-quivering pout. “I just want to sleep, Rose.”

Leaning against the doorjamb for support, Rose feels the smallest inkling of pity welling up somewhere where her stomach used to be; she would have warned Mickey that might happen, had it occurred to her, but she’d grown so accustomed to the Doctor’s rambling during overnight stays in strangers’ homes and sleepy movies in the TARDIS library and occasional stints in otherworldly prisons that his late-night lectures often served as a handy sleep aid. Or at least, they did before. Rose has no idea how she’d react to it now, after half a year’s-worth of falling asleep each night completely and utterly alone.

“Look, can I just stay in here tonight?” Mickey asks, fidgeting uncomfortably in his slippers. “Please?” Yawning, Rose nods, stepping aside to make room. “Thank you,” Mickey gushes, stopping to peck a quick kiss on her cheek before he darts inside, making a beeline straight for the bed. Rose closes the door and follows after much more slowly, her feet dragging over the floor, her entire body moving as if it were filled with lead, heavy and cumbersome and reluctant to fight against gravity’s insatiable pull. Hauling herself back into bed, Rose wants nothing more than to sleep the night away and pretend this godforsaken mess of a day never happened. But instead she lies awake next to Mickey for what feels like hours, her thoughts plodding on sluggishly in an endless parade as her stomach twists in knots.

**

The Doctor looks more confused than anything when he answers the door. “Mickey’s snoring,” Rose grumbles by way of explanation, pushing past the Doctor before he has a chance to reply. The Doctor doesn’t move from his post by the door, doesn’t even turn to look at Rose as she kicks off her slippers, gathers the skirts of her gown, and yanks open the canopy-curtain, collapsing into the bed. She pulls the duvet over her head, tunneling deep into the bedclothes like a rabbit in a burrow, and waits. Any minute now, the Doctor will acknowledge her presence, with babble or chatter or a protest, but only silence meets her ears. Silence, and then the quiet whine of the door closing, and the soft padding of the Doctor’s shoes over the floor. Rose expects the bed to dip with his weight, and frowns when she hears something that sounds suspiciously like a chair dragging over the tiles instead. She peeks out from under the bedclothes just long enough to see the Doctor depositing himself at the bedside table, raking a hand through his hair. That churning-feeling rises up in Rose’s stomach again. She tells herself it’s just the alcohol. She hates how much this bothers her, how much she just wants him to pull her into his arms even after what a horrible arse he’s been, hates how much she wishes he would hold her tight and promise that everything’s all right. She hates it. “You don’t, erm,” she tries to say, mentally kicking herself even as the words leave her mouth. “You don’t have to stay over there all night, you know. It’s your bed after all.” Silence again. Rose squirms in the bedclothes. Not because she feels guilty and uncomfortable; no, it’s because the bedclothes are a little scratchy, that’s all. The fancy, expensive, definitely-made-out-of-some-kind-of-silk bedclothes. (Mickey said the Doctor wouldn’t shut up--why isn’t he blabbering now?) “Just...you’re not gonna get any rest like that, is all I’m saying,” Rose tries again, her voice muffled by the mattress. “C’mon. Bed’s big enough for two.” The air is quiet and still, and moments pass in endless agony. But just when Rose thinks the Doctor might sit by the desk all night after all, she hears the soft rustle of moving cloth, feels the mattress pull to accommodate another occupant. She peeks out from under the duvet again to see the Doctor lying atop the bedclothes, staring at the canopy ceiling, hands folded over his stomach and feet crossed at the ankles. He hasn’t even taken off his plimsolls, the barmy alien. The bad feeling in Rose’s stomach loosens a little, but only a little. “You’re not going to bed like that, are you?” “Like what?” “All, y’know. Still dressed and everything. Can’t be comfy.” “That hangover you’re nursing can’t be comfy either.” Rose’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Shut up,” she mumbles, though with a mouthful of bedsheet, it emerges a bit more like Sherderrmpf. The Doctor shifts next to her, and a hand creeps into her field of vision, unfolding to reveal two tablets. “Take them now, before the full effects set in,” the Doctor says softly. “Should clear you up in a jiffy.” Reluctantly, Rose slips the tablets out of his hand. “You’ll need a glass of water.” “I know,” she grumbles as she slides out of bed. “Drink the whole glass.” “I know,” Rose repeats, grumpily, even as she follows his orders and drags her half-lifeless corpse over to the en suite so she can fill a glass with water. Tablets, mouth, swallow, water, she drains the glass and refills it and drains it again, and already she’s starting to feel better despite herself, damn him. After a moment, she chances a look back at the Doctor, whose thousand-yard-stare bores into the canopy up above, his face alternately painted white by the lightning leaking through the curtains and plunged back into darkness seconds later. Rose wonders at his strange silence, what she can do to disrupt it. As disconcerting as his extreme chatter was earlier in the day, Rose would trade anything for it right now. She doesn’t like it when the Doctor is quiet. It’s weird. Rose avoids her side of the bed on her return trip, heading straight for the Doctor instead, or rather, for his shoes. She ignores the way his eyebrow arches in question when she sits down at the foot of the bed and pulls the laces free from one plimsoll. “You can’t sleep like this,” she chides gently. “To be fair, it’s doubtful I’ll sleep at all.” Rose finishes unlacing one shoe and sets to work on the other. “I know.” She tugs both shoes off and scoots up the bed, unbuttoning the Doctor’s top jacket-button. He doesn’t try to stop her, not when she slips the next button free, not even when she moves down further, but with his hands still folded over his stomach, he doesn’t exactly try to help her, either. (Rose can feel the weight of his gaze on her face, though, heavy and questioning.) Probably she should pull away, give him space, allow him room, if he wants it, but her hands linger near his, fingers ghosting over the landscape of his knuckles. “Just seems like you could use a proper rest, is all,” she mumbles. “I’m not tired,” the Doctor says quietly. “When’s the last time you slept?” “I’m all right, Rose.” “Yeah, that’s what you say when you’re anything but all right.” With a heavy sigh, the Doctor sits up, dislodging Rose’s hands as he swings his legs round, hanging over the side of the bed, feet ready and prepped to stand. To run, Rose thinks, and panic rises in her chest, squeezing her heart until it hurts, bursting at the seams like a stress toy clenched in an angry and unforgiving fist. “Doctor,” she tries to say, but it’s too late; he’s pushing up from the bed and re-buttoning his jacket and he’ll slip his shoes on next just before he slips out of the room, and she’s just going to be left here alone with nothing but her own thoughts and aching heart and fluttering stomach for company. Rose doesn’t know if she can take another night of that--last evening was more than enough, thanks. So she rises with the Doctor and, pulling him down by the jacket-lapels, presses a kiss to his mouth. He freezes beneath her touch. Rose’s lungs contract painfully in her chest and she pulls away, panic pulsing higher and higher and louder and oh, god, oh, fuck, oh, no, no, no-- “Rose, I thought it was clear that my actions the other night were a mistake,” says the Doctor, his voice surprisingly quiet for all that its edges are sharp. Her cheeks flush hotly in the half-dark. “You didn’t say it was a mistake. You said you were sorry.” “It’s the same thing, isn’t it?” “No,” replies Rose stubbornly. “It’s not.” The Doctor shoves his hands into his pockets, but he doesn’t move to leave, so Rose considers that a small victory. She’ll take them where she can get them, right now. “Why’d you kiss me, if it was wrong?” Rose asks. The Doctor bristles. “Why did you push me away, if it wasn’t?” “I don’t know. I guess I was just surprised, or confused, or taken off-guard, or…” Mouth pursed tight, the Doctor watches her, unconvinced. “Look, what do you want me to say?” Rose asks, crossing her arms defensively. “You want me to say it was because of what happened in France? Fine. It was because of France. Want me to say I was jealous? Fine. I was jealous. Happy?” “Jealous? Jealous of whom?” the Doctor asks, bewildered. The question hits Rose like a physical blow; she has to step back to absorb it. “Jealous of…?” she stutters, and when the Doctor doesn’t elaborate, she throws her hands up in the air, at a complete loss. “Who do you think?” The Doctor just shakes his head, eyes wide, and Rose drags both palms over her face in exasperation, heedless of any makeup she might be smearing. “God,” she groans, “it’s just so easy sometimes to forget what a bloody alien you are.” Buzzing with barely-tamed impatience, the Doctor watches her, waiting. Lightning arcs above them, painting the Doctor’s face in a flash of white, and his eyebrow arches expectantly, as if to say, Are you going to go on, or aren’t you? Drinking in a deep breath, Rose steels herself. “You were just gonna disappear,” she says. “Just running off after the next shiny thing, like always. You were gonna leave me behind, right after you promised you wouldn’t.” “Rose, I never--” “Never what? Never popped in and out of all those time windows like it was nothing, or flirted and carried on, or made a right arse out of yourself at some bourgeois party while Mickey and I were almost cut up for scrap parts? No kissing, no dancing, no I just snogged Madame de Pompadour?” The Doctor’s expression cools. “You do realize that I don’t require anyone’s permission to do those things. Or anyone’s approval, for that matter.” With a heavy sigh, weighed down by the plummeting twin masses of resignation and defeat, Rose bends over to scoop her slippers off the floor. Coming in here was a mistake; she knows that now. “Yeah,” she says, her voice flat as she slips the shoes back on. “I’m sure you’re right. You always are.” “Oh, come on--” “No, I get it. You’re the Doctor, you’re your own man, you don’t answer to anyone, ain’t nobody gonna tie you down. If you’re looking for a higher authority, there isn’t one. Isn’t that right?” “Rose,” the Doctor says warningly, but she plows on. “Just, if you never want to be held accountable to anyone, not ever--that’s fine, I guess, but then what’s the point of having friends?” Rose pleads. “Or are we even really your friends at all--are we more sort of empty shells that you can pour information into, or just fresh pairs of eyes to make the universe seem new and bright again, or just things that make noise and distract you from feeling quite so miserable and guilty and lonely anymore?” “Rose, that’s enough.” “Is it, though? Cos I’m happy to go on about how stupid and clueless we all are, all us silly humans struggling to keep up with you hopping from world to world and one obsession to the next. After all, there’s none in the group that’s stupider than me, since apparently I haven’t got even the faintest clue about how other people feel about me or how I’m supposed to react to their ridiculous mood swings and shifting tempers and ever-changing invisible boundaries—” “Quite frankly, you’ve got no room to talk—” “—and I can’t even tell whether I’ve got the right to be jealous or not. C’mon, let’s chat about it, I’ve got all night!” “Fine,” the Doctor snaps. “Yes, you are stupid. Very much so.” Rose’s mouth falls open in shock, only to twist back shut. Telltale pressure builds up in her sinuses, insistent and near-overwhelming, and she blinks furiously to dam the flow before any leaks spring forth. She hasn’t cried in nearly half a year; she’s not about to let it happen now. She’ll be damned before she lets the Doctor see her so vulnerable. “Guess I sort of walked into that one,” she mutters to herself. “You’re an incredibly stupid, reckless, selfish, short-sighted human child who can’t see past the here and the now,” the Doctor spits out. “Did you even think about what could have happened when you jumped through that mirror? Did it ever cross your mind, the damage you could have caused? Do you ever stop, even for a single second, to consider the consequences of your actions, how you might alter things irreparably, how you--” “Jesus, I get it, all right? We already talked about this, I was never gonna let anything happen to Reinette or the timelines or--” “I’m not talking about Reinette!” the Doctor shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. “When did I ever bring up Reinette? I’m talking about you, I’m talking about me!” Inhaling sharply, Rose hesitates. She opens her mouth to speak. Nothing comes out. She closes it again. She waits. The Doctor shoves both hands in his pockets, looking resolutely at anything in the room besides her. “What would have happened if I hadn’t found that last connection?” he asks, perhaps more of himself than anyone. “Or if I’d found it even a few moments later? You were already stuck there for months, months, and your stupid human life is already so short as it is. If you’d been stranded there for years, decades--what if you’d gotten sick, what if you’d gotten hurt?” Rose hasn’t got a reply for that. They’re all things she had wondered herself, back in France, and just hoped every day she wouldn’t ever have to find out. “I was so--I panicked, Rose, I panicked and it rendered me utterly useless,” the Doctor continues. “That could have cost you everything. What if I had found the connection too late, what if I’d never found it at all?” “You would have found another way,” Rose insists. “That’s what you do.” “I don’t always, though,” the Doctor laughs weakly. “Not every time. And I worry you don’t understand that. You look at me like I can do anything. I can’t, Rose. Your unwavering faith--I don’t deserve it. And I’m not saying that for the sake of receiving reassurance,” he snaps when Rose tries to interject. “I don’t want that. I don’t need it. Heaven knows I haven’t earned it. My behavior has been nothing short of abominable, if not downright monstrous; don’t think I’m not aware.” He pushes one hand through his hair, sighing heavily. “The truth is, I can’t always engineer a happy ending. Sometimes there simply isn’t one to be had. You’ve seen it, time and time again; no matter how hard I try, nearly each time we intervene to help someone, there’s someone else who doesn’t make it. We may save the day for most, but in the end, there are still lives lost. Someone I couldn’t help, someone I couldn’t save. What happens when that someone is you?” “That’ll never happen,” Rose says stubbornly. “It will, though.” His eyes cinch shut, as if the conversation costs him, like his body is paying the bill with hurt. “We’ve already come so close. You just rush in, headfirst, no looking back, no thinking, no stopping to consider what might be. You just in front of a car to save your father, break through a time window to save a stranger, absorb the Vortex to save me--” The Doctor swallows. “It’s just a matter of time. You’ll do something, or I’ll misjudge something, or I’ll panic, or there’ll be an accident, or you’ll grow tired of all of this, and--and then you’ll be gone. And I’m not ready for that yet. I’m just not.” His shoulders sag in defeat. “And I’m not sure I ever will be.” Rose’s hand twitches, the impulse to soothe him with touch so deeply ingrained that her body starts to move of its own accord, drawn to him like her hands are programmed to comfort, her arms to embrace. But she stops herself. Some strange cocktail of emotions is brewing and surging in her veins and she just needs a moment to sort it out properly, so the whole thing doesn’t boil over into one big bubbling sticky mess. So she doesn’t drown. (She can’t believe that the Doctor would ever feel so much, all because of her. All for her.) “Well,” she says, hesitantly. “Stop insulting me and maybe I’ll stick around longer.” “I don’t think it qualifies as insulting so much as accurate. Your actions really are astonishingly ill-advised, sometimes. Shockingly so.” “Right,” says Rose, anger rising to the surface once again. “So I’m reckless. Great. And selfish. Fine. And yeah, stupid, too. Why keep me around, then? What’s the point? If I’m so foolish, why don’t you just get rid of me?” “If you’re not foolish,” the Doctor snaps, “then why do you love me?” A lump lodges in Rose’s throat. “I don’t,” she lies. The Doctor’s gaze meets hers and god, does he look tired. His expression is so sad, so unbearably pathetic in the watercolor-grey splashes of light, that something wells up in her, a blind driving need to wipe that stupid, awful look off his face. (Is he upset because he believes her--or because he doesn’t?) Rose pushes him by the shoulders, a sharp jab that knocks him back a step. “I don’t,” she insists. Chest heaving with exertion, she pushes the Doctor again for good measure when he doesn’t reply--why won’t he just say something, do something, anything, goddammit--and another sharp shove sets him back until his legs hit the bed. “I don’t love you,” Rose says, bitter hot tears swelling fatly in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t, I don’t, I swear I don’t--” “Good,” replies the Doctor, his voice short. “Me neither.” “Good,” Rose echoes, and please, please don’t let him see the moisture glittering on her lashes. “Then none of this means anything.” Yanking him down by the jacket, she captures his lips in a punishing kiss. This time, the Doctor doesn’t freeze, isn’t a cold marble statue unwilling and unable to respond; no, this time one hand flies up immediately to her face, gripping her firmly by the chin while his other hand clenches her by the hip, pulling her tight against him. Rose’s fingers slide up to tangle in his hair, fingernails scraping against his scalp; he bites her lower lip in response, his tongue slipping past her lips when she gasps in shock. His tongue brushes slickly over hers and Rose groans despite herself, the sound humming from her mouth into his. Dizziness fizzes up in Rose’s head, a direct counterpoint to the swooping sensation descending low in her belly, and this time, she knows it’s got nothing to do with the alcohol. Her hands shift to the Doctor’s tie, loosening it up enough to bare his throat to her teeth. His breath hitches when her lips brush against his Adam’s apple; his grip on her tightens when she bites down. His skin flushes brilliantly against her mouth, delightfully hot and pulse point pumping-pumping-pumping, and Rose gives the spot a good suck, privately reveling in how the Doctor swears under his breath. All those layers, all that haughty superior species thinking-instead-of-doing nonsense, all those snide remarks about the base instincts of human nature, and yet here he is, trembling at her touch and clutching her close just like any human bloke might. “Leaving your mark?” he asks breathlessly. “Yeah,” she says, pushing him until his knees buckle and he lands on the bed. “Wanna ruin you like you ruined me.” With a growl, the Doctor forces Rose down into his lap. A needy whimper arises in Rose’s throat as the Doctor pulls her in for another harsh kiss, his hand sliding beneath her skirt, skin-on-skin at last. He dispenses with any sense of buildup and slides a thumb beneath the neckline of her gown, teasing her breast as his other hand slips between her legs to stroke her through her knickers. Thighs clenching, Rose gasps as pleasure sparks through her, setting her nerve endings on fire and pooling slickly between her legs. She knows the Doctor is watching her, filing away expressions and scents and sounds so he can chart a map for himself, telling him where to stroke next, where best to lick and kiss. But she’s not a brave new world for him to explore; there’s no promise of anything forbidden or new, no sense of wide-eyed wonder. Instead there’s just heat, and pressure, and need. And right now she needs to see him lose control. Her fingers slip down to his waistband, pulling his shirttails free and flicking open his trouser-clasp so she can lower the zipper. He’s already half-hard when her fingers reach his cock, and he shudders as she strokes, teasing him with swipes of her thumb. He swells beneath her hand and she thinks she should lick her fingers, grip him with something warm and wet. Then she has a better idea. Pushing the Doctor until his back hits the mattress, Rose offers him one more kiss, hard and punctuated with teeth, before she grabs him by the wrists, pulling his hands out from beneath her skirt. She aches at the loss of his touch but she ignores the throb between her legs as she sinks to the floor. “Rose--” the Doctor starts to say, but she’s already leaning forward to take him in her mouth. Back arching off the bed, the Doctor gasps, straining against Rose’s grips on his wrists as her lips close around him. His thighs tense beneath her and she knows he’s fighting not to thrust, not to choke her. She rewards him with a swirl of her tongue and a hard suck. Releasing one wrist, Rose wraps a hand around his cock, ringing the base where her mouth can’t reach, pumping in counterpoint with the motion of her head and lips, and the Doctor pants heavily above her, stomach muscles constricting with effort. Humming around him, Rose takes him in further still, and the Doctor groans, head thrown back against the mattress, throat exposed to the night air. Rose rubs her thighs together for any sense of friction she can get. The sights and sounds of the Doctor, helpless and panting and strained because of her, makes her ridiculously wet, makes her entire body cry out for his touch. He chokes out her name, arm twisting in her grip so his hand can grab hers. The other hand tangles in her hair, the pressure undemanding, his thumb idly stroking her cheek. Rose wonders if he’s even aware of the gesture, decides she doesn’t care. She swallows around him, sliding her mouth up and down along his cock until he cries out, every muscle in his body seizing up beneath her. His cock pulses hotly in her mouth and she eases him through it, stroking and swallowing until he stills. Discreetly wiping her lips, Rose stands on shaky legs, watching the Doctor as he fights to regain control. His chest heaves with labored breaths--did he forget to engage his bypass, she wonders?--and his eyes are glassy, unfocused. Inwardly, Rose rewards herself with a small but satisfied smile; she did this. She made him come apart, spiral unbound, surrender to just a shred of humanlike vulnerability. Just for once, she was the one in control. Yet, after the heavy rasp of his breathing dies down, when he sits up on the bed and runs a shaking hand through his hair, Rose find she can’t quite meet his eyes. She’s not sure why. (He won’t look at her either.) Somewhere in the back of Rose’s mind, a small voice pipes up that this is it, this is the moment to throw herself into the Doctor’s arms, press a real honest-to-goodness kiss to his lips and tell him everything that’s been simmering between her lungs for the last half-year (longer, if she’s being totally honest). And if she really thinks about it, the voice goes on, doesn’t she think if she opens up to the Doctor first, wouldn’t that make it easier for him to respond in kind, to chisel even just the tiniest crack in his walls to let her in? She feels in her gut that that’s true. He may never leap into things the way a human partner might, but if she jumps in first, Rose knows, there’s a healthy chance he’ll at least wade in after her. And even if he doesn’t respond quite the way she hopes, at least then it would all be said, spoken into tangibility out in the open. At least he would know. But something slithers in and strangles the little voice before it can give shape to its words, and suddenly Rose is afraid. (Who is she kidding? She’ll be lucky if he ever looks at her again, after tonight.) Wordlessly, head thudding dully, Rose crosses to the other side of the bed, ignoring how her body still cries out for attention. She crawls beneath the duvet, her back to the Doctor. She tries not to hold her breath. Minutes tick by. The silence is deafening. Finally, the silence is cracked apart by the Doctor, clearing his throat before he leaves to duck into the ensuite. The sound of water splashing on skin greets Rose’s ears, and she realizes he’s washing up--washing her off, of course, why wouldn’t he?--and suddenly all of the air leaves her lungs, her throat seizing up after. The Doctor is better than all of this, higher than all this stupid petty human hormone-ridden muck, and she just dragged him down into the dirt with her, didn’t she? Surely that must be what’s going through his head right now; surely he’s disgusted with her. Shame boils up deep inside. What’s wrong with her? When the Doctor emerges from the ensuite and does not return to the bed, but rather heads straight for the bedroom door without so much as a Good night, Rose’s worst fears are confirmed. The door clicks shut behind him and for some reason that click of utter finality brings the panic flooding in. Oh god, she’s ruined everything, hasn’t she? What the fuck is wrong with her? Suddenly sleep is the furthest thing from Rose’s mind, a surge of fight-or-flight adrenaline rushing through her veins. She can’t stay in here. The bed is too small. The room is a cage. Her heart hammers frantically in her chest and she throws off the duvet, it’s strangling her, she’s got to escape, she’s got to run--maybe it’s not too late to apologize, or maybe if she’s lucky she can find a black hole to throw herself in-- Rose yanks open the bedroom door to find the Doctor standing in the doorway, fist posed as if he was about to knock. They both blink at each other in surprise. Rose’s breath catches. Is he…? Could he be…? “Sorry,” says the Doctor, his hand slowly falling. “Erm, I just realized--Shoes.” Frowning, Rose shakes her head. “Shoes?” Avoiding her gaze, the Doctor scratches the back of his neck. “I might’ve forgot to put my shoes back on.” Of course. He wouldn’t--it wouldn’t have anything to do with her. Feeling very stupid, Rose nods, rapidly blinking back tears. She steps aside so he can enter, her mouth twisting with the effort not to cry. If he registers the look on her face, or notices the stiffness in her shoulders, the clenching of her hands, the Doctor doesn’t show it. He crosses the room in several long strides, grabbing his trainers and returning to the door without a single glance in her direction. Stepping into the corridor, his head jerks her way, lips parting like he may say something; if so, he must think better of it, because he just issues a curt nod and starts to walk away. Rose’s pulse thunders painfully in her ears and before she knows it her feet are carrying her after him. “Erm, Doctor…?” He stops and turns, expression carefully neutral. “Hm?” Oh god, what now? She feels dreadfully stupid. “I just sort of realized,” Rose stammers. “I mean, it’s silly, I know, but--” She gulps, audibly. “It’s just, we, erm. Haven’t really had a proper hug since I got back, have we? You know?” He watches her silently, waiting, his expression inscrutable. “And I don’t know about you,” Rose continues, shaking, “but, erm. I could really use one?” For a few horrible seconds, Rose is certain he’ll slap the olive branch out of her hands, or just leave it hanging there while he turns and runs, abandoning the poor thing to wither and rot. But in the blink of an eye he’s dropping his shoes to the floor with a loud smack that echoes in the hallway and another blink later and he’s wrapping his arms around her, binding her in an embrace snug enough to crush the air out of her lungs. Stunned, it takes her half a moment to respond with a hug of her own, but once she does, his arms tighten even further, a steel trap with no intention of ever letting go. Rose isn’t sure why that’s the thing that breaks the walls to let the tears flow free, but damn if she isn’t choking back sobs now. “The sex wasn’t that bad, was it?” the Doctor asks wryly. She can’t muster the energy for a laugh, so Rose just shakes her head instead, burying her face against his chest. He smells--god, he just smells so good, she’d almost forgotten, and he feels so wonderful, like wiry muscles and a slim frame, like comfort, like home. Her tears slowly soak his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind, or maybe even notice. “I didn’t--” Rose tries to say, and chokes on the words. “I never meant--” “I know, Rose,” he says quietly. “Me neither. I’m sorry.” She hears him swallow, the noise thick. “I’m so sorry.” Sniffling, Rose nods against his chest. “Thank you,” she whispers. Fists clenching in the back of his jacket, Rose’s fingers seize up painfully tight. “I missed you,” she admits, willing herself not to shake. “God, I missed you so much.” The Doctor doesn’t reply, but Rose feels his chest deflate beneath her cheek, as if he’s letting out something that was trapped inside. He presses his lips and nose into her hair, breathing her in. His hold on her relaxes in increments as his thumbs draw lazy little circles on the small of her back, and Rose feels her muscles slowly loosening, the last of her tears subsiding with a hiccup. Something uncoils in her ribs, unclenching for the first time in hours--really, the first time in months--and she nuzzles against the Doctor, eyes shuttering in relief. (It’s really quite a nice hug. Nothing in the universe like it, and she would know.) “C’mon,” the Doctor says gently, pulling away after a few moments have passed. “Let’s get you some rest.” Rose threads her fingers through his, offering him a faint grin. “You, erm. You gonna stay with me?” “If you’d like,” he replies, his voice soft. Rose pushes up on her toes to plant another kiss on his mouth, a shy thing, this time, pressed to the corner as lightning pulses gently overhead, and the Doctor’s lips twitch in a small smile, after. “Yeah,” Rose says. “I’d like.”

***

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