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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

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Safe (Home Worker Jay, Social Worker Hailey; Part of AU-gust) {Please Re-Read; Made Changes}

A/N: After some confusion, I changed the home to resemble more of Brady (Chicago PD 4x13). So if you guys wouldn't mind rereading and liking/reblogging again, that'd be great! Thank you for reading! Remember to like/reblog and comment! I'm also donating all the proceeds that from my buy me a coffee account to Save The Children to help the children of Afghanistan. Link to buy me a coffee.

Masterlist

Jay walked down the long, dimly lit hallway and peeked into each girls' room. Because of the dim light in the hallway, there was no need to utilize the flashlight he carried with him and shin it on the floor of each room to make sure that each girl was there. He continued peeked in rooms to make sure that each girl appeared asleep. But then, he got to your room.

You were sitting on your bed, visibly shaking and covering your mouth with your hand so that your sobs wouldn't wake up the girls in the rooms next to you.

Jay quickly went to the last room and checked to make sure that all the other girls appeared asleep and then scribbled down on the piece of paper attached to his clipboard that all the girls appeared asleep...except for you.

He knocked softly on your door and you jumped. He gave a small wave and pointed inside your room, silently asking if he could come in. You didn't have much control in the girls' home you were in, so the staff was always trying to give you as much control as possible...even though you needed staff to wait outside the bathroom for you since there was a time limit, and needed them to unlock doors which were closed, since they automatically locked, hence all of your bedroom doors being propped open because staff needed to do bed checks and make sure you and the other girls were okay and where you were supposed to be.

You nodded, allowing Jay to enter your room.

"Can I turn this on?" he asked, pointing to the small lamp on your desk.

"Sure," you answered as you wiped the tears on your cheeks and drew your knees up to your chest, and then hugged them to your body.

Jay crouched in front of you. "What's wrong?" he asked. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. We can just go out into the common area so you can calm down a bit and go back to sleep. Or the kitchen if you need a snack or water," he offered.

"Can I- Can I get some water?" you asked.

"Of course," Jay answered. "Do you want to come with me?"

You nodded and picked up your water bottle. You also grabbed your blanket. Jay was going to tell you to leave it on your bed, but seeing how distraught you were, he decided against it.

"You want ice?" he asked as the two of you walked to the kitchen. He unlocked the door and you followed him in.

"Yes, please," you told him and then handed him your water bottle.

"Okay, I can do that."

You stood in the kitchen area while Jay unlocked another door to get to the freezer. He propped the door open with the doorstop and then opened the freezer and put ice in your water bottle. Then he closed the freezer, kicked the doorstop away, and then walked out and closed the door behind him. Then, he grabbed you some water, screwed on the lid, handed it back to you, and the two of you left the kitchen.

"Can I stay out here for a while?" you asked quietly after you had taken a few sips of the cold water.

"You can. Just give me a minute to text Kim, okay?" he answered.

"Okay." You pulled out a chair at the table and sat down, tears still coming down your face, but a lot slower than earlier.

Seeing as there was only three staff at the home tonight and Jay had to do bed checks for his hallway, he had to text Kim to let him know that one, he was in the dining area with you because you were upset about something, and two ask her if she could do his section of bed checks until he got you to calm down and got you back in bed.

She answered quickly and said that she could do that and thanks for letting her know.

Jay put his phone away and turned his full attention to you.

"What's got you so upset?" he asked gently after he sat down next to you.

"I have a home visit tomorrow with Hailey. My first overnight one," you answered.

"Hey, that's a good thing! You're getting adopted soon!"

"But they always fall through!" you cried. "And what if I have a nightmare when I'm there?"

"Hey, hey," Jay soothed. "We'll pack your meds and you should be fine."

"But what if she doesn't want me after this home visit?"

"Y/N, I need you to listen to me." You looked at him. "Hailey's nervous too, but it's okay to be nervous because that means you're about to do something really, really brave."

"Really? She's nervous? But it's her house?"

"Mhm, it's not just you who's nervous. The adoptive parents are nervous, too because they want everything to go well just as much as you do."

You looked up at him nervously while pushing the straw of your water bottle back and forth. "Will you be there?" you asked.

He cocked his head to the side. "Will I be where?"

"At Hailey's," you stated simply.

"Why would I be there?"

"Jay, everyone knows you two are dating."

That was one thing about being a man who worked in a unit with a bunch of female coworkers and girls he had to take care of: the gossip was astronomical...even though the staff did try their best to keep it to a minimum.

"I mean, I won't dispute that fact," he began, "but I wasn't planning on being over at Hailey's tomorrow night."

"Please?" you asked. He had a confused look on his face. "Please will you stay at Hailey's tomorrow, too? You- you both make me feel safe and if something happens to either of you..."

"You want there to be another person you trust around?" he finished.

"Yes, please."

"Okay," Jay relented. "I'll talk to Hailey."

"Okay."

"Are you ready to go back to bed?" he asked.

You nodded and you went back to bed, hopeful that Jay would be at Hailey's tomorrow because then there would be two of the people you trusted most in the world. Jay was one of your favorite staff members...mostly because he rarely disciplined you and the other girls and was always approachable when you wanted to talk about anything that was going on in your head.

***

"I need to do a bag check," Kim said. You handed her your bag to check so that she could jot down what you brought with you to make sure you brought all your clothing, toiletries, and comfort items back from your overnight home visit with Hailey (and Jay).

Once she checked your bag, she handed it back to you and then turned to Hailey. "She's good to go once I get you her meds. Some need to be taken in the morning and some in the evening. Don't worry, I wrote evening and morning on the med envelopes so that you don't get them mixed up."

Hailey nodded and then Kim went to get your meds.

"You nervous?" Hailey asked you.

You looked down at your feet. "Did Jay tell you I was?"

"He didn't," Hailey said. "But, you wanna know a secret?" You nodded. "I'm a little nervous, too."

"Jay told me you were," you said.

"He's good at making people feel better, isn't he?"

"He is."

"He also mentioned that you wanted him there tonight? Do you want him to come out to dinner with us, too?" she asked.

"If that's okay with you."

"Totally fine!"

Kim came back and handed Hailey your envelopes of meds and then the two of you were off.

***

Dinner had come and gone. You went to Olive Garden where Jay met you and Hailey there. You had decided to get fettuccine alfredo and Jay and Hailey both said that you could eat as much salad and breadsticks as you wanted. They even let you get dessert!

You went back to Hailey's house and were shocked to see how nice your room was, and it was a lot bigger than the one at the home you lived at and the one Jay worked at. It was simple, but you loved it. It had a full-sized bed with a fluffy white comforter, a desk, a bookshelf (which Hailey said that you guys could go to a bookstore tomorrow so that the bookshelf didn't look do empty), a dresser, and a closet. Hailey also said when you officially moved in in two weeks, you could go shopping for more decorations so that your room wasn't so undecorated...even though you were totally floored by it the way it was now.

Hailey made sure to give you your meds promptly at 8 pm. Then, you watched a movie, the three of you had decided to watch Tangled because Jay knew it was a good bet since it was PG and not PG-13 and if you had to choose your favorite Disney princess movie, that'd probably be it. And because some things in PG-13 movies could be triggering...for obvious reasons.

When the movie was almost done, your stomach started to hurt, but you just chalked it up to nerves because you knew you'd be sleeping soon...and that was always the worst part.

Luckily for you, Hailey had a boombox that she let you use for music. You didn't have a phone or mp3 player and at the home, everyone was given their own small radio when they came. As a peace offering of sorts from the staff to the girls. But, you forgot it for your home visit with Hailey.

"Goodnight," you said after you filled up your water bottle.

"Goodnight," both Hailey and Jay said. They said that you could wake them up any time if you needed absolutely anything. But, you hoped you wouldn't need to.

You fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning in both anxiousness and from the pain in your stomach. God, maybe that pasta, all those breadsticks, and dessert hadn't been as great of an idea as you had previously thought.

***

Okay, so all that food most definitely was not a great idea. Soft groans were coming out of your mouth as you tried to get comfortable and move your body around so that you didn't feel the pain in your stomach anymore.

You needed to go to the bathroom and you needed it now, so you needed to hurry so that Jay could wait outside the bathroom for you since you needed to let him know where you were going and would only get a certain amount of time in the bathroom.

You grabbed your water and slowly walked so that you didn't irritate your stomach even more. There was a lamp on in the living room, which showed you that Jay was asleep on the couch.

You padded over to the couch. "Jay," you whispered.

"Hmm?" Jay asked and rubbed his eyes.

"Can you come with me to the bathroom, please?"

He sat up. "Oh, Y/N, you're at home you don't have to ask."

"Oh, sorry," you quickly apologized. "Sorry for waking you up." You were so used to having someone have to accompany you to the bathroom or unlock certain doors for you, that it was going to take you a while to break that habit...especially when you were tired and not feeling so hot while also being in a new place.

"It's no big deal. I slept out here in case you needed anything anyways. It's what I'm here for."

Your stomach made a noise and then you felt bile rise in your throat. You stiffened.

Jay heard your stomach and noticed your drastic change in posture. "Y/N, what's--"

You covered your mouth and took off running toward the bathroom that was across from your bedroom.

"Shit," Jay muttered and followed you, but a lot slower.

Once you got to the bathroom, you threw the lid of the toilet open and threw yourself to your knees, just in time to empty your stomach.

Jay crouched down next to you. "I'm gonna hold your hair back, okay?"

"Uh huh," you croaked. You knew that if you didn't say yes, Jay wouldn't have held your hair back. In his job, he was trained to go along with the girls' boundaries and to not touch them unless he verbally asked them and got verbal confirmation from you girls that that said physical contact was okay.

Jay gently held your hair back while you continued to retch and spill the contents of your stomach.

"There you go," he soothed. "I'm right here. You're not alone."

When you thought you were done, you reached up and flushed the toilet. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm gonna go wake up Hailey just to tell her what's going on. Feel free to get some water or brush your teeth."

You nodded and he left the bathroom. When you picked up your toothbrush, you realized what had just happened: someone had just comforted you when you were sick. That never happened before.

A tear rolled down your cheek just as Jay came back into the bathroom with Hailey.

"Oh, Y/N," she started as she walked up to you. "How bad does it hurt?"

"No, it doesn't hurt now," you said. "I just, I never had anyone comfort me or hold my hair back when I was sick before."

"Oh, honey," Hailey said as her heart broke. Then, she caught herself. "Is that one fine?" she asked, referring to pet names. She didn't want to trigger you.

"Th-That ones fine," you answered.

"Can I give you a hug?"

"Yeah," you whispered and opened your arms so that you could hug her.

"You're feeling a lot better?" Jay asked and you looked up from hugging Hailey and nodded. "So, no doctor?"

You abruptly pulled away from Hailey and backed away from both the adults. "No, no doctor. Please no doctor. Please," you pleaded.

Jay furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but Hailey's eyes widened as she realized what he had just said.

"Honey, no, we are not taking you to the doctor, okay?" Hailey began. "We know you're feeling better, but we're just going to give you some Tums in case your stomach starts to hurt again."

"So no doctor?" you asked.

"No doctor," she confirmed.

"Thank you. I think I'm gonna brush my teeth now. My mouth tastes gross."

"Okay. Come out whenever you're ready."

Hailey reached for Jay's hand and led him out of the bathroom. He still had a look of confusion on his face while she grabbed two Tums and set them next to a cup of water for you.

"What does she mean no doctor?" Jay asked in a hushed voice.

"You know she was trafficked by her own parents, right?" Jay nodded, he had to read all the girls files when they got new girls in, but some information was left out because it could still be in the court process, or because it had something to do with family where a parent still had legal custody of the girl or for other reasons. Hailey's voice got even quieter. "A doctor was one who would you know...pay for services, um, regularly."

"So now she doesn't think she can trust any doctor," Jay finished.

"Yeah. She told me a few weeks ago. I think I'm the only one who knows that her doctor had been one of the people assaulting her."

"Now it makes sense that she had to be restrained when we told her she had to go to the doctor's for a check-up three months ago. We all just thought that she didn't want to go, but she was just really scared."

"She was a danger to herself and others," Hailey said. "You did the right thing by using restraints, even if you didn't know the reason she was acting out."

"Still, I wish I would've known. That way maybe we could've eased into talking about it more instead of just telling her she'd be going. And, she actually might've gone to the check-up if we did it that way."

"There was no way you could've known."

"I know, still makes me feel bad." He took a deep, shaky breath. "God, we take it for granted so much that we'll have at least one parent there for us, to hold our hair back and comfort us when we're sick. But, Y/N didn't have anyone, Hailey."

A few tears ran down Jay's face.

"I know," Hailey said and pulled him into a hug. "I know. But, this is what we do. In our jobs, we help these girls. We do this because we want to make the world a better and safer place for these girls, to help break the cycle. Lord knows we don't do it for the money. And, soon we'll be helping her even more. Together. Here. At home."

"You're excited for when the adoption goes through, aren't you, Hails?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, I never wanted kids because, well you know my past history with my parents, but working with kids in social work and seeing how many of them go through multiple foster homes and other types of homes and then just age out..."

"I know, I know," Jay sympathized. "We talked about this. And you felt drawn to Y/N. I'll be there through it all with you."

"Thank you. I love you, Jay."

"I love you, too, Hails."

You sighed and then made your way into the kitchen. You didn't want to be in trouble.

"Are these the medicine?" you asked, pointing to the table where the Tums and the cup of water were.

"Yes," Hailey answered. "They're dissolvable, but I didn't know how you would like the taste, so I put the water there just in case."

Jay looked at you closely. "Hey, are you okay? Is your stomach hurting again?"

You shook your head and sat down and then took the two tablets and drank a few sips of water after.

"Just ti- tired," your voice cracked halfway through the word, immediately alerting both Jay and Hailey that something was wrong.

Jay crouched down in front of you and Hailey sat down across from you as you let out a wail.

"You're mad, you're mad, you're mad!" you bawled.

"Neither of us is mad," Hailey told you softly.

"Jay's mad! I woke him up!"

"I'm not mad, Y/N, not one bit. You're allowed to wake me and Hailey up whenever you need us or even if you just want some comfort, okay?" Jay asked as his heart broke.

"Who told you that they were mad when you woke them up?" Hailey asked gently. With her job, she knew she needed to ask some tough questions in general, but, specifically with you, she also needed to get more of your history than she already had so that she knew what your triggers were and how to help you with coping skills and other things that were beneficial to your mental health when you moved in with her.

"My parents and my first foster parents," you whispered.

"Okay," Hailey started, "I'm sorry that happened to you. We're sorry that happened to you. And we can promise you that neither of us will hit you or raise our voices at you."

At the mention of you having been hit in your past, Jay looked up at Hailey and she gave him a subtle nod, silently telling you that that had been a part of your past. He knew your parents were unfit because both their parental rights had been terminated, but he didn't know details...and now he was receiving those heartbreaking details from his girlfriend, who you seemed to open up to more than anyone else. Well, more than anyone besides the in-house therapist.

"You promise?" you asked, finally looking up from where you had your eyes trained on the table.

"I promise," said Hailey.

"You have my word," Jay echoed. He paused a few moments to let those promises sink in. "Now, if Hailey's okay with it, I say we watch another movie until you get tired. What do you say, Hails?"

"I think we can make an exception," she agreed.

"Okay, what movie?" Jay asked.

"Can we watch the Jumanji remake?" you asked. "The one with the Rock. I know it's PG-13, but it doesn't seem that bad."

Jay nodded. "Well, if anything triggers you, you just need to tell either me or Hailey so we can help you process it right away, okay?" You nodded. He looked at Hailey. "You good with Jumanji?" he asked with a humorous glint in his eye because he already knew the answer: his girl loved any movie that The Rock was in.

"Jay, you know I love The Rock. You wanna get it set up while I grab Y/N's pillow from her room?"

Jay said okay and the two of you made your way to the living room. Jay moved his pillow over so that he and Hailey could sit on the couch, while you sat on the smaller couch across from them.

Hailey came back with your pillow and a few blankets and you got all set up.

Not even halfway through the movie, you were asleep once again. But this time, your stomach ache was gone and you felt safer and more comfortable than when you had first walked into Hailey's house earlier that day.

***

"Quiet, Hails, she's still out," Jay whispered to his girlfriend as they walked out of their bedroom the next morning.

You were knocked out on the couch after getting sick and anxious last night. And Jay had decided just to go sleep with Hailey last night after everything that had happened because they were both emotionally drained and needed the other's comfort to go to sleep after Hailey had told Jay a part of your story that he hadn't known.

"What does she normally eat for breakfast?" Hailey whispered.

Jay worked a mix of first, second, and third shifts at the home, so he knew what you'd normally eat for breakfast and that after school you needed some time to recharge in your room after being with other kids all day.

"Normally bagels and cream cheese. Sometimes a banana too," Jay whispered back.

"Perfect. I don't have to cook a ton. Want me to start on coffee and then we can just drink it at the table and wait until she wakes up?"

"Sounds good to me. Don't forget her morning meds."

"I know, Jay."

"Just checking."

***

You woke up to see Jay and Hailey sitting at the table drinking something out of mugs, which you assumed was coffee.

You stretched and then got up off the couch. You remembered watching another movie last night, but don't remember finishing it, so you must've fallen asleep there and Jay and Hailey just decided to let you sleep instead of waking you up.

"Good morning," you said as you got up off the couch. "What time is it?"

Jay craned his neck to look at the clock on the oven. "8:45," he answered. "Time for your morning meds, too."

He started to stand up, but Hailey stopped him. "I got it. I need to make sure I have this down, so do you just want to cut up a bagel and pop it in the toaster? There should be chocolate chip ones in the fridge," Hailey told Jay.

"You have chocolate chip bagels?" You asked as a smile broke out on your face. "We don't have chocolate chip ones at the house."

"And, I have regular cream cheese and strawberry cream cheese, so take your pick." She paused. "Your stomach's feeling better though, right? I don't know if I want you eating this stuff if you're just gonna get sick again."

"It's not hurting anymore. I think I just ate too much," you answered. "But if you want me to eat something else—"

"Oh no," Hailey quickly cut you off. "You can eat whatever you want."

Hailey walked over to get the meds ready and Jay cut a chocolate chip bagel in half and popped it in the toaster.

"Hails, you want one?" Jay asked.

"That'd be great. Thanks, ba- Jay." She almost called him babe but didn't know if that would trigger you, so she immediately cut herself off.

"Are you gonna have one, too, Jay?" you asked.

"No, I think I'm gonna make myself some eggs," he answered you while he cut a chocolate chip bagel in half for Hailey.

"He's such a health nut," Hailey laughed as she rolled her eyes. Then, she made her way to the table and handed you a cup with your meds in it and a cup of water. You quickly took the meds and washed all of them down with the water.

"We know," you laughed as you handed the med cup back to Hailey. "He always brings his own meals to the house. And they're always salads or something else really healthy." You wrinkled your nose.

"I know, he's weird," Hailey agreed.

Then, Jay told you that your bagel was done, so you walked over to the counter and used a plastic knife to spread some strawberry cream cheese on it.

Jay's phone buzzed and he groaned. "My brother wants to meet up for lunch today."

"Well, if Y/N's comfortable with it, maybe he'd like to meet us at the bookstore and then we can all go to lunch or just meet us for lunch?" Hailey suggested.

"You're letting me decide?" You had never had this much control over anything in your life.

"Of course," Hailey began, "we want you to be comfortable with whatever you're doing."

You turned to Jay, whose attention was still on you and Hailey while he scrambled his eggs in a pan over the stove. "Is he nice?"

"Oh yeah," Jay said. "He's super nice. His name's Will and I'll even tell him to be on his very best behavior."

"Okay. Can we just have him meet us for lunch?"

"Of course," Jay agreed. "I'll shoot him a text."

***

"What kind of books do you like?" Hailey asked.

You looked up at Jay. "You didn't tell her that?"

"Nope. Some stuff I can keep a secret," he answered with a wink.

Hailey smacked him on the chest. "Jay Halstead. You are the absolute worst."

"But you love me. And you know it." Jay gave her a kiss on the cheek and you burst out laughing. "What?"

"You two. You're just so cute."

"Hear that, Hails? Y/N thinks we're a cute couple."

"Oh, quit your bragging," Hailey said and rolled her eyes. "Anyway, what's your favorite genre?"

"Uh, I really like historical fiction," you answered.

"Alright," Jay started, "towards the historical fiction we go."

"Oh, and if we go to that section, we pass their little cafe," Hailey told you. "You up for a hot chocolate or pastry?" she asked.

"You don't have to get me anything," you said quietly. "You're already getting me books."

"You know what Hails?" Jay said. "I could go for another cup of coffee and then we could drink it while we're walking around."

"That sounds like a great idea. Two coffees and then whatever drink Y/N wants."

"Okay," you relented. "But you guys don't have to keep spending money on me. I don't need much."

"Y/N, look at me," Hailey began and you looked at her, "when I decided I wanted to adopt a kid, I knew I was going to spoil them. And, it just so happened to be you. I know you're scared because everyone's left you, but me and Jay, we're in it for the long haul. You can trust us. Let us spoil you, okay?"

Tears made their way to your eyes. "Okay. Can I- Can I hug you?"

Hailey nodded. "Of course."

And as you hugged Hailey, Jay smiled because that was the first time you had asked for a hug. Before, most people had to ask you, but this time you were asking them and Jay considered that huge progress from when he first met you months and months ago.

***

You sat down next to Hailey at the little diner you decided on for lunch. Jay texted Will and told them they had gotten a table, and he said he'd be there in a few minutes.

You ordered your drinks and then a tall man with red hair and a navy blue jacket with a hospital logo on it walked towards your table. Your breath hitched.

"Hey, it's okay. That's just Will," Hailey explained.

"But- But his jacket says medical on it," you said and clenched your fists and dug your nails into the palms of your hands.

Will sat down.

"Y/N, this is Will, he's my older brother. And, he's also a doctor. But, he's a good one, I promise!" Jay told you quickly.

You swallowed as tears pricked your eyes.

"Y/N," Hailey began gently, "me and Jay wouldn't let you meet him if we didn't think he was 110% safe to be around. I promise you that Will's a good guy."

You looked up at Will to see that he had a goofy smile on his face. "Hey, kiddo."

"H-Hi," you replied quietly.

"So, Jay told me you like historical fiction and that you got hot chocolate. Did you like the hot chocolate? And what's your favorite time period to read about?"

You started talking to Will and you thought that this doctor wasn't so bad...but there was still no way in hell you'd be going to see a doctor for any kind of medical treatment any time soon.

***

Two weeks later

You grabbed all your bags and made your way out to Hailey's car. Then, you turned around and looked at the place you had called home for the past few months. Even though sometimes it didn't feel like home, you knew you were safe there, and with your past, that was what made this place a home in and of itself. You just hoped that Hailey's (and Jay's) place would be as safe as the first night you were there.

Jay was over for dinner and even though he wasn't on the official adoption papers, he went through the same extensive background checks and trainings as Hailey just because she said that he'd be over a lot.

That night, you were asleep. But, somewhere in your sleep-addled brain, you were dreaming. And it wasn't a good dream. It was a dream about your terrible parents and that terrible doctor.

"I don't give a damn!" Jay yelled. He had gone outside to take a phone call from his dad because he didn't want to wake you. But, seeing as you were a light sleeper, those words entered your nightmare.

You whimpered and tried to dodge the slap that came your way in your dream.

Jay quickly hung up the phone when he heard a thud come from inside the house and ran back inside.

You were laying on the floor and had landed with your arm in an awkward position.

You heard the thundering of footsteps coming towards your room.

Shit, you were going to be in trouble for waking Hailey and Jay up.

You scrambled back into bed and took a sip of your water to calm yourself down. But damn, your arm felt like someone had twisted it and stepped on it...much like it had felt three years ago when your dad yanked you back by the arm and twisted it behind you when you tried to run away from that doctor.

Jay slowly opened the door to see you sitting up in bed drinking some water. "Hey," he greeted. "You okay? I thought I heard a thud."

"Uh, I just dropped my water bottle," you told him, trying to hold back tears at how much your arm hurt. "Sorry if I woke you and Hailey up."

"Oh no, I was talking with my dad on the phone," he told you quickly. "You didn't wake us up. Goodnight."

"'Night, Jay."

The minute he walked out of your room, you turned on your side to face the wall and cried until you finally cried yourself to sleep because of the pain.

***

The next day, you tried your best to eat normally and not make a face at how much your arm hurt. But, best believe that when you went to the bathroom or went to change your clothes alone in your room, you cried silently to yourself.

"Hey, it's pretty nice out," Hailey stated when you walked out of your room dressed in jeans and a t-shirt after you had eaten breakfast, washed your face, and brushed your teeth. "Jay suggested a picnic and some baseball at the park nearby. Do you want to do that?"

"That sounds really nice," you said. But, you weren't looking forward to the baseball because you knew that it'd made your arm hurt. But, you didn't want to go to the doctor's either, and the lesser of two evils would be playing baseball with your arm hurting at a level ten.

"Okay, then it's settled. Ham or turkey on your sandwich for the picnic?" Jay asked.

"Ham please," you answered.

***

You played some baseball and gritted through the pain of pitching, catching, and batting and now it was time for lunch.

The three of you were sitting on a picnic blanket on the grassy area outside the baseball diamond. You took the sandwich out of the baggie and Hailey's eyebrows furrowed as she saw the bruising on the inside part of your forearm.

"Y/N, are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" you asked.

"I just see a bruise on your arm. Did you fall earlier when I was running to get a ball and didn't see it?"

"No. I uh, I must've just slept in a weird position last night," you told her. You knew that was a terrible excuse, but that was the only one you had at the moment.

"Okay, well we have ibuprofen at home and we can ice it there, too."

"Okay, thank you." You took another bite of your sandwich.

***

You finished your picnic and then made your way to Jay's truck. You reached up and grabbed the bar to pull yourself up into the truck easier, but cried out when you pulled.

Jay dropped the picnic basket.

"Y/N!" he yelled and ran up to one side of you and Hailey ran up to the other.

You cradled your right arm in your left hand. "It- It's nothing," you said quickly. "I think I just pulled a muscle or something."

"Honey, can I take a look?" Hailey asked.

"I- I don't want to go to the doctor's! Please don't make me go! Please!" you cried.

"Honey, I'm just going to look at it. Then we'll see if we need to go. And, we can always call Jay's brother, Will, and make sure he's the one who treats you. But we don't even know if you need to go to the doctor yet, so please, just let me see your arm."

You reluctantly held your arm out to her. Jay looked, too.

"I think we need to take her in, Hails," Jay said.

You ripped your arm away from Hailey, causing you to scream out in pain. "No! I'm fine!"

"Y/N, you are not fine," Jay said. "Please just let us take you to the doctor's."

"No!" you yelled again.

"Can you tell me why?" Jay asked, employing a tactic he used in the home when girls didn't want to do things. "Maybe make me understand why?"

"He hurt me there!" you yelled. "Every time I went to the doctor, he gave my dad free visits to look at me in exchange for- for--" you wailed and crashed into Hailey's arms.

You gripped her t-shirt tightly with your good hand while you bawled your eyes out.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay. He's not here. He's in prison. He can't physically hurt you out here, Y/N. And, if we go to the doctor, we'll make sure that it's Will who treats you and we'll be there the whole time," Hailey soothed.

You sniffled and then looked up at her. "You promise you'll be there the entire time?"

"I promise," Hailey confirmed.

You looked at Jay. "You too?"

"You have my word," he agreed.

***

Jay called Will and told him that the three of you would be coming into Chicago Med to look at your arm because he and Hailey thought that you broke it and that they needed Will to treat you because you didn't trust anybody else.

When you walked into the hospital, tears pricked your eyes and you grabbed Hailey's hand with your good one.

"I- I changed my mind," you said quickly. "I don't want to go to the doctor. It'll heal by itself like the other one."

Hailey didn't know what "other one" you were talking about, but she let that part of the sentence go.

"Y/N, honey, we need to make sure you're safe and healthy. And getting you treatment for a broken bone is part of that." She looked at Jay, silently asking him for some help.

"We'll be right there the entire time," Jay promised once again.

"But- But what if you have to leave? I don't wanna be alone in there! I don't!" you cried.

"And you won't. We'll both be there. And if one of us has to leave for whatever reason, then the other will stay. You can trust us. I know it's hard, but I promise you Y/N—me and Hailey both promise you—that you can trust us. We wouldn't have these jobs if you couldn't trust us."

Jay looked up when he heard someone clear their throat. He saw Will standing there.

When you saw Will, this time in hospital scrubs instead of jeans, a t-shirt, and his Chicago Med sweatshirt, you gripped Hailey's hand even tighter.

"Hey, Y/N," Will greeted. "Jay told me you're having problems with your arm? I bet it hurts really bad."

"No, I'm fine," you argued.

"Okay, well..." he paused and moved a hand from behind his back, which was holding a bowl that contained an ice cream sandwich. It was chocolate ice cream squished between two chocolate chip cookies. "I have this ice cream sandwich here for you. Why don't you eat this with your good arm while I take a look at the other one?"

You shyly nodded and let go of Hailey's hand and took the bowl from Will's outstretched hand. "Thank you," you said quietly.

"You're welcome. Now right this way, please."

Will let you into a treatment room and Hailey helped you up on the bed.

"Alright, so Y/N, this is April," Will said as he introduced the nurse who walked in. "She'll be helping me out and taking your vitals."

April would've made a joke about how she'd be doing all the work, but seeing how nervous you were, she didn't."

"But you- you said that Will would be treating me. You promised!" you yelled and looked at Hailey and Jay.

"Y/N, all April's doing is helping Will out. Doctors need help, too," Hailey reassured.

"I'll be really gentle. Okay, sweetie?" April said.

You shoved yourself back into the bed, almost whacking your head on the wall.

"No! No! Don't hurt me! Please, don't!" you yelled.

All four of the adults in the room shared a look.

Hailey cursed. "It was the pet name," she figured out quickly. "One of them must've called her that before."

She knelt down next to the hospital bed, where you were visibly shaking.

"Y/N, I need you to take a few deep breaths with me. In and out," Hailey said.

"I can't! I can't!" you wailed.

"Yes, you can. Just like this." Hailey breathed in and out deeply.

"We can always administer medication if needed," Will suggested.

"Yeah, no," Jay said quickly. "You won't be doing that."

He pulled your emergency inhaler for times like these out of his pocket and pulled it out of the small box. Then he uncapped it and handed it to Hailey.

Once you took two more deep breaths, she held it up to you. "Can you take three puffs for me, Y/N? Just three puffs," she said.

You nodded and put the inhaler to your lips, allowing Hailey to push down on the button, which resulted in you getting some much-needed oxygen into your lungs.

"Better?" Hailey asked when you handed it back to her.

You nodded. "Thanks for having it, Jay."

"You're welcome." He put the inhaler back in the box and then back into his pocket.

Will pulled up a stool and sat on it. Hailey was still right in front of you, but Will was next to her and looking directly at you.

"Y/N, what April's gonna do is just listen to your heart and lungs with a stethoscope just like I have." He touched the stethoscope that was dangling from around his neck. "And then she's going to take your blood pressure by wrapping that around your good arm and squeezing the red thing." He pointed to the blood pressure cuff that was hanging in the room. "And then, I'll take a look at your arm. While she does that, I'll go grab you another ice cream sandwich because I'm pretty sure the other one is melted. Does that sound okay?"

You nodded, thankful that Will was explaining everything to you.

***

Fifteen minutes later, Will was back with your ice cream sandwich. He apologized for taking so long and said he had to argue with a cafeteria worker to make sure he got chocolate ice cream and not vanilla ice cream on it. But, he got it, so that's all that mattered.

He handed you the bowl and you took the ice cream sandwich out with your good hand and took a bite.

"How is it?" Will asked with a smile.

"It's really, really good. Thank you," you answered and took another bite.

"Good. Now, can you try and hold your arm out me?"

You hissed as you straightened your arm to hold it out to him.

"No, no," Will said quickly. "If it hurts to straighten all the way, don't do it." You nodded. "I'm just going to hold your arm with one of my hands and feel around it. Tell me where the most pain is. Do you want some pain medication?"

"No, no needles," you said. "Last time it made me sleep and then I couldn't feel my body."

If Will wasn't working he would've froze because he knew what you were talking about. Jay did, too, and Hailey squeezed his hand to silently tell him to stay calm.

That doctor who had previously assaulted you had drugged you with Rohypnol.

"We can give it to you in pill form," Will suggested. "Is that okay?" You nodded and Will turned to Jay. "What medications is she on?"

Jay rattled off the list of medications and then Will said something to April and then she handed you three pills and a cup of water. You took them.

"They should start to work in fifteen minutes," April told you.

You nodded and then yelped when Will gently pressed down on the inside of your forearm. "Right there?" he asked.

"Mhm," you gritted out as tears came to your eyes again.

"Well, the good news is, we're gonna get an x-ray and you won't have to have me push on your arm anymore," Will told you. You nodded. "Can you tell me how this happened?"

You looked up at Jay. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Jay furrowed his eyebrows. "I fell out of bed because of a- because of a nightmare. I told you it was my water bottle. I'm sorry!"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Jay soothed quickly. "But can I ask why you didn't want to tell me?"

"I didn't want to see a doctor. And I thought you'd be mad and bring me back to the home."

"Oh, honey," Hailey interjected. "We'd never do that. You're my kid forever now."

"Yours, too?" you asked looking at Jay once more.

"You're not mine on paper, but I promise you that I'll keep you safe," he answered.

"But can I be your kid? Eventually?" You asked.

Hailey put her arm around Jay's waist. "You know what, babe? I think getting you to adopt her, too would be great. What do you say?"

"I'd love nothing more," he said with a huge grin on his face.

"Hate to break up this little moment," Will began, "but we gotta get her down for x-rays. Based on where it is, I think she broke her ulna."

April stepped forward. "If you'd follow me, that'd be great."

You looked at Hailey and Jay. "Will you guys come, too?"

Jay looked at his older brother, who gave him and Hailey a slight nod.

"Of course we will, honey," Hailey said.

"Because you said you'd be with me the entire time and because you said you'd keep me safe?" you asked as Hailey helped you down.

"Precisely, kiddo, precisely," Jay said.

And for the first time in your fifteen years of life, you finally found a home that you felt safe in, all thanks to Hailey and Jay.

A/N: Again, I changed a bit of this because some people were a bit confused and, I figured if I modeled the home after Brady, you guys would have a better time imagining it. Anyway, thank you guys so, so much for reading! Remember to like/reblog and comment if you haven't already! Next up, royalty AU part 2! Again, I am donating all my proceeds on buy me a coffee until the end of AU-gust to Save The Children to help the children in Afghanistan. Buy me a coffee here.

As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’d be happy to add you!

Taglist: @theambracer88@virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

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tobi-momo · 3 years

Text

hanahaki

Pairing: Kirishima x GN!Reader

Warnings: Hanahaki disease, blood, throwing up, choking, gagging, the whole jist.

a/n: this was super fun to make! requests are open! you can also just talk to me uwu

Myth. It's a myth. It isn't real. The petals and flowers falling from your mouth aren't real. The thorns scratching your throat and the blood spilling from your lips aren't real. It's all a myth. Then why does it feel like your heart gets ripped out of your chest each time? It was so hard not being able to tell him, not being able to seek out the comfort you needed. You just wanted him to be happy. But it hurt so badly that you couldn't be the one he was happy with. You couldn't help but feel that pain every time you crouched over the toilet, clutching the seat as if your life depended on it while you cough and gag, emptying your agony. You had come to terms that you were never going to be with him. He was your best friend, and he had someone who could make him happy. Someone that wasn't you. But as the petals make their way up your throat, choking you, making you claw at your neck as if it was an itch, you couldn't help but feel...misery. It had become a normal thing for you to ditch him to take your trip to the restroom, as you would never admit to him that you were feeling like this. Interactions between you two would be short; you would always find an excuse to leave before you completely embarrassed yourself in front of him. He was spending more time with his girlfriend, Sayaka. They had met a couple months ago at a class trip 1-A was taking as a short and sweet vacation to relieve stress. And it did, for the most part. You and Kirishima were stuck at the hip, having sleepovers and little parties together even without the rest of your friends with you two. That was, until he met Sayaka at the mall you and the rest of the class went to for the process of blowing off steam. Ever since then he'd stopped doing everything with you, and started doing everything with her. She was your replacement. No, she was better than your replacement. He finally found someone he could be happy with, and here you are, throwing your guts up and more because you were stupid and fell in love. Even when your stomach, lungs and throat were drained, when you had nothing left to give, you tended to gag a couple extra times after; the bits of flower, irritating the back of your mouth. How the fuck did you end up here? ._._._._._._._._._._._._._._. The next day you were just as exhausted and dead inside as you were yesterday. Everyday passed with you thinking about your lost love with Kirishima. You were drained. You were weary, empty. Your skin had lost a lot of color these past few weeks, and you started to slump over when walking. Everyone around you could tell something was wrong, but no one seemed to press when you said you were fine. Even Kirishima had noticed. He was worried, to say the least, and he needed to know what was going on before you had killed yourself. He approached you as class ended with his hand scratching the back of his neck, nervous. For a short second your eyes had sparkled; you loved it when he was nervous, he always looked so cute- but you knew what he was going to ask, and you couldn't handle it. Emotionally and physically. "Hey, y/n," he chuckled dryly, obviously trying to cover up the awkwardness, "can we talk?" "Oh, uh, sure," you answer; throat dry and scratchy. You both head out of the classroom together while you mostly hope to whatever god is out there that they won't let you break in front of him. "What was it you wanted to talk about?" "Oh, just that you seem a little down lately. I wanted to know what's wrong, since you're one of my best friends, ya' know?" One of my best friends. "Oh, I'm fine, Eijirou. No need to worry." His eyes changed at your statement. He had a feeling you were lying to him, and he hated that. He couldn't help that he couldn't be with you as much anymore, he had someone else. But he also couldn't help that his closeness to you was a lot different than his closeness to others. He didn't have the same connection with Sayaka or Bakugou or Kaminari like he did with you. But you didn't know that. You thought he was forgetting about you, leaving you behind. It was like you were reaching out to him, but then he faded away at your touch. "Are you sure? I mean, I know I haven't been hanging out with you a lot recently because of my relationship with Sayaka, but I want you to know that I still care for you just as much as I did before. Nothing has changed." You knew he was being sincere with his words, but you couldn't help but doubt him while the stabbing pain in your chest was forming. Shit. You needed to get out of there soon or else- you didn't want to think about what might happen. You gently push Kirishima out of the way before you realize you are already past the bathrooms. Would you even have time to lock your door before your body betrays you and destroys itself? You didn't know, but at this point, you didn't care as you rush to your room, trying your best to lock the door, only half-succeeding, and pulling out the bucket you kept by your bed. The bucket was small, but big enough for you to stuff your head in while you coughed up your tragic love story. You had got it a couple weeks after this whole...thing...started. So having it there when you're in a hurry was really convenient. You had almost collapsed down from crouching so fast and the bucket barely tipped over from your aggression. You were a mess, for Christ's sake. How could you let it get this far? Trying to pull your hair out of the way, you could feel the thorns coming up through your throat, abrading your esophagus and climbing through the back of you mouth and leaving for the bottom of the bucket. Flower petals and leaves falling out of your mouth; you gagging and attempting to catch your breath and not choke on your blood. You didn't even hear Kirishima pounding on the door, yelling your name before he yanks the door open with a panic-y yelp as he saw you hunched over, throwing your brains up. His eyes widened at your figure. Were you sick? You would've told him, right? He rushes to your side, careful not to scare or worry you. So this is why you've been so fatigued all the time? You've just been sick? You could've told him, he would've helped you go through it. Hell, you wouldn't be sick anymore if you were getting help from him. So now he just had to be here for you, while you literally spill your guts out. He gathers your hair from around the bucket with his hands, rubbing your back and tugging your hair up to the back of your head. Wait- was that blood? His face of worry immediately changes to panic; he doesn't know what to do as he sees blood spill from your lips. What the hell was going on? As soon as that question pops up in his head, a petal fell from the brim of your mouth. Holy shit. No way. No fucking way. "Y/n? Y/n! Are you okay? What's going on? Is this what I think it is?" You couldn't tell him, could you? Could you tell him that you were hopelessly in love with a man already in a relationship with another woman? Could you tell him that you had been in love with him for a long, long time? You couldn't do that to him. You couldn't do that to your relationship. No. You just couldn't. You grab your throat in effort to stop the thorns from objecting your airway. You cough it up, watching the long stem of a flower that was long gone slide out of your mouth, and into the bucket that had saved you cleaning hours. Kirishima watched as tears streamed down your face unwillingly; he was absolutely distraught. How could he be this fucking clueless? How could he not see it sooner that you were hurting. Hurting more than he thought you were. "Y/n, it's going to be okay! I'll help you! Whoever it is!" He practically shouts at you when one of your hands come up from your neck to his chest, grasping his shirt. Fuck it, you couldn't keep it in anymore. You needed him to know. You needed him to realize that you loved him more than anything ever in this world, and you weren't going to stop. And apparently, he knew what you mean. Hearing your choked sobs as soon as the last little bits of flower left your lips you kept looking down, embarrassed and ashamed as all hell. "I," you cough, throat dry and raspy, "I'm so-sorry." "Sshh, it's okay, don't talk," he says, his smooth voice making you feel much more at ease. You look up at him slowly, being conscious of your current state and well, to put lightly, you look like a total mess. He smiles at you. His magnificent, beautiful, amazing smile, just for you, automatically makes you want to smile back. But you can't. You physically can't. Your jaw and throat are so tired, you're surprised you haven't passed out yet. You thought too soon. You went out like a light. But thankfully, you woke up in Recovery Girl's office, the bright lights blinding you and the heart monitor's beeping making your head hammer. You take a long look around the room, taking in your surroundings. The first thing you notice is the bright red, spiky hair that is obviously Kirishima's. You scan his features, taking in his beautiful, beautiful face and body. He was the most amazing person you had met. You were so thankful to be in his life, and thankful he was in yours. And even more thankful he was in Recovery Girl's office with you. You felt...better. You didn't know what it was, but you felt good. Refreshed. "I love you," you sputter. Your voice, still gross, scratchy as all hell, but you needed to say it. Even if he didn't feel the same way. He smiled, and then chuckled. It was a happy chuckle. Like, a chuckle of relieve, you figure. "I love you too." What? Your eyes grow wide in pure shock. You hadn't expected this- you hadn't expected this at all. You were freaking out. "I- you what? But you have a girlfriend, I- I mean, there is no way you like me more than her, or even *love* me," you ramble. All Kirishima could do was stare. Stare at your beauty. "I'm n-nothing compared to her, she's perfect," you couldn't help but let out a little cry at this, admitting the fact that she was better than you. You were about to continue when you felt a hand on yours. "I don't love Sayaka. I never did. I love you. I always loved you. And I am so, so, so, so sorry that I let it get this far, this wasn't supposed to happen. But I want to make it better. Will you let me make it better?" He still smiles, but his eyebrows are furrowed, worried about your answer. You sit up, grabbing his hand tighter while reaching over to catch him in an embrace. "Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes," your voice turns into a whisper, "I love you so much, Eijirou. So much," you barely get out. His grip on you gets tighter, his arms around your back with one hand snaking through your hair. He sniffled, and by then you could tell he was crying too. "God, I was so worried about you. Don't you dare scare me like that again, okay, Pebble?" Pebble. You liked that nickname. It fit. "I won't, I promise. I won't, I won't, I won't." And from that moment on, the pain in your chest was gone.

#bnha #mha #kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima scenarios #kirishima headcanons #yaomomo's gf

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jwminssi · 4 years

Text

one breath to eternity (jikook)

After another argument with his father, Jungkook can't take it anymore and runs to the woods behind his house ready to end it all. There, he meets Jimin, a sweet boy with a way of seeing the world that will make Jungkook wonder how someone like him can be real as they talk through the night. In the morning, Jungkook can't bring himself to say goodbye.

6K | warnings: implied/referenced suicide, light angst with a happy ending

Jungkook takes a deep breath when he sees the light coming from his father’s office window while still outside.

Walking around the house to the backyard, he secures his bike and goes inside through the back door, taking his shoes off and trying to make the less amount of noise possible.

Not that he’s doing anything wrong, but Jungkook learned since he was really young that it’s best to do everything he can not to cross paths with his father, because any minimum thing can be fuel too a big fight.

Jungkook’s mother died at birth and, since then, he was raised by a babysitter until he didn’t need her anymore. The thought that if he hadn’t been born she would still be alive has crossed his mind hundreds of times, and Jungkook is sure that his father thinks the same – suspects that is the reason why he seems to hate him so much, too.

Since the babysitter left, Jungkook had to learn to live on his own and to take care of his own needs, only being able to count on his father to keep his bank account full enough so that he doesn’t have to ask him for anything else.

At school, Jungkook has a few friends – even a boyfriend at one point, before it all went downhill for good – but he can’t bring them home because his father said so and he really doesn’t need any more problems with him.

It’s a constant game of being careful, living in that house with a man that can’t even look at him without finding something bad to comment on. Most of the time, Jungkook can avoid him and all the hateful words that come out of his mouth when he locks himself inside his room and comes out only when absolutely necessary.

But of course that doesn’t always work.

“Where were you?” Jungkook freezes when he walks past the kitchen and hears his father’s voice calling out to him.

A big block of hesitation seems to land over Jungkook’s head before he answers the question. He can’t lie, because the other man already knows exactly where he was, but he’s aware that the truth won’t bring him anything good.

Still, he tries.

“Dance class.”

It’s impressive to Jungkook how much anger his father can carry only in his gaze. He’s always been a man with a hard posture, extremely serious and apparently without the smallest place in his heart for any emotion that’s not bad.

And ever since Jungkook started enjoying dance, it all got ever worse.

Maybe that reminds the man of his late wife, who was also a very talented dancer. That’s what Jungkook thinks, even though his father uses any other reason to hurt him and try to make him quit the classes.

Deep down, somewhere hidden in his mind, there is the comprehension that the words shouted at him aren’t really what his father means. Everything he does and says is caused by the pain and trauma of losing the woman he loves so quickly and early in life, leaving him to raise a child without even knowing where to begin.

That doesn’t mean that this treatment doesn’t hurt Jungkook, because it does even more than he can explain; but there is space in him for forgiveness if the older is willing to change.

The problem is that Jungkook knows that’s never going to happen.

“How many times did I tell you I don’t want you taking those classes?” He’s furious, which is nothing too different from ordinary, but Jungkook still takes a step back.

“But I like dancing.”

It’s a useless argument, because he’s never going to change his mind to accept one of his son’s passions. In fact, with each passing day, it seems like he’s more and more willing to force Jungkook to do everything he hates only to make him unhappy.

“I don’t care.” There it is, that’s the truth. Jungkook feels his chest tighten with the harshness of those words. “You’re already a freak just by liking men, I won’t allow you to ruin my reputation even more by being a fucking dancer.”

Something breaks in an irreparable way inside Jungkook when he hears that.

It’s not too far from what he’s used to, but for some reason on that day the insult hits him harder, like the knife was sharpened right before being thrown at him.

And he stands there at the kitchen door, eyes on the floor while his heart seems to want to come out of his body and his mind decides it’s time to go. He doesn’t know if his father expects him to fight, make up an argument or raise his voice so he can humiliate him even more or if he’s waiting for a positive answer, but all he can say is,

“Okay.”

So Jungkook goes up the stairs to his room, closing the door behind him before marching to his desk in search of a notebook and a pen, all while working on automatic.

It would be a lie saying that Jungkook never thought about giving up on himself before; in fact, that idea has crossed his mind way more times than he can even count.

However, he always had a dash of hope that his father could change someday and accept him as he is, without yelling hateful comments at him every day. Besides, when he was old enough to understand his mother died while giving him his own life, he unconsciously decided he would do everything in his power to make her last wish worth it.

Except he can’t do it anymore.

He knows he can ask for help, find a way to make all that pain stop without going for the last resources but he doesn’t think that anything anyone can do for him is enough to erase all the damage his father causes on him.

In this moment, this seems like the only way out.

Jungkook doesn’t cry while he writes the letter he’s going to leave behind. For some reason, he feels too empty to even shed a tear.

All he does is say his goodbyes and apologize for being such a disappointment in his twenty years of age. He tells his father that he never meant for it to be this way, he really wanted to make him proud, but he was never good enough to do it; he apologizes for that, too.

He takes the bottle with his sleep medicine from the bathroom cabinet and carefully places the envelope over his pillow on his well-made bed for his father to find the next morning when he goes in to wake him up and remind him of their daily schedule.

Jungkook climbs through his bedroom window, landing on the grass in front of the house easily in the same way he’s done so many times before. Once again he goes around his home, moving on towards the small forest that’s right behind the place he lives.

There’s a special tree there, where his babysitter placed a small wooden swing on one of the branches so that they could spend their afternoons when the weather was nice. When Jungkook reaches it, that’s when he starts crying.

His body starts feeling heavy and he needs to support himself on the wood that scratches his hand that’s not holding the bottle – which, on the other hand, feels different to the touch; maybe he got the wrong one.

Jungkook sits on the wet ground as he sobs alone in the woods. He cries so much that breathing gets harder as he goes on, oxygen more and more absent from his lungs, until he needs to close his eyes to try getting himself back to normal.

It feels like a small eternity until he opens them again, not because his breathing has returned but because there’s someone talking to him.

“You okay?” It’s another boy, they might share their age, and he seems genuinely worried, though he’s smiling. “Clearly not the best thing to ask but… I didn’t know where to start.” He eyes the medicine in Jungkook’s hands wearily before focusing back on his face.

“Who are you?” Jungkook asks, voice hoarse from the recent crying fit.

“Ah.” The boy smiles widely again and crouches next to him, putting them at eye-level. “Jimin.”

Jimin, whoever he may be, has something in him that Jungkook can’t quite identify. In the forest that grows darker by the second, he didn’t hesitate before stopping to ask a random stranger if he’s feeling okay; that’s not something everyone would do.

“Jungkook.” He introduces himself as well when he realizes that’s what the other is waiting from him and then has no idea what else he’s supposed to say.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to think too hard.

“Does this tree mean a lot to you?” Jimin asks, hugging his knees so that he’s more comfortable in that position.

Jungkook shrugs, still not feeling strong enough to do any more than that. “I guess.”

“You came to it in a crucial moment, I’d say that looks like a big deal.”

Jungkook nods, more focused on the way Jimin talks than in the words themselves; in that moment he decides that, if velvet could talk, that’s what it would sound like.

“Is it the swing?” Jimin keeps trying to prolong the conversation and, while Jungkook has no idea why he’s doing that, there’s no denying the fact that it does help him feel better.

“Yes.” He’s finally able to get up and goes towards the wooden toy, the paint that used to cover it now ruined because of the time exposed to the weather. “It’s mine.”

Jimin makes a sound of understanding and stops next to him, pushing the small swing with his delicate fingers.

“I walk around here all the time… Always wondered what’s the story behind it.” He faces him with a world of expectations in his eyes, as if knowing why that swing is there could that his whole universe.

“My babysitter and her boyfriend put it there when I was a baby.” Jungkook starts. There’s really nothing too special about that, but he finds that talking about it makes him see how much that gesture meant to him, a kid without both his parents. “As I grew up, they made the necessary adjustments until it reached a point where they didn’t have to anymore.”

Jimin seems more than satisfied to hear that, even if the story doesn’t sound that interesting to the ears of the person telling it.

“And have you been back here recently?”

Jungkook doesn’t really get what Jimin means with that question until he realizes the other is cleaning the seat’s surface.

“I’m too old for that, Jimin.”

Jimin laughs and rolls his eyes. “There’s no age limit to appreciate the small things, Jungkook. Come on, sit.”

A second of hesitation still goes by while Jungkook questions whether or not he’s really about to sit on a swing that’s been untouched in the woods for years, with the risk of it falling under his weight if it’s rotten on the inside.

Still, Jimin’s eyes convince him to do what he tells him, and his happiness doesn’t go unnoticed with the way he claps animatedly.

Jungkook holds on to the ropes slightly and slowly lowers his body over the seat, surprised in the best way possible when it supports him even after going so long without use.

He doesn’t feel like a kid again, but he can see clearly all the moments he lived there, being pushed by the babysitter to whom he was so attached to and feeling all the love he never received inside his own house.

For the first time that night, Jungkook smiles. A good feeling invades his chest and, when Jimin pushes him carefully on the back so that the swing moves, it overflows in the shape of laughter.

A cold breeze blows against him as he sways back and forth, his skin coming up with goosebumps in a way that reminds him of how special the little things really can be.

“And you didn’t want to sit on it...” Jimin shakes his head as he walks back into Jungkook’s sight, both smiling. “You know, me and my friends make a bonfire here every night… Want to come?”

This time around, Jungkook doesn’t think twice before agreeing.

It doesn’t take long for them to start getting deeper into the woods, the trees making an impressive roof above their heads.

Right as it starts to get too dark Jungkook sees a dot of light a few meters ahead, and he soon realizes that’s the bonfire Jimin mentioned.

The light comes accompanied with voices and laughter that rise gradually in volume as they come closer. Jungkook unconsciously allows himself to fall back behind Jimin, nervous about what the others will think of him being there without being invited.

“Jimin’s back!” One of them announces to the rest before his gaze lands on Jungkook.

“Found someone.” Jimin explains to the group, that seems more than satisfied with just those two words. “Jungkook, these are Seokjin, Hoseok e Taehyung.”

There isn’t even a flicker of distrust in their eyes when seeing a complete stranger being introduced to their space. On the contrary, they all look beyond excited that Jungkook is joining them, as if they were only waiting for him to arrive.

“You know, you won’t need that anymore. I didn’t after I ended up here.” It’s Hoseok who says that, talking to him for the first time and pointing to the bottle of medicine that Jungkook didn’t even remember still carrying with him. “Be our guest.” He opens a big smile and motions for the bonfire, his intentions clear.

Jungkook goes closer and sits next to him, studying the thing in his hands carefully and noticing it full, though he clearly remembers it being only halfway there earlier.

It’s a weird feeling, looking at those pills and seeing all the bad things they represent in his life in each of them. For that reason, Jungkook raises his arms above the fire and throws them out, getting rid of it while the rest of the group cheers around him.

When his eyes meet Jimin’s, they smile.

After the initial anxiety of being with people he just met goes away, Jungkook gets even more comfortable than he expected and finds his place in the conversation, fitting in perfectly. He laughs like he hasn’t done in a long time, feeling completely accepted and loved in that group that found him only a few hours ago.

He notices Jimin’s gaze on himself a few times and even risks looking back at him, thinking that he other looks happy that he settled in so well between his friends without trying too hard.

When conversation starts to die down, Jimin pokes him on the thigh and gets up.

“There’s a place I want you to see.”

Jungkook joins him through the trail between the trees, not saying goodbye to the other three because he knows he’ll see them again soon.

It got even darker in the forest during the time they spent around the bonfire and Jungkook can’t see anything ahead of him, has no idea how Jimin knows where he’s going either.

He stops walking when a scream so loud it’s deafening comes from right behind him, his body freezing up in place with the sheer terror of the sound. He hears it a second time, a bit closer, and covers his ears with every drop of strength he can muster through the fear.

“Hey, Jungkook.” Jimin calls out, holding his wrists with his hands and pulling them away from his face. “It’s okay, just ignore it.”

His voice sounds so close that, even though he can’t see him, Jungkook can tell exactly where he’s standing. His calming tone, still the same velvet from before, certainly helps Jungkook get back the beats his heart skipped.

“I got you.” Jimin tells him and then interlaces their fingers so that they can finish the path to wherever it is they’re headed.

Jungkook can’t take that scream out of his head, but does everything he can to focus on the fact that he didn’t hear it again and on the warmth of Jimin’s hand against his as he guides them through the tree maze.

“Seokjin was scared of the dark when he got here.” Jimin comments, his voice echoing in the silence of the woods while he holds firmly onto Jungkook’s hand, helping him ground himself and keep calm despite still being frightened.

“Must have been hard for him...”

Jungkook can only see Jimin tilt his head in thought because they reach a clearing and the moonlight finally shines on them. It really is too dark there; the trees cover most of the luminosity that the sky can offer and drown them in pitch black darkness that seems to swallow them whole.

“Getting here is the easiest part.” Jimin says as he sits down on the wet ground and surrounds himself of the small yellow flowers that grew in that field. “It’s the before that seems endless.”

“Did he say why he was scared?” Jungkook asks while joining him.

There is something extremely comforting about sitting there in the low light with Jimin, feeling the petals of the flowers tickle the skin of his naked arms and watching the dark middle of the night sky while a few dots of light adorn it.

All his life, Jungkook can’t remember ever feeling so welcome like this. Not even with the people he considered close has he experimented such a good and freeing sensation like the one he does right now.

Even Jimin’s silence is meaningful, his sighs a tight hug on Jungkook’s tired body.

“I suppose it’s not really easy for anyone but...” Jimin finally answers, eyes fixated on the tree line ahead. “He was taken from home once. Locked up in a cabin a few meters from here, because his parents were important people in the city. It was too much for him.”

Jungkook has no idea how to answer to that.

It was never a surprise to him what human beings are capable of doing for their own benefit, whether it be emotional, physical or financial. The world is moved by selfishness, after all.

But he saw Seokjin when they gathered around the fire, smiling and telling jokes, and there was nothing wrong of minimally out of place with him.

“He seems fine now.”

Jimin smiles.

“There’s freedom in the woods.”

Jungkook nods, gaze back to the sky where the moon looks down at him. He agrees completely with what Jimin just said, more than anything because he felt on his own skin the hug of the trees and the whirl of emotions that it brought to him.

“You feel it too, right?” Jimin asks him and when Jungkook turns to face him, he finds that his eyes are already on him, analyzing him closer than before.

Jungkook nods one more time, staying quiet while Jimin picks one of the small flowers and places it on his grown out hair.

They both smile with the gesture, sharing that moment that’s so intimate and only theirs. Jungkook loves the way Jimin caresses his cheek, his touch light as a feather, and can’t help but to lean into it.

Jimin looks at him like he’s the most precious thing in the entire world and, indeed, that’s how Jungkook feels, at least there in that moment.

So much so that he doesn’t feel even slightly insecure as he moves even closer, their faces mere centimeters apart. When their noses bump into each other, Jungkook notices that Jimin has closed his eyes so he does the same, letting himself go until their mouths meet in a chaste peck.

Jungkook pulls away minimally, but doesn’t take long before he’s kissing him again, this time deepening it as he pulls Jimin’s bottom lip between his before tracing it carefully with the tip of his tongue.

It’s a terrible cliche but Jungkook is sure no other kiss in his life was ever like this one; nothing came close to the utter euphoria that Jimin’s lips pull him into while they move against his. It feels like they both have a silent connection since the second they met, that perfect synchrony that turns everything they have together into something more than extraordinary.

It’s Jimin who pulls away first, slowly as if to not break the bubble they’re in. His eyes remain closed for a moment but he smiles when he touches their foreheads before putting some more space between them.

“You’re a special one, Jungkook.” It’s only a whisper, but it has the same effect on Jungkook’s heart than if those words were yelled into a microphone.

They exchange a meaningful look and then Jimin lies down on the grass, one arm under his head and the other stretched out next to him. Jungkook can’t help but to stare at him, the way he contrasts beautifully with the flowers on the ground, their light petals a total opposite from his black hair and clothes.

“Will you join me or not?” Jimin asks, amused after staring back at Jungkook for a while, raising his arm so that he understands he’s supposed to lie down over it.

The comfort that Jungkook gets when he scoots closer to Jimin’s body is indescribable. He feels the other’s warmth floating to him until it touches his own skin while one of Jimin’s hands finds the back of his neck, caressing him softly there.

They don’t say anything, but they also don’t need to.

A loud noise catches Jungkook’s attention and he sits up quickly, heart racing without knowing why, only that it sounded exactly like someone calling for help. He turns his head to the direction where it came from, not sure what he’s looking for but finding only the trees that surround the clearing.

“Did you hear that?” He asks Jimin, who has also sat up again.

The other only nods, also looking at the edge of where they are. There’s something else in his face, as if he’s contemplating what to do next; and that makes zero sense to Jungkook, because he has no idea what’s on the other side of those trees.

“Happens sometimes.” Jimin answers, his voice oddly distant.

“What’s in there?” He’s not absolutely sure he wants that question to be answered but the words come out of his mouth before he can hold them in.

“The lake.”

Jimin’s answer doesn’t tell him much, nor was it what he expected to hear. A heavy feeling fills his chest and he can’t even find an explanation for that, but it might have something to do with the fact that Jimin seems to be in the same place mentally and he can’t bear to see people he cares about down.

“Want to go over there?” Jimin looks at him suddenly and he seems to have gotten a hold of himself and of whatever was clouding his brain earlier.

Jungkook hesitates. “Everything okay?”

“There’s no one there.” Jimin assures him, already getting up and ready to go but Jungkook holds him back by the arm.

“I mean with you. Is everything okay?”

The look on Jimin’s face softens and he smiles the same way he’s been doing since the beginning of the night and only that is enough to make Jungkook start believing that there’s nothing wrong with going to the lake.

But Jimin doesn’t answer his question, only takes his hand and pulls him out of the clearing.

They’re immersed in darkness for a short amount of time until they reach the margin of a small lake that extends itself not too far ahead of them. The moon shows up in the sky again, not as strong as before but still enough for them to be able to see each other.

Jungkook can’t deny he feels weird standing there, as if that lake isn’t really a good place to be, but Jimin seems like he’s back to being calm so he chooses to ignore his mind for now.

A soft breeze blows against Jungkook’s hair and he remembers the small flower still sitting there, taking it carefully so that it doesn’t fly away and keeping it safe on the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Here.” Jimin comes up to him with rocks in his hands, that he shares with Jungkook to pass the time. “Try it.”

They each take turns with skipping the rocks, laughing with each other when an attempt fails or making bets as to who can send them farther away.

“You look close to the others.” Jungkook comments while he tosses another rock on the lake, counting as it skips four times before sinking.

“Actually, I only knew Taehyung before I got here.” Jimin answers, getting ready for his turn; he can’t mask the sadness in his voice. “He died with me.”

Jungkook’s brain doesn’t register the words completely at first, but when it does, he finds that it’s not really a surprise.

Just because Jimin hadn’t said that exact phrase before, with all the letters in a way that it couldn’t be misinterpreted, doesn’t mean Jungkook didn’t know. In fact, he’s sure that since the first moment his mind had already established what was going on.

Meeting Jimin in woods didn’t happen on accident, Jungkook is aware of that. All the circumstances that surround them, everything the other boy told him throughout the night… It was always very clear.

And that’s why he doesn’t get scared, only accepts what fate has brought him and, even more than that, holds on to it as tightly as he can.

“You’re too young...” Jungkook knows he’s speaking in the present, but he can’t simply bring their existence down to a verb tense.

“So are you.”

There’s something Jungkook can’t identify in the way Jimin says that. His voice sounds like it holds a mix of different emotions and for that reason he can’t pull them apart; all he knows, deep down, is that none of those feelings are happy.

“Sometimes we trust people and they hurt us.” Jimin speaks out his thoughts, gaze still on the lake.

Jungkook isn’t sure if he’s about to tell him what happened to him and Taehyung, but he listens carefully anyways, holding on to the little rocks he still has in his hands.

“I don’t know if it’s more frustrating to get out of it hurt or… the fact that I deposited something so precious in someone who didn’t deserve it.” Jimin goes on; as usual, there’s nothing bad in his voice, only a perpetual wave of calmness. “My stepfather was never a good person. I knew that, Tae did too, but it wasn’t enough for us to be able to stay away from him.”

The knowledge that they’re siblings comes as a hard hit for Jungkook.

During the time they spent together around the fire, he noticed how close the two of them seemed to be so that in itself doesn’t surprise him. What really leaves Jungkook in a state of disbelief is the fact that they both had the same fate and that Jimin had to watch his own brother die at such a young age.

“But did you trust him?” Jungkook asks, trying to connect that part of the story to what Jimin was just saying.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I trusted our mother.”

Once again, Jungkook has no idea what to say to that. He lived a whole life of disappointment with a person that was supposed to care for him and love him unconditionally, it’s not like he really has anything useful to add.

But just like before, he doesn’t need to worry about picking the right words.

“I don’t resent her, neither does Taehyung.” Jimin says with the certainty of someone who has spent a good amount of time pondering over a subject. “I think she’s free from him now, at least that’s what I hope… Silver linings and all that.” He smiles, one more time impressing Jungkook with his way to see the world. “But I wish I didn’t have to drown.”

The cogs move inside Jungkook’s brain until he reaches a conclusion, also understanding why he felt so bad.

“It was you that I head back at the clearing.”

Still smiling, Jimin nods and comes closer, leaning his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. The lake looks like a painting from where they stand, reflecting the moon that has moved through the sky already.

“Taehyung can’t come here.”

Jungkook can understand that perfectly. It’s not a crazy thought to think he’s scared of going to the place where his last breath was taken from him so traumatically.

“Are you okay with it?” He asks, afraid that being there is bad for him somehow.

“I come by every once in a while...” Jimin answers before facing Jungkook. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“It’s almost dawn, want to go back to your swing?”

Jimin’s eyes tell him he’s going to be there whether he chooses to go or not and that makes it even easier for Jungkook to make that decision.

In the end, they do end up making their way back to the place where they first met, next to the big tree that had such an impact on Jungkook’s childhood. Standing there after everything and the night he had, Jungkook feels small to the world, but for the same time believes he can be the whole world himself.

It’s in the details, this feeling.

In the way Jungkook understands that he’s nothing more than a cog in the big machine that is the universe, but at the same time can feel the galaxy pulsate under his fingertips when he places them over that tree.

Jimin only watches him for a while, giving him the space he needs to go back to the first hour of the night and take in everything that happened since he left his house.

“To be honest, I never thought I’d get this far.” Jungkook announces, eyes glued to something in front of him.

“Are you proud of yourself?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook isn’t sure proud is the right word for it, maybe that’s not what he’s feeling at all. Either way, when it all comes down to what really matters, he supposes he’s happy with his choices.

He doesn’t have time to give Jimin a proper answer, though, because something interrupts him.

At first, he thinks it’s thunder, because his body shakes with the force of it and his heart tightens in an all too familiar way.

But then it happens again and this time Jungkook knows what’s happening.

His father’s deep voice echoes through the trees, their branches breaking under his feet while he runs, faster and faster, towards the heart of the small forest.

Jungkook doesn’t remember ever hearing him call out to him like that, so desperately; he doesn’t remember ever feeling important to his father like this.

“He’s fast...” Jimin says, a quick comment to break the silence.

“It’s late.” Is what Jungkook answers, both facing the direction from which the voice comes from, each second closer.

“It’s quite early, actually.” Jimin looks around them, sees the forest getting brighter slowly as the sun rises through the blue sky that covers them. Jungkook smiles, because that’s just such a Jimin thing to say.

“He’ll find me soon.”

Jungkook is the one to say those words, and for a moment he doesn’t really know what to do with them. Inside his chest, he can’t feel the weight that used to be there, the anguish that stopped him from breathing normally; still, it’s not all that easy to understand what he’s done to himself, even though he already knows.

“And do you want to be here when that happens?” Jimin asks, always careful, soothing voice and gentle eyes.

Jungkook’s answer isn’t verbal – in fact, he doesn’t do anything at all – but Jimin understands and stays by his side either way.

It doesn’t take long.

The entire forest falls silent when Jungkook’s father finally stops in front of him, as if even the birds knew that they shouldn’t sing in a moment like this. He looks chocked with what he sees, unwanted tears falling from his eyes when he finds his boy.

Jungkook watches him get closer and pull his body against his own, hugging him tightly as if he’s trying to give him life through that touch. Watches him cry like he’s never done before, sobbing against the cold skin of his only son.

“He never hugged me like that.”

For a reason that’s unknown to him, realizing that doesn’t hurt as much as he would have previously imagined it would. Of course Jungkook’s relationship with his father has always been fuel for a lot of bad feelings, but now he’s oddly incapable of feeling anything other than pity; for him, for the man kneeling on the ground in front of him, for both of them.

“It’s a big cliche.” Jimin says next to him, eyes also focused on the scene ahead of them.

“What is?”

“Life.” When Jungkook turns to look at him, Jimin doesn’t face him back for a while, until he smiles and their gazes meet. “Death, too.”

Jungkook looks back to his father, still crying while he holds him in his arms. He supposes Jimin is right, because he always thought he would end up like this, the same way as many more before him.

“I never liked cliches.” He mutters, facing the other when he feels him coming closer.

“Sometimes they’re good.” Jimin’s eyes travel around Jungkook’s face, now free from all the pain he still saw at the beginning of the night when they first met. One of his hands brushes the hair away from his hands to then rest on his cheek. “Comforting.”

There is so much in Jimin’s eyes, an entire ocean of deep thoughts and mystery, but Jungkook thinks he knows him perfectly well when they connect like this.

He holds Jimin’s wrist and pulls it away from his face softly so that he can press a feathery kiss to the inside of his palm, both of them smiling with the gesture.

“He’ll be fine, you know...” Jimin assures him as he looks back to Jungkook’s father, who is now getting ready to carry his son’s body back home. “They always do.”

Jungkook nods, also watching what happens next. It’s weird watching himself go away like this while he stays, but it’s even more strange feeling like he doesn’t belong to that moment in the past anymore.

The truth is that there is no place for resentment in Jungkook’s heart and he never wished anything bad upon his father, not even with all the awful things he yelled at him through the years. But he can’t help the wave of relief that washes over him at knowing that he will never have to go back to that house and to living with the man under the same roof anymore.

Jungkook hopes his father moves on soon, but he can’t feel bad for choosing to leave.

When neither of them can see Jungkook’s father’s silhouette in the distance, Jimin pulls him by the hand back to the place they had the bonfire, where the others wait animatedly for them. Not even a drop of regret fills Jungkook; on the contrary, he feels light when he joins the group he meet at the beginning of the night.

The birds resume their singing, announcing definitely the beginning of another day, and Jungkook thinks that yes, there is freedom in the woods but, even more than that, there’s freedom in Jimin’s eyes.

And that’s where he pretends to spend the rest of eternity.

#jikook #kookmin #jimin #jungkook #jikook fic #kookmin fic #nat writes

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hookaroo · 5 years

Text

Vocivore, Ltd. (24 of 40?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE!!!!!******

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

******NEW!!!!!!!!!!! KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!! CHAPTER 1 ART JUST POSTED YESTERDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!***

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

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CONTENT WARNING!!!!!!!

THIS "BONUS" CHAPTER GOES QUITE A BIT FURTHER INTO THE NON-CON ELEMENTS OF THE MASTER'S RELATIONS WITH KILLIAN. Farther than I had originally planned and warned about in the beginning. I did my best to avoid being TOO descriptive, but it's still fairly evident what is taking place. You can safely skip this chapter if you aren't interested in that sort of thing.

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Present (Friday, early morning)...

If there had once been a time when the animal impulses drove Killian’s response to this--any physical response fully against his will, that only served to make it all so much less bearable--it was simply out of the question now. He had neither the blood nor the energy to spare.

It hurt less than it used to; both a blessing and a curse, in light of the double objectives of the creature above. That usually meant that his Master satisfied only one of its cravings at a time. Signifying more torture to come. In this particular Session, considering the number of days the Vocivore had gone without, Killian could only resign himself to extra brutality on both counts.

Killian’s Master stilled, electing to delay the end. He could sense its pleasure and its need, how it was deliberately controlling its passions for the sake of savoring each sensation. Two of its six legs held him in an inescapable embrace, and their jagged tips dug into his lower back with bruising force.

“My Tripod does not struggle much today,” remarked his Master as a tentacle caressed his jawline. Remorseful tears gathered in Killian's eyes. He knew that was a bad sign but could not remember why. The thought that he was failing to please his Master drowned out most other concerns.

“I'm sorry, Master,” croaked Killian. An unpleasant twinge elicited a wince and the beginnings of a short-lived squirm, but that only made everything hurt, and he could not continue.

“It is, perhaps, that you are unaccustomed to providing a means for me to break my fast.” It settled lower, deeper, and Killian choked back a sob.

It had come for him before the sun was up, before the birds had even begun a timid dawn greeting. He had been awake already, despite his weariness; too much pain plus the falling overnight temperatures had combined to drag him out of what little rest he'd been able to manage. So he'd been awake to hear the menacing scuttle of those pointy legs on the barn floor, to feel the dread when the shadowy hulk loomed over the entrance to his stall, reaching in with a glistening tentacle to unlock his chains and drag him to his feet.

There was meant to have been something different about this morning. Something he was going to do... Something... he was commanded to do? Yet his Master gave no hint.

He'd followed it to the best of his ability on an ankle swollen and brittle, every step tearing at the fragile clots formed around deeply buried staples. He'd made it as far as the cemetery before collapsing, and then his Master had taken him up in its arms, folding him into lung-crushing portability, carrying him inside with an effortless tenderness, and for once, all concern over the future faded into the background and he went limp, surrendering fully to the being rightfully in ownership of his body and mind.

The jarring landing as he'd been deposited onto the stones at the foot of the stairs had awakened some sense, reminding him of his imminent suffering. In unison with the creature positioning itself above him, strange but familiar words had haunted his mind.

Dead, gone hope. No... No hope.

Now, crouched and shivering with anticipatory glee, Killian's Master continued to stroke him. Its tentacle trailed along his neck, upper chest, and shoulder, pausing at the two parallel lines of outstandingly sloppy sutures, worse even than Z’s. The tentacle tip prodded the fresh injuries as if trying to remember their origin, and Killian held his breath without fully knowing why. After a moment's hesitation, it returned its attentions to his bare throat.

“Tell me, Tripod, do you wonder why it is I have not yet replaced the collar stolen from you by the humans?”

Killian swallowed and tried not to cringe away from all of the unwanted petting and probing. “Yes, Master.”

A disturbing smile crossed the alien face; it was plainly quite excited by its current train of thought. The creature straightened suddenly, allowing him to fall, empty and bleeding, onto the cold floor. Killian grunted as a lungful of air left him in a whoosh. Almost instantly, the bulky figure was at the top of the stairs and heading for a damaged lectern near the wall. Its slave could do nothing but lie there, anxious and in pain.

“How I missed you while you were away,” mused the Vocivore, reaching into the hollow structure as it spoke. “Yet my time was not spent pining after you; nor was it passed in idleness.”

Killian could not crane his neck far enough to see all of the bits and pieces being retrieved from the lectern; neither did he particularly want to. In any case, his Master had collected its desired implements and was skittering back down the steps in short order. It placed the equipment nearby before quickly returning to its previous position. All facets of that position, resumed with brutal efficiency. Killian whined and squirmed feebly for a moment.

“It is a pity you do not derive the same pleasure from our connection as I do,” breathed Killian's Master, holding quite still as it savored the bliss washing over it. A tentacle nudged a bit of unresponsive flesh in demonstration. “It would be one portion of repayment for all I feel in gratitude.”

Without further ruminations, the Vocivore selected a collar from the scattered items on the floor.

OPEN YOUR EYES, TRIPOD.

Killian had not realized he’d closed them. Reluctantly, he obeyed, catching sight of the familiar ring of metal, but there were several differences with this one. Four small holes had been drilled along the collar’s circumference, not quite evenly spaced. Opposite the padlock, a bulky box was affixed to the outside, almost a seamless part of the collar, but not quite. Perhaps five centimeters wide, two high, and two deep, it appeared to be made of black plastic, with a slot along the inside through which the collar could slide.

Seeing that Killian had gotten a good enough chance to inspect the new collar, his Master leaned forward to fasten and lock the device in place around his neck. With a small, delighted shiver at Killian's renewed little wiggles, the creature retrieved what looked like a computer cable, which it plugged into the collar’s black box.

Panting with sudden dread, Killian envisioned waves of electricity coursing through him, scalding him and ripping open wounds as his muscles contracted in an agonizing tetany, not even considering the fact that, with the way he was “connected” to his Master right now, the monster would likely be similarly affected.

“One of your fellow Voices assisted me in this design,” explained his Master. It did not seem to notice Killian's distress, except as heightened pleasure from more exaggerated struggling. “Its purpose is straightforward, though difficult in execution.”

A pincer was busy checking the security of the cord snaking between the collar and a tablet-like device on the floor. After accomplishing that, the next item to be selected came into view.

It was a black sphere, its size somewhere between a golf ball and a billiard ball. One half was covered by a fine metal grating reminiscent of the windscreen on a microphone; out of the other protruded a wire similar to that which adorned his collar. Dangling from the interface between mesh and plastic were two straps with buckles on their ends.

“I have long desired a means by which I might extract and capture scream energy, to sustain me when my supply of Voices runs low. Or, in your case, to revisit long after you have expired.”

His Master's unoccupied tentacle abruptly forced its way into Killian's mouth, tasting of filth and blood and stinging acid.

OPEN.

Killian's jaw snapped open automatically, the reaction an instant, unsettling obedience that required no consideration on his part. But wait. He was meant to have some say in this, somehow. Something that, up until now, gave him some semblance of choice?

His Master removed its tentacle and roughly shoved the ball in its place. The mesh scraped along Killian's teeth with a raspy buzz, forcing his jaw to its very limits to accommodate its diameter. Breathing in frantic gasps through his nose, Killian fought rising panic. His Master would think nothing of breaking teeth or dislocating his jaw; indeed, either of those occurrences might serve as a bonus. But he was powerless to resist this new invasion. All of his limbs were pinioned, excessive movement only heightened every pain... and his Master willed for him to accept the device.

No hope? What subconscious part of him demanded that he remember those words?

The ball lodged behind his teeth, and he could feel the straps at the corners of his mouth. His Master hummed in satisfaction, quick to cinch and secure the buckles behind his head. Killian moaned unintelligibly; the Vocivore sighed in delight.

“You please me greatly, Tripod. Such an agreeable way to begin the day.”

Killian's Master stretched leisurely, then sank back down, enjoying the muffled grunts of its gagged slave. Then it resumed its earlier explanation.

“Of course, a simple recording is worthless to me. It can never capture the full essence of the scream; that which I draw my strength from. But I am hopeful that this technique might.”

It connected the second cord to the tablet at its feet, while Killian focused on remaining as still and calm as possible. Already he could feel saliva pooling at the back of his throat, and he wasn't certain he would be able to swallow with the ball holding his mouth open so wide. His current discomfort was almost enough to distract him from the horror of the upcoming pain... in whatever form it would take...

Leaning sideways, and seizing the opportunity for another sneaky little bob of its lower half, Killian’s Master scooped something small from the floor.

“I am most eager to try the theory and its application out on you, favored one. You shall be my first test subject.”

Shifting yet again, his Master wrapped a tentacle around the collar saying,

“This device, here, must be precisely aligned in order to function. Among other things, it tracks every slight movement of your throat. Therefore, Tripod, I must insist upon a reliable method of securing the collar in position.”

Killian felt a tiny prick in the side of his neck, toward the back, right in the center of the strip of metal encircling the flesh there. Aligned with one of the holes he’d spotted earlier. He had time for only one sputtering, wordless curse before his neck exploded into a twisting, ripping pain that radiated up to his eardrum and all the way down to his scapula. He thrashed weakly, prevented from reaching toward the raw anguish, alternately sobbing wordless pleas and choking on aspirated drool. His Master applied more torque; the flames burned hotter. Then the creature rapidly withdrew itself, releasing a mournful sigh. Its pincer still trapped Killian's wrist so that he could not touch the excruciating, pulsing burn in his neck.

“You know I prefer it when you face me,” stated his Master in a calm tone, just barely audible above Killian's whimpering coughs. “But, alas, it seems I must forego that pleasure today. Up on your knees, Tripod. Clear your airway, free those screams.”

All restraint temporarily lifted, Killian's hand flew to his newest wound, brushing against protruding metal before being swatted roughly away.

NO.

Tears rolled down his temples as a shuddering Killian attempted to push himself up. The unavoidable use of the pierced neck muscles hurt like the devil. He made it as far as his elbows before needing to take a break, but his impatient Master gripped him by his neck and torso and hauled him to a seated position. For an instant, Killian was more concerned with the carousel spin of the sanctuary than the pressure spiking his neck.

“I grow weary of waiting,” growled Killian's Master, prodding his shoulder in a silent instruction. Still woozy, Killian nevertheless summoned the strength to obey; if he didn't, the reaction would likely be damaging and very painful. As he struggled over onto his knees and hand, he continued to hack, most of the air exploding out through his nose, but now that he was upright, at least the drool could dribble out down his chin and not into his windpipe.

He spied a mountain of short, wickedly pointed screws on the paving stones, each with flat wings attached to their heads like the winding mechanism of a clockwork toy. He cringed as he settled into position, anticipating feeling each one burrowing itself into his neck as the first had done.

Without warning, his Master was pressed up against him, exploring him as it checked the cables leading to the recording device. Once positioned to its satisfaction and assured of its continued experiment, it grabbed one of the remaining screws. Killian squeezed his eyes shut.

“Three more, Tripod. Let's aim for highest-quality screams, shall we?”

*****

It took nearly the entire Session for Killian to come back to his senses, four screws in his neck working somehow to drive the Master’s influence away. For the time being, at least. Gods, he had nearly vanished for good. He'd have surrendered completely to that bastard's will, forgetting family, forgetting self and plan… he would have died a pointless death, alone, soulless and without knowing. If that wasn't enough to solidify his resolve, then what was?

Of course, he had no hope of surviving it. No hope. No hope that the plan would even have success. No hope, even though this Session, while excruciating, had not left him any more hobbled than he'd been going into it. No hope, despite the remarkable lack of additional blood loss to weaken him. It would be foolish to hope, dangerous to dream, and so he didn't. While the Master took its pleasure, and Killian lost his voice in service to its experiment, he clung desperately to his reacquired reality.

At some point, the microphone gag was removed, releasing a partial collection of pink-tinged slobber and enabling him to swallow the rest. The collar remained, though. Killian did not waste the energy to try and clean off the corners of his mouth and chin; instead, he rested as far back on his haunches as his damaged ankle would allow and worked to clear the congestion from his lungs. The Master was fiddling with its equipment, checking to see if the recording had been successful; Killian didn’t give a damn as long as it kept its hands, tentacles, and claws away from him.

“Go and get yourself cleaned up now, Tripod. The number of Exchanges you have earned will be determined by the quality of my results.”

The implication of those words was that the Master wanted to see Killian again that day. Making up for lost time. Killian felt hugely nauseated at the thought.

“Yes, Master,” he whispered. Yet there he stayed, on his knees, spent and unable to rise.

He would skip the useless stop at Z’s. There was just no benefit in it now, not even to seek out the sloppy self-treatment he could attempt. It would only consume a precious portion of what little time he had left. If he succeeded in leaving this chamber, his last remaining strength would be given in initiating their final desperate scheme. Whether it worked remained to be seen, but Killian did not doubt that this would be his last-gasp effort. Their last chance to make any of this worth it.

In the end, the Master had to haul Killian up off of his knees and turn him, unsteady on his feet, toward the front door.

“Your dedication is touching.”

Killian could sense a hint of impatience in the monster’s tone.

“However, I did give you an order.”

GO NOW, TRIPOD. I LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR RETURN.

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quatschmachen · 5 years

Text

Tangles

A small late Christmas Monmonton fic. Takes place in 1984.

Masterpost

XXXXX

Outside the wind was blowing the cold snow across the street, whipping the drifts across the sidewalk, where a once cleanly shoveled pavement was once again covered in the light crystalline fluff not yet crushed underfoot of passersby.

Inside the home the tree was fresh, standing there bare, slightly pulled out from the corner, close to the crackling fireplace. It seemed rather forlorn amongst the festively decorated house, where popcorn garlands and handmade stockings hung.

Across the room Étienne and Samuel had entered into a heated argument as to how to decorate the tree. Edward was helping Jacques put the bubble lights on, or more honestly, untangle the bubble lights and test them. Somehow in detangling, the lights had wrapped around his elbow with one of the bubblers poking him in the bicep.

<Let me help you with that,> Jacques said as he gently lay down his section to untangle Edward.

<Tell me… do they always do that?> Edward nodded to where Étienne had grabbed the box of ornaments and was holding them hostage to an ever increasingly angry Samuel.

<So… what happens?>

Jacques took a moment to respond, as he worked out one of the more complicated tangles.

<Why do they need to fight if it’s the same result each year?> Edward was feeling like a fish out of water having come to this intimate family gathering. He was still baffled as to why they had invited him, but anything to escape the awkward Christmas with Edith he would take. Christmases at his place had never been the same since his time in the asylum. He sensed that Edith had been privately relieved as well when he had informed her of his invitation to elsewhere. The invitation elsewhere which originally had meant to only be him at Étienne’s, a planned out event of relaxing while Étienne moaned on about some artist he had to read about in class, or excitedly jabber on about some weird modern art style he had just learnt about. Ever since Étienne had gotten it into his head to get an MA in art history – and actually got into the school, Edward had noticed a gradual change in the other man, where once there had been an odd vacancy of interest, a renewed spark had taken hold. Étienne had one more semester before he graduated, and Edward was very… proud, mixed with something else.

What he had assumed would be a private Christmas actually meant going to Trois-Rivières for the ‘family shindig’, a change in plans which he had not mentally prepared for. How the hell would he be explained? Étienne had waved off all his concerns informing him that ‘Suzette was the best’ and ‘we always bring friends over so its not a problem’ followed by ‘you really need to try Suzette’s tourtière’.

So he was here, the lost stranger amongst the tight knit family, talking to what could tentatively be called the patriarch. He had not figured out the other man, he was reserved, not at all like his two brothers, perhaps a little more like Élyse in nature.

Jacques shrugged as he gently released Edward’s arm from the lights, <It’s how they say they love each other.>

Étienne was loudly screeching because Samuel had swiped the box from him, followed by thumping as Samuel quickly ran from the room.

<Love, huh? Almost sounds like a murder.> Edward joked, pleased to see a small smile appear on the other man’s face. Love was the reason why he was here, sitting with the brother, keeping distances between him and Étienne. Somehow being here was making everything around him seem real, where in private he could dream that the man he loved could return a feeling, being plunked down into this scenario made everything that wasn’t apparent. Consciously he did not touch the other man, he lived in absolute fear that the family would suspect something. The something that wasn’t there. The something that had twisted him, the thing that tormented him. What the hell would he do if anyone asked if he and Étienne were… more than friends? Lie of course, lie bald faced to the sweet-cheeked Suzette, ‘no, just old friends’, where the lie was mostly truth, the most effective tool to bury down the truths not meant for the waking day.

<We should test before we wrap,> Jacques said as he plugged it in, distracting Edward from the pandemonium in the next room. There was that moment of anticipation, a brief flash, and then a gentle pop.

<Oh no, the blue bulb.> Edward automatically said.

<Don’t worry, I have replacements…> almost proudly, Jacques produced a small box. Methodically he tested each and every bulb, found the culprit and replaced it. The care with which Jacques did the action, the satisfaction on his face as the lights once more flickered on, his face suddenly reflected in blue, twisted Edward’s stomach. He hated it, but he was jealous. Adjusting his glasses, Edward shifted away, trying to quell these unpleasant feelings. Mechanically he helped Jacques wrap the tree in the lights, pricking himself in the process, thankfully not drawing any blood. Standing back, Jacques surveyed the tree, making small adjustments to the lights, until he nodded in satisfaction.

Looking at Edward he said, <Now we let the two hyenas fight over the decorations… do you want some eggnog?>

<Sure...> Rubbing his hands on his corduroy pants, Edward followed Jacques into the kitchen, where Suzette was putting together some of the meal for the next day. As she placed the lid on the dish, she let out a sound of surprise as Jacques snuck up from behind and wrapped her in his arms, giving her a kiss on her neck.

<Jacques!>

<Nutmeg, cinnamon, brown sugar….> she began listing off, before she noticed Edward awkwardly standing halfway in the kitchen, almost ready to flee. <Édouard, did you want some eggnog?>

<Yes.>

<O-ok.> quickly Edward found himself a mug, and hastily ladled some of the warm alcoholic liquid into it, before making a hasty exit not wishing to see any more of what he could not have.

The hallway wasn’t well lit, and as his wool socks slid slightly on that gap where the wood floor peeked out from the rug, Edward warmed his hands on the mug and looked at the photos on the wall. All the frames were the same, a nice medium brown wood, with different images of the family. It looked as if they had recently had a professional photograph taken, as that one was pride of place amongst the constellations of smaller images around it. There was an image of Suzette and Jacques under a tree, hands clasped as they looked at each other deep in conversation, whoever had taken that photograph seemed to know the exact moment to capture, a moment where the sun was shining, the soft dapple of the leaf shadows around them, haloing a couple deeply in love.

Taking a sip of the cinnamon rum eggnog, he swallowed the creamy mixture, licking his lips as he glanced over the photo of Élyse wearing the hugest hair bow he had ever seen in his entire life, an image of Samuel posing dramatically on some stone stairs, and then one of Étienne wearing some ridiculous pompom sweater. Another photo of Étienne and Élyse at the Montreal Olympics, wearing the official jacket smiling in front of the flame, eyes alight with pride. This house, Edward realized, served as the heart of this strange family nucleus, where Jacques, though quiet and never one much to be noticed, was the anchor. What would it be like to have that back home? He wondered.

A place for people to gather, feel safe, be happy together. He hadn’t had that in a long time, and his mind drifted to his family. Edith who was spending Christmas with some friends, Mac, hell when had he actually had a good sit down visit with him? Calvin? He wasn’t really family, plus he was busy annoying the hell out of Caroline and whoever else had the misfortune to be in his festive Christmas proximity. His thoughts were broken when he heard something fall to the floor in the other room, followed by Étienne letting out a string of very serious curses.

Curiously he made his way to the living room where he saw Étienne on the floor holding something, tears in his eyes as he continued to shout at Samuel who was looking down at him with a rather nasty expression.

<Relax baby brother, that decoration never really fit in with the theme anyway, that little piece of ugly… “art…” as you call it, was never worth much anyway, I think it looks better like that.> Samuel responded in a not at all comforting manner.

Was Jacques really sure this is how they expressed love for each other? Edward thought. To him it just looked like a terrible relationship. Samuel had turned his back on Étienne and was beginning to decorate the tree. As he once more looked to Étienne, Edward realized that he was in fact starting to sob rather hard. What the hell had broke? His legs were moving before he had even considered that it might be bad to walk into this situation, and he crouched next to the other man.

<Bouclés?> he said softly, <Do you want to come to the dining table with me? Bring the ornament.>

Étienne looked at him, face red from crying, then looked at the ground trying to see if he had missed any pieces. Edward also looked, finding a small wire, and an odd ball. He looked at the ornament in Étienne’s hand, and then, when Étienne confirmed they had all the pieces, he followed Edward to the dining room, carefully laying out the broken pieces on the wooden table. Sitting down, he placed his mug on the table with a thud, and looked at it frowning in thought. Étienne had quieted down slightly, watching him.

<Do you have some needle-nose pliers and glue here?> Edward asked, his thoughts shifting to the ornament, moving the parts around. Finally before him was something he could do. He was good with his hands, with fixing what needed to be fixed. Years of necessity had taught him to repair. This ornament, while probably never going to be perfect, was doable.

<Uh—yeah.> Étienne disappeared, returning quickly with the asked for items. He handed them to Edward, then once more sat on the chair nearby, knees drawn up to his chin as he intently watched the other man work.

Edward felt sort of guilty for having avoided the other man ever since they had got to this house, guilty about being sort of snappy when he had been shown Étienne’s room – asking where he would sleep, and having a minor freak-out until Étienne had rolled his eyes and showed him the pullout couch in the den next to his bedroom. He probably shouldn’t have done that, but there was nothing to do about it now. He could feel the other man’s eyes upon his hands, and he hoped that maybe repairing this ornament could make up for his mood earlier.

The only sound in the dining room was the tick-tock of the grandfather clock out in the hallway.

<So… this goes here, right?> Edward asked.

<Yes… but a little like…> Étienne reached out, his fingers brushing against Edward’s as he shifted the ball.

It took every inch of willpower not to automatically pull away, to relax into the brief touch. No one would suspect anything from such an innocent moment, even if secretly his heart was pounding. Trying not to sound shaky, Edward asked, <So I glue it like this?>

<Yeah.>

Edward glued the piece into place, and then looked up at the other man with a wry expression, as he held it. <Looks like I might be here for a while, I should have thought this through. This is a Calder piece, isn’t it?>

<Bouclés, who else is known for making cool mobiles and was featured at Expo 67? Of course the moment you saw this tiny mobile you had to get it.>

Letting out a snort, Étienne mumbled, <Well I think we might have interfered with the artistic intent… probably won’t move as it should now… but thanks for fixing it.>

<Oh ye of little faith,> Edward responded, then, <Hey, can you like… hold up my eggnog so I can drink it?>

It took a little awkward positioning, but finally, the mug was held up enough and Edward managed a sip.

<This is gonna take a while of me holding it together, so why don’t you entertain me? Tell me something interesting.> Edward prompted, knowing that if he had to sit in silence for the next twenty minutes next to the man he should not touch he would go absolutely mad.

Étienne’s face lit up. <Yeah! This semester I took a class on surrealist art and when it comes to Magritte…> his voice droned on as he enthusiastically informed Edward all about this artist, and how he had adopted some of the techniques discussed into some of his own paintings (paintings which Edward had yet to see manifest.)

Nodding along, Edward made the appropriate comments, genuinely interested, but also halfway trying not to lean into the other man. Whenever that urge got too strong, he would get Étienne to hold up his eggnog, taking that movement to gather himself.

After another twenty minutes, Edward set the piece down onto the table. <This probably shouldn’t be moved until tomorrow. Let the glue cure.>

<But… how am I supposed decorate with it to save the tree from the boring Christmas aesthetic Samuel is subjecting it to?>

<Bouclés, just wake up early,> Edward rolled his eyes and then let out a sound of surprise as Étienne was suddenly much closer, back of his hand brushing warm against his cheek, as Étienne leant forward and whispered.

<That’s usually tough to do with you around.>

<We’re not sharing the same bed,> Edward hissed, <I thought we covered I’m sleeping on the pull-out couch downstairs?>

<You haven’t slept on that pull-out couch…> Étienne replied ominously as he quickly pulled away as the sound of someone walking drew closer.

Élyse peeked in, <Oh that’s where you two are. C’mon, it’s Christmas carols.>

#quatschfic #pc: edmonton #pc: montreal #1980s

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tyranttortoise · 7 years

Note

Hi, I was hoping to ask this for a more personal kind of thing. How would all the Papyrus's react to seeing the landlady curled up in a corner in the bathroom, crying her eyes out with possibly some booze in hand, just looking absolutely broken because she feels her life is falling apart.

This one is kinda long, so I’m sticking it under a cut. And hey, I also posted it on Ao3.

It's been a week where nothing is going right.

You're rapidly approaching the feeling you had when you first came to the lodge, trying to get a reprieve before you had a break-down. You made the mistake of clicking on your ex's Facebook page, only to find him slandering you, accusing you of cheating on him with your monster lodgemates. You wouldn't have even clicked on it had it not been for his new girlfriend messaging you, trying to get the television back. She claimed she had the receipt for it with his credit card information listed, and the fact that someone could be that petty left you dumbfounded.

Not to mention that your family was at it again. Your phone was absolutely filled with passive-aggressive texts. Your father was furious that you quit your job and now relied on monsters to pay you rent. Your mom was texting you about how successful your ex's new girlfriend was, and how he's moved on. Everywhere you turned, it felt like you were doing something wrong or weren't good enough.

It unfortunately extended toward the edgier of your lodgemates, too.

They questioned your decisions to hang around the skeletons in the woods. Edge snarked at you, and when you snapped back, Red got in the middle. You knew that you had reacted poorly--that the timing had been off in the situation--but... it felt almost as if the others were giving you a wider berth than usual after that.

You should apologize. But you're tired. And the blue light blinking on your phone is making you want to smash it against the wall.

So, you drink instead. You turned to alcohol the last time you wanted to forget yourself for a while, but enough time has passed that you've forgotten what the hangover felt like. You grab a bottle from downstairs and drink in the darkness of your room, trying to let the sting of the alcohol numb you. Didn't one of your friends once tell you never to drink alone, and never to drink when you're sad?

Pfft, you're a rebel. At this point, you're just drinking to feel better, to be able to sleep. It isn't long before the alcohol runs right through you, however, and you really have to pee. When you stand up from your bed, it hits you that you're more drunk than you thought; the world shifts around you, and you have to catch yourself with your palm against your chest of drawers on your way to your door.

You go downstairs and head to one of the bathrooms, taking the bottle with you.

After you manage to do your business without incident, you end up staring at yourself in the mirror for a moment. Your hair's everywhere, your eyes just seem devoid of their usual life, and you just... look like a mess. Your visage blurs, and it takes a moment for you to realize it's because you're crying, but when you do, you clasp a hand over your mouth to muffle the rising sob. It's suddenly too much effort to stand, so you sink to your knees and then rock back onto your butt. Your head rests against the cabinet below the sink, and you pull your legs in close, trying to hold yourself together when it just feels so much like everything is falling apart.

The bottle's still clasped in your hand.

You barely even register the sound of the door creaking open.

Papyrus:

Papyrus thought he heard something, so he went to investigate. He was expecting it to have just been Sans coming up to his room after a long night of working in the basement--or maybe Red coming to the wrong floor while he was drunk.

He never expected to find you, however, curled up on the bathroom floor and desperately attempting to muffle your sobs with your palm.

"Y/N!" Your name escapes him rather loudly, causing you to jerk from your misery. You're mortified and roughly rub your cheeks with the heels of your hands while sucking in a shaky breath.

"P-paps," you manage, trying to force cheer into your tone. You fail miserably. "Sorry. I'll..." You trail off, unsure how to finish.

Papyrus seems to realize that he was too loud and tries to move a little more quietly as he crosses the floor and crouches in front of you. His hands hover around your sides, not quite touching you, while his gaze skims over your body. "ARE YOU INJURED? IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT?"

You shake your head; you're not hurt. But for his next question, you meet his gaze, tears rapidly welling in your eyes again. Your throat feels tight; it's difficult to force the word out. "N...No." You shake your head harder. "It's not."

His SOUL feels tight, and one of his hands grasps your upper arm. The other ever-so-gingerly raises to your face to wipe away a tear. He leans in, and inquiries with complete sincerity, "WHAT CAN I DO TO HELP YOU?"

You feel your face start to crumble, your mouth trembling. The bottle slips from your fingers as you latch onto the front of his pajamas, clinging to him like a lifeline while you bury your face into his chest. His arms slide around you, and he lets you stay like that for a moment... before he slowly rises, dragging you with him and up into his arms.

You're tired. You're suddenly so tired, and he's so comfortable. Gently, he carries you into his room--and the racecar bed you love so much. He lays you down, and you insistently tug him onto the bed beside you, where you can remain wrapped around him and he can rub his hands up and down your back.

The motion lulls you to sleep.

You're too drunk--and too drained--to realize he stays awake, silently crying into your hair.

Stretch:

Stretch had been lying on the couch in the living room when he hears you stumble down both flights of stairs. He had been sleeping when you passed him earlier to get your booze, but the sound of you almost falling in the loft was enough to wake him up. Had you woken up in the middle of the night because of your human needs? It's strange that you would end up on the corridor with his room for that; you usually preferred the one on Sans and Papyrus's hall since it had less traffic.

Ten minutes passed.

Then fifteen.

Maybe you had gone to one of their rooms? Maybe you were talking to Red or you couldn't sleep and wanted to cuddle Blueberry? Maybe you had decided to apologize to Edge?

Or maybe you had even gone looking for him?

Twenty minutes.

Stretch pushed up from the couch and decided it couldn't hurt to check. He wouldn't be concerned if the sound of you stumbling around hadn't been loud enough to wake him up. Something just felt... wrong. He hoped that he was wrong.

But when he pushed open the door, he realized he wasn't.

"honey... hey," he breathed, immediately closing the door behind him and moving to crouch in front of you. You jerked away, turning to hide your tear-streaked face.

"Stretch! S-sorry." You don't know why you're apologizing, but you can't look at the painful expression he's wearing. He automatically pulls you against his chest, letting his hoodie soak in your tears.

He usually doesn't pry. He didn't when it was obvious that something was going on when you snapped at Edge. He didn't when you started turning off your phone again and avoiding your messages. But, now, when you're falling to pieces with a bottle clasped in your hand, he can't stop himself from asking, "what's wrong?"

You don't answer. Instead, you suddenly wrap your arms around him and hug him tight, shaking your head into his chest. He's reminded of the last time he saw you utterly wasted, when you had been at a bar after a huge fight with your ex--and after you got suspended from work.

"hun... is it your ex? is he harassing you again?"

Technically, he hits the nail on the head, and you start sobbing louder in response. Stretch curses under his breath and sits down on the bathroom floor, pulling you into his lap. Gently, he rocks you back and forth, letting you cry it out while he just holds you and provides support. No matter what you're going through, he's going to be there for you.

And he's also going to make a few phone calls of his own in the morning.

Edge:

He's still sulking over the fact that you snapped at him when he hears you stumble into the bathroom. At first, he thinks it's just Red going into the wrong room while he's drunk--it's happened plenty of times before, and as much as Edge tries to steer his brother on the right path, it will undoubtedly happen again. He waits, listening for the door to open again, but it never does.

After fifteen minutes pass, Edge decides he needs something to focus his hurt feelings righteous anger on and throws open his door. The light is still on in the bathroom, so he stalks over and throws it open, fully intending on scolding his brother for passing out in the bathroom and then dragging him back to his bedroom by his collar. However, he's completely unprepared for the sight of you, curled up on the floor with your fingers loosely curled around the neck of a bottle, fighting back sobs.

The lecture dies on his tongue. On one hand, he's still angry with you, but on the other...

His SOUL clenches at the sight of you like this, looking so pitiful and vulnerable. You're supposed to be the strong one, unafraid to stand toe-to-toe with him. You're not supposed to be someone fragile enough to break down on the bathroom floor.

"Shit." You're the first one to speak, the curse riding out on a shuddering exhale. You chuckle humorlessly and wipe your face. "Sorry... I..."

You trail off, leaving the thought unfinished. It hangs between the two of you, just like the fact that you're sort-of in a fight right now is hanging there, thickening the air. Edge finally moves, crossing the floor toward you and then slowly unraveling his scarf. You watch him carefully, completely confused... until he uses the end of it to gently wipe your face. Despite its tattered appearance, his scarf is actually super soft.

"WHO HURT YOU?" he asks, his boisterous voice softer than you've ever heard it, and much more intense.

"No one," you partially lie, dropping your gaze to your chest. His stare is too intense; you can't directly look into the smoldering embers of his eyelights.

"LIAR," he chastises, knowing your history all too well. "WAS IT YOUR FAMILY?"

"No." It actually kind of was, but that wasn't the main cause.

"ONE OF US?"

"No!" You'd fought with Edge, but that was just the tip of the iceberg.

"... YOUR EX?"

This time, your denial held much less conviction ("No..."), and Edge saw through it.

"I'LL MAKE HIM PAY FOR HURTING YOU," he vowed, a deeper, more guttural growl to his voice than usual.

"Don't. Edge, please, don't make things worse." You were tired--so tired--and now you really just wanted to go to sleep. You stood, swaying on your feet. Not only were you still drunk, but you were even more dehydrated than before. Your face felt puffy from crying, too. You attempted to skirt around Edge, but he didn't make it easy. "Move. I want to go to bed," you said rather bluntly. The alcohol did a fantastic job of cutting right through your filter.

Edge narrowed his eyesockets, but complied, following you out into the hall as you caught yourself against the wall and started toward the stairs. You heard an exasperated huff, and then Edge grabbed you from behind, scooping you over his shoulder. You initially flailed, disoriented, but his grip was iron. "STOP SQUIRMING. I'M GOING TO HELP YOU UPSTAIRS BEFORE YOU FALL AND BREAK SOMETHING!"

Oh. That's actually nice of him. Unfortunately, his shoulder is pressing into your stomach, and you've had too much to drink. Every step just further jars his sharp bone right into your abdomen, and it isn't long before you're desperately gripping the back of his shirt.

"Edge? H-hey, put me down," you blurt in a rush.

"WE'RE ALMOST THERE!"

"But... But I..."

Whoops. That soft scarf of Edge's? Yeah, you just threw up all over it.

Crooks:

In this case, you had been over at Axe's and Crooks's house for a sleepover when you ended up falling apart in their bathroom, trying to muffle your cries by covering your mouth. You thought you were being quiet, even if it felt loud in the silence of the old house. You thought that Axe had passed out after a little too much to drink, and Crooks had retired early, but...

Crooks didn't sleep much these days.

He saw the light on, and at first, he didn't think anything about it. Normal routine human stuff going on in there; no need to concern himself with the workings of possible excrement in-progress!

However... the more time that passed, the more concerned he began to grow.

He initially was just going to knock and ask if you were feeling ill, but when he paused outside the door with his fist poised to knock, he heard your quiet, desperate sobs, and immediately opened the door.

The lock broke instantly. Damn, you keep forgetting how strong these monsters are! You gasp, shifting further against the wall and wiping your tear-streaked face with the heels of your hands.

"H-hey, Pa... Papyrus. I was just... going to bed," you lie, quite obviously. Concern is clear on his face as he steps inside and closes the door. Crooks kneels before you, and you feel like his long limbs take up so much space. He still seems huge, even though he's trying -- unsuccessfully -- to meet you at eye-level.

"ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? WHAT'S WRONG?" he prompts, gingerly reaching out to wipe some of the moisture from your cheek. You sniffle and manage a watery, wry smile.

"I'm sorry... it... it's just that... nothing's going right this week..."

He nods. That's enough; he's not going to force the details out of you. Instead, he offers, "WOULD YOU LIKE TO SLEEP WITH ME IN MY BED? WHENEVER I'M FEELING TERRIBLE, I GET SANS TO READ TO ME. IT REMINDS ME OF... DIFFERENT TIMES. I COULD READ TO YOU, TOO, IF YOU'D LIKE?"

His sincere suggestion actually lessens the pang in your chest. Nodding, you reach out and entwine your fingers with his. "I'd really like that, Papyrus."

Mutt:

You'd been staying at Blackberry and Mutt's house again when you finally couldn't take it and had a break-down. Unfortunately for you, Mutt doesn't sleep well during the night, and his bedroom is right by the bathroom.

One minute, you're crying alone, and the next... Mutt is abruptly sitting beside you, his back against the wall, and one arm draped across his bent knee. You gasp, your body jerking in surprise, and you start to scramble away, but he snags your arm.

"Let go!" you protest, your voice watery. "You scared me half to death!"

He lets go, and with the way you were leaning away from him, you go tumbling sideways and whack your shoulder against the sink. Ouch. You mutter curses under your breath, and Mutt actually smirks.

"didn't m'lord tell you this place is haunted? ghosts are known to just pop up."

"You're not a ghost!" you protest, and he shrugs.

"maybe i am."

He's so infuriating that you've completely forgotten you were crying moments before. Instead, you're furiously wiping your face while he watches you with a quiet intensity.

"Whatever. I'm going to bed." You turn back toward him as he begins to push himself off the floor. "Alone."

His hand catches yours again. "....actually, i was havin' trouble sleepin'," Mutt suddenly admits, causing you to pause with your back turned toward him, halfway to the door. "do you wanna watch some tv with me? maybe see what kind of stupid shit passes for comedy for humans?"

That actually sounds really nice. You suck in a breath and sigh, deciding to relent.

For his sake.

"Okay, I'll turn on Netflix."

#ssll #ssll bonus #undertale papyrus #underfell papyrus #swapfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #horrortale papyrus #drunken landlady #and trouble with her family/ex #Anonymous

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imaginexmeintheuniverse · 7 years

Text

When You’re Broken

Pairing: Warren Worthington III x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, and depression

Word Count: 1, 243

Tagged lovlies: @iamplaguedwithideas @coltcas

Special thanks to @emmcfrxst for giving lovely advice and the confidence I needed to post this ❤️

Moodboard | Masterlist

A/N: **At the bottom because it’s long**

It always hurts- No, more than hurts; it's an indescribable agony when the person you love the most is in so much pain and you can't do anything about it because they have lost hope in themselves.

He slowly watched her smile fade as the weeks went by, each time looking more forced until it seemed to disappear completely. He almost forgot the beautiful sound of her laugh. She had stopped her usual singing and humming while going about her day. His ray of sunshine that brightened his day no matter what had been reduced to a dim light. Moments of her quirky antics and playful touches were fleeting. The flame in her heart, once brighter than the sun itself, had become faint as she struggled to hold on to whatever crumbling pieces of herself were left.

He had no idea why he hadn't realized how bad things were, being so caught up life's fast pace. The feelings of guilt and the pain that hit him like a ton of bricks were almost too much to handle when he saw her crushed form in corner of the bathroom. How could he let it get so bad that he would come to find her broken down on the floor with a bottle of pills and a sharp razor neatly laid out a few feet in front of her like an ultimatum. As though it was a choice she had to make; opt to numb the pain or feel it somewhere other than on the inside. He's lucky to have gotten there before she had made a decision.

At first he stood frozen in the doorway, taking in the scene before him. The girl who once convinced him that life was worth living during his dark times was now sat on the cold tiles in nothing but her underwear and an oversized t-shirt of his. He saw the goose bumps on her legs that were to one side and on her arms that kept her from totally crumbling to the ground. She was also as still as a statue, focused on her options and her eyes only darted up to meet his captivating blue orbs for a fraction of a second before she saw an expression of realization across his features. She broke down from the shame of getting caught, her whole body shaking as she lifted a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries and unsteady breaths.

He immediately sprung forward, pushing the items on the floor out of the way as he extended his arms to hold her. Perhaps he went a little too quick. She flinched away from his touch and her feet scrambled as though she could push herself even more into the corner. Realizing how fragile she must be, he halted and chose to continue to approach her, but slowly and not touching her just yet.

"Please talk to me," he pleaded, crouching down so they could be face to face, "what is going on?"

She continued to avoid his gaze, staring at the ground so that strands of hair would cover her face. She had stopped crying and froze like the world around her was too much to process.

"Please," his voice broke and he felt the familiar sting of tears behind his eyelids.

She didn't move a muscle.

She saved him. He had been through so much shit and had let himself become someone he absolutely hated because of it. She was the one who saw through it. She saw the real him and brought him back. She made him want to be someone better; someone who deserved to be with such an amazing person. She came to him at a time in his life when he needed her most. She had seen him in his darkest hour and loved him anyways, instead finding the light in his heart. He may have been the one with the wings, but she was his angel.

And he let her slip.

She had chosen to bear this cross on her own for all this time, not wanting to be a burden to the ones she loved. She thought she could keep it at in and it would just disappear. It did the opposite. It accumulated and poisoned her from the inside.

She had made that choice but he tormented himself, automatically taking the blame for not noticing sooner before things got this bad. This was no time for him to torture himself with guilt, so he pushed those thoughts aside because she needed him right now. He wanted her to let him in. His chest burned with the need to hold her and protect her from what she would do to herself.

Not wanting to scare her, he slowly raised a hand. She slightly tilted her head up to look at his out-stretched hand for moment before dropping her focus back to the ground. He took this as a good sign since she hadn't recoiled or pushed him away and proceeded to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"I love you so much," he stroked her hair absentmindedly as he spoke softly, keeping his distance as to not frighten her.

She stayed silent, but he knew she was listening to him even though her focus was towards the floor.

"I love you so much it hurts," he choked out as the tears started to fall over his cheeks, "and it hurts so much to see you in this much pain."

He knew her. He knew she had bottled everything up thinking it was her cross to bear on her own. He was determined to make sure she knew that she didn't have to carry it all on her own. He needed to make sure she knew how grateful he was to have her be his and to be hers.

"I didn't think anyone as damaged as I was could ever be loved, but you saw something in me that no one else did and believed in me when no one else would. I still have no idea how I could ever be deserving enough to have anything as beautiful as you in my life."

She leaned into his touch, allowing her eyes to flutter closed as tears streamed down.

"You found me broken," he choked out, "and you fixed me."

"You didn't need to be fixed," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You needed to be loved."

He tilted her chin up with two delicate fingers so he could look into her eyes that had always shined as bright as her smile, but had lost their gleam.

"You picked up all my shattered pieces and put me back together. Even the ones that couldn't possibly be salvaged." His thumb skimmed down the side of her face to cup around it, " And then you filled in the cracks with your love."

She was left speechless by his honest words; never thinking someone could ever care about her this much. She allowed herself to collapse into him, breathing in his comforting scent as he protectively wrapped his arms around her waist to support her frail frame. Her body shook against his as the she released wracked sobs. He gently tangled his fingers into her hair while his other arm held me tight as though she might disappear if he lets go.

"You saved me," he whispered into her hair, "and now I'm going to do the same with you."

A/N: **Sorry this is going to be long but it’s important for whom it may concern** I wrote this a while back when I was in a really bad place before I started this blog and I have been debating whether or not I should post it. I have very recently revisited that bad place and wanted to share this piece in hopes of encouraging people who are in a similar situation to ask and accept help like I wish I would have a long time ago.Topics including and surrounding depression and suicide are serious and not to be romanticized or taken lightly. This piece comes from a very personal and very real place inside my mind that I sometimes get trapped in, and expressing some of my feelings through writing has helped me more than I ever would have thought. So, I hope those who read this can know that they are not alone out there and if you ever find yourself wandering to a dark place my ask box and inbox is always open for you ❤️

#Warren Worthington III #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x reader #potatowrites #xmen #xmen imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #when youre broken

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likepuppetsonastring · 7 years

Text

Do You Trust Me? Pt. 5

A/N: THE END.

Link to Pt. 4: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155731272537/do-you-trust-me-pt-4

Link to Pt. 3: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155699231442/do-you-trust-me-pt-3

Link to Pt. 2: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155686403892/do-you-trust-me-pt-2

Link to Pt. 1: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155650933267/pizsospa-cmon-little-dude-you-can-trust-me

"GO! JUST GO! RUN!" You couldn't if you'd wanted to. But you couldn't move to help him either. He screamed again, clutching at his head, doubling over on his knees, his whole body glitching out. "No...NO!" And he collapsed. "JACK!" You ran toward him, all fear and panic, all thought for your own safety gone. You just needed to know he was okay. Your knees thudded sharply against the ground and you cupped his face with your hands. "Jack, please. Please wake up. Please. You can't leave me. You can't leave them. They need you, Jackaboy, c'mon." He grunted weakly and you let out a short sob. "Knew you could...do...it..." He was laughing. And when his eyes opened, they were black.

You scrambled back as he stood, dusting himself off. "Well," Anti said hoarsely, voice still glitchy and pitch-distorted, but growing less so, growing more...human. "That was harder than I thought, honestly. I'll give 'im credit, I didn't think he'd even put up that much of a fight. Still. Not strong enough." "Let. Him. Go." He arched an eyebrow at you and grinned, too wide. "'Let him go'? What, are we playing tag?" He laughed, that high, disturbing giggle. "Oh, I can't just 'let him go', even if I wanted to. He's gone. It's just me in here!" He tapped his temple gleefully, watching you stand as if you were an interesting bug he was about to crush. You felt a sob welling up, but more angry than afraid, you shoved it down and balled your hands into fists. "He's not gone, you disgusting, lying thing." "Thing, huh?" He took a step toward you, and you had just enough courage, or maybe adrenaline, to hold your ground. "Did I get downgraded? Normally it's 'demon' or 'monster'." "You don't even deserve that. You're just...bad data." "'Bad data'!" He laughed again. God, you wished he'd stop that. It was horrifying. "You're gonna have to do better than that." He took another step, and this time you couldn't help but back away. "You idiot," he put his hands in his pockets, steadily moving closer, loving every second of you shrinking away. You gasped when you bumped into the wall behind you, and he got closer. The black of his eyes slowly melted away to reveal neon green irises. He leaned closer still, until he was inches from your face. "You really don't get it, do you? He was the only one with any chance of stopping me. And you? You're a dead fan walking." His smile got impossibly wider in appreciation of his twisted pun. "He can still stop you." Your voice was barely a whisper, and you jumped when he shouted, voice glitching out as his emotions spiked. "HE'S DEAD!"

You took another shaky breath, eyes wandering desperately. And they caught your watch. The stupid, stupid thought that came to your head was, "I'm missing the new video."

Video one was out for today. The video was out... You had the smallest spark of an idea. It was a shot in the dark, but...If you were going to go down, you were going to go down trying.

You met his eyes, hating that they were green, hating that they looked at you with so much glee, and malice. "Jack. Please. You've gotta fight him. I know you can hear me. I know you're there." Anti's arm was suddenly on your neck, and you were scrambling to pull it away. "It's lucky I don't need you conscious," he growled, shoving again, "I just need you breathing. And only long enough to get across." "Jack," you gasped, "think...think about them. Think about...us. We n...we need you." A weak smile. "You're...you're the boss, right?" Anti pushed harder, and it was getting harder and harder to focus. Had you not been trying so damn hard, you might've missed the hesitation. But it was there, and it was enough to give you hope. "What...?" It was barely a grunt, but you caught it. And you choked out a laugh as Anti convulsed, stumbling back. It was his turn to grab his head, green eyes wide in confusion and shock. "No. No, no, no, no, NO!" You'd collapsed to your knees, but you struggled to stand again, one hand going to the wall behind you as you concentrated. "Who's the idiot who assumed you could make Jack go silent? Anti, you don't get it. Sure, the fandom likes you. But there's something Jack's got that you'll never have." "And what's that?" he spat, the end of the sentence turning into a grunt of pain. His arm began glitching slightly, then his leg, then one eye. You smiled coldly. "You're the villain, Anti. In every story, in every video, in every post, you're the villain. But Jack?" Now he was retreating from you. "Jack's our hero." And you turned and slammed your hand against the wall, and it brightened. Suddenly, a picture popped up. It was Jack and a fan, both smiling in excitement. Anti stared at it in confusion, and started glitching out again. He yelled and shut his eyes. "Dammit!" A video popped up next. Jack, at his panel, jumping off the stage amid cheers to hug a fan. His hands went to his ears. "Stop! Stop it! STOP!" A thank you letter, from Tumblr, from a fan whose life Jack'd saved. And then another, and another. More pictures. Fanart. Jack, riding Trico, laughing. Jack, in a striped jumper, with a bright green heart above his head. Jack, yelling as he fell from a Colossus's collapsing body. Jack screaming at Billy as he fell into spikes. The wall was filling with posts from Jack's fans. Video clips, edits, pictures, soundbites, messages, tweets, comments. "Millions of people. Millions. Calling out to Jack to come back to them. They need their hero, and you're not gonna get in their way." "No, no, no, no, NO! STOP IT! HE'S MINE!" But his voice was glitching worse than before, and you thought you could hear another voice under it, laughing. Another voice, yelling Jack's catchphrases in time with the clips on the wall. Another voice, saying your name proudly, egging you on. "Jack, c'mon! You got this! Kick him out! You can do it!" "STOP IT!" His whole body was glitching out now, his face jumping between the angry distortions of his screaming, and Jack's grin, Jack calling out to you. And then suddenly, he collapsed. You yelled and grabbed your ears, eyes clenching shut automatically as a high-pitched scream rang out.

Silence. Absolute...silence. You didn't dare open your eyes. Please. Please. Please. And then...

A groan.

Your eyes shot open. "Jack?" He slowly pulled himself up, until he was resting on one elbow, breathing heavily. And then he pushed himself up into a crouch. He looked over at you.

You'd never been happier in your life to see blue eyes.

"JACK!" He laughed as you fell to the ground and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, hugging you back with just as much intensity. "Hey." "Don't you 'hey' me, you asshole," you sobbed, but you were grinning. You pulled back a bit and scrubbed your eyes vigorously. "Damn, I'm glad to see you. Oh god." "I'm glad to be back." You could tell he was trying desperately to sound light about it, but there was more genuine relief than teasing in it. More quietly, he added, "Thank you. For...those." He motioned to the wall of still playing messages, smiling at them fondly. "Don't thank me. Thank them." "I do," he chuckled. "At the end of every video. And I mean it every time. God, you guys are amazing." "Yeah," you agreed, moving to sit next to Jack so you could both look at the wall. New things were scrolling through now. Gifs from new videos, theories about lore and more fanart from recent game series. "Yeah, we are. There's so many of us." It was only just hitting you how many. "14 million." He sounded so wistful and happy about it. You looked over to catch a goofy smile on his face, which you had to match. "14 million people. And they all like the stuff I do here. They like the games. They like..." "You." His smile got a little sad. "They like Sean." "No." He looked over at you, smile dropping a little. You put a hand on his back. "No, Jack. They love you. You say you're the part of Sean that exists online. Well, that's the only part we know. Yeah, we love Sean. But we know you. You're the one that makes us smile and laugh, that we go on adventures with in every video. We love Sean, the person. But we also love Jacksepticeye. The channel, the brand, the community. We love green and blue eyeballs, we love the flatcap and the green hair, we love yelling the intro and the outro at top volume, high-fiving 'til the headphones come off. We love Sean for being the man who started all of it, for caring for us so much and working so hard to do what he loves, for doing all the good he does for the world, but we also love the world he created online. So that means we love you."

Apparently, it was possible for a computer program to cry, because Jack was wiping his eyes with the collar of his shirt. He couldn't even muster a comeback, or a comment at all. You rubbed his back, smiling a bit. "As for me, anyway...I'd still love to meet Sean, of course. But...I'm so fucking glad I got to meet you. I think everyone wishes you'd reply when they say something stupid to their screen, and...as much as this's been terrifying, and dangerous, and as much as I do want to go home...I have loved every second I got to spend with you. It's like finally getting to talk to an old friend. I love you, Jack." He couldn't speak for a long moment. He did manage to pull you back into a hug, choking out a laugh. When he finally managed to speak, it was hoarsely. "Thank you. And I love you, too. I love you guys more than anything else in the world." He laughed a little again. "I don't even have a fuckin' thing to say after that speech. God, how embarrassing." "The loudest man in the universe doesn't have words for me. Someone alert the media." He squeezed your shoulders, and then the both of you moved to stand, finally.

You didn't say anything else as you walked along, finally coming to the ravine. When you got to Jack's door, he opened it and gestured, almost teasingly for you to go in first. You thanked him for his chivalry. It was good to be home.

"You didn't argue when I said man this time," you murmured when Jack was adjusting the camera. He huffed. "I was a little tired, having been possessed and all." He turned to look at you, hands on his hips. "You ready?" "As I'll ever be, I guess." "Then...it's goodbye." "Yeah." There was barely a second of hesitation before you pulled each other close, and there wouldn't have been a way to tell who was hugging tighter if anyone tried. After a moment, you pulled apart again, smiling. "I think..." He stepped back, taking the flashdrive from you and plugging it into his computer, booting up the code. "I think it's probably possible to be both a man and a program." "Well," you went to stand in front of the camera, "I can say, without a doubt, you are the best Persona I've ever met." "I'll take that." He paused, then said your name, making you look back over at him. It was still nice to hear him say it. "See ya in the next video." "Yeah. See you in the next one." One more long look, and then you turned back to the camera, closed your eyes, and focused on home. You reached out and touched the camera, opening your eyes at the last moment and glancing back over one last time to see Jack waving. You waved back... And everything was fading. And you were falling.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jse #jse community #jse fanfic #antisepticeye

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