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kyndaris · 8 months

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The Shadow of Broken Dreams

Although I wanted to initially title this the Boulevard of Broken Dreams, I didn't know how well it would have gone over. This is a short story I've written following on from me finishing up Toymaker. Now it's just a matter of editing that behemoth of a novel before I upload it on FictionPress and Wattpad to share.

Once that's done, well, here's hoping I can start working on something I actually want published.

Should be noted, though, that this piece wasn't uploaded to my Wattpad because I felt it was a bit too grim and a little too experimental. It IS on my FictionPress (put up back in August) but I've also posted the full story here anyways behind the read more link. So, enjoy!

The apartment was dark when I entered. The only light being the television set to a channel that replayed old sitcoms and daytime movies from the 70s. It served as white noise as I set my work bag groceries and the groceries down on the floor. They’d been heavy. Weighing me down as I wrestled them up the stairs.

Yet despite the numerous complaints, building management had refused to install an elevator. The bastards.

And while I knew I ought to put the groceries all in the fridge, that was a battle I didn’t want to face right now. Not when all I wanted to do was curl up next to the kitchen counter. I was drained. Exhausted. Tired from smiling and being the vivacious social butterfly that most of my work colleagues and old college friends saw me as.

If they could see me now, what would they think?

Would they see the broken woman that I was? The one who spent most nights with a glass of red wine in hand? Who had a bathroom littered with bottles of pills? One for anxiety, another filled to the brim with antidepressants, and a third for some unknown painkiller to get rid of the ache that racked my very soul?

Probably not.

I mean, why would they? It wasn’t as if I invited anyone over. And no-one was curious to delve more than surface level in trying to get to know me.

During my darkest moments, I often played with the thought of just disappearing entirely. After all, who would miss me? Who would even care?

Certainly not my father. Especially after the explosive fight we had four years ago during Thanksgiving.

And definitely not the ‘friends’ that had glommed to me back in high school like barnacles to the bottom of a very rich ship. Or the faceless men that I had met in bars, looking for a quick pick-me-up or just to feel something when everything inside me was numb.

Despite everything I was doing, though, I still felt so alone in the world; cast adrift by everything and everyone.

Shaking the morose thoughts from my head, I got to my feet. I wasn’t rejuvenated in the slightest but it wouldn’t do for the food to go bad just because I couldn’t deal with the empty apartment and the lack of human contact. People couldn’t subsist solely on alcohol and the occasional Chinese takeout.

But even as I unpacked everything from my reusable grocery bag and put them in the fridge, my movements felt sluggish. As if I was swimming through a thick and heavy malaise. And I couldn’t help but think what the entire point of all this was for.

Why did I even bother going to a dead-end job? Or try to befriend people that couldn’t give a whit about who I was or what I was interested in?

Nothing mattered. Not in this cold, uncaring world.

Wouldn’t it just be easier…

The snap of the elastic band around my wrist broke the chain of thought that had gripped me. Suddenly, I was standing in front of the fridge, a carton of milk in my hand.

Had I been in the process of putting it in or taking it out to make myself a coffee? I didn’t remember.

I put it in the fridge and instead grabbed the bottle of wine resting on the top shelf. My therapist said that self-medication wasn’t the answer but what did she know, anyways? I’d had a tiring day and my head was still throbbing from the grilling I had received from one of our long-standing business associates.

Her words sounded in my ears as I poured myself a glass, the red kissing the rim. I took it with me to the couch. The show on the TV was something I’d seen in passing a million times before. A vapid woman chasing after a man that couldn’t have cared less about her.

The associate – a woman in her late 50s, her hair in a neat chignon – had been utterly ruthless in her assessment of the report me and my team had handed in.

She had destroyed what little confidence I had. And even now I was questioning if I knew what I was doing; if I deserved the position that had been bequeathed to me. Both at work and in terms of the trajectory that I wanted my life to go.

Which, I mused as I took a gulp of wine from the glass, was straight down to rock bottom.

Maybe I should tender my resignation. I was clearly unfit for the role AND out of my depth.

That had always been clear to me from the start.

I took another sip from my wineglass only to find that it was empty. Frowning, I padded back to the fridge and pulled out the bottle of red. With the bottle in hand, I returned to my spot on the couch.

By the time I had downed the entirety of the bottle and felt buoyed by a light buzzing in my head, the time on my phone showed 8:54PM. It was late but not so late for me to cook something simple.

But the desire to get back up and actually do something for myself was non-existent. Especially as I had gone out after discovering that there was naught in my fridge but two bottles of wine and 3 six-pack of bud light. Which had, of course, prompted me to go down to the shops to pick up some groceries to give the thin veneer that I was a fully functional adult human.

Besides, I’d picked up two buffalo wings and a bread roll from the corner store before I went out.

That was a healthy meal, right?

It was certainly better than nothing, I told myself as I turned back to the TV, eyes glazed.

I blinked groggily awake as the sunlight streaming through the half-closed blinds hit my eyes. Taking in my surroundings, I realised that I’d fallen asleep on the couch again. The wine bottle had fallen to the floor, the last dredges of it staining the carpet red.

Shit.

As I contemplated if it was worth it to clean it up or leave it until later, I felt a vibration at my side. Patting myself down, I couldn’t find my phone but I knew it had to be nearby. Before I’d fallen asleep, I’d been scrolling through social media. Something my therapist had recommended that I stop.

It was only after I stood up that I found the Samsung snuggly sandwiched between the seats. Grabbing it, I looked at the screen. Why was management calling? At this hour?

Before I could compute what was happening, the call rang out and I finally glimpsed the time. 10:55AM.

Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck.

I was late. Very late.

No wonder management was calling. They were after my pathetic little hide for screwing up so spectacularly. And a part of me did still care about what they thought of me.

These were people that had took me on. They had hired me despite all my flaws. And I was letting them down during a crucial moment.

The guilt ate at me as I hurried to my bedroom. Just as I was stripping out of my work clothes from yesterday, my phone buzzed again. This time, I picked up.

“This is Cheryl,” I said, somehow sounding peppy though I was running on fumes.

“Oh, thank God. For a moment, I thought you’d died in a ditch somewhere.”

“After the dressing down I got yesterday, I almost wanted to.”

An awkward titter. “Oh, Cheryl. You’re so funny. But, not gonna lie, you had me worried there for a second. I’d called you ten times already. What’s going on?”

“Long night,” I replied sheepishly as I glanced back towards the living room. “I’m so sorry, Joan, for letting the team down. If you give me an hour, I can get into the office and start on the project. I’ll work until it’s finished, no matter how—”

“Cheryl, it’s fine. We can park the project for tomorrow. I called because we hadn’t heard from you and I was getting a little worried since you’re usually in so early.”

“But I can still—”

“No, Cheryl,” said Joan, channelling her mum voice that I knew all too well. “Look, we’ve all been under pressure one time or another, so I know how you feel. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something to say to leadership. You take today off, okay? Get some rest and look after yourself. You’ve been looking a little pale these last few days.”

“Joan—”

Before I could say something more, she had already hung up. I kept the phone held up to my ear for a few more moments, expecting to hear Joan’s voice come through to demand that I make it into the office by 12 or I’d be fired, before I threw the phone onto my bed and let out a frustrated groan.

God. What was wrong with me? How could I have let myself slip like this?

As I slumped down onto my bed, still half-naked, my thoughts turned towards the project I was supposed to be busy starting right now if I hadn’t overslept. What would people say? Would they finally see through the façade that I’d projected all these years?

And Joan…she’d said I had looked pale during the phone call.

Did she know? Did she suspect something was amiss?

Fear and paranoia gripped me then. Before I knew it, I was up on my feet, heading to the shower. All the while, my thoughts were dissecting the conversation I just had with my immediate supervisor.

What had she meant about being ‘under pressure?’ Or that I ought to ‘look after myself?’

Had I let the mask slip?

No. That was impossible. I’d honed my ability to put on a smile so that none could see beyond the image I’d projected. In that, I was, at least, perf—

The cold water from the showerhead struck me then, pulling me from my thoughts. I yelped, dancing back in the shower until the water had turned lukewarm before diving back in.

It was too late now to eat breakfast. But if I was going to enjoy this unplanned day off, I needed my daily dose of caffeine. Maybe I could grab a wrap, too?

There was a café close by that I’d always wanted to try but never had the time for.

Yes. I’d go there.

Some food in my stomach to appease the hunger gods and a few of my prescribed skills in my gullet would be enough to get me out of this funk. Or, it would allow me to stop trying to parse the hidden meaning behind Joan’s words. More likely than not she hadn’t meant much of it.

She’d just been trying to make small talk.

Right?

Trying to find a way to be empathetic was the ‘perceived’ social norm.

Right?

Or maybe it was all a way to say that the team didn’t need me at all. That I was a liability. A burden.

Fuck. I needed to get out of my own head. And quick.

I got into the office early the next day. There was a ton of work that I needed to catch up on. And I couldn’t disappoint. So, I skimmed through the emails in Outlook before turning my attention to the big project that we’d been assigned. I was adamant that by the time Joan arrived in the office, I would have a draft on her desk.

They couldn’t fire me then. Right?

I was indispensable.

A vital member of the team.

But even as I searched for statistics, the doubt continued to gnaw on my mind. Despite the anti-anxiety pills and antidepressants I’d taken. The worry just wouldn’t leave me be.

It haunted my every step; made me question every move.

When Joan did finally arrive at a quarter past nine, her cappuccino in hand, she walked right past my desk, plonked down at her desk and stared at her blank computer screen for a good few seconds before taking a sip of her coffee cup and shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. That was when she glanced down and saw the printed outline I’d made.

Her head turned towards my desk before looking back at the outline. Her brows knitted together and her lips arched downwards in a frown. After logging into her computer, she rose from her chair.

I quickly turned back to my computer screen. The project wasn’t going to finish itself. Especially if they wanted it in by the end of the week. And it was already Thursday.

The clack of her heels was the only warning I had before Joan loomed above me.

“Cheryl.” Something sounded off. Had there a hint of disappointment in her voice? I looked at her face but the usual fun twinkle I saw in her eyes was absent. This was no-nonsense Joan. A person I’d rarely met.

A cold shiver went down my spine. Why did it also feel like my stomach had dropped out from its usually spot?

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I hit ctrl + s on the document I was working on. I forced a smile to my lips, though all I wanted to do was run and hide. Was it too late to go to the bathroom? “Hi Joan. How’s your morning today?”

Joan looked at me, an unreadable expression on her face.

The mother of two was impeccably dressed although I could see that she had slightly smudged her lipstick. Despite having a rebellious teenager and a loud rambunctious pre-teen, Joan was a career woman through and through. Like me, she had on a blazer. But while mine was grey, hers was black. And while I much preferred wearing a skirt matched with low heels, Joan dressed like a woman on mission in black slacks and flats.

“Cheryl,” she said again. “Look, this isn’t easy to say but the project…well, it’s been assigned to Brett.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in.

That they had reassigned the project to Brett wasn’t the issue. It was the fact that they didn’t think I could do this that broke me. It meant that they didn’t need me.

One mistake and it had all led to this. What was wrong with me? How could I have done something so blind, missing that glaring mistake in the report?

The pressure in my head began to build, dull though it seemed. But as time passed, it grew ever more present. Ever more demanding. White noise filled my ears. And then, my entire imploded. Utterly and completely.

Before me, a black void yawned open in front of me. I stood alone at its edge, no-one beside me. Off in the distance, I heard the sounds of howls getting ever closer. Fear enveloped me.

Did I jump off? Or did I stay to be devoured by monsters?

It would be easier to just let go. To take that step and take the plunge. Then I wouldn’t be hounded every day. I wouldn’t be a burden. I wouldn’t take up someone else’s share of oxygen…

“Cheryl? Cheryl!” Something was shaking me.

I blinked twice and the office swam back into focus. Before me was my computer with a screensaver of a forest somewhere in Germany. To my left, there was a photo of me smiling with my family on a summer vacation back in my 20s. In the corner of my eye, to the right, I could see a beige blouse.

There were words being said above me but I couldn’t process what was being said. It all sounded like nonsense to me.

Then someone crouched down to eye level.

It was Joan. There was a look of concern on her face. But rather than reassure me that there was someone out there cared for me, I was filled with anger. I had seen behind the façade. Nobody cared about me.

Certainly not Joan.

If my self-control hadn’t kicked in, I would have snarled at the woman and probably spat in her face. She was a fucking bold-faced lie. Why did she and everyone else in my life play pretend? What was the goddamned point? Did they think they were good people if they put in a tokenistic effort of empathy?

Well, fuck that. And fuck them.

“Cheryl, I think—”

“I’m fine,” I said through clenched teeth as I unlocked my computer.

“Are you sure? Look, we understand if you’re angry. This isn’t a reflection of all the work you’ve done for us so far. Given the fact that we didn’t know how long you were going to be away, leadership thought—”

I closed my eyes, counted slowly to five. “I said I’m fine, Joan. There’s a lot that needs to be done. I’m here to work. So, let me do it.”

Perhaps Joan sensed something in my tone. She rose to her feet. “Be that as it may, Cheryl, I think it’s in your best interest to take ten minutes. Go out and grab a coffee. Or get some fresh air, whichever helps. Then, when you’re back, we can talk about the project and Brett. Okay?”

It wasn’t a suggestion but an order. I flashed Joan a tight smile. “Sure. Fine,” I said, grabbing my bag. “I’ll be back in ten.”

Reining in my bubbling resentment, I headed to the elevator lobby. Two minutes later, the doors opened on the ground floor and I stepped out onto the street. But instead of turning left to enter the coffee shop, I walked straight past it.

And then I began to run, my handbag slung over my shoulder.

I didn’t go back to the office.

In my darkened bedroom, I sat on my bed and stared off into nothing. I had curled my knees up to my chest, my arms holding them in place.

It was Monday.

Normally by now I would be in the office, tapping away at my keyboard and finishing off whatever it was I had been assigned or responding to emails from stakeholders. You know, business as usual. But it was already nearing lunch time and I hadn’t done anything except stare at nothing for the entire day.

My phone sat beside me. I had turned it off immediately last Thursday after walking out of the office, fearful that I’d receive a barrage of calls once Joan realised that I wasn’t coming back.

But a part of me wondered if that truly would have been the case. Would they have even cared?

What was I but a cog in the machine of corporate America? And an unimportant one at that. Easily replaceable with someone like Brett. A man that had coasted by on his good looks and charisma but who couldn’t even string two sentences together in a report.

Yet, leadership favoured him anyways.

I wanted to hate Brett with all my being but I knew that it wasn’t entirely his fault. Not really.

He was, after all, a better choice than Briony.

Now, she was a piece of work. A woman who delighted in gossip. Who would tell everyone far and near how accomplished she was even though she’d literally done nothing to earn it. Every day I’d see her chatting with upper management or leadership or going out for coffee at least five times a day. She was slow with her work and constantly on the phone to her friends or her daughter or the landlord.

It was easy to get mad at her but it wasn’t worth it.

After all, I knew I was going to be fired. Not that I cared.

Nothing really seemed to matter to me anymore. During the weekend, I’d lazed in bed. Hadn’t bothered to even get up to brush my hair or my teeth. Or even really eat anything beyond some buttered toast and ordering in an unhealthy dose of ice-cream via Uber Eats.

The antidepressants weren’t working. I’d stopped taking them on Saturday because I hadn’t seen the point of it all. And I’d flushed the anti-anxiety pills down the toilet as well.

Only the painkillers remained.

Maybe if I…

Before I could finish the thought, there was a knock at my apartment door. It was an incessant hammering that told me if I didn’t open it now, the person would only continue until I opened it or the door broke down from the sheer force of their hits.

Better to ignore it, I thought though my original train of thought was gone. How else ought I to while away the time? Maybe I could watch some daytime TV. They were mostly reruns of soap operas from back in the day. Mindless drivel, most would say.

Or perhaps I could turn on my computer and sit down to some reality shows on Netflix that could drive away the numbness that had taken hold on me.

It knocking kept on for a solid five minutes. By then, it sounded like the door to my apartment was about to cave in.

Having not decided what I ought to do best with my time, I tumbled out of bed with a groan and grabbed a jersey that had belonged to one of my exes, and which was long enough to reach my knees. For a moment, as I slipped on the jersey, I wondered if I ought to change into something more presentable but thought better of it.

What did it matter anyways?

Satisfied that I wasn’t entirely exposed except for my pale creamy legs, I padded to the door.

As if they had heard my footsteps, the knocking stopped.

Rising to my tiptoes, I peeked through the peephole to see who had come to interrupt my pity party. But there was no-one to be seen.

What in the world?

Was this just an elaborate prank?

They had hammered at my door for so long but by the time I arrived, they were gone? It was enough to heat up what little energy I had when it came to such things.

I wrenched open the door. Maybe, if I was quick enough, I could see who had bothered to come a-knocking at my door before leaving so abruptly.

Poking my head out, I first looked left and then right. But there was no sign of anyone having been there. The corridor was empty.

Had I been imagining things?

Time had lost almost all of its meaning as I had moped around the apartment.

Just as I went to close the door to return to my wallowing, I heard soft mewling coming from under me. I looked down. There, right on the welcome door mat, was a cardboard box. And inside them were four tortoiseshell kittens.

Fuck.

“We’ll make sure to find a home for them all. You have my word.”

“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot to me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep one?” asked the shopkeeper of the pet store. “Tortoiseshells can be a bit tricky but they’re lovely creatures.” She was young. Or, at the very least, looked it. I guessed that she was probably in her mid-20s. Her soft straw-coloured hair was tied up in a messy bun. And over her blue and white striped shirt, she was wearing an apron.

In comparison, I was dressed much more sloppily in shredded black jeans and a too-large maroon hoodie stamped with Harvard University on the front.

Not that I’d gone to Harvard.

My dad had bought it for me when we had visited Boston during my sophomore year in high school. He’d pointed out the law building in particular, said that it had been his dream for one of his children to attend.

Given that I was the only child that my parents ever had, that burden lay on my shoulders.

Suffice it to say, I didn’t make the cut.

I smiled back at the shopkeeper. “No. I’m good. Not sure what kind of monster decided to dump them on my doorstep but I’m glad that I was able to help them out.”

And really, I was glad. It was the first time I’d felt good about something I did.

True, it wasn’t a high paying job and wouldn’t get me any brownie points, but it was the right thing to do.

After all, I couldn’t look after the kittens. Heck, I couldn’t even look after myself.

This was for the best.

They would find good homes to take them in. People that were more put together and had their life all figured out—

Someone crossed by my vision. She was dressed in a business suit, like always. Her hair was pulled into a neat chignon, held in place by a diamond tipped pin. It was Joan.

Fear sluiced down my veins. Had she recognised me? Was she going to rip into me for not being at the office these last two days, and had been unreachable via both phone and email?

But no, Joan was headed towards the far end of the pet store. She walked with purpose. And that was when I remembered that she had a little chihuahua at home. Brutus, his name was. No doubt she was here to pick up some treats for him.

Once she’d picked up some premium lamb dog food, she headed back to the counter. Not once did she glance in my direction but I kept my face turned away, hidden beneath the hoodie.

“Gone through another bag, has he, Joan?”

Joan let out a sigh. “If you’d believe it. Brutus just loves these. Goes rabid at the very scent because he knows he’s been a good boy.”

“What’s wrong, Joan? You’re not normally so down.”

“Oh, just some drama in the office. You know how it is Vanya. Big project, new staff that need to be trained and to cautious about making a mistake.”

Vanya – the owner of the pet shop owner – nodded. “Yes, I remember you telling me something about it. Said you had this troublemaker that forced you to kiss up with the big bosses. I think you said she’d gotten drunk on a weeknight and was too sauced to come in the next day?”

“That’s the one. And it wasn’t even for anything serious.” Joan leaned across the counter. “I tell you, Vanya, this young generation that’s coming in, they’re just too sensitive. Give them even the slightest criticism, even ones that are constructive, and they fall apart at the seams. That never used to happen with me.”

“Exactly. You listened, you learned, you became better.”

Joan nodded. “Anyways, you don’t need to hear me bitch and moan too much, Vanya.”

“Oh, it’s no bother, Joan. You’ve been a loyal company for fifteen years. What are friends for? Us—"

I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. I didn’t want to. Especially given the topic of choice. So, after pulling my hood just a little further down to cover my face, I waved goodbye to Vanya and headed straight for the door.

By the time I’d made it down the street, to the lights, I was breathing heavily and my chest was tight. Thoughts whirled in my head, never slowing enough for me to analyse them.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Had that really happened?

What was Joan even doing, coming into a pet shop in the middle of the city, in the middle of the Goddamned day…

But as I turned the corner, I was met with the skyscraper that housed the business I’d been working at since I graduated from college, fresh-faced and eager to contribute to the workforce. I’d met Joan at my first interview. She had been kind and friendly. Always eager to answer my questions when I didn’t understand something.

How quickly things had changed.

I turned on my heel and headed back down the street. Somewhere, I’d just got turned around, my feet naturally leading me back to something that was familiar, but which also filled my very being with dread.

It was probably because I’d been distracted, thinking too much on Joan’s sudden appearance. She was a blast from the very recent past. And based on what I’d overheard, she’d never been my friend. Like everyone else in my life, she saw me as a disposable tool. A person ‘too sensitive’ who couldn’t take an undeserved dressing down.

A lump formed in my throat and hot wet tears pricked at the corner of my eyes. Ones I tried to blink back desperately. I wouldn’t cry. Not out in the open like this.

All I needed to do was get back home. Then I could close the door against the world and let myself go.

Blinded by the despair that gripped me, I didn’t notice when I bumped headlong into someone.

My first impression was of warmth as something spilled onto my hoodie. Then the thud of a solid chest.

I stumbled back, keeping my eyes lowered to the ground.

“Hey, that was my bloody espresso!”

“I’m so sorry,” I murmured under my breath, jaw working overtime to keep the sob from my voice. Everything hurt. And I wanted to get away.

“Just…just watch out next time, yeah?”

I nodded, head down, before sidestepping past the man. The most I caught of him was a fitted graphic t-shirt with three triangles set in what looked like a pyramid.

As I hurried to the next intersection, I didn’t dare look back. Even though I could feel the man’s gaze drilling a hole through the back of my head. What else was there to say anyways?

Back in my dark apartment, sitting in the empty bathtub and naked from the waist down, I looked at the bottle of pills in my hand. It would be so easy. And it would make things so much better.

After all, I was unlovable. I was a burden. I was weak. I was sensitive. And I was never going to aspire to anything in life.

Flashes of memory, from both the distant past to the recent encounter at the pet shop, rushed through my mind. Each and every one reflecting how much I had failed and worthless I was.

At age 7, I’d had dreams of becoming a pianist. But a recital gone wrong, when I’d sat frozen with fear had shattered those dreams early. The relentless teasing I’d undergone afterwards only proved that becoming a world-famous pianist was not in the cards for me.

So, I’d dreamt smaller.

Yet, even there, I’d failed.

Dad had wanted me to attend Harvard. To follow in his footsteps. And though I wasn’t sure what degree I’d pursue once I’d arrived, I’d put my heart and soul into trying to get into an Ivy League School.

Despite busting my arse all throughout high school, earning myself a 4.0 GPA, they had found my admittance letter lacking. I was just one amongst hundreds of hopefuls and I had failed to stand out of the crowd in a meaningful way.

I touched a hand to my right shoulder. Hidden underneath my t-shirt was the mottled scar. After I’d failed to get into the college of my dreams, I’d been moping at home before falling asleep with the electric blanket still on. The first sign that something had gone horribly wrong was the sharp pain in my shoulder. When I’d opened my eyes, the polyester shirt I’d been wearing had melted, twisting into my skin.

Mum had thought it was a self-harming incident. She’d argued with Dad and had taken me to see a psychiatrist.

That was when she’d first been diagnosed with depression and anxiety.

But it was the pain that had troubled me over the years. By the time I’d graduated, I couldn’t really function. A trip to the doctors saw me prescribed with medication to deal with the chronic pain.

It worked. To a degree. Dulling the short sharp lances down the right side of my body into a dull ache.

Yet it wasn’t gone.

Rather it lurked beneath the surface, ready to rise to the surface.

It would never leave.

If I wanted to be free of it, to be free of the doubts that plagued me, it would so much easier to put an end to it all. And I had the solution right in the palm of my hands. I merely had to take a little too much, my breathing would slow, and I’d never have to deal with all the failures that my life had become.

Twisting open the bottle cap, I hesitated for a moment before I poured the first few painkillers out into my hands.

This was it.

It was now or never.

Did I take that final step? Was it worth it to walk into that good night? To put an end to my story?

Before I could make that choice, however, I heard a soft mewling somewhere in the silent apartment.

What in the world?

I tried to shut it out, resolute in my decision. But it kept going. Rubbing my nerves raw.

Returning the pills to the bottle, I clambered from the tub, nearly slipping in the process. After I put the bottles back into the medicinal cabinet, my heart still beating a hundred miles a minute, I studied my wan reflection in the mirror. Dark purple circles underscored my blue grey eyes. Matted strands of red hair clung to my face when once it had been filled with life.

How quickly my life had spiralled.

The mewling started again and I tore myself away from the bathroom, finding a pair of pants to pull on.

I padded to the living room but couldn’t find the source of the mewling. My mind was already racing back to when I’d first found the box of kittens at my doorstep.

There had been four kittens in the box. I was sure of it.

And when I’d handed the box to Vanya at the pet shop, there had been four kittens inside.

So, why could I still hear mewling within the confines of my one-bedroom apartment?

Having no luck in the living room, I headed to my bedroom. Seated on top of my covers was a kitten that was almost entirely black except for its paws and the white dot on its forehead. It came up to me, curiosity shining in its eyes, as I approached before nuzzling my outstretched hand.

I gave it a scritch behind the ears before glancing up at the clock on the wall. Maybe I could head back into town and hand this one over to Vanya as well. Not that she would be the best person to give it to. Her conversation with Joan had forever tainted my initial impression. But with a start, I realised just how late the hour was. By the time I arrived, the shop would be closed.

The little kitten would have to stay with me. At least for the night.

I was pulled from my thoughts as it mewled at me again. She was hungry and wanted something to fill her stomach.

While I hadn’t been contemplating cooking anything up for dinner, and in fact didn’t feel hungry at all, I couldn’t just let the kitten starve because of my own bad choices.

“Wait right here,” I said to it. “Let me see what I have.”

The kitten looked up at me with its huge blue eyes, letting out a little needy cry that seemed to demand that I hurry up. Bossy little thing, I thought, as I headed back to the kitchen and to my mostly empty fridge. Although I’d restocked a few days ago, I didn’t know if I had something appropriate for a kitten.

I reached for my phone to google what types of human food would be appropriate for cats to eat before realising that my phone was still sitting on the ground of my bedroom, the screen cracked after I’d thrown it at the wall after the encounter with Joan at the pet shop.

Hurrying back to my bedroom, the kitten meowed in greeting.

“Sorry. Just recovering my phone. I’ll be back.” With that, I grabbed my phone and headed back to the kitchen, pulling up Google as I did.

I glanced through the first page of results, noting the cooked meats, the few vegetables that were listed and the small pieces of fruit.

Opening the fridge, I looked through my measly stock.

Well, I had some chicken and broccoli and carrots.

Maybe I could whip up something simple. The thought of preparing a meal flipped a switch inside me and my stomach let out a small growl. For the first time in weeks, I had something of an appetite.

It had been hours since I last ate. When I had eaten, it had been something simple. Some toast, slathered with jam along with a middling coffee. Then I’d binged on some chips and beer. Nothing substantial.

Looking at the ingredients in my fridge, I decided to whip up a quick stir fry. Something that would satisfy me until the next day. After all, I needed to keep myself alive until I could think of what to do with the kitten.

In my mind, it deserved a fulfilling life with a good owner. It needed someone that could shower it with unconditional love.

And that person was definitely not me.

I was back in the office again, working on a project that I’d been assigned. As I clicked open the email to refresh myself on the parameters, nothing seemed to make sense. The words were difficult to parse. The sentences went round in circles before trailing off into nonsense.

Desperate, I sent through a message on the group messenger to Joan. Knowing she’d be able to assist me. She had always been there for me in the past.

But as I hit ‘enter’ on the keyboard, the memory of the encounter at the pet shop swam through my mind. A growing sense of dread and panic rose in my gut. Behind me, the voices in the open office space began to swell as people began to whisper and gossip.

I caught snippets of their conversations. None of it good. All of them about what I liability I was for the company. That they would be better off if I vanished from the face of the planet.

And, was it me or were there eyes drilling into the back of my skull?

Breathing became hard as I tried to fight the rising terror that had gripped me. I wanted to turn around but I didn’t want the others to know that their words were affecting me.

If I kept my head down and did my work…

Clipped footfalls sounded behind me.

Dread made its way down my spine. It felt like ants were crawling on my neck. The itch was intense. And all I wanted to do was turn around and say I was sorry. Why I felt the need to apologise didn’t matter. I just knew that I had to.

“Cheryl.” It was Joan’s voice. Slowly, hesitantly, I turned around to face her.

Words clung to my throat. I wanted to say something but my chest was so heavy. It was like a weight was pressing on me. Robbing me of breath. Robbing me of sound.

“Jo—“ I tried to say her name but couldn’t seem to wrap my lips around it. It was just too hard.

She cocked her head to the side, confused, before she reached out to me, the picture of concern. “Cheryl, we need to talk. Would you come with me, please?”

Before I could nod and follow her, something in my chest constricted.

I flailed, pushing something off my face as I blearily blinked up at my dark bedroom. Sunlight was peeking through the underside of the blinds. And resting on my pillow, looking sheepish was the stowaway kitten that had wormed its way into my life.

“What is it now, Princess?”

She mewled at me before agilely landing on the ground and began to claw at the door. Picking up my phone, I glanced at the screen. 9AM. On a freakin’ Saturday. I wanted to groan and sidle back underneath the covers.

But Princess was having none of that. There was only one thing on her mind. Breakfast.

“Fine. Let me get dressed first, okay? And stop sitting on my face. If you aren’t careful, you’ll kill me and who will feed you then?”

Princess spun around, sat down on her haunches and started licking her paws clean. It was a clear sign that she hadn’t been listening. Nor did she care.

With a sigh, I looked around for something to throw on.

Already, Princess had been with me for three months. I don’t know how she’d managed to entangle my life with hers but she had. Despite my best intentions of bringing her to Vanya, the pet shop owner, Princess had been nowhere to be found when I was ready to leave. When I did finally spot her hidden on the upper shelf of my wardrobe, it had taken the entire day to coax her down.

The next day, she’d utterly refused to leave the apartment, sneaking out of the makeshift cage I’d made for her from a few pieces of scrap cardboard that someone had tossed out for recycling.

By the end of the week, I’d given up.

Princess clearly wasn’t going anywhere.

But that left me saddled with a kitten to look after and no job in sight.

True, I might not have properly resigned from the firm I’d walked out on but I had as good as done so. The calls and text messages had slowed to a dribble. My last message from Joan told me of her disappointment that I would step away after all these years when I was so close to reaching my fifteenth year.

So, I’d sat down in front of a computer and forced myself to apply for every single job that caught my eye.

In the end, I’d taken on an administrative role with a startup tech firm. The pay was much lower than what I’d earned in my previous position as senior project lead. But considering the fact that they had essentially offloaded all my responsibilities on Brett…

I caught myself right before I spiralled.

My first order of business for today was to get breakfast for Princess.

“Here you are, my Princess,” I said to the kitten as I opened up a packet of salmon cat food and poured the contents into her bowl. “Eat up.”

Princess looked up at me with her big blue eyes and meowed before digging in. Watching her enjoyment, I felt something warm and fuzzy suffuse my chest. A smile pulled at my lips before I caught it.

Squashing the fleeting glow of not-quite-happiness down deep, because I knew that it was undeserved, I turned away to prepare my own morning meal. After all, breakfast was the most important meal of the day. Or so my mum had told me growing up.

And maybe there was some wisdom to it, I thought as I pulled out a loaf of bread in the freezer, some peanut butter and jam from the pantry and laid it all down on the counter.

It was hard to imagine life without Princess anymore. She had barged into my life and demanded that I be the one to look after her. Just like a little prima donna or a rich lady of leisure. But while I’d been tempted to name her Queen for her imperious and spoiled ways, there was also a wild side to Princess that decided me on her name.

Breakfast sandwich made, I flopped down on the couch with my morning cup of coffee, a peeled apple and turned on the TV. Princess snuggled in beside me, purring as I stroked her head.

Life wasn’t quite perfect. Not just yet.

But there was a light now in the very dark tunnel I found myself in. The battles were still hard but I now had something to fight for.

At least for now.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d be with Princess. It was still my personal opinion that she would be better served with a proper owner that had their shit all sorted out rather than with me. And I’d raised the fact with my therapist who had only nodded and scribbled something in her notepad before asking me if I’d had any more instances of suicidal ideation.

Rain pissed down on my head. My hair was matted to my scalp. But I cared not as I ventured further down the dark street, calling for Princess. I was desperate to have her back with me at home where it was warm and I could put on a dumb movie for the two of us to watch. Maybe something light and fun. Like Oliver and Company.

Why had I left the door to the apartment open?

“It’ll be okay, Cheryl. I’m sure Princess isn’t too far off.” I looked up at the man carrying an umbrella and forced a smile to my face.

Yang was one of my neighbours a few doors down. He was a lanky man with a mop of unruly hair with blond highlights. Framing his face were a pair of rectangular half-rim glasses. A blue parka sat atop his black jeans.

He had been the only one to volunteer his assistance. My other neighbours had all shook their heads and closed their doors when I’d asked if they had seen a black and white cat called Princess. Even the one that lived right opposite me in the hallway. She was a nervous spindly woman in her late 40s. But while she had helped me out when I first moved in, offering a basket of goodies, we’d had little interaction since except when we exchanged ‘hellos’ in the elevator.

“I just…I just need to find her.”

“Don’t worry. We will.”

I held onto Yang’s words like an anchor. Princess meant everything to me.

Little by little, she had wormed her way into my heart and had pulled me back from the brink, focusing my thoughts on the things I could do and serving as motivation to be a better person in general. Now that she was gone, I felt cast adrift. There was nothing to keep me grounded.

Once more the doubts came creeping in.

Had Princess left me too? Would I be alone again? Friendless except for the fleeting encounters I shared with those I’d known in high school and college?

Everybody was so busy these days, preoccupied with life.

Nobody cared to look behind the façade I’d put up. Nobody cared to ask how I was doing or if I was okay.

“Hey, hey, hey! Look at me, Cheryl. We’re gonna find her. Just breathe.”

I nodded, though my gaze was focused on the concrete pavement beneath my feet. With effort, I focused on slowing down my breathing before the panic took me to parts unknown.

I felt something warm rub my back.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ve got this. And, if not today, I can see about making some posters, yeah? Everything is going to be fine Cheryl.”

“Thanks Yang. Maybe we give it another half hour? Sorry. I just want to make sure we’ve checked everything nearby.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’m good to go.”

We combed the block twice more before Yang escorted me back to my apartment. He said nothing as we trudged down the hallway.

After all, what was there to say to a distraught woman who had just lost the only guiding light in her life?

Without Princess, I was nothing except a broken human being who had no purpose and was better left in a ditch somewhere.

There was nothing for me without Princess. Absolutely nothing.

As we approached the door to my apartment, though, there came a familiar mewl. Sitting on the welcome mat with a disgruntled expression was Princess. Just like me, she was a little bedraggled. But a quick glance told me that she wasn’t harmed in any way.

Relief flooded through my entire body. Had it not been for Yang, I might have collapsed to the ground.

“So, you’re planning on moving? When?” asked Yang, curling his legs up underneath the duvet as he spooned a mouthful of ice cream.

“Yeah. It’s just not affordable in the city anymore. And there’s just too many bad memories here. I think a change might be nice.”

“What about me?” he asked, turning to face me instead of the movie we watching. Die Hard.

I smiled. “Well, there have been a few good ones,” I admitted, nudging Yang on the arm. He grinned at me. “Memories, that is. During this past year.”

“Thanks. Good to know that I quantify as a memory.”

“I’m only joking, Yang. You’ve been a great friend to me and I’ll miss hanging out with you in a few weeks’ time.”

“Oh, I know. I’m gonna miss having these hangouts too. Who knew I had such a cool neighbour for these past five years and never knew?”

My cheeks flushed. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that I’m very cool. In fact, I’m not very interesting much at all.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, lightly punching Yang on the shoulder.

“Hey! Watch it! I’m fragile!”

I cocked an eyebrow at Yang. God. He was such a melodramatic Leo. No wonder he was trying to become an actor instead of something useful. Like a doctor.

“Okay, fine. I’m not that fragile but you ought to know you can’t treat me like this.”

“Yeah, yeah. I wouldn’t want your girlfriend to come knocking on my door,” I said. “Honestly, I’m still not sure what she sees in you. She’s so accomplished and you’re just…well, you.”

“Hurtful!”

Exchanging a look, the two of us broke into giggles before turning our attention back to the movie right as Bruce Willis was crawling through the air vents.

A few minutes later, Yang looked once more in my direction.

“So, what about the commute?” he asked, curious.

“Well,” I said, “the good thing about this new role that I’ve got is that they offer plenty of work from home options. So, I won’t be taking the subway every day. But, even if I were, it’s only about forty minutes door-to-door. Not too shabby, if you ask me.”

Princess chose that moment to jump onto the couch. She settled in my lap and looked plaintively up at me, begging to be petted. I did so, unable to resist any of her demands.

Was she as eager as me about moving to the new place? I hoped she was. It hadn’t been as cheap as I had told Yang.

Or would she, instead, miss the old apartment? Miss Yang, perhaps, and the old haunts she favoured?

When I’d been hunting for a new place to call home, I’d brought her with me. I’d felt it important that we make the decision together. After all, Princess was an important member of the household.

Of course, she hadn’t much liked the cage. It had been impossible to coax her inside.

But she had been amenable to the backpack with a small bubble that Princess could poke her head through to look around.

It was the second apartment that we’d been looking at that she had fallen in love with. While it was still a small one-bedroom apartment, albeit with a study, the views of the river from the balcony had been stunning. Even Princess had mewled her approval.

Better yet, neither the owner or building management had been fussed about her bringing along a pet. In fact, they welcomed it.

“So, your earlier question, Yang, was that your attempt at offering to help out with the move?”

Yang kept his gaze fixed on the television as he spooned up another mouthful of double-choc mint ice-cream. “Maybe,” he said after a moment.

I turned my head to look at him. But he kept his eyes rigidly focused on the younger Alan Rickman, may he rest in peace always, as he monologued his evil plans. If Yang wasn’t already taken, I might have just snapped him up for myself. Despite his questionable career path, he was a good man.

And, dare I say it, a good friend. I cherished these small moments we shared.

For the first time in a long while, I had someone that cared about me and didn’t want anything beyond just my company. My heart swelled up at the thought and I dabbed at the corner of my eyes before turning my attention back to the TV.

I still wasn’t sure what Yang saw in me, personally, but I felt that in that moment, curled up on the couch watching Die Hard, it didn’t matter. Not in the slightest.

He was my friend. And I knew he would be there for me. Through thick or thin.

His was a friendship without conditions; without artifice. And I could rely on him as much as I needed.

I had just been grocery shopping at my local Albertsons when I’d seen Briony. She was immaculate as ever, her hair styled into a coif although she was dressed like she’d just been at the gym. Beside her was a young girl, presumably her daughter, who looked about eleven.

They hadn’t noticed me as they headed in the opposite direction down the aisle.

Well, Briony wouldn’t. She was just as self-absorbed as ever. It was why I’d always hated working with her.

As she passed me by, I could hear her speaking. But it wasn’t to her daughter. Instead, she was talking into a Bluetooth headset.

“—you believe it? They’ve asked me whether or not I’d take a voluntary redundancy. Me? Yeah, mhmm. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Cheryl—” There was a brief pause as she grabbed a box of cereal from the shelf. “Fuck her. She walked away when the company needed her most. And fuck Joan. Always having a ready excuse to explain away—”

I didn’t hear the rest as I turned the corner and was out of earshot. Standing next to a shelf stacked to the brim with all sorts of chips, I took a moment to steady my breathing and calm my beating heart.

What had all that been about?

No. I wouldn’t go there. It wasn’t my business. I’d stepped away from the company.

And yet, a part of me couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in the end with the project that they had given Brett. It had been a big one. One that might have consolidated my position and perhaps earned me a promotion. Coming in on Thursday, I’d tried my best to set up a plan given the fact that I’d taken some unexpected leave on the Wednesday. Joan, however, had dashed all of that.

Maybe it hadn’t been her call, exactly, but after overhearing her at the pet shop, I couldn’t stop the anger that rose to the surface. She was my immediate manager.

Why hadn’t she ever fought for me?

I had thought she’d cared. Had seen me as more than just another number. But in the end, I had simply been a pawn for her corporate aspirations.

Resentment, hot and dark and terrible, bubbled under my skin, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

I’d never received much closure after stepping away. But there had been a thousand and one different things I’d wanted to say. And it came as a surprise that despite the year that had passed, it had never left me.

It was something I’d not been able to let go.

Even with Princess in my life. And even with the positive steps I’d taken in therapy.

It was something that I needed closure on.

With that thought in mind, I picked up the remaining goods that I needed and headed for the checkout. There were a lot of things that were weighing heavily on my mind.

Princess was sat on the kitchen counter when I walked in, laden down with groceries. She cocked her head as I set the bags down before padding over to me and demanding that I scritch her behind the ears.

“I hope you behaved yourself while I was gone,” I said as she strutted past me to the edge of the counter.

The expression on her face would have curdled butter, such was the contempt in that furry face of hers, as she turned around to look at me over her shoulder. “Do you really think I wouldn’t?” she said in a deep sonorous voice that should have surprised me. “I’m no bright-eyed bushy-tailed kitten any longer, Cheryl. And I can tell that something’s on your mind. If you ask me, you need to pay Joan a visit. Show her exactly the pain you went through.”

“How, Princess? It’s not like she’ll just let me talk it out with her. Heck, I probably wouldn’t be able to get my foot in the door.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, Cheryl.”

“I don’t understand, Princess,” I said to the cat. And truly, I didn’t.

Princess padded up to me, her tail brushing against my chin. “You already know what needs to be done, Cheryl. Don’t make me spell it out for you. And you ought to do it tonight. After all, it’ll still be the weekend and we both know you need your seven hours of sleep if it’s a weeknight.”

“But—” Before I could put forth my arguments to the contrary, Princess had hopped off the kitchen counter and had headed for the bathroom where her litter box had been placed.

I remained standing next to the fridge as I tried to sift through the hidden implications in Princess’s words.

My history with Joan was a long and troubled one. Did I have what it took to finally confront her over it all? Or was it better to just push it out of mind and keep it buried where no-one would be able to see the hidden ugliness of it all?

I glanced towards the bathroom where Princess had vanished into.

Princess had said I knew the answer to this dilemma. But the thought of actually seeing it through was terrifying. And it made me wonder if this was truly what I wanted.

But although I agonised over what I ought to do as I packed all the groceries away, in the end, I knew Princess was right. A reckoning was coming.

It was do or die.

And as the hour ticked closer to midnight, I packed my bag for everything that I would need. Princess watched on. She sat in the shadows, licking clean her paws. She glanced up and from where I was standing, the light, as it hit her eyes, made them look demonically red.

It should have frightened me but I only felt a sense of calm suffuse my entire being.

This was right.

This was a means of bringing back balance to my shattered life and the broken dreams that had plagued me since childhood.

I had to do this.

If not, then I would be forever adrift, unable to be satisfied with my lot in life. And it would only be a matter of time before I took that last drastic step and fall into the deep and dark abyss that had been threatening to swallow me whole since time immemorial.

Glancing up once again at the clock in the living room, I gave a resolute nod to Princess before padding towards the door. Princess barely looked in my direction. She had turned around to watch the TV as Annie Murphy appeared on screen. The Canadian actress had two white streaks in her hair.

Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob and stepped through in my black hoodie, back jeans and comfortable black joggers. I would be as a shadow. Unseen and unheard.

The door clicked close behind me.

I was alone.

Joan lived in a four-bedroom house on the outskirts of the city. I’d been there only once before for a 4th of July celebration. All I really remembered was her huge backyard set up with two barbecue grills, four plastic tables and boiling in the hot July sun as we chatted inanely about their favourite sporting teams or the weather or provided anecdotes about their children.

The lights were off as I did a circuit around the block, looking for a place to park my car.

I couldn’t park it too close lest it seem suspicious but I didn’t want to be too far away in case things went awry. There was Brutus, after all, to contend with.

Not that he would be much trouble.

From my recollections, he had been an amicable Yorkshire Terrier. Though he could be excitable among strangers.

He’d never much liked me when I met him the first time, although he hadn’t tried to bite me either. It was a mystery on how he’d react if he could smell Princess on me, though.

But it didn’t matter. The plan was to keep him distracted. If that failed, I would need to find another way to silence him. Joan couldn’t be forewarned. At any cost.

The streets were empty as I crept towards Joan’s house.

Thankfully, living where she did, Joan had eschewed the need for actual security cameras. Rather, she had installed fake ones to deter any potential thieves. But given that she lived in a fairly well-to-do neighbourhood, the risk of a burglary was small.

No-one saw me as I hopped the gate that led into the backyard. From my backpack, I pulled out a packet of dog treats. Hopefully it would be enough to get him off my back for however long it would take me to find either an unlocked door or break in via the glass slide door.

There was another packet for when I needed to leave. Although, by then, perhaps I could simply waltz through the front door instead.

I stalked forward, ears alert for the sound of barks and the pattering of tiny feet.

But to my surprise, there was no sign of the Yorkshire Terrier in the yard. There were no yips of outrage as I padded over to the sliding door that separated the living room from the backyard.

The first indication that something strange was going on was when I reached the porch and noticed a dark stain on the mosaic tiles. It meandered its way around the corner of the house.

The eerie silence only made it worse.

Once again, my thoughts turned to Brutus. I couldn’t help but wonder if something terrible had happened to the dog. To my knowledge, he was only about five years old. Hardly the time for him to die of old age, Yorkshire Terrier or not.

But since I’d never been close to Joan, I couldn’t say for certain that her pet had had any health problems.

Shaking the thought away, I pulled lightly on the glass door and watched in surprise as it slid open. Clearly Joan and her family didn’t think much of basic security. Although, growing up with their privileged lifestyle, it came as no surprise to me as I crept into the living room.

Inside, I took stock of the perfect modernity that was Joan’s living space. Right in front of me was her three-seat couch with chaise longue. A rich carpet lay underfoot with a heavy coffee table serving to hold it down. A vase of flowers worked as the centrepiece.

Her 80’ inch 4K TV had been mounted to the wall. Next to it were a stack of DVDs and CDs. Of the titles, I could see nothing and I didn’t want to risk turning on the light just to sate my morbid curiosity.

All of it screamed opulence.

It only made me hate Joan more as I headed deeper inside. The stairs, if I recalled, hadn’t been too far.

As I turned the corner, I slipped on something sticky on the ground. Thinking fast, I grabbed onto the wooden bannisters to prevent myself from falling and managed to arrest myself before I took an unsightly tumble that might have warned Joan or her family of my presence.

What had I even slipped on? Had her kids spilt juice on her hardwood floors? If so, it would be a pain to clean up and I didn’t envy Joan the task. Although, come to think of it, she probably had a cleaner come by to help out.

Still, I couldn’t help but thank my lucky stars that I’d never had any children.

Once my heartbeat had calmed down to something reasonable, I started to climb the stairs. It was slow going. I didn’t want to set off any creaky floorboards and announce my position.

But I reached the top of the stairs without incident.

Glancing down the hallway, I could see nothing except the shadows of picture frames and closed doors. No doubt they were filled with pictures of family holidays where Joan, her husband and two children were enjoying themselves. Her desk had always been cluttered with mementos from her children. The lock screen on her phone had been a professional photoshoot of her and her husband, Brutus between them.

From memory, the master bedroom had been at the farthest end.

As I took a cautious step forward, the floorboard creaked beneath my foot and I immediately froze.

Seconds passed into minutes but there was no sound to indicate that anyone had heard. Letting out the breath I was holding, I crept forward ever so slowly.

All of this needed to go smoothly.

When I reached the door to the master bedroom, though, I found it standing slightly ajar. There was a soft gentle light peeking through, as if someone had turned on a nightstand lamp.

Odd. That didn’t seem right, I thought, as I gently pushed the door open.

It swung open on well-oiled hinges and revealed what could only be described as a crime scene. The blankets and sheets and pillows had been strewn across the floor. They were coated with feathers, having been ripped open. To the right, a portrait of Joan and her husband had three long gashes torn through it.

Finally, my eyes trailed to the sight that I’d been avoiding.

The body that lay on the bed.

I’d never talked to Joan’s husband. Didn’t have much of an opinion of him. In my head, he was a non-person, an accessory to the very real Joan that I knew in my day-to-day life when I worked at the company.

But there he lay, eyes wide open in shock as they stared up at the ceiling. Blood flecked his cheeks, his stubble, and his messy brown hair. In his chest was a gaping hole.

Fuck! Fuck! What had I just walked into?

As I doubled over to empty the contents of my stomach, I caught a black and white shape in the corner of my eye. Wiping my mouth clean, I glanced towards the chest at the foot of the bed.

Sitting atop it was Princess, looking nonplussed as she licked her paws clean.

Her paws that were stained a deep red.

“You’re a little late, Cheryl. But no matter. I saved the best for last. You’ll find Joan cowering in the bathroom. Ready for you,” said Princess. Her voice reverberated around the room, dark and ominous.

Cold prickled on the back of my neck

This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right.

I backed away from Princess, chest feeling tight.

“Oh, come now. You aren’t thinking of getting cold feet at the penultimate moment, are you Cheryl?”

“No,” I said, my back hitting the wall. “No. No, no, no. What have you done, Princess? This isn’t what I wanted.”

God, was it me or had it become incredibly hard to breathe? Each breath seemed to take more effort than the last. And they were all shallow.

Was I going to have a panic attack? I thought, cradling my head. This wasn’t real, right? It couldn’t be real.

Princess hopped off the chest and approached me, her tail twitching in the air. “Cheryl, Cheryl, Cheryl. Of course, it is.” And then she pounced at me.

I jolted awake, gasping for breath. Princess, startled from her perch atop my face, landed on the floor, hackles raised. I took a few deep breaths and tried to slow my racing heartbeat.

It had all been a nightmare. A horrid and terrible nightmare.

After all, I hadn’t bumped into Briony when I was shopping for groceries but rather Joan herself. She hadn’t seen me as I headed down the aisle, too busy wrestling with her youngest who was throwing a tantrum about wanting Frosty Flakes for breakfast.

My old manager had looked worn, dressed as she had been in sweatpants. Her hair was a mess and there were dark circles under her eyes as she sternly told her youngest that only students with a 3.5 GPA deserved Frosty Flakes. Right as her eldest surreptitiously slipped two packs of Dorito chips to the already huge pile in the shopping trolley.

Watching them from the corner of my eye as I picked looked through the condiments, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Joan. She had always presented herself as professional in the office. With her placid smile in place, she had always told me that she was keen to help. That there was no question to stupid that she couldn’t field.

And while I desperately wanted to hold onto that image of Joan, I knew that she wasn’t perfect.

Looking back, I had been in a vulnerable state. Hurt and grieving and overwhelmed. Joan hadn’t fought hard enough for me, her concern only surface-level.

Maybe for anyone else, it would have been fine.

But I had been drowning in doubt and self-recrimination.

A part of me still resented the fact that she hadn’t been there for me when I’d needed her. The support I’d come to lean on over the years had decided to take a step back. I’d fallen down, looking for a hand to help pick me up.

Then she had to deal me a second crippling blow when I’d overheard her with Vanya the pet shop owner.

That had when the veil of ignorance had truly been ripped away and I realised that Joan was just as human as the rest of us.

Did I resent her for that?

A little.

But as I sat in bed, reminding myself to breathe, I looked down at Princess, who had hopped back onto my bed and was making herself comfortable at the foot of my bed, and wondered if what I truly wanted was closure.

After all, Joan didn’t owe me anything. Rather, I’d leaned on her for so long. She wasn’t the one to blame for my downward spiral. Nor had she agreed to be my anchor in a toxic workplace that was always seeking to pit every single employee against each other.

We hadn’t parted on good terms and that had been my fault.

I’d been living too much in my own head, letting every small comment trigger a meltdown.

Had it not been for what had transpired, I might never have walked away.

I shuddered to think what my life might have been if I had stayed. Would I be lying in a grimy alley somewhere, unloved, friendless and forgotten? Another victim of the big city lifestyle that had claimed so many others?

True, I still wasn’t in the best headspace now but I’d made some headway in clawing myself away from the abyss that was never too far away. My therapist said it would be a gruelling journey, coming to love oneself. Yet with Princess by my side, it didn’t seem as hard or as insurmountable as I’d initially thought.

With her in my life, I was too busy to be lonely. And I’d also made some fast friends. Both at my workplace and with my neighbours.

That didn’t mean that all my wounds had been healed, but I was learning to take each new day in stride.

Slowing down had been one of the best decisions in my life.

And it had all been because of Joan.

So, I didn’t resent her for that. I couldn’t.

Having cleared my thoughts on the matter, I turned to look at the alarm clock next to me. 3:34AM. It was time to get back to sleep. When it was a much more reasonable hour, perhaps I’d think of something to send Joan as a parting farewell gift.

It wasn’t the closure that I wanted, but it was probably the one I needed. My therapist had always said that oft times, it was how we thought about things that really informed our view of the world. So, maybe if I changed my thinking around, I could learn to forgive past wrongs and move on with my life.

As I laid back down to bed, I did so with a smile on my face as I made peace with the past and finally let it go.

#short story #fictionpress #depression #loneliness #cats #the shadow of broken dreams #not on wattpad #I graduated from angsty teen to angsty office worker

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mazuwii · 2 years

Text

Winter finals PT 2

Reiner X reader

No warnings

Today had been full of surprises, a sudden snow storm kicked off in the midst of working hours. During the stressful exam everyone watched and listened to the violent wind hurling hails of ice. You were truly unsure as to how you were to survive this evening.

By the time lunch break had been announced, the sky had already darkened, mirroring a time strictly witnessed only during midnight.

Not only was the weather gloomy, everyone was told to stay inside, due to the sudden warnings that came in through the news.

This meant that you were to have your lunch break inside, with the class you were stuck in. Sadly, Reiner was not listed in these temporary exam groups. You had his coat, washed and dried with a perfumed note buried in the chest pocket for the entire day now.

"That was the easiest thing! Ever!" Jean boasted at the conjoined table. "All those damn useless teachers were too busy gossiping to notice what I was doing! Ha!"

Eren rolled his eyes at him, slamming down his carton of banana milk with a death glare darting towards Jean. "They're still here, you know." His hooded green eyes gestured towards the lunch table the adults gathered around, presumably gossiping, even now.

"They're too busy talking about their failing marriages to care."

"Whatever. Your fat mouth is going to bait everyone out. So shut it already."

Before Jean could snap back at the brunette, you quickly interrupted. "Guys... where's Reiner?- Everyone else?! Why aren't they in the lunch hall?!"

The two boys peered towards you with smug looks, "Our class is connected to the lunch hall, their's wasn't, smarty pants." Jean added onto Eren's snarky remark, frustrating you even more.

Would you even be able to get home? Let alone find Reiner to give him what you desperately prepared te night before. Your mother had surprised you when you got home, a coat nicely wrapped in a gift bag, a way of apologising for throwing away the last one without asking.

The entire night you wondered how Reiner was doing, if he was okay, if he went home freezing-?!

Although he had left you a text, asking if you got home safe, you couldn't help but worry. Since after sending a text back, he hadn't read it. Not even in the dark and cold morning of today.

Even though you barely had anything to eat, you left back to finish off the last exam for today. Completing all answers with the knowledge you religiously memorised last night.

Like you predicted, you were the first to finish, along with Eren and Jean, the only people you knew well enough in the group assigned to this class. Jean shot you a knowing smirk after he audibly dropped his pen, probably pissing Eren off, whom glared daggers at the back of Jean's head.

The scribbling of pens waltzing on hard paper faded away from your mind, taking you back to yesterdays afternoon at the bus stop. Perhaps he didn't want to be kissed? Was it a step too far?

Maybe you were right, there was nothing wrong, he just didn't like you the way you did.

By the time class was dismissed, everything had calmed down, with the occasional wind, everyone was allowed to leave and was reassured they'd be okay as long as they get back home fast enough.

You hadn't wasted a second, sprinting to the front gates to search for a tall blonde. Instead, discovering his lanky friend. "Bert!"

The giant of a boy lowered his chin towards you, a soft smile decorating his features. "Y/n! Hey, did you do well?"

"Yeah!! Those answer sheets were the exact same ones, in the exact same order! You're seriously our saviour." You praised jokingly, "I don't know what my parents would have done if I flopped the exams."

"Well luckily, you'll be passing, along with those buffoons over there." He motioned towards Eren and Jean, grunting like trolls as they try to slip each other up on the long frozen puddles.

"Yeah..." you giggled lowly, "Hey- um, speaking of which, have you seen Reiner? I searched for him all day and..." The ravenettes face visibly dropped, "He didn't come to school today, Y/n."

"What?! Why?!"

"I don't know, but he said he was feeling a little dizzy."

"When..?"

"Yesterday, when I printed the answers out, I told him I could go take it to you but he insisted, even though he told me he felt dizzy."

"That clown." You sighed, clenching onto the fluffy coat you knew you shouldn't have taken. Leaving him out in the cold was probably the last kick for him.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna catch you later." You said, taking slow steps against the slippery floor. "Bye Bert!"

The bus stop was lonely and dark, standing in front of the dim park that haunted your chest every glance you fed it. There's no way you could go home after what you had done.

Just a few roads more, you found yourself in front of a modest house, a porch shielding the door from the hunks of snow weighing heavier every second.

Your numb knuckles gently hit the doors three times, triggering tiny yet frantic footsteps. After loud rattling, it swung open to reveal a short brunette girl. "Y/n!" She pounced on you, embracing your thighs.

"Hey, Gabi." You ruffled her hair.

"Gabi." You heard from a distance, "who's at the door- oh Y/n," Karina paused, seeming quite confused. "What are you doing just standing there, come in, come in, you'll catch a cold!" She practically yanked you inside.

Almost instantly, the warmth engulfed your numb face, relieving your sense of smell and leaving your eyes to water.

"I-I'm fine auntie, I swear-! I just wanted to see Reiner,"

"Oh Reiner?" Her eyes widened, making eye contact with the smaller Braun, then turning towards you as if baring deathly news. "He caught a nasty fever, he hasn't been out of bed since last night,"

"Oh my-" you choked back bitter words of self hatred, covering your lips with your gloved hand. "May I see him, auntie? Please?"

She nodded, "just don't go too close, I don't want you catching whatever he has."

After agreeing, you ascended up the small set of stairs, locating the room the dumb blonde was in. You applied another gentle pattern of knocks to his door, except, his response came delayed and slurred. "Mum I promise I'm fine... I don't want to drink anymore tea."

You stifled a giggle at his childish plea. Wordlessly entering. His bloodshot eyes barely opened, but when they had discovered you, they refused to close. "Y/n?" He inhaled a painful breath.

"Oh, Reiner. I'm so sorry." You kneeled before his bed, clutching onto the coat. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey... hey, what's there to be sorry about?" He hoarsely asked, cutting in before you could answer, "I played rugby a few days ago in damp clothes. In the cold. You're not to blame,"

"Well... I- I suppose only you would do such a stupid thing."

"Mm," he chuckled, "Serves me right, gotta stay in this freezing room since I can barely move." Reiners teeth mildly chattered, his arms quivering as a result of weak movement.

His fever proved right through his words, since the room was warm, not as cold as his body deluded him.

"What can I do for you? I can go ask Auntie to heat a hot water bottle?- or"-

"I'm fine Y/n, honestly if I didn't have a fever right now I'd prefer you to heat me up."

A flush of heat rose to your cheeks, causing you to stammer lowly, "we're not kids anymore, I can't just get on your bed and- well you know..."

His jaw slacked open, lips twitching up, "what's changed?"

You pondered, even to a statement so simple. Barely anything at all, really. You and him had only grown physically. Even seven- year old Reiner would have forced you to wear his jacket and go cold himself.

The blonde flinched as his bed dipped and weakly bounced, aching eyes half delighted and half concerned to find you crawling on top of him. "Y/n, you'll catch this, y-you'll get sick"-

"Pretty sure you can't catch fevers, maybe colds... but I don't know about fevers"- you made yourself comfortable on the warmth of his chest, "besides!- this is worth it, I was also kinda cold, and you're like a big warm teddy bear."

He gently laughed at your words, his hot hand resting on your lower back. "'M glad you like it."

"Oh, uh I, I got you this," you reached over for his folded coat, pulling it over near enough for his sore eyes to see. "Y/n... you got a coat already?"

"Yeah," you whispered, "I washed and ironed this for you so you don't gotta..."

You awaited his reaction, witnessing a smile brightening his handsome features, still charming despite his bad condition. He shakily bought his lips up to your cheek, lips gently puckered against the plush of your skin before sealing it with a kiss.

"Thank you. Y/n."

#reiner braun #reiner #aot warriors #Reiner x reader

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seospicybin · 2 years

Text

MILK.

I.N x reader. (s,f)

Synopsis: Jeongin didn’t expect to reunite with you during his vacation, the one that remembers as his childhood sweetheart. (8,2k words)

"They're so cute!" Jeongin murmured when he saw a group of kindergartners walking in line, following their teacher who guides them in the front.

The morning was different in a seaside town like this, the air was fresh and tinted with that salty air from the sea. The sun shone so brightly and warm, just like the people that live here.

It was a great idea to take a little vacation by himself, just to refresh his mind and for a change of scenery. It wasn't new to him going on a vacation by himself, as cliché as it sounded, he needed some time for himself.

When the sun went higher and stung his skin, he went to find a place to eat and to shelter from the heat of the day.

He looked at each restaurant that caught his interest, stopped to see the menu, and see if he had the appetite for it.

"If you want to eat some seafood, I suggest you go to that place in the corner with the painting of giant squid on the wall," you said to him.

Jeongin turned to see you and looked at you blankly, at first, he thought you weren't talking to him but considering there was no other person in there, he was sure it was him.

"Oh thanks," he stuttered.

You stood there hoping he recognized you, but he just looked at you with a confused look on his face.

You stifled a laugh feeling embarrassed.

"Well, this is getting awkward!" You said, then backed away from your spot.

"Have a great lunch!" You added before walking away while carrying a pet carrier in your hands.

When he saw all the food he ordered, Jeongin thought he couldn't finish them all, but everything was so delicious that he thought it would be a pity to let go to waste.

As he sat on his chair and felt so full from his meals, he recalled the moment he met you a while ago.

It baffled him that it was you who came to him, completely out of the blue, yet he felt like he did something wrong.

What was it that tugged in his chest?

He went out and continued his plan of exploring more of the town, he walked to find something to eat for a dessert in the process.

He walked crossing a kindergarten he walked past this morning and spotted a teacher was helping the little kids into the car.

And that when it strikes him that the teacher was you, the one who recommended him the seafood place but you were much more than that. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, it invited him to take a closer look at you, and the next thing he knew, he tapped your shoulder.

A smile rose on your face when you saw it was him, "how's the lunch?" You asked him.

"Excellent!" He answered.

It was at the tip of his tongue, this smile he was seeing on you, he recognized it, but it was one of those distant memories that were hard to recall.

"Can you wait here? I'll be back in a few minutes. I just need to get my bag," you said to him.

What was this? He asked in his head.

The way you talked so casually only meant that you knew him, but how is that possible when you just met each other hardly an hour ago?

You returned with a bag slung over one shoulder and carrying a cardigan in your hand, smiling so brightly as if you met someone you haven't seen in a while.

Or could it be because of him?

"Come on! Let me treat you a coffee," you said to him as you were leading him the way.

"The weather is nice lately. You picked the right time to come here," you said to him.

He smiled a courtesy smile.

You stopped in front of a store, "wait here, I'm just going to buy something real quick!" You told him then went inside the store.

Jeongin sat on the wooden table outside and looked at the clear blue sky, birds perching on the trees, and the pleasant warm breeze that brushed his skin.

"Here, I hope you still like chocolate milk," you said to him.

Jeongin looked down at your hand and saw a small carton of milk he likes so much.

Then looked up at you, with your face backlit by the sunlight and the wind brushing to your hair, like a makeshift halo around your head.

"We're going to walk a little far. I guess it's better if we drink something," you said again.

He spotted the heart-shaped birthmark on the skin above your right elbow when you fanned your neck with your hand, and he remembered.

He finally remembered, and the memories came rushing through his head in a flash.

His lips curved into a wide smile that made his dimples appear on both of his cheeks and turned his eyes into crescents.

He took the milk and said, "no, it's still my favorite," he finally replied.

You smiled back at him, "okay, we better hurry, or all the good ones will be taken," you said to him.

The whole walk, Jeongin couldn't focus on what you were blabbering about, he was still amazed to see you after years and in a town that he least expected it.

"Jeongin?" You called him.

It was strange that he heard you calling him by his name, but the best kind of strange.

"Yes?" He finally responded.

"Are you here for a vacation?" You asked, you waited for him to catch up with you.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Are you here with anyone?" You asked again, began walking when he finally matched your pace.

He shook his head, "I came here alone," he answered.

"Interesting," you said.

"Why is that?"

You softly laughed, "The Jeongin that I knew couldn't even go to the bathroom alone," you said.

Jeongin didn't exactly remember what he was like back in kindergarten, he was in awe that you still remember.

"You have grown so much," you told him, then stopped in front of a bakery.

Jeongin chuckled as if you didn't age as well, "you too," he added.

"Well, yeah," you shrugged.

If it wasn't for the birthmark and all the lines that connected it to you, he wouldn't recognize you. You had so grown so much into this beautiful woman that captives him. If he didn't know you back then, he wouldn't even dare to try to get close to you.

After buying a few bakery goods and drinks, you walked a little bit more until you arrived at the beach. You spread the cloth you always carry in your bag on the sand then sat on it.

There were only a few people on the beach at this hour, but there would be more coming towards sunset.

"You know that if you ate it, you commit cannibalism?" You asked him as he was about to take a bite of his bread.

He got surprised that you knew his nickname, "how do you know?"

You rolled your eyes, "just because I live in a small town doesn't mean that I didn't know that you're famous," you explained then drank your iced coffee through the straw.

"No, I don't mean it that way," he quickly denied, "it's just that, I didn't know you would know about me,"

You bit into your bread and chewed it, "it's hard to resist when your childhood photos are on the internet," you said with a gleeful smile.

He groaned, "ugh,"

"Why? You look cute!" You exclaimed.

He covered his eyes with his hand, "it's embarrassing,"

"You want to trade your job with me then?" You offered, one eyebrow raised at him.

"Yes, please?" He immediately accepted the offer.

"But idol life sounds so stressful," you commented, you shook your head, "I changed my mind,"

Jeongin groaned again, "but I did look so cute when I was in kindergarten, right?" He asked, then took another bite of his bread.

You took a sip of your drink before answering, "yes, that's why I like you," you shortly replied.

Jeongin got startled by your answer.

Just like you sensed he was analyzing your answer, you quickly came up with a statement, "of course I still like you to this day, I listen to your songs almost every day," you said to him.

Jeongin raised his eyebrows at you, "yeah?"

"Yes," you confidently answer, "go ahead if you want to test me,"

Jeongin reclined with hands propped behind him, stretched his legs with his eyes squinted at you, "I'll trust you for now," he said to you.

As he sat there enjoying the afternoon, watching the waves lapped the shore with his toes buried in the warm sand, he took a deep breath and felt at peace.

For a moment, he was so lost in his thoughts that he wasn't aware the beach was getting crowded since the sun was getting low.

"Want to take a walk?" You asked him.

He was relieved that you were very considerate of him and that he wasn't comfortable in a crowded place, moreover, there was a possibility that someone might recognize him.

You threw the trash into the nearest trash bin, folded the cloth into your tote bag, began walking along the seashore carrying your shoes in your hands with both the back of your hands brushed each other’s as you walked side by side.

"So, how are you?" You asked him.

You had been spending most of your afternoon with him and realized that you haven't really asked him about his life.

That was a simple question, it was the most basic question a person could ask another person, but Jeongin found it hard to give you the right answer.

"Good, I guess?" He answered.

You chuckled, "how's your family?"

Again, that was a simple question, but no one ever really asked him such a question in a long time.

"They're great! My brother is in the last year of high school now," he answered.

"Oh?" You exclaimed, "time flies so fast!"

"How about you?" He asked.

"Uhm, not much. My mother lives in the city with my sister, and I came here like two years ago," you answered, switching hands to carry your shoes.

"Why did you move here?" He asked, but then he realized the question sounded so nosy, "if you don't mind me asking?"

"I just do," you replied with a shrug, "I just like the job, and I love this town. I get to see the beach every day. What's not to like?"

Jeongin stopped walking and looked at the breathtaking scenery that he couldn't get every day, he couldn't deny it but felt slightly jealous of you.

"Is your offer still available?" He asked.

You knitted your eyebrows in confusion, "you want to switch jobs with me?"

He nodded with a sly grin.

You shook your head, "I'm sorry. The offer has expired," you pouted at him.

"Stop frowning. Give me your phone, let me take your pictures!" You offered.

The sun was about to set for the day, and it painted the sky with violet and golden hues, you were right, it was so beautiful.

He handed you his phone and you took a few pictures of him, then handed it back to him so he could see them. He spotted both of your shadows on the sand and took a quick picture before you noticed, then took another of your silhouette backlit by the sunset.

"Have you decided on what to eat for dinner?" You asked him.

Jeongin quickly shoved his phone into his jacket pocket, "nope," he replied.

"I know a place that serves delicious udon with fresh seafood," you told him.

"Lead the way," he said with a smile.

The servers accidentally gave him your order that when he tasted the broth, he started coughing.

"Oh my God, I think you got mine," you quickly poured a glass of water for him since you ordered a spicy one.

"I'm sorry," you muttered and handed him a few tissues.

"It's okay," he said to you and wiped his mouth with the tissues, "you remember it," he said.

You refilled his glass with water, "of course, I still feel bad about that time my sister gave you one of her spicy tuna kimbap," you said.

Jeongin was even more amazed that you still remember that unfortunate day, he didn't even remember it until you mentioned it.

"Your face and ears turned red that I gave you my chocolate milk," you reminded him and switched the bowls of your meals with him before he took another spoonful of the spicy udon.

"It's amazing that you still remember that," he beamed.

You chuckled, "I have a great memory. Should I remind you of that day you peed your pants during recess?" You joked.

Jeongin's eyes widened in horror.

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me," you assured him, and dug into your food.

"Wait," he caught your hand by your wrist, "I ate your food earlier, you might wa-"

"It's okay. We shared our lunchboxes before. This is not much different than that," you assured him with a smile.

Again and again, Jeongin felt amazed how you still remember every little thing about him.

"When did you leave?" You asked him as you both waited for the bus to arrive.

"Tomorrow morning," he answered.

"What a shame!" You said, "I still have a few places to show you," you added, crossing your hands together on your chest.

"I'll make sure to come back here," he said.

You smiled at him, "well, you know where to find me,"

Jeongin felt sudden melancholia that his time to leave got nearer as the bus that would take him back to the hotel he was staying has arrived.

"Well," he began speaking but didn't know what else to say. To be honest, he was conflicted about leaving you.

"It was nice seeing you again, Jeongin," you said with a wide smile.

You both stood facing each other in silence, but you decided that a handshake wouldn't do it, so you went to hug him with your hands around his neck.

"See you when I see you," you said again the moment you pulled away.

The hug was brief, but Jeongin could feel the warmth of it all through the night, and the smell of sea breeze that clung on his clothes only made him even more melancholic than before.

"Miss, can I play with Nino?" A kid asked.

You sighed because it would be troublesome to chase it around the class before you leave for the day, but when he sweetly asked you like this, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him.

"Of course," you said, then walked to the cage that belonged to the class's pet bunny, Nino.

When you looked out of the window, you saw Jeongin waving his hand at you. You gestured him to come in since your job was done, and you just have to accompany the kids until they get picked up.

Jeongin hesitated when he stood by the doorway, unsure whether it was okay to enter the class.

"Come in!" You said to him.

You handed the bunny to the kid, "Don't give Nino your cookies, okay? Or he'll get sick again," you reminded him before placing the bunny on his lap.

You invited Jeongin to sit on the small chairs pushed to the small table with the other kids who were busy coloring books and playing puzzles.

"You're still here," you exclaimed at him but kept your voice low.

"I think another day of vacation wouldn't hurt," he said.

You tapped his forearms on his lap, "Good decision!"

"Are you sure it's okay for me to be here?" He asked.

"Yeah," you said, then picked up a crayon that rolled down the table back onto the table, "I just need to make sure they all get picked up by their parents," you added.

Jeongin felt like he was in another part of the world where everything seemed small, colorful, and nostalgic at once.

"It's funny how everything looked so big when we were younger, right?" You remarked.

Jeongin smiled because you were right, he was so small back then that everything felt so big to him.

"Is that a moon or a sun?" You asked the little girl who was coloring.

"It's the sun," she answered without looking away.

"What a nice beautiful sun!" You praised then picked up some more crayons that were on the floor back onto the table.

Jeongin felt intrigued by it since she colored the sun blue, "May I know why is it blue?" He asked.

The little girl looked up and scratched her nose, "so it won't be too hot during the day," she answered innocently.

Jeongin smiled at her and watched her coloring the rest of the drawing.

"Miss, who is he?" The little girl asked as she picked another crayon in a different color.

"This is my friend," you shortly replied.

"Are you going to marry each other like mom and dad?" She asked again, so innocently.

The little boy next to her nudged her elbow, "I will be the one who marries her," he said so confidently, "we'll get married when I get older,"

"But you're still 4 years old," the girl won't give up against him.

"Yes, but I'll get older and get taller too," the little boy stated.

You both chuckled at their adorable conversations.

"I got at least one marriage proposal in a week," you bragged to him, "it's a part of the job," then shot him a gleeful smile.

When all the kids had been picked up by their parents, you collected your bag and things, then headed out to meet Jeongin, who had been waiting by the gate.

"I get it why you like your job," he said.

You hoisted your bag higher on your shoulder and softly laughed, "yeah?"

"They remind me that there are still some innocence and purity in this world. And the way they see the world with so much curiosity and full of wonder, I wish I could relive that again," he said with a sigh.

"To experience everything for the first time all over again," you added while looking up at the blue sky.

"So, let's switch jobs!" He teased, nudged your shoulder with his, and shot you a sweet smile.

Jeongin has that smile that always invites you to smile back, "I know what you're trying to do here," you glared at him, "and it's not going to work," you added, sternly shaking your head at him.

You went into the same store and got out with the owner, then head to the house next to the store to return with two bicycles.

"I rented us bikes," you announced.

Jeongin came to get the bicycle that was handed to him from the store owner.

"It'll take a long time if we walk, it's better if we ride bicycles," you said then got on the bike.

Jeongin had a hard time riding since it had been a while he hasn't ridden a bicycle, but once he got the hang of it, he speed up and challenged you to catch him.

You stopped along the way to buy some food and drinks before heading to the place where you wanted to take him.

Jeongin started to panting when the gravel road began inclining, his calves felt like burning as he pedaled and got the bicycle to move.

"Told you it was a bad idea speeding up earlier," you told him, half-laughing. Jeongin regretted wasting his energy earlier, by speeding up and trying to taunt you.

You felt bad looking at him struggling to bike up the hill, to where you'll be having a little picnic to watch the sunset.

You immediately handed him bottled water the moment he arrived at the top.

He took a few big gulps and gasped for air, "I really should start working out soon," he breathlessly said.

You laughed and led him to the bench under the tree, then back to your bicycle to take the bags of food from the basket.

"Where are you taking me?" He asked, wiping the water from his upper lip.

"The best place to watch a sunset," you answered, then took a sip of your water.

"Here?"

You nodded, "Isn’t it worth it?" You asked him.

Jeongin shrugged because all he could see was the beach at a distance and the houses along the coast that looked like miniatures.

You began opening the pack of foods, put them on the space on the bench, and let him eat whatever he fancies. You bought quite a lot that would last until the sunset.

"Why were you carrying a pet carrier when we met?" He asked out of the blue.

You opened a pack of sliced fruits, "Oh, the pet bunny was sick because the kids kept giving him the food from their lunchboxes. I was taking him back from the vet," you answered.

"We used to have a class pet back then. It was a bird named Jojo. Do you remember?"

Jeongin couldn't recall such memories and he guessed that it would be a good time to come clean about it, "you know what?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"I can't remember anything from my kindergarten years," he admitted.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, "so, all this time I was talking about our kindergarten memories, you didn't remember it?"

He stifled a nod.

"I'm hurt," you joked with a hand on your heart while half-laughing.

Jeongin scratched his ear, embarrassed that he got caught.

You were aware that it was still his habit of touching his ear, whether it was out of nervousness or a way to relax.

"You still do that," you said then shoved a grape to your mouth.

"What?"

"Touching your ear," you replied.

"Oh," he exclaimed, he didn't even know he was touching his ear, and he believed that there were no details that you missed about him.

You gleefully smiled at him, "so cute," you muttered.

When it was around the time the sun began to set, the sky turned into shades of orange and gold. From the hilltop, you could see the whole view of it, along with the sea and the people that looked like dots from this distance.

Jeongin's mouth slacked open at the sight he was seeing, so beautiful and the way the clouds parted for the sun like a gate of heaven opened on the sky.

"I told you, it was worth it," you said to him.

"Can you hold me?" He suddenly asked, then turned his head at you.

"Yes," you answered with no more questions asked. You grabbed his hand and held it.

That wasn't enough for him, Jeongin filled the spaces between your fingers with his and intertwined it. As he looked out at the view and at how vast the universe seemed at that moment that made him feel overwhelmed and small at the same time, that he needed something to hold on to, to remind him that he was still a part of it, anchored him to the ground and not to fly away.

You both went riding down the hill before it got too dark not long after, then returned the bicycles to the store owner.

"Hey, do you want to see my house?" You blurted out.

You had been hesitating to ask him this because it might sound so forward and inappropriate.

"It's not that far from here. We can rest after biking down the hill and order dinner, or we can always eat noodles," you started to blabbering around that you sighed to stop yourself, "I don't know why I sound so stupid just to ask you if you want to come to my house or not?" Then shrugged.

Jeongin laughed at your flustered expression, "Yeah, sure," he replied.

It only took less than 10 minutes to get to your house, it looked so small from the outside but when he got inside, it was rather spacious and cozy.

"I'm sorry. It's a bit messy," you said to him.

Jeongin couldn't tell which part of the house looked messy to you because it looked pretty tidy to him.

"Let me get you a glass of juice," you offered, then walked to the fridge.

Then he spotted a box on the kitchen table, filled with so many art crafts and letters, there was also a framed photo.

Jeongin pulled it out and took a look.

You set down his glass in front of him, "oh, that's the students from last year," you explained.

You pointed to the little boy and girl standing on the lower platform, "these two! They were just like us in kindergarten," you said.

Jeongin smiled at how cute they looked leaned against each other’s head in the picture.

"Oh wait, you didn't remember anything about our kindergarten years," you added.

Jeongin actually remembered that part of his kindergarten years, but he was too embarrassed to tell you, he set down the framed photo and rummaged inside the box to pull out a letter.

He briefly read the scrawl on a pink-colored origami paper with a lot of drawing of hearts.

"See? I got a lot of marriage proposals," you bragged to him as you both looked down at the letter, "I know you're jealous," you joked.

"I'm not jealous," he said back.

"Yeah right," you teased, then put the letter back on the box.

"You know why I'm not jealous?" He asked.

You leaned against the kitchen table, "why is that?"

"Because I know I was the first one to propose to you," he answered, his foxy eyes looking into yours.

"Oh?!"

"I was the first one to hold your hands and kiss your cheek," he added.

Your cheeks heating up because he remembered, he remembered everything about you two. He remembered that you always held each other’s hands and played together, then one day he said he would marry you, then you kissed him on the cheek and he kissed you back.

"You remember," you said it so low, out of disbelief.

"I remember everything about you," he said.

You looked down, flustered, and to hide your blushing cheeks.

Jeongin leaned in then kissed you on the cheek, ever so softly like a wind brushing your skin.

You let out a low gasp, then looked at him, your heart overflowed with so much warmth that he remembered you as much as you remembered him.

Jeongin leaned in again then kissed your other cheek, your heart leaped and felt like it was going to jump out of your body at any moment.

"Jeongin," you breathlessly called him even though you weren't exactly have anything to say to him.

He didn't give you any seconds to breathe but pressed his lips on yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and your hands gripped the edge of the table.

He opened his mouth to capture more of your lips in his then put his hands around your waist to draw you close, you had no other choice but to hold on to him by putting your hands around his neck.

His lips felt so soft and warm, but his hold around you was firm and steady.

You steered him in the direction of your bedroom without letting go of the kiss, the back of his legs hit the bedframe sending you both stumbled onto the bed.

You propped an elbow on the mattress, "are you okay?" You asked.

"I'm okay," he replied, a hand reaching to brush your hair to the side then bringing your face close to kiss you again.

You sat up on the bed and looked down at him, "I've never done this before," you said to him.

Jeongin looked up at you, softly smiling with eyes crinkled under the dim light of your bedroom.

"We don't have to do anything," he said, rubbing your forearms to assure you.

You caught his hand, "but I want to do it with you," you said.

Jeongin sat up and turned his head at you, "are you sure you want to do it?" He asked.

You nodded.

"With me?" He asked again.

"Yes," you answered without a beat.

Jeongin felt a surge of pride that he got to be your first and also the pressure to give you great impressions, especially knowing that you are someone special to him.

"There's no one I'd like to do it with, but you," you assured him.

He closed his eyes to let the words sink in, you are truly special to him, and he wanted to treat you not less than that.

He lifted your face by putting his hand under your chin, he kissed you tenderly as if you'd break if he kissed you too hard.

The kiss turned into a passionate one as his hands worked to unbutton your blouse then slid it down your arms. He didn't waste time unclasp your bra with one hand while the other holding your neck to angle your head as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands automatically went to cover your bare chest, feeling so self-conscious and shy.

He noticed it then tugged at the hem of his shirt, "I'll make it fair," he said then took off his shirt, revealing his toned body at you.

He took your hand and put it on his chest, "touch me as much as you want," he said.

You hesitated at first, but the sight of his muscular body invited you to explore more, you ran your hand down his chest then to the six-pack abs he has.

"Do you mind if I touch you too?" He asked.

You were still stunned at how beautiful he is that you were unable to speak, you shook your head instead.

Jeongin placed his hand on the base of your throat, then the tip of his fingers started trailing across your chest and down to the skin between your breasts, he stopped there to feel the thumping of your heart underneath his palm.

"Your heart beating so fast," he said it so low, almost like a whisper.

"I'm excited," you breathlessly answered.

He crashed his lips on you again, and without warning laying you down on the bed, he made sure your head hit the pillow just right.

His kisses intoxicated you that you weren't aware he was working to open the button of your jeans and pulled it down your legs. He let go of the kiss to get rid of both of your jeans and underwear.

You've never been seen this naked, especially with eyes that looked at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes on.

Jeongin's hand went to caress your cheek with his knuckles, "you're so..." he lowered his hand to trail your collarbone with his fingers, "beautiful," he murmured.

He lowered his mouth on you again, then began a trail of kisses down your body: Kisses on your sternum, kisses along the bottom curve of your breast, kisses on your ribcage, a kiss right above your belly button, and a few kisses that led down to where you wanted him the most but felt uncomfortable as his head was closing in on it.

You crossed your thighs together, "Jeongin, I don't feel comfortable-"

Jeongin halted his kisses and lifted his head, "I won't do anything that you don't want me to do," he assured you.

He dragged his mouth to your pelvic bone, making a new trail of kisses down your thigh, and stopped right above your knee, he pressed one side of his cheeks on your inner thigh while rubbing your calves with his hand.

"You're so soft all over," he whimpered, then pressed his lips on your inner thigh.

You swallowed as he continued kissing along your inner thigh but stopped when it got too close to your core.

"I want to make you feel good," he said with his hand caressing your inner thigh with his knuckles, "do you trust me?"

You licked your lips, "yes," you breathlessly answered.

"You can stop me whenever you feel uncomfortable, okay?" He reminded you before lowering his mouth on your abdomen, he kissed the skin, and the kiss was so soft that you felt a tingle inside you.

You gripped the side of your pillows with your eyes closed, surrendered yourself to his will and the pleasures he brought on you.

The small kisses he made on the skin around your sex only made you wet, you gasped when he finally landed his mouth on your cunt and felt how wet it was for him.

He opened his mouth wider instead and gently sucked on the flesh, earning a loud moan from you.

With his hands firmly holding your legs and preventing you from closing them, he repeatedly ran his tongue down your slit before burying his mouth on your cunt again, sucked it really hard that you squirmed against him.

When you thought he couldn't make you feel more, he inserted one finger into you, and when he deemed he stretched you enough, he inserted another one and began pumping it in and out of you.

He looked up at you to make sure you were comfortable with what he was doing with you before lowering his mouth and sticking out his tongue to gently apply pressure on your clit. He took one of your hands to tangle it in his hair, letting you pull at it as you please.

You felt like something was about to burst out of you that you tugged at his hair too hard.

Jeongin sensed that you were closing into your high, he continued sucking on your clit and pumping his fingers in and out of you.

"Jeongin," you breathlessly called, "I think, I-"

A loud moan broke out of you, and if it weren't for his hands keeping your legs open, you would have clamped his head between your legs.

Jeongin slowly pulled his fingers out of you to circle your bundle of nerves as you relished the waves of pleasure washing over you.

He got up and lay next to you on the bed as you panted and tried to gain your composure back.

"That was so good," you said with a long sigh.

Jeongin chuckled because you said with such coy.

When you noticed he was chuckling, you chuckled along, "I sound so naive," you shyly said.

He put a hand on the side of your face, "I think that's so cute," he said, then kissed you.

You shifted on the bed to face him on the bed, running your hands on his upper body, and felt his taut muscles. You moved your hand to the waistband of his jeans, "you said you'll make it fair," you said against his lips.

He smiled, "okay then," then sat up on the bed to snap open the button of his jeans then pulled it down his legs.

He lay back down next to you again, "it's all fair, now!" He said.

"I want to make you feel good too," you said, looking up at him through your dark lashes.

"You already make me feel good," he said as he put a hand on yours that was resting on his chest.

You shook your head, "show me how to make you feel good," you told him.

"You don't have to," he said, then gave your lips a peck.

"Please?" You pleaded.

He couldn't resist when you asked him nicely like this, like a little kid asking for candy.

He brought your hand to his swollen cock, and wrapped your fingers around his length, "you can start pumping your hands," he ordered.

You obeyed and started pumping his length while tried not to hold it too tight.

"You can go faster," he said to you as he looked down at your hand around his cock.

You obeyed again, pumping his length a bit faster than before, "like this?" You asked, not sure whether he liked what you were doing to him or not.

"Yeah," he breathlessly said, his focus was divided between giving you instructions and enjoying your stimulation on him, "you're doing so good," he praised.

You smiled at him without stopping pumping his length with your hand.

He kissed you hastily at how innocent and alluring you were to him at that moment, then put a hand on you and guided you to the pace he preferred.

He was almost lost it, he abruptly stopped your hand and put it away.

"Did I do anything wrong?" You asked him.

He shook his head then licked his lips, "It's the opposite. You did so well that I have to stop you," he said then pulled you for another kiss.

He lowered himself on top of you but kept one elbow propped against the mattress to not put all of his weight on you.

He buried his head in your neck, kissing on the thin skin and down to your chest, "you smell heavenly," he hummed against your skin.

His sweet praise made you clench over nothing that you clawed his back, but all that was out of your mouth were soft giggles.

He slid his mouth down to your chest, then kissed your breast before taking your nipple into his mouth and gently sucking at it.

You tugged at his hair at the immense pleasure as he circled your hardening bud with his tongue. He did the same thing with your other breast until it became too unbearable to you.

"Jeongin,"

"Hmm?" He answered with his mouth on your ample flesh.

"I need you," you said to him.

He didn't need to ask for context to know what you mean by that, he knew exactly how much you needed him just as much he needed to be inside you.

He rubbed your side, "do you have a condom?" He asked.

"I think I have it," you answered.

You tried to memorize where you exactly put it, "I think it's in one of those drawers," you pointed to the vanity on the opposite side of the room.

You hoisted yourself from the bed, "Let me-"

Jeongin was quick to lay you down back on the bed, "I'll get it," he offered, then got off of the bed.

You didn't know why you flustered watching him walk around your room stark naked.

He rummaged inside the drawer and finally found an unopened box of condoms inside, then took one out.

You quickly looked away as he walked back to the bed then climbed onto the bed, he ripped the foil wrapper and put the rubber down his length before laying next to you again on the bed.

He planted a kiss on you again, "let me know if you're uncomfortable, okay?" He reminded you again.

You pressed a kiss on him again, "okay,"

He kissed you for a few moments as a way to calm you down and settled himself between your legs, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock.

He slowly pulled away from you to shift his focus to start entering you. You took a deep breathe when you felt his tip protruding your hole, then slowly pushed its way inside.

You gripped his forearm at the painful stretch, pressed your lips together to contain your moans.

He carefully pushed some more, and the pain was unbearable that you let out a cry.

Jeongin abruptly stopped moving and began rubbing your thigh, "You want me to stop?" He asked.

"No," you resisted, "keep going, I can take it," you assured him.

He continuously rubbed your thighs as he pushed the remaining of his length inside you, let out a groan when he finally bottomed out and how tight you felt around him.

He could cum right there and then, he strongly resisted it then hurriedly came to plant a kiss on you.

"You feel so good around me," he praised.

You weakly smiled at him, "you just feel so right," you said back, then put his hands around his neck.

It didn't feel like sex at all yet not less than that, he wasn't thinking about getting his pleasure or the physical things, all he was thinking about was you and how you feel being around him.

He wanted to make you feel good, but on top of that, he wanted to make sure he made you comfortable.

As he looked into your eyes as he kept moving on top of you, he could tell you were thinking of something else.

Fear crept into him, he couldn't resist the urge to ask you, "What are you thinking?" He asked.

You smiled at him and slipped your hand in his hair, "Nothing," you answered.

The answer only made him feel insecure that he slowed the pace of his thrusts.

You lazily scratched his scalp, "I'm just so glad that I meet you again," you said.

His worries melted away in a second turned them into a wide smile that made his dimples appear, "me too," he said back, then pressed his forehead on yours.

The warm feeling you made him feel made him thrust into you harder, deeper, and making you moan against his lips.

It wasn't his first time having sex, but this was different than that, it was special. He was the one who planned on making it special for you but turned out you were the one who made it special for both of you.

"I think I'm about to explode," you said to him with your breath brushing his face as you spoke.

"Let it go," he said to you, pulsing his hips against you and holding your face on the pillow. He badly wanted to look into your eyes as you cum around him.

Your legs trembled around his waist, and your breathing got shaky, your fingers dug into this flesh then moans spilled out of your mouth.

"Cum around me," he said to you as he felt you clenching around him. He felt relieved that he got to make you cum first, he almost couldn't resist cum before you.

A moment later, he cum with his head pressed to the side of your face and tried to grasp whatever was left from his senses but failed. He completely let himself intoxicated by the pleasure and held you close as he rode out his high.

"Jeongin," you felt bad for waking him up, especially with his head resting on the pillow and his dark lashes spread out beautifully like that.

"Jeongin," you tried again by gently tapping on his cheek.

His eyes fluttered open, and the moment his eyes met yours, he smiled.

"Hi, good morning," you greeted.

He turned on his bed and saw slivers of sunlight through the cracks of the curtains, "what time is it?" He asked.

"Almost eight," you replied, "I feel bad for waking you up, but you said your train will depart at 10," you reminded him.

He sighed then took your hand to kiss it, "it's okay, thank you for waking me up," he said.

When you saw him coming out of your bedroom, you took a clean mug out of the cabinet.

"I cooked breakfast, but I don't know if you'll like it or not," you said.

He sat on the chair with tousled hair and eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Coffee, milk, or juice?" You asked him.

He rubbed his eyes, "coffee, please?"

You went to pour him a hot coffee you just made in the coffee machine.

"You sleep so tight, I still feel bad for waking you up," you said again, then put the mug down in front of him on the table.

He put his fingers around the mug, "I never sleep that well before," he said with a smile.

That only made you flustered, you quickly took a sip of your coffee and let him eat his breakfast in peace.

He insisted on washing the dishes for you no matter how much you said it was alright for you to do it. You gave in and went to get a clean towel for him.

When you returned, he was done with the dishes, you approached him to hand him the towel, "I was thinking that you might want to shower," you said to him.

"How about you?" He asked.

"I'll go in after you,"

"Why don't we-" he stopped himself before he overstepped.

"I think we should shower together," you suggested while suppressing a smile, "to save some time," you added.

Jeongin couldn't help but smile too, "I think that's a good idea," he said.

You quickly stripped all of your clothes and tossed them inside the laundry basket, then stepped inside the shower to turn the water on. You held out your hand to make sure the water wasn't too cold or hot.

Jeongin got in the bathroom when you were already under the shower, with streams of water running down your body and the steam from the water fogging up the shower wall.

He immediately took all of his clothes and went into the shower stall, Jeongin put his hands against the wall to cage you in with his arms.

You looked over your shoulder and found him under the shower with you, you brushed away the hair that stuck to his face.

"Let me wash your hair," you offered.

You took a few pumps of your shampoo and applied it onto his hair, you gently massaged his scalp until foams formed on his hair.

He looked into you all the while you were washing his hair.

You took the showerhead and washed his hair until it was clean.

"Let me wash your hair too," he offered.

"I already did," you meekly said.

"Then let me wash your body," he said.

You bit your lower and nodded.

He took the bar of soap, with you still standing facing him, he began lathering your back with it until it foaming on your skin.

"Can you turn around for me?" He asked.

You complied, turning around with your back facing him.

He pulled you close against his chest and slipped one hand under your arm while the other over your shoulder, he began lathering your chest with the soap.

You slightly turned your head at him, his eyes were following the hand that was holding the soap now lathering your chest then to the underside of your breasts.

Your eyes followed to where his hands went lower to your abdomen, and you quickly took the bar of soap from him.

"It's your turn now," you said to him.

You began doing the same thing to him, lathering his body with soap and resisting going lower than his hips.

After that, you both went under the shower together and washed each other’s bodies, as innocent as it sounds, you did nothing more than that.

But for Jeongin, he couldn't think of someone else to experience it with anyone else but you.

Jeongin felt the same kind of melancholia he felt when you said bye to him at the bus stop as you stood in front of him before he boarded his train home, an intense one.

"Here, I bought you something," you handed him the paper bag filled with snacks.

Jeongin peeked inside the bag, and he spotted his favorite bread inside, "thank you!" He muttered.

You both got quiet again and looked into each other’s eyes with the same longing.

It was only 10 minutes left before the train departed, there were so many things to say to him but you couldn't bring yourself to say anything as there was a growing lump that clogged your throat from holding in your tears.

"Please send my warm regards to your family," you finally said without breaking into tears.

"I'll tell them," he said.

"You'd better get on. The train will leave soon!" You said to him.

Jeongin could tell that you were on the verge of crying without having to see it, his heart shattered not because he was sad but having to be apart from you again.

When he pulled you into his hug, tears pooled out of your eyes just like a bursting dam.

"I'm not crying because I'm sad," you quickly explained.

"I know," he said as he rubbed the small of your back then pressed a kiss on your temple, "I'll be back," he promised.

You put your hands around him and held him tight.

He pulled away just enough to put a space between your faces then wiped the tears away with his knuckles, "I'll be back," he said again.

You nodded, "well, you know where to find me,"

He chuckled then leaned in to kiss you, he didn't even care how many pairs of eyes witnessed this, this moment right there belonged to you and him.

He slowly pulled away, caressed your cheek, then quickly turned around to board his train. He didn't even look back or take a last look at you, he just went in and out of your sight.

You understood that maybe it was easier like this, you quickly turned around and walked away from the platform.

Because you knew that if he said he would come back, then he would. And he had done it once, so what stops him from doing it the second time?

taglist: @ft3rachaa @skkzkyy @wooyoungs5lut @a-hyunjinshairband @cloudyybinin @bangcrispychannie @staysstrays @mainexiii

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terrakiyo · 3 years

Text

grocery shopping with osamu — a habit you both developed a few months into your marriage — is something you look forward to during the week.

(there’s just something so domestic about seeing your husband pushing a shopping cart while you check items off the list you made that makes your heart soften).

and so, you find yourself looking around the aisle, osamu slowly trailing behind.

“hey, babe,” he calls out, “you can cross coffee off your list.”

“did you get the vanilla one?” you reach out for a carton of milk.

you hear shuffling from behind you, a quick (and loud) rustle making a knowing smile flicker on your lips.

so you look at him — your doe eyed husband who got caught putting the bag he’d grabbed first back on the shelf — and laugh, “do you need a minute to regain your dignity?”

you wipe tears off your eyes when you see his cheeks light up in a rosy hue.

it doesn’t take long for him to mutter under his breath, slowly pushing the cart once again after you gently place the milk carton inside.

“i’m gonna go get something really quick,” you tell osamu, pressing a gentle peck against his cheek before you take off.

and soon enough you return to him, quietly and gingerly setting down a pack of instant ramen in the cart as osamu reaches out for a bag of kale.

“what did you get while i was gone?” you pull out the list, a small hum leaving your lips when you eagerly cross off kale.

osamu hums back, “just some bell peppers.”

you don’t notice how his expression morphs into confusion when his eyes land on the ramen you plopped into the cart.

“what’s this?” you look up at him, mirroring that same doe eyed look he had a couple minutes before. an innocent smile makes its way into your face.

you tap the pen against the plastic. “it’s ramen!”

he gives you a look — full of disbelief and confusion and you hold back your laughter because he looks like he just got slapped by the ramen pack — before shaking the item in his hand, “why is it here?”

and you reach out for the ramen, “because i need it!”

and he raises it above his head, “no, you don’t.”

and you jump, waving your arm around as you try to snatch it back from him, only for him to avoid your prying hand.

“why not?” you huff, crossing your arms, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

osamu blinks, brows furrowing, “because i can make some for you at home?”

you reach out for the ramen again, “what if you can’t make it because you’re busy?”

and he holds it away from you again, “i’ll make time for my favorite college student.”

“what if it’s your spouse that wants them and not your favorite college student?”

you playfully punch him when he doesn’t answer. an undignified ‘samu!’ tumbling out of your mouth.

he laughs when he sees your flushed face, “i’ll still make time, and i’ll make them with even more love, too.”

his laughter intensifies when he sees your disgusted expression.

you frown, “what if you’re gone and you can’t make them for me?”

“i’ll leave some in the fridge for you,” he says.

“what if you’re really gone?” you poke his chest, “what if you can’t make ramen anymore?”

“that sounds highly unlikely,” he scoffs.

and you hate to admit that he’s right. because not only is he barely 21, but also because it’s highly unlikely something bad would happen to him anytime soon. (aside from being buried in paper work to start working on onigiri miya).

“you never know ‘samu,” you shrug, “something really bad could happen soon.”

“you make it sound like you’re willing to show up in a true crime documentary for a pack of ramen.” he deadpans.

and you cheekily grin at him, “i might be.”

he raises a brow as he stares at you, clearly unimpressed. he lowers his arm, slowly extending the ramen pack to you.

“put it back where you found it,” he tells you.

“but the people in the aisle are gonna look at me funny ‘samu,” you pout.

and he pats your head, a smile blooming on his lips, “do you need a minute to regain your dignity, then?”

you glare at him, your bottom lip jutting out more when his smile grows.

“you’re so mean to me.” you groan.

he pecks your lips, “someone has to be, and as your husband it’s only fair i get to be that person.”

you slowly shuffle away from the cart. you turn back to look at osamu. you open your mouth to plead.

and he beats you to it, “go put it back, or i’ll do it for you.”

you frown at him before you run back to the cart and shove the pack in his hands. muttering a quick ‘you go’ before turning to grab lettuce heads.

(spoiler: he doesn’t return the ramen pack, much to your delight and his dismay).

hello hi <3 this is my entry to @neoheros and @coophi’s writing contest u///u

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white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen · 2 years

Text

25% (Part One)

Summary: Neal added himself to a national bone marrow registry. He unexpectedly matches closely to a female cancer patient a few months later.

Word Count: 5,392

A/N: Requested by anonymous. This was a oneshot but it got too long so now it's a two-parter. Potential trigger warning of blood cancer, chemotherapy, and mention of hypodermic injections. Dr. Wilson and House are borrowed from House, M.D. Longer A/N at the bottom. Enjoy!

February 2010

“Peter, did you know that someone in this country is diagnosed with blood cancer every three minutes?” Neal asked, paraphrasing from the informational leaflet.

Peter, standing in the line just ahead of him, sighed sympathetically. “Yes, Neal, I read it, too.”

The thief looked back down at the trifolded pamphlet, reading the rest of it through a second time while the line slowly moved forward. Gift of Life adorned the top of each third of the cardstock. When the nonprofit had reached out to the businesses and organizations in Federal Plaza, the bureau had forwarded the notice to its New York agents en masse, and for the last two days, agents, as well as lawyers, clerks, police, and civilians, had been filtering through the queue to be tested. Neal had opted to go with Peter, not seeing any harm. Now, reading the leaflet he’d been given to ensure his consent was informed, he was altruistically glad that he’d come.

“White patients are almost guaranteed to find a compatible donor,” Neal read, tapping Peter on the shoulder to make sure that the agent was paying attention. “The odds go down for other ethnicities. This says Black Americans only have a two-in-three chance*.”

Peter’s sigh sounded more irritated this time. “I read the same thing you did, Neal.” He turned partway to talk more easily to his consultant while still able to move forward when the line did. They were almost at the front.

“I wonder why,” Neal thought aloud. “Have fewer Black people been tested? It could be their sample size. Maybe some demographics aren’t as willing to be tested.” Knowing the country’s history of medical abuse towards Black citizens, that wouldn’t be too surprising.

“It could be about genetics,” Peter answered, grudgingly curious.

Before they could theorize further, the line moved forward. A woman in scrubs wearing a paper mask over her face poked her head out of the small tent and gestured for Peter to come inside. Peter ducked in and Neal waited alone. Maybe a minute later, she stuck her head back out and gestured for Neal.

Inside the pop-up tent, a collapsible plastic table had been set up. One volunteer sat at the table, taking down information and using a small barcode printer to code information to the stickers put on samples. Beside the table were two milk cartons full of empty little vials, and a huge glass jar had nothing but long cotton swabs.

Neal wrote in his name, birthday, and contact information, then responded to a short checklist of yes or no questions about his medical history while Peter had his cheek swabbed. When he was done, he turned the clipboard back towards the volunteer. She took the sheet he’d used off the clipboard and then turned it back towards the table for the next donor. His handler was ushered out of the other side of the pop-up, and Neal took his place while the nurse sealed the vial shut and added the printed barcode sticker corresponding to Peter. She beckoned the next person inside, then turned to Neal.

He didn’t remember getting his cheek swabbed so roughly before, but at least it didn’t hurt. He wasn’t even supposed to stay until the sticker was on his vial, instead being shown the door (well, exit flap) by the nurse. Neal came back out of the tent into the sunshine and saw Peter had stopped to wait for him a few feet away.

“Done your civic duty for the day?” The agent checked dryly.

“Yeah,” Neal said, folding up the leaflet he’d been holding onto and putting it in his pocket. “Now that that’s over with I can get back to my foreign duties instead.”

“Ha! Maybe in 44 months,” Peter snorted, leading the way back to the FBI building.

July 2010

You’d known something was wrong since late March, when your pants stopped fitting. You hadn’t been worried then; it was just a sign you needed to make sure you were getting enough to eat. But then you realized you couldn’t remember the last time you’d woken up feeling refreshed. And then there was the brain fog that started crowding your thoughts out on bad days. None of these things would have concerned you alone, because everyone had bad days, and sometimes when you couldn’t sleep, you were tired, and it was hard to concentrate. Finally, the pain in your back started, and you realized too much was wrong at once to not go to a doctor. Two visits and a specialist appointment later, you had a diagnosis. Multiple myeloma.

And now this: it wasn’t getting better.

“I thought the chemo was helping,” you said, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of cancerous cells multiplying and spreading, poisoning your body from within. And, worse, you’d just been making yourself feel and look like shit pointlessly because the chemotherapy wasn’t even helping.

“It was. The results were promising and we still aren’t seeing any signs that it’s moved to your other organs,” Dr. Wilson told you kindly. You hated him. Well, no. You hated coming to see him. His track record for giving you good news was pretty bad, considering he was the one who’d given you the cancer diagnosis in the first place. But he was one of the best oncologists in the tri-state area that you could get in to see. “But we’re also not seeing the cancer going away any more now than it was this time last month.”

It was just sitting there, festering. You squeezed your eyes shut so tightly you started seeing dark spots flashing against your eyelids, and then breathed in heavily and looked at the doctor again.

“Do I have any options?” You asked hopefully, battling the bone-deep tiredness that you felt both physically and mentally.

“I think, with your permission, it would be best to look at a more aggressive treatment,” Dr. Wilson said, reaching back over to his desk. When his patients came in, he often sat with them on one of the couches or chairs instead of being several feet away behind a table. He gave you one of those little thin hospital leaflets. Bone marrow transplantation.

“When we’re looking at this problem, there are two factors to consider.” Dr. Wilson explained patiently. “First, you’ve got the cancerous cells. We have to take them out of your body so they can’t keep replicating and, God forbid, metastasize. Second, you still need to have some cells to be healthy, so we need to make sure you have those.”

“But you can’t specifically take out only the cancerous cells,” you said dully, seeing where it was going. As if the leaflet hadn’t given it away already.

“No, we can’t,” he confirmed. “So in cases like this, sometimes our best option is to just… well, to weaken your immune system and kill off all of the cells in that area. No more cancer. A healthy donor supplies some replacement cells, and while your immune system is down, it’s more likely to accept the donated material. Those cells then replicate and offer a new supply of healthy, non-cancerous marrow.” Dr. Wilson locked his fingers and set his hands on his knee. “It’s not always fast to find a donor, and there’s always the chance your body will reject the transplant, even after everything. And, as you know, there’s no cure for cancer – you would be in remission, but you wouldn’t be cured.”

The moment he said remission, you knew that you were on board, no matter how apprehensive you still felt. Even in the simplified explanation he had given you, there were a few things you didn’t feel confident that you understood. But… to be cancer-free…

You wrung your hands nervously and, wanting to know what you were getting into, asked, “Will it kill me if it goes wrong?”

Dr. Wilson shook his head quickly. “That’s always possible, but it would be an exceedingly rare case. It’s an inpatient procedure. You’d stay here at least overnight and if there were any signs that your body was rejecting the donation, you’d have medical care immediately.”

“But my immune system would be shot,” you said worriedly.

“But in a sterile environment with doctors and nurses on call at all times, that’s not nearly as dangerous as it used to be,” he reassured you. “And the body is strong. It’s usually only three to four weeks before any chemotherapy patient is back to full immunological health.”

Biting your lip, you weighed the risks. Dr. Wilson seemed pretty certain that it was worth taking the risk to go ahead with it, and that those risks were relatively small. And the thought of not having this mutation sitting in your back anymore was incredibly tempting. Resisting it, you imagined, was like asking a recovering alcoholic to resist a Cosmo put right in front of them. Every day you felt unsafe and paranoid of your own body – the one place you could never actually flee from.

“When you say aggressive treatment…”

“It’s aggressive in the sense that we would be deliberately, albeit temporarily, shutting down your immune system. It won’t be pleasant for you, but it wouldn’t last very long,” Dr. Wilson offered. “And in that the transplantation process is inherently an invasive procedure. But it’s also a relatively low-risk one, given a close genetic match.” He lowered his head down to try to meet your eyes as you stared towards a crease on the knee of his pants. “Does that mean you’re considering the option?”

You nodded without thinking. Considering was the absolute least of what you were doing. “I want to do it,” you said.

It wasn’t like you weren’t signing up to be a chemo-weakened shadow of yourself for yearsjust for one longshot operation. You were signing up to feel like hell and be vulnerable in a relatively safe environment, and what sounded like a relatively minor operation. Having a needle put in your back, or even into your bones, was a far cry from the open-heart surgeries which were successful most of the time. Maybe your judgment was skewed, but there was little you wouldn’t do to put yourself in remission. Even if it wasn’t permanent, it would be worth it to have your normal life back for a little longer.

“Oh – okay.” Dr. Wilson blinked and sat up straight. “Alright. The first thing we do is find a donor. Once we find one, and they’re willing to go through the donation process, then we begin the more intensive prep work. Until then,” he said, standing up from the chair and going back to his desk. The oncologist grabbed a pen and made a few notes for himself while you listened, daring to look up hopefully and track him with your eyes. “You stay on your current treatment plan. Not getting better’s frustrating, but for now, we know you’re not getting worse, and you’re still able to function.”

That was debatable. Some days were worse than others. You decided not to point that out. The glumness you normally felt about it was absent now as you grew excited. This was happening. You were going to get better!

“For that donor,” the doctor said, turning back around to you and sitting on the edge of his chair. “Do you have any living biological relatives?”

… Oh. Nausea slammed into your stomach and your heart dropped. You hadn’t thought about that. About what it meant when he’d said that you’d need to find a close genetic match. The sun shining through the huge, clear windows felt horridly inappropriate; you expected and wanted to be swallowed up by the dark.

“I’m sure I do,” you said quietly, “But I was adopted. I have no idea who they are.”

Dr. Wilson’s smile had fallen in concern when yours had, but then he started to give you a reassuring smile. “That’s okay,” he said swiftly, seeing how your mood had changed. You raised your eyebrows skeptically. “We’re not matching DNA, we’re matching protein markers. Siblings are only about 25% likely to be a match, anyway. There are massive donor registries that cover the entire country. Your odds aren’t too bad. I’m going to send an order to the lab you go to.” He uncapped his pen to make more notes to himself. “They’re going to do a blood draw, and when they do, you’re going to have to sign authorization forms for them. With your consent, they’ll submit your sample to the biggest registries and contact me when they find possible options.”

You tentatively started to smile. “When,” you repeated after him quietly. “I really hope you’re not just trying to make me feel better.”

The blond man looked at you seriously and promised, “I would never mislead you about your medical situation. I think you should be optimistic. I’ll let you know when I have an update for you on your search, and if nothing comes up in the next month, then I’ll see you at your regular time.”

August 2010

If Lauren was allowed to doodle angry little sharks in the margins of her notes during meetings, then Neal strongly believed he should also be allowed to multitask. Judging by the fact that Peter confiscated Neal’s phone during their latest meeting, the agent felt differently.

Peter gave it back to him with a scolding order to pay more attention next time. Neal looked as apologetic as he could in the face, while in the eyes he made sure Peter could see he wasn’t contrite at all. It wouldn’t do to have Peter thinking that Neal was so easily cowed about something so trivial, but performing the lip service had the best outcomes for him because no one else knew him well enough to read the defiance in his eyes. That message was only for Peter, and Peter couldn’t rebuke him for it.

During the meeting, he had missed a phone call from someone who wasn’t in his contacts. Neal returned to his desk while waiting for it to dial back and hoping it wasn’t a spam call. There was a chance it was Mozzie, though, or even Alex, so he couldn’t not call back.

No one picked up, but the answering machine piqued his interest. It was an oncologist. Instead of leaving a message, the artist opened up a new tab on his desk monitor and searched the man’s name. Google had a couple small articles on the guy. As of two years ago, he was working as a cancer specialist at a teaching hospital in New Jersey. He double-checked and found that the area code he had called from was a New Jersey number, so it seemed like he was still there.

Mozzie would only go to a doctor if he were literally dying, and he would only go to a doctor in New Jersey if he were half-dead and being escorted there against his will by someone else, so Neal knew that wasn’t it. Purely out of curiosity, he called back, and this time, he left his name and phone number on the answering machine, and added that he was more reachable in the afternoons.

A few hours later, his phone rang again. It was from the same number. Neal excused himself from his desk and strode quickly towards the kitchenette so that his call didn’t bother anyone who was working, and answered it quietly by the coffee machine.

“Is this Mr. Neal Caffrey?” A man’s voice asked on the other end. “This is Dr. Wilson from Princeton-Plainsboro. I tried to call this morning.”

“Yeah,” Neal said vaguely to both. “You’re speaking to him. Can I help you?”

“Not me, specifically,” the doctor answered. “Do you remember registering with Gift of Life this past February?”

Neal blinked. That had been so long ago, and so much had happened since, that he’d all but forgotten about it. After he’d gotten home that evening, he’d looked up more information and found out that most donors would never be the closest match to someone looking for a donation. The thief had put it out of his mind and worried about the more important things on his plate, like corrupt OPR agents, his girlfriend’s murder, and how quickly he was going to be released from prison a second time.

“Yeah,” he said again. “I remember. Am I a match?” He couldn’t think of any other reason he’d be getting called.

“I have a patient whose HLA markers are a close match to yours,” the doctor told him. “If you’re still willing to be a donor, would you mind coming to the hospital for more thorough testing?”

He’d been through so much ugliness in the last couple of months that the idea of saving a life, even by something as passive as holding still and getting stuck with a needle, felt like it satisfied a mellow desire in his chest. He couldn’t save Kate, the one he’d desperately wanted to save, and he was gradually coming to accept that. But he knew that Kate – his Kate, at least, the one she’d been before she left – would’ve agreed to such a request in a heartbeat, and maybe this was a way to honor her.

Except that hospital was about 50 miles out of his radius.

Neal looked down at his right ankle and the lump under his trouser leg. “I actually don’t have a way to get to Princeton,” he said remorsefully. Even if Peter were willing to drive there, and he may have well been, the US Marshals would have had something to say about them taking a personal trip out of state, no matter what their intentions were. “Would it be possible to do that testing in Manhattan?”

The answer was absolutely. Dr. Wilson told him that compatibility testing could be done and transplantation performed from any medically licensed facility, and that his patient was willing to travel to said facility. Neal felt a sympathetic pang about that. Who wouldn’t be willing to go fifty miles out of their way to help themselves survive? If it were his health in jeopardy, he’d cut his anklet and run for it if that’s what it took to prolong his life.

On Tuesday morning, Peter picked up Neal and drove him to the hospital, carrying a messenger bag with cold cases to review and a deviled ham sandwich to eat for lunch since they’d taken the morning off. Peter didn’t even complain about the lost time once Neal said what he needed to go to the hospital for, and again, the artist was comforted by the knowledge that he was friends with genuinely good people. A part of him hoped their goodness would rub off a little bit more.

The longest part was having to wait to be checked in and taken back, but it wasn’t a short time in the office, either. Neal had to answer detailed questions about his medical background, and a doctor came in quickly to perform a routine physical and ensure that he was in good health. The nurse explained that, although they were only collecting blood to compare his protein markers to the anonymous patient’s, they liked to make sure that anyone they tested for compatibility would be healthy enough to go through with a donation process. If they weren’t, then it was a waste of everyone’s time to collect his blood. He saw the logic and signed a release permitting his history, evaluation, and blood results to be sent to Dr. Wilson at the Princeton-Plainsboro hospital.

Finally, a nurse came to draw his blood. “Last step and then you can leave,” she told him helpfully. “You’ll be contacted again if your HLA typing matches the donee closely enough to satisfy her doctor.”

“Her?” Neal asked curiously. He had assumed he was going through the process to donate to a man, although now that he thought about it, there was no real reason he’d thought so.

The nurse nodded. “The patient’s a woman with multiple myeloma. Blood cancer,” she added at Neal’s inquisitive look. “And based on the initial comparison, I’m hopeful you’ll be a good match. We usually don’t see them so close, except in siblings.”

“Huh,” he said aloud. Neal didn’t consider himself to be spiritual, but Kate would have seen that as a sign.

She took his blood quickly, having done it to other patients hundreds if not thousands of times before, then stuck a piece of gauze on his arm and a band-aid on top of that. Before he knew it Neal was being seen out of the room so it could be sanitized for someone else to use.

“How did it go?” Peter asked in greeting once Neal re-entered the waiting room.

Neal showed him the beige band-aid on his arm. “They stole my blood. And you call me a thief,” he joked.

September 2020

When Dr. Wilson saw you at your regular appointment, you had barely held your tongue long enough to sit down before you asked if there was any luck finding a donor. Although the man didn’t answer you right away, you were unbelievably relieved by how he seemed to fight to keep the smile off his face and remain measured and professional. That was a good sign, and it felt like suddenly this lead in your lungs was evaporating to let you breathe easily for the first time in weeks.

“We still need some time,” the blond had told you, gently making sure you didn’t get ahead of yourself. “A promising match is only so much. We need to run more comparisons, make sure that the odds of a rejection are as low as we can make them with the potentials that we have.”

Curious about the plural form, you’d asked if you actually had multiple matches. Dr. Wilson had nodded slowly, watching your face carefully to make sure you understood his explanation. You’d had two potential matches come up in the Gift of Life registry. Both were theoretically close enough to work, but one of them was a significantly closer match than the other. Dr. Wilson had already reached out to both about further testing so that if the closer match refused, or wasn’t that good of a match after all, the time wouldn’t have been wasted.

Another two weeks, almost three, and you were back in the office early at the doctor’s request. The markers were in, and so was the donor’s physical workup. He was in good health and willing to proceed. He was just about all you were able to get out of Dr. Wilson, what with the HIPAA laws in place for a reason. He was a he, and he was in your general age range, and he lived in Manhattan.

The doctor moved the process along, while you did all the preparations you could for the procedure. You tolerated what felt like exhaustingly long chemotherapy sessions and felt like you’d been hit by a slow-moving bus after each one. Though you fell asleep quickly, you were also woken up quickly by anything from a queasy stomach to muscle soreness, and even when you slept through several hours, you didn’t feel very refreshed. Your body was being put through the wringer in a new way. You just kept telling yourself that it was for the sake of a life where you didn’t have to do this all the time.

You wondered what he was like. The donor, that is. In your head, you’d started calling him X in place of a name. Whose protein markers were so much like yours that he was quite literally saving your life, granting you four, five, maybe even up to six extra years just by taking some blows for you this week. Finally, on the day of your last chemo treatment before the transplant, you decided you had to at least try for some answers and stopped at Dr. Wilson’s office after your treatment was over. Fortunately, he was still in his office.

“Hey,” he said, getting the door for you and guiding you to a seat. You didn’t need the gestures, but you did feel fatigued, and you knew that his walking with you was as much about liability if you fell than about thinking you needed the assistance. “Hey. Are you okay? What brings you here this evening? Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Very,” you replied confidently, clenching your fists around the hem of your shirt. The taxi company had already called to confirm the fare out to Manhattan in the morning. “I was just hoping… well, I mean, I know you can’t tell me. But I’d like to know who my donor is, and meet him, if he’s willing.”

Dr. Wilson tilted his head to you curiously. “There’s a waiting period*, of course,” he said slowly. “You have to be 30 days post-op, no indication of required further transplant activity. That keeps it clean in case we have to ask the donor to go through the process again.”

You nodded, disappointed but understanding. You couldn’t know who was saving your life until it had already been saved. Maybe you weren’t meant to know at all, and maybe that was the point of the registry in the first place: you didn’t need to know Donor X, just that they were a fellow human who cared enough to be a good Samaritan.

“But after the waiting period, I can share your contact information with him, and vice versa, if you both consent,” Dr. Wilson offered after you didn’t say anything.

You perked up a little. “Yes. I’d like that, when it’s allowed.”

“Okay.” The oncologist nodded to himself. “I’ll make a note, and if you can just remind me in one of your follow-ups-“

A wheezing sound came from the ajar door to the hall. The wheeze was so bad it sounded like a balloon was slowly squeezing out its air. Dr. Wilson looked over your shoulder, and you tiredly, slowly craned your neck to look behind you. A rubber chicken continued to make a low squeaking noise while it slowly reinflated.

Silence. You looked at Dr. Wilson to ask if this was normal, and he was speechless, mortified.

A second rubber chicken came rolling through the open door. Someone in the hallway was throwing them. This one landed further in the office and inflated itself faster, at the cost of the wheezy, squeaking sound being more high-pitched.

Dr. Wilson finally recovered his voice and awkwardly forced a laugh, standing up and fixing his tie to hang straight. “I’m so sorry about this,” he told you profusely, his face turning red.

Before you could ask what he was apologizing for, since you were still very confused on the entire spectable, a third rubber chicken appeared, this one held up at the side of the door at eye-height. A man’s hand was squeezed around its side, and one finger at the back of its neck made it bob its head forward aggressively. The man on the other side of the door bawked equally aggressively.

Dr. Wilson’s embarrassed blush turned into a pink-faced scowl of anger as he rushed around you and to the door to deal with the rubber chicken man. “What do you think you’re doing?” He yelled at the other person in a tight-throated stage whisper.

“Bawk?” The other guy asked, using his tone to convey his meaning while he made the chicken squeak. “Bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk.”

“House,” Wilson said tersely, “I’m with a patient right now. I can’t deal with you.”

“Bawk,” the rubber chicken man – House – said. It sounded very accusing.

Your doctor must have thought so, too, because he paused, then came storming back into his office. He vehemently kicked both of the rubber chickens on the floor back out into the hallway, ignoring their wheezy screams of protest, and the judgmental, bawking cry from the rubber chicken man. Then the oncologist closed his door, hard enough that it made you jump, and kept a hand on it while he leaned to keep it closed, turning his body back to face you and forcing a polite, if nervous, smile.

“I – ah – what were we talking about?”

“Work friend?” You asked knowingly, making a face at the long, despairing bawk made on the other side of the door.

Dr. Wilson paused only for a second before he realized there was no point in pretending that hadn’t just happened. “Friend is a strong word,” he grumbled. “Right. Like I was saying. If you still want to share your contact information with the donor, I can pass it along after the mandatory waiting period has passed.”

You nodded in acquiescence, knowing you didn’t have a choice. It was for the best. Now you could put a pin in those worries about what Donor X would think of you and just focus on handling your fluttering nerves about the operation… and leaving without being ambushed by rubber chickens.

Meanwhile

Neal had lost track now of how many times he had rubbed at the injection site now. It already felt hot and swollen, and the itching and achiness hadn’t gone away since the second day after the regiment had started. To say he was relieved that it was almost over was precariously close to being an understatement.

He checked the clock again as the day slipped into the evening. The artist wasn’t usually such a clock-watcher, unless he was trying to agitate Peter by doing it very obviously during a boring meeting. It was just that the Filgrastim shots were draining. He still knew he wasn’t the one getting the short end of the stick – that would be the poor cancer patient he was donating marrow to, who was probably going through aggressive chemo today, if the Internet was right about her side of things. Knowing that didn’t make him physically feel any better, though, and he waited for the minutes to tick forwards until he could go home, put on his softest pajamas, and hide in the warmth of a tightly-tucked blanket.

Although Peter had asked without mockery in his voice, Neal hadn’t admitted to anyone that he was just a little nervous about the operation tomorrow. It was an outpatient procedure on his end, but it was still a procedure, and Neal hadn’t had any sort of medical procedure done on himself since some cosmetic dental work in his early adulthood. Afterwards, he'd be recovering in the hospital from the anesthesia, free of charge, until he was released in the late afternoon to go home. He knew the ins and outs as well as he could, short of going to medical school himself.

Thankfully, Peter was a nine-to-five man. Reliably, as soon as the clock hit five, Peter began to show the signs of packing up to leave. It took him a few minutes to get all of his last-minute boxes checked, but the agent was leaving his office with his coat in hand by ten after, and Neal stood up quickly in eagerness to go. He braced himself on his desk and hoped that the dizziness didn’t show too clearly.

The conman was losing some of his touch, he realized, when Peter stopped and asked sympathetically, “You need an Advil?”

It was beyond tempting, but Neal shook his head. He could manage the trip back to June’s. The doctor had said to take something if it became unbearable, but he could read between the lines and knew it was ideal if he didn’t have any drugs in his system come morning. Peter waited patiently while Neal collected his things, careful not to bend over or stand straight so quickly again. On their way out, the agent put his hand up on Neal’s shoulder while they waited for the elevator.

“You’re doing a good thing,” Peter stated gruffly. Neal chanced a look at the agent’s reflection in the shiny metal front of the elevator. Peter wasn’t looking at him, and was also smartly refusing to look in the reflection, too. The thief thought he heard what might have been pride in the older man’s voice.

“I know,” Neal said, resolutely not questioning how nice it felt to hear it from a source other than his own conscience.

~~~ ~~~

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Part two will be coming soon.

* This is a real, ongoing problem in American healthcare. Medical experts believe it’s a combination of what Neal and Peter both suggest; specifically, there is a much smaller pool of Black and African-American donors, and some doctors also believe that, due in significant part to the transnational nature of the slave trade, people who are Black may have comparatively more racially mixed genetic combinations, making it harder to find close matches.

Blood cancers include leukemia (common in children), Hodgkin’s lymphoma (common in adults), and a number of other variations, including multiple myeloma, as the reader has in this story. In addition to treating blood cancers, bone marrow donation can also treat some immunodeficiency disorders and aplastic anemia. If you haven’t already, and are in good health, please consider being added to a national bone marrow registry to potentially help save a life.

* While this is true, for the sake of the story I shortened the waiting period significantly. It is usually at least a year, according to the resources I could find online.

68 notes · View notes

pedrosbish · 3 years

Text

let me kiss the scars that litter your skin

warnings: slight angst but fluff

word count: 1.2k

A/N: I’m back! I know this isn't anything to do with pedro’s characters but I wanted to practice writing before continuing with the king series and I recently started watching The Punisher so I now have another sad boi to write about

Frank Castle is an enigma and would always remain an enigma to you.

When the two of you had first met it had been an honest mistake. He had collapsed in front of his apartment door which just so happened to be opposite from yours, the newest wounds leaving a deep ache in his bones and the blood began seeping through the dark shirt he wore, his face clammy as you pressed your hand to it.

It had taken you a couple of minutes to throw your shopping bags into the hallway of your apartment, the carton of milk falling over and draining onto your wooden floor, entering the cracks which your landlord would definitely not like. You didn't have it in your heart to care, however, not when you attempted to lug the burly man through your door, his blood staining your blouse.

It had taken a couple tries to get him onto your couch, his legs dangling over the arm-rest and his head lulling to the side as you quickly retrieved the necessary items to stitch him back up. When you had finally worked up the courage to peer underneath his shirt at the damage, the acidic feeling of bile worked its way up your throat at the sight of blood steadily pouring out of the numerous wounds littering his skin.

You had pushed through it, the shake in your hands disappearing as you began to work. Disinfect the cut with your good bottle of whiskey. Swallow harshly at the unwelcoming sign of bile rising in your throat. Deep breaths as you slowly stitch the wound.

This was the process you adopted and used to this day whenever the mysterious Frank Castle arrived at your door, either collapsed outside of it or on the verge of passing out and leaning heavily against the door with a barely-there smile on his face. It hadn't taken you long to figure out that he was The Punisher, the vigilante on a quest for vengeance.

He never spoke in full sentences, only grunts or one word answers when you scolded him for getting hurt again or asking what had happened. You knew why he did what he did, hell, you probably would do the same thing if something like that had happened to your family.

It hurt you to see him this way, his eyes unfocused and looking past your shoulder as you carefully stitched him up, hand gently tracing the other scars present on his skin when you had finished patching up the new ones.

You wanted to ask him about them, the faded white lines, some big and some small, telling thousands of stories about what he had gone through before all of this happened to him and what was happening to him right now.

You finally had the opportunity to do that.

Somewhere along the lines, the two of you had developed some sort of relationship, the term a loose thing for what was occurring between you. Most nights he would stay longer than he had to after you had stitched up his freshest injuries, passing the open bottle of alcohol you usually gave him to help with the pain until one of you had made the first move.

Hungry and desperate lips pressing against each other, hand combing through the short strands of his hair as he squeezed the hands on your waist lightly, pulling you closer before separating long enough to lift off both your shirts. You had lost count of the number of places he had taken you. The counter in your kitchen, the couch, against the wall of your living room, the shower, your bed.

You had always expected him to leave after having his fill, the leftover adrenaline disappearing from his system, but he had surprised you by staying, voice hoarse as he asked you if you needed anything from the kitchen as he sat on the edge of your bed and put his underwear back on.

It had become a routine for the both of you. Fix him up, fuck each other, then lay in bed next to one another, the streetlight from outside your window casting the room in a hazy light. The silence that enveloped the room was peaceful, a time for you to close your eyes at the heat radiating off of him and a time for him to accept that he is capable of this feeling inside of him again, one that he hasn't felt since the loss of his wife.

The eleventh time (not that you're keeping track) he actually stays until morning, the soft sunlight breaking through your curtains and painting him in a peaceful manner, his face relaxed but his fingers twitching at they rest beside him.

Eyes tracing over the skin that's not covered by the bed sheet gives you the time to examine scars covering his skin, some of them jagged white lines and others a light pink, the tell-tale sign of their freshness. Your hand slowly follows the path of your eyes, fingers oh so softly tracing over them, only stopping when he stirs slightly.

You lean forward, eyes quickly glancing up at his face, before pressing your lips softly against a scar that sits on his collar bone, the faint white line making your eyes grow misty. He had only told you some of the stories that lay behind the various injuries on his skin, the only real time he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you. There never is enough time to tell all the stories.

Tilting your head up to the left, you press another kiss to a deeper one, this time fresher than the others, that sits above his heart. That night had been the worst, the blood continuously pumping between your fingers as you tried to focus on fixing him, your hands shaking as you tried not to focus on the fact that he could possibly die on you.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice is croaky with sleep but his eyes are wide, alert, as he slowly begins to sit up until you press your hand down on his chest. Your eyes close tightly when his hand comes up to softly wipe the tears wetting your cheeks, thumb stroking back and forth.

You look up at him, his face blurred in your vision as your palm presses harder against his chest, the steady beat of his heart sounding through the skin and you feel like you can breathe easier knowing that he is alive and with you. For now at least.

“I-I can't lose you, Frank.” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears, so thick with an emotion you can say for certain you have never felt with anyone else and his hand comes up to lay on top of yours, fingers squeezing yours. “I can't lose you.”

He swallows thickly, leaning his head down against yours and the two of you close your eyes, trying to savour the moment. Moving slightly away from you, he places a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I know,” he whispers against your skin. “I know.”

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x reader

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colorseeingchick · 3 years

Text

Valentine’s Affections (Kageyama, Oikawa, Kuroo)

I adore Valentine’s day! Love is in the air and chocolate is in my stomach. But for you and these boys? Well... it’s a lil more complicated than that.

A/N: We are going to completely ignore the fact that valentine’s day was a full 3 months ago. Love is always in the air on this blog !

Warnings: Light swearing? Maybe? Lotsa fluffy stuff beware cavities.

Kageyama Tobio

Kageyama stares hard at the vending machine in front of him. Now, this was far from a new situation he found himself in- he found himself in front of this very vending machine every single day. But the stakes were much higher this time.

Strawberry, or chocolate? Which would be a better gift?

Early on he decided against chocolates, cuz it felt too obvious. He opted out of a note, cuz he wasn’t articulate enough for that. And for the same reasons a verbal confession was completely out of the picture. So here he was, in front of the vending machine, hoping you would accept his love, or at the very least, the milk carton as a token of it.

He decides on the strawberry milk, because the pink carton color reminded him of hearts, so he was hoping his love message would be real clear!!

As he approaches you in the gym, he feels the nerves stir in his stomach. You’re surrounded by the other first years, excitedly chirping at Tsukki and Yamaguchi while Yachi and Hinata jump up and down around you (for what reasons, who knows) now that clean up is over. The second and third years weren’t that far away either. But he knew he’d have to do this sooner than later.

Kageyama stands pensively behind you at a slight distance, awkwardly shifting weight back and forth between his feet. Finally, he finds the guts to call out to you. “Y/N...san.” Alright, maybe it was more like a mutter. No one had heard him, but Hinata had noticed his presence.

“Kageyama! There you are.”

All eyes shift to him, including yours. The heat rushes to his face as he hides the milk behind his back. “Boke! What do you want!” He only gets redder as his eyes meet yours.

“Y/N-san!” He yells a bit too harshly. But you don’t flinch, you just smile. “Yes, Tobio-kun?” Gah, your voice is sweet as always, and he doesn’t even know what to say.

Stepping towards you, he essentially shoves the milk into your hands before turning around and marching out the door.

You stare at the carton quizzically, while the boys in the gym collectively let out a heavy sigh.

“Was that… supposed to be a confession?” Daichi’s disbelief was evident.

“He does that every day though,” Hinata comments, clueless.

“But today’s Valentine’s day, there’s probably more to it, right?” Ennoshita curious.

“Of course that’s the way that idiot would do it.” Tsukki is snarky as ever.

But you don’t hesitate to run back into the club room, a determined look glued to your face.

“Y/N san! Where are you going?” Hinata calls.

“Let them be, Hinata. They have something to take care of.” Suga has a glint of amusement in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kageyama tries to calm down as he aggressively drinks his chocolate milk. But he’s jittery all over when you pop up next him.

“Tobio-kun, did ya really think you could just throw me a box of milk and then split? On Valentine's day? Tsk Tsk.” You smile as you move to stand in front of him. Words are far from his physical capacity at the moment, so he opts to just stare at you instead.

“But by the way,” you pull the carton from behind your back in your left hand, and shake it in front of him, “Accepted.” He feels his heart melt in relief. You understood what he meant. At least he thinks you do. You always understood him somehow, even though he wasn’t great at communicating.

“And also…” Your right hand appears now, a small box of cutely wrapped chocolates snuggly fit into your palm, “this is for you. Please, accept it.”

His eyes go wide in shock. For some reason, this was not what he had expected (though everyone else knew it was coming). His heart now swells with an indescribable feeling that he never wants to stop experiencing.

“And this too... unless you want me to stop...” He doesn’t know how else you could potentially make him fall apart more than he already had- but he got his answer when your hand grabbed onto his collar and tugged him down to your height. You placed a slow and gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Tobio-kun, I like you.” Yeah, his heart wasn’t ready for that one.

Oikawa Tooru

“Thank you, Suki-chan!” “So sweet, Maki-chan!” “These are delicious, Haru-chan!” First period hadn’t even begun and Oikawa had already been swarmed with gifts. But despite the time he spent basking in the affections of his little fans, his eyes were trained on you, watching as you happily handed Iwaizumi a cute little box of chocolates. Oikawa saw how his best friend smiled, and he saw the way you buried your face into Iwa’s chest when he hugs you. He decides to ask you about it at practice.

“Y/N-chan!! You know what day it is today!”

“How could I forget when I see my favorite setter drowning in more chocolates than usual?” He ignores the unidentifiable tone in your voice and presses on.

“I saw you give Iwa-chan some~”

“Yes I did.”

“Sooooo~”

“....so what?”

“Where are mine?”

“...I…”

Iwaizumi steps in, his hand protectively grabbing your shoulder. “What’re you harassing Y/N for, Shittykawa. You got enough chocolates already didn’t you? No need to be greedy.” Your eyes are glued to the floor, but Oikawa just sighs and waves it off.

“Sorry, sorry, Y/N-chan! I just figured your chocolates would be so tasty I was jealous Iwa got some~ but I’ll be waiting for them next time!” If only you knew, I would rather eat a single one of your sweets than all the other sweets combined.

He tries to forget the incident until he hears his doorbell ring at 9 pm. “Tooru! You have a friend who’s come to see you!” He’s surprised to see you waiting at his gate, face flushed, breath ragged, and hair ruffled.

“Oikawa-san!” You say with determination. “Y/N...chan?” He walks towards you, confusion and concern clear on his face.

“Oikawa-san…” the confidence fading as he comes near. You look away from his face as you outstretched your hands, a cute, small pink box with a tiny bow on it in hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you chocolates earlier today….I just....” your hands retreat to your body, box still grasped. You look down at your feet once again, so you can’t see his eyes go wide. “I thought about making you some sweets yesterday but, I always knew you had so many fangirls and I didn’t wanna get in their way, or worse, make you see me as one of them… so I didn’t. I’m sorry. I, I didn’t consider you would feel left out. So I made these for you after school! Will you please accept them!”

You look up at him finally, only to see tears streaming down his face. “Oikawa san? Are you okay? I’m sorry if I said something that-”

“I’m sorry Y/N-san, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. But are they really for me?”

“Mhm!” You hand them over, in anticipation of what he would do next. He opens the box, pops a chocolate into his mouth, and then smiles.

“Just as I expected- it’s perfect.” He steps towards you once again, and wraps his arms around you, tightly. “You’re nothing like the rest of them, yanno. You’re very special to me.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“Happy Single’s Awareness day!” You sing-song at the boys standing in front of your gate, the sun peeking out over the horizon.

“Just jumping over Valentines, then?” Kenma asks you, his face hidden in his switch.

“Yep! Nope! Not for me~ don’t need a valentine!” You’re carefree as you stroll ahead of the two of them, hands thrown behind your head. “Giving Valentine’s are dumb. Right, Kuroo!”

Kenma takes his time to pull his nose away from his switch to let his cat like gaze fall on his best friend, who’s been awfully quiet this morning. He knows why.

“Do you agree, Kuroo?” He asks, probing.

“...Yep. What type of headass buys into Valentines-” He criticizes.

Kenma knocks Kuroo’s bag with his elbow, his gaze transforming into a glare. You do, Kuroo. No chickening out.

Kuroo’s grasp on the bag resting on his shoulder tightens, well aware of what he has to do.

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

After school was over and practice was done, Kenma got dropped off at home because he wanted to go home early, for some reason. So now it’s just you and Kuroo, laying on the hill by the bridge, bathing in the hues of orange and pink as the sun sets slowly.

You stretch out on your back, relaxing onto the grass underneath you. “Man, did ya see all those idiots handing out valentine’s? So cheesy.” You close your eyes and pull your hands up to cushion your head, turning your chin up. Kuroo rests on his elbow, angled so that he can watch you as you talk, his hand scratching his head soothingly.

“ Who wants dumb chocolates anyways? You think these chicks would get sick of all the chocolates they get. Hmph.” He watches as your mouth twitches down, eyes squeezed tight.

To be fair, both of you were acting...different today. Kuroo can read you like a book, and even how he can still pick out the unease you’ve been tryna hide all day. But his own nervousness and jitters keeps him quiet.

As you both sit in silence, stewing in your feelings, Kuroo lets out a deep sigh. Now or never. You hear him rustle in his bag as he pushes something over to you. You open your eyes to see a small box by your shoulder with a cute lil cat sticky note pressed onto it- reading, “be Mine, Valentine? :3”

You freeze for a second, processing what he pushed over to you. You look up at Kuroo, who’s now turned his back to you, sleeping on his side.

You open the box and find a cute cat bracelet inside. “Kuroo?”

“You’ve been trashing valentine’s chocolates for a while now- so I figured I’d get you something better. It’s cheesy, I know. Don’t “at” me.” He stays, turned away from you.

You take your time to pull the bracelet out the box, letting heat rise to your face.

“Did you do this just because…? To make me feel better, or-”

“Still a headass huh.” He finally turns around, and you’re glad to see that his own face is as red as yours feels.

“Kuroo… do you, like me?”

“Damn, you’re gonna make me say it huh?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah I like you. Now hurry up and reject me so we can go back to being normal and I can get over my damn nerves. I hate not being myself.” He mutters as his lips twitch into a pout as he rests his bedhead into the grass, hands caressing his neck.

You take a second before crawling over to him, watching him in silence.

“You’re an idiot, too, ya know.” He peaks one eye open, to give you a questioning look. “Now help me put this bracelet on.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. I’m never taking it off.”

“You serious?!”

“Of course I’m serious.”

His Cheshire grin breaks out onto his face as he sits up, closing the gap between you two.

“Oh? Does someone like me back?”

“Yeah someone does. Now are you gonna help me or not.”

In that moment, you don’t think anything can compare to the sheer joy in Kuroo’s eyes as he carefully clasps the bracelet onto your wrist, wrapping his strong fingers around yours.

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artickoushi · 3 years

Text

venom, poison or just kinky?

Karasuno X Reader

a/n - god this is sucks and its complete cringe I’m sorry-

A thick, heavy silence hung in the air as the mentally exhausted members of the Karasuno Male Volleyball club sat in a circle in the club room.

Hinata sat with his legs stretched around in front of him, a frustrated aura enveloping his entire being and matching with the lost look on his face. A paper sat crumpled in his right hand, the words seeming to blur together as he crushed it more and more with every passing second. His left hand raised to rub questioningly at his chin as if he actually knew the answer to the question that stared back menacingly at him from the no longer pristine piece of paper.

Kageyama sat next to Hinata on the left, his paper sitting in front of his folded legs. His dark sapphire hues studied the paper intently as if the answer would magically come to him if he looked at it long enough. His lips moved every so often, muttering random words around the straw of his milk carton. His right hand propping his head up, while he squeezed the carton angerly with his left.

Nishinoya and Tanaka weren’t that different from the opposite duo across from them, it had been made a rule to not let the four of them sit together when studying after last time when Nishinoya and Hinata were almost thrown out of the window by Kageyama, they sat with their legs crossed and hands folded as they tried to sneakily figure it out together when Sugawara wasn’t looking.

Granted, the four should know the answer but judging by the way their grades were going you weren’t that surprised with the scene that was put in front of you as you stepped through the club room door.

Cringing slightly, you took a few hesitant steps inside the room and made your way towards the drained Sugawara.

‘What’s going on here, Sugawara-senpai?” You questioned quietly, slightly afraid to break the tense atmosphere.

At the sound of your voice, Nishinoya and Tanaka perked up and were about to fall onto their stomachs and beg for you to talk some sense into their brutal tutors, but they were instead shot a harsh glare by Daichi and they quickly shut their mouths.

Sugawara turned to you and gave you a somewhat forced smile. “We were reviewing for their upcoming tests, and when they couldn’t get any of their answers right without shouting a new guess every time we told them it was wrong, we told Tsukishima to over some more basic studies with them and now... somehow we’re on the topic of what’s poisonous and venomous.” He shook his head disappointedly, one of his hands coming up to rub at his temple.

You smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry Sugawara-senpai, I’ll help Tsukishima with them.” You reassured the stressed third-year.

Sugawara nodded gratefully at you before mentioning that he was step outside to get some air.

Chucking your bag into the corner of the room, you stepped up next to Tsukishima and plopped down into a comfortable sitting position. The blonde glanced at you before looking back at the four idiots in front of you.

“Alright, we’ll go over it one more time since you idiots don’t seem to be understanding the simple concept.” Tsukishima murmured, his voice low and dripping with annoyance, his golden hues sliding from Hinata all the way across the room to Tanaka.

Geez, you thought. The four of them seem as if their brains are gonna explode.

“Hey! Respect your senpais!”

Nishinoya’s complaint fell on deaf ears as Tsukishima continued without so much as a glance in his direction. “Anyways,” he started, his right hand raising to push up his glasses. A glint catching on the glass before quickly fading away.

“I still can’t believe you guys are dumb enough to not understand this but whatever I guess,” he muttered, his voice low enough for only you to hear. You chuckled, but quickly covered it up with a cough. “If you bite it and you die; it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die; it’s venomous. Understood?”

It was not understood if the looks on their faces were anything to go by.

Hinata’s face seemed to morph into a new emotion every time he opened his mouth to say something, Kageyama just had a blank look of confusion on his face, while Nishinoya and Tanaka were nodding along as if they understood it.

Tsukishima sighed and turned to you. “I don’t know how to dumb it down anymore then I already did. This is the fifth time I’m trying to re-explain this exact thing.”

Just as you about to suggest telling them in points of things they’d understand, Hinata’s hand shot up. “Wait! So what if it bites me and it dies?” He questions, his hand rubbing at the back of his head.

Kageyama’s head snaps up and he smacks the back of Hinata’s head. “Dumbass! It mean’s that it’s poisonous!” He exclaimed.

“I- uh actually-” you tried to step in, but Tanaka had cut you off.

“No way, man! It mean’s it’s venomous!” He folded his arms and wore his smirk proudly as Nishinoya patted him on the back. Hey was so sure of his answer-

“God do you guys even listen? That would mean that your poisonous, shrimp.” Tsukishima says, his hands pushing his glasses out of the way so he can rub his eyes. Before Tsukishima could start to berate the four of them, Nishinoya’s hands flew out to the side, his left hand successfully smaking Tanaka in the face. Nishinoya exclaimed a quick apology before continuing with his ‘genius epiphany’.

“What if it bite’s itself and I die?” He questions seriously.

Tsukishima deadpans at the smaller male, seemingly ready to strangle Nishinoya. You chuckled quickly and helped Tanaka sit up before telling Nishinoya, with full seriousness, “that’s voodoo.”

“What if.. what if it bites me and someone else dies?” Kageyama questions, his arm reaching into his bag behind him only to pull out another milk carton.

“That’s correlation, not causation you highness.” Tsukishima snickers at the twisted look on Kageyama’s face.

Right as Kageyama seem’s to be ready to lunge and Tsukishima, Tanaka laughs. His gaze flickering over to Nishinoya before landing back on Tsukishima and you. “What if we bite each other and neither of us die?” he muses, completely proud of himself for coming up with the question as he rubs his chin.

“That’s kinky, Ryu!” Nishinoya states proudly alongside Tanaka.

Hinata squeaks, his face flushing a dark shade of red.

Kageyama chokes on his milk, and starts having a coughing fit.

Tsukishima sighs and rubs at his temples tiredly.

Meanwhile you cackle alongside Nishinoya and Tanaka, your body falling into Tanaka’s as you gasp to catch you breath.

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jabbagabba · 3 years

Text

La La Land

Read Prologue, One

Warning ⚠️

Triggering subjects: disassociation, manipulation, mind control, gaslighting (READ AT OWN RISK)

Wandavision: Spoilers (up to episode 7, just to be safe) cheesy sitcom talk, the fifties, the ‘dinner table’ scene, The nickname ‘kiddo’

Oh, Kiddo

“Uh oh.” You didn’t need to check the recipe book to know that cookies weren’t suppose to make smoke invade the inside of the oven.

“Still better then the last batch.” Wanda said, a small cough falling from her mouth as you tipped the burnt treats into a small bin under the counter.

The sight of the now empty tray made you sigh sadly, the burnt pieces of dough was going to take decades to scrub off!

“I’m sorry about the tray.” You let it drop into the sink. “I promise, as soon as mom comes back, I’ll get you a new one.”

Wanda scoffed playfully, a point of her finger making the tray levitate in front of her. “Don’t be silly, kiddo!” You watched in awe as it turned back to its shiny silver. “I have an amazing cleaner.” You both giggle.

“Well I should at least do the dishes myself.” The sight of Wanda trying to argue made you hold your hand up in silent protest “No, no. You aren’t the only one who has hands.”

“You wash, I dry?” The perfect compromise.

The kitchen fell into peaceful silence except for the bubbly soap that filled the sink. It was the perfect start of a new day (maybe not for the oven) and you couldn’t help smile at the warmth that swelled through you.

“Busy hands make the heart grow fonder” Your mother’s words echoed inside of you as you finished the final dish.

The thought didn’t stay for long before the sound of a plate breaking made you jump, turning quickly as it hit the floor.

“My wife and her flying sources.” Vision quipped as the last of the shattered plate fell off his shoulder, dressed in a respectable suit and dress shoes.

“My husband and his indestructible head.” Wanda replied with a teasing smile. The perfect couple was a sight to behold as you grabbed the glass from the air above her and placed it back in the cuboard.

“Aren’t we a fine pair?” Vision gave his a wife a small kiss on the head and turned to you with a small smile. “Good morning, Kiddo.” You greeted him, drying your hands on the skirt of your dress. “I’m starting to think you came with the house.” Wanda chuckled.

“Mom will be back soon, I promise, the house will be teenage free before you know it.”

“Oh, don’t be silly!” He lets the newspaper in his hand slide across the countertop. “I’m only teasing.”

“What do you say to silver dollar pancakes, crispy hash browns, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orange juice, and black coffee?” Wanda’s words made your mouth water, it felt as though you hadn’t eaten in days and a full breakfast was just what you needed.

“I say. ‘Oh, I don’t eat food.’” He smiled.

“Well, that explains the empty refrigerator.” Her words confused you. There wasn’t even the carton of milk you were sure was there earl-

“Wanda?” Vision’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, she simply hummed in question.

“Is there something special about today?”

“Well, I know the apron is a bit much, dear, but I am doing my best to blend in.” You watch as she crosses the kitchen.

“No, no, there on the calander. Someone’s drawn a little heart right above today’s date.” He lets his chin rest on her head while you move closer to see. Sure enough, there it was.

“Oh, yes.” Wanda said with tense shoulders. “The heart.” She looked over at you for some guidance, the confused look she saw didn’t help calm her nerves. “Well, don’t tell me you have forgotten, Vis.” She turned in his arms with a look of accusation and hands laid on her hips.

“Forgotten?” He scoffed. “Oh, Wanda, I’m incapable of forgetfulness. I remember everything. That’s not an exaggeration. In fact, I’m incapable of exaggeration.”

“Well, then tell me what’s so important about today’s date.”

You had to stifle a laugh when you looked at him; mouth blown out like a fish and eyes wide, a stern look from Wanda made you cover it with a cough.

“What was the question again?” Vision turned quickly. “Oh, well. Perhaps, you’ve forgotten yourself.”

“Me? Heavens, no. I’ve been so looking forward to it.” You let Vision pass you, choosing to keep to yourself and take a sit at the table.

“As have I.” He said proudly with arms folded. “Today we are celebrating...”

Why were you so hungry?

“You bet we are...”

Why were you always, so hungry?

“It’s the first time we....have ever celebrated this occasion before.”

“It’s a.... special day!”

Something doesn’t feel right

“Perhaps an evening... of great significance...”

Can you feel her clawing?

“Kiddo?” Her voice makes you jump in your seat, letting out a small hiss from hitting your knee underneath the table. “You alright?”

“I...” Silly you, always dozing off. “I’m just peachy keen, Wanda!” A series of knocks on the door makes her pause and you’re quick to stand. “I’ll get it!”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that...” She trailed behind you, a polite smile on her face as you open the door.

You barley grab the large plant that’s shoved in your face, the woman breezing past you with her hand out.

“Hello. dear, I’m Agnes. Your neighbour to the right.” Wanda lets out a awkward laugh but takes her hand anyway. “My right, not yours.” She’s loud and very, very talkative. “Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My mother in-law was in town, so I wasn’t.”

You pull the plant away from you with a huff. Wanda gives you an apologetic look, grabbing it from your hands, both of you watching as Agnes makes her way through.

“So, what’s your name? Where are you from, and most importantly, how’s your bridge game, hon?”

Very talkative indeed.

Wanda laughs as she crosses the room -leaving you to close the door - and sent Agnes a friendly smile.

“I’m Wanda.” She gestures to you over the woman’s shoulder. “And we call her ‘Kiddo’.”

“Easier that way.” You add as you smooth out your skirt once more, choosing to sit on the edge of the couch. Agnes turns to you with a smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear!” You wave her off with another friendly smile. “Wanda, Kiddo, lovely names for two lovely ladies.” You all share a small giggle.

“Golly.” Agnes’ eyes scan the room. “You settled in fast! Did you use a moving company?”

“I sure did.” You wanted nothing but to rip off that stupidly large bow off that equally obnoxious plant, but you didn’t want to be rude. “Those boxes don’t move themselves.” Agnes chuckled and you were itching to move it from the table Wanda placed it on.

“So what’s a single gal like you doing rattling around this big house? With a daughter no less.” You and Wanda were quick to explain.

“I’m not her daughter.” You move back as her dress skirt fills your vision, looking over at Wanda. “Just visiting.”

“I’m married.” She added with a gleeful shine in her eyes.

“Oh, I don’t see a ring.”

“Well, I assure you I’m married.” She covers her hand with the other. “To a man. A human one and tall.”

Agnes was a very suffocating presence; her dress bold and checker patterned, your polka dots looked rather bland compared to it and when she took a seat next to you - practically in your lap at one point of readjusting - you had never felt so small.

“As a matter of fact, he’ll be home later tonight for a special occasion. Just the two of us.”

“Oh, is it someone’s birthday?”

“Not a birthday.”

“Well today isn’t a holiday, is it?”

Were there any holidays in March? You - like most days - were left completely blank.

“No, it’s not a holiday...” Wanda’s hands fidget, you couldn’t help but join, opting to pick at a thread on your sleeve.

Today was.... hmm, what was today? You tried to remember if Vision or Wanda spoke of anything special, but nothing really stood out from the crowd.

“An anniversary then?”

“Ye... yes!” The relief on her face was almost comical. “Yes! It’s our anniversary!” Agnes couldn’t hide her excitement, grabbing your hand mid pull of the thread and held another one for Wanda to take.

“Oh, how marvellous.” She turned forward, putting both of your hands in her lap as Wanda joined on the couch. “How many years?”

“Well, it feels like we’ve always been together.”

“Lucky gal.” Agnes shook your hand with a smile. “Isn’t it just, having such a wonderful influence like that?” Wanda blushed. “The only way Ralph would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer named ‘June 2nd’. “ At least she was entertaining, right? “So, what do you have planned?”

“How do you mean?”

“For your special night. A young thing like you doesn’t have to do much, but it’s still nice to set the scene.” You and Wanda shared a glance as Agnes turned once more. “Say, I was just reading a crackerjack magazine article -“ She gave you both a playful slap on the thigh as she stood. “- called ‘How To Treat Your Husband To Keep Your Husband,’ and let me tell you, what Ralph could really use is, ‘How To Goose Your Wife So You Don’t Lose Your Wife’.”

Maybe you were just a bad judge of character or you were simply just insecure, but Agnes, to her credit, had quickly found a way to pull on your hearstrings in a perfect way.

Or maybe she was just very funny.

“Hang on. I’ll go grab it and we can start planning.” She turned to you before leaving and pointed a perfectly manicured finger. “Now, I hope you don’t have plans, Kiddo! Suducing a man is a lesson no school could teach you, Though a pretty gal like you shouldn’t need a whole lot.” She laughed and you couldn’t help but feel the warm rush to your cheeks at the compliment. “Oh, this is gonna be a gas!”

With a final giggle and smile, Agnes was gone. You moved closer to Wanda as she let out a happy sigh.

“Before she comes back,” She turns to you fully. “- can I throw that horrid plant out?”

———

“-and you don’t have a song? Nothing special you played at your weddding?” Agnes asked, the magazine sitting on her lap.

“No, nothing special.” That seemed to be the go to answer for Wanda; no song, no inside joke and not even a favourite date. Maybe that was the new era of marriage?

“I’ll just loan you some records then.” Agnes said before pointing to the notepad in your hand. “Mark that off the list, Kiddo.” You nodded and did just that. “What are we up to?”

“We’ve got wardrobe, music and...” God, you had horrible handwriting. “Oh, decor!” Agnes let out a happy hum and looked back at the article.

“Hmm... oh, what about seduction techniques?”

“Oh, I have those.” The loud chuckle made Wanda frown, suddenly unsure.

Agnes was really good at that.

“Of course, you do.”

“Just out of curiosity, what does it say?” You both leaned in, the chair you were sitting on unfortunately made it impossible to see over her shoulder.

“That you should stumble when you walk into a room so he can catch you. It’s romantic.”

“Any other tricks?”

“You could point out that the death rate of single men is twice that of married men.” She suggested with a smirk.

“Now, that’s romantic.” The shared laughter is quick to die down when the phone rings. “Oh.” Agnes hands you a glass of apple cider, a small enough glass to blur the moral line of underage drinking, and raised hers with a grin.

“Drink up, dear.”

“Vision residents.” Wanda said politely over the phone, the voice of her husband making her grin. “Vision, sweetheart.” You had to stop yourself from grimacing at the bitterness of the drink, not a hint of apple was in it. Alcohol was truely disgusting.

“Don’t worry, dear. I have everything under control.” She turned towards you both with a knowing smile, debating whether or not to wrap the cord around her fingers like the giddy school girl she felt like.

Agnes took another sip and clicked her tongue. “Oh! I knew you looked familiar.” She said, adverting you attention. “You’re Lori’s girl, aren’t you?” You couldn’t explain why your stomach dropped. “Lovely woman, real smart cookie. Didn’t she want to be an actress or a.... hmm, oh....um -“

“A journalist.” The bitterness of the cider in that moment seemed like heaven, and you downed the rest in one go. Agnes giggled and nodded.

“That’s right, a journalist, very modern.” The conversation died after that, instead filled with tonight’s plan for Wanda. But even when you laughed and giggled along, deciding which record of Agnes’ to put on, that pit of dread remained.

You just wanted to know why.

———

So maybe baking wasn’t your strong suit, or even a decent hobby, but you did know how to set a mood. The candlight that filled the living room and the smell of vanilla (Agnes had enough of it to make you dizzy) was just the right amount of sweetness and romance.

“All done!” You call with a proud smile on your face. You turned as Wanda peaked her head out from the kitchen door.

“Aw, Kiddo, what would I do without you?” She had her hair curled to perfection, and makeup that made her look like a porcelain doll. She was the perfect wife and you had to admit, Agnes was right about you taking notes. “Are you sure you’ll get home okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” You grab your coat from the dining chair and give her a final smile. “Have fun.” She disappears back in the kitchen and you try to hide the knowing smirk on your face as you hear the front door. “I know, I know, I’ll be gone in two min-“

“You never told me you had kids.” A male voice, one you had never heard before, interrupted you. Your coat buttons were long forgotten as the couple strolled in; Vision looking just as horrified and confused as you.

“I... uh.”

“I didn’t know you were joining us for dinner, Kiddo.” Vision said with a nervous laugh. “Mr. Hart, this is my...”

“Cousin. Just flew in.” You can’t stop your hands from fidgeting as Vision nods.

“Yes! Yes, my cousin, Kiddo.”

“You’re name is ‘Kiddo’?” Mr. Hart is hostile, and his wife has to slap his shoulder when he glares at you.

“Oh stop it, it’s a lovely name.” She steps from behind her husband and lets out a small gasp. “Oh, how every atmospheric.” You forced a polite smile, blowing out one of the candles when she turns.

“What’s going on here, Vision? You blow a fuse?”

“Why don’t you take a seat...” You are quick to grab onto Vision’s hand and pull towards you with a smile. “And we’ll go and fetch the lady of the house.” Vision almost trips on the way to the kitchen behind you, you were a lot stronger then you looked.

“What’s going on?” This was not at all what you thought was going to happen. Maybe you had too much cider? “Where is she?” Vision didn’t wait for you to answer, already out of the kitchen before you could even think of a answer. “Wanda!” She was only there a moment ago.

“Vision.” Her smile fades to horror and she’s quick to move her hands away from Mr. Hart. “Oh! Oh!” She looks back and fourth from Vision and the Harts. When she caught glimpse of you, she nearly fainted, covering her chest as her cheeks bloomed a bright red.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Well, what is... yeah, what is the meaning of...” His stammering wasn’t helping, at all, to calm anyone’s confusion. “Oh, the meaning of it! You want to know the meaning of it.... and the meaning of it is that this is the traditional Sokovian greeting of hospitality.” Wanda nodded, quickly making her way over as Vision covered her eyes. “Guess who?”

“Is that my host behind me?” She faked a laugh and you chose to find interest in your shoes.

“It certainly is.”

“Lovely to make you acquaintance.”

“Yes!” You wished the floor would suck you down to a hole in the ground, the awkwardness almost suffocating. “See, I forgot to tell you my wife is from Europe.” You look up with a grin as Vision put a hand on your shoulder. “And... so is my cousin.”

“Oh, how exotic!” Mrs. Hart said with a grin of her own, how on earth did they buy that?

“We don’t break bread with Bolsheviks.” Her husband grumbled.

“Oh, hush, Arthur!” She slapped his chest playfully with a chuckle. “Have you no culture at all ? And that dress!”

“Yes! It’s... “ Vision can’t help but take a double take at his wife’s appearance. “It’s so... Sokovian, Is what it is! Yes!”

“Can I just see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?” Wanda was light and fast on her feet, making sure to pull the fabric from a lamp before going to the kitchen.

“Oh, Yes!” Vision gestures to the candles and follows his wife.

You turn to the couple, with the brightest smile you can muster.

“Please.” You say with arms wide. “Take a seat, make yourselves comfortable.” The minute they reach the couch and sit, you get to work on the candles. You only get five done before Vision barrels through the door.

“Can you help Wanda? She’s just... “ Mrs. Hart glances over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised. “- finishing dinner.”

You are quick to excuse yourself.

———

“Oh, where is she?” Wanda tightens her apron for the third time, eyes glued to the door. She had changed from the silk, now wearing a modest evening dress.

“Oh, thank heavens!” Agnes had barley even walked past the window and Wanda, wasting no time, opened the back door wide. “Oh, Agnes! You’re a life-saver.”

“What kind of housewife would I be if I didn’t have a gourmet meal for five just lying about the place?” Both you and Wanda grab for the various tins and trays, trying to save the poor woman’s arms. “Not that Ralph ever wants to eat anything but baked beans which explains a lot about his personal hygiene, mind you.”

“I can take that.” You weren’t expecting her to drop the large pot so carelessly, not being able to catch it in time as it hit your foot with loud bang on the floor. “Ow.”

“Oh, my!” Agnes dropped to her knees, wiping off your shoe and picking up the pot and lid. “Butter fingers.” You chuckle and wave it off.

“It’s okay.” She gives you a bright smile and placing everything properly on the bench.

“- sure she’s absolutely fine in there!” The sound of Vision’s voice booms through the kitchen, a warning that made you both flustered.

“Oh, thank you, Agnes. I think we’ve got it covered from here.” Wanda said, placing her hands on the woman’s back and pushing gently.

“Are you sure dear?” Agnes asked, getting a small “mhmm” back from her. “Many hands make light work. And many mouths make good gossip.”

“You’re so naughty.” Wanda scolds playfully, you were kept busy with unpacking several vegetables from her wicker basket.

“Oh, shall I pre-heat the oven then, dear?” The witch was quick to steer her around from it as you moved out of the way.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Oh, alright then. Well I know you’re in a pinch so this menu can be done in a snap.” Agnes made sure to snap her fingers, always one for the theatrics. “Lobster Thermidor with mini-minced turnovers to start.” She moved back towards the counter, Wanda letting out a breath as she followed. “Chicken à la king with twice-cooked new potatos for your second course.” She gave you a pat as she passed you. “And steak Diane and mint jellies for your main.”

Wanda had to move back as Agnes turned once more, finger inches from her face. “Do you set you own jellies, dear?” You both nod. “Good girls.” Wanda grabs her waist again and pushed but as she inches from the outside, she calls out to you. “Recipe cards are on the counter.”

Wanda closes the door, hands up as you read one of the cards.

“So, I guess we should start with-“

“No time, Kiddo.” With a flick of her wrist; every cuboard opened and you had to duck your head down to advoid getting hit with a frying pan. “Sorry.”

The kitchen quickly was in complete chaos; the smell of various veggies and seasonings overwhelmed your senses, and while you tried desperately to grab a wooden spoon from the air to stir, the kitchen bar devider opened.

Yeah, take out the papers and the trash, or you won’t get no spending cash

You and Wanda both watched in a mix of confusion and fear, apparently Vision could sing. You reached up on your toes once more and pulled the spoon down with a satisfied grin.

If You don’t scrub the kitchen floor, you ain’t gonna rock and roll no more

Oh, right. Mrs. Hart was inches away from a stressed out witch and her teenage sidekick surrounding by levitating kitchen supplies.

Time to close the shutters.

Yakety yak! Don’t talk back

You closed them with a sharp slam.

———

The past ten minutes had to be on the list of “worst moments ever” of your life, the world felt a little too off center and you had to remind yourself that breathing wasn’t just a personal choice. Wanda wasn’t doing too great either; the chicken went from borderline ash to newly laid eggs, it was starting to feel a little too warm in here. If you weren’t panicking so much, you might have remembered that the large coat you wore that had wool lining was easily removable.

“How’s the potatos, Kiddo?” Wanda turned to you with a frown at your apparence; you were covered in flour and unmoving from the corner, bowl in hand and eyes shinny.

“Am I moving?” You ask.

“No.” She gently grabs the bowl from your hands, grimacing at the mush inside and pulling you to the table. “Why don’t you have a seat? Hmm, take a few deep breaths and just re- oh no!” It was too late to save the cream from spilling on the floor.

Wanda almost wanted to join you at the table.

“Oh, what was I supposed to do next? What was the main course again?” She let the cards float around her, hands quickly turning them.”it was... steak.” Wrong card. “No. Steak...steak Diane!”

“Yes?!” You manage to look over at the closed blinds, Vision’s voice following again soon after. “I’m just coming... Fred.”

Wanda - after taking her own advice - had finally managed to put the kitchen back in order, all pots and pans back perfectly in their cupboards. You were finally calming down, able take a minute to process as she floated the lobster to the pot of boiling water.

But both of you felt the familiar panic burn through your veins when someone came rushing in from the living room, Wanda letting out a startled gasp and throwing the meat out the window. It was only after the window slammed shut that you realised it was just Vision.

“How can I be of assistance?” He asked with huff. Funny, you wouldn’t think a robot would need to take a breather.

“Well, the chicken is no longer a chicken and the lobsters just flew the coop so the steak is the last man standing.” Wanda replied, grabbing the recipe card from the counter. “It says here I can cut down the prep time with a meat tenderizer.”

“Excellent plan. Where’s the tenderizer?”

“I’m looking at him.” He gingerly took the mallet with a small “ah” and was forced to look up when the divider opened once more.

“Hoo-hoo in there!” Mrs. Hart’s head popped in and Wanda was quick to move, almost ruining the poor woman’s curls when she closed it.

“Hoo-hoo back to you!” She pulls at the strings of her apron with a sigh. “Finish the meat, find the lobsters.” She turned to you. “Lose the coat, Kiddo.” Her apron is pulled from her hips and Vision barley catches it. “We’ll be right back.”

You stand, pulling off the emerald green coat. One look at your dress and Wanda lets out a gasp.

“Can’t go out like that.” She grabbed the coat from you and folded it on your chair, the dress was covered and she had hoped that the coat would have been an effective shield.

“I can go home and change.” You say with a wipe of your cheek. Wanda stops you from moving.

“No, allow me.” She clicks her fingers and - with a dramatic puff of smoke - your old dress is replaced with a beautiful turquoise one, white lining on the collar and floral skirt to match. It was gorgeous. “Perfection. Now, lets go.”

You give a quick “sorry” at the door, startling Mrs. Hart as you trail behind your frazzled friend.

“I hope you’re hungry.” She said with a smile.

“Starved, is more like it.” Mr. Hart replied as he pushed off the couch, a frown permanently placed on his face.

“My head is starting to feel woozy.” A low growl from your stomach seemed to agree with Mrs. Hart, luckily a loud bang from the kitchen covered the sound.

“Were either of you aware that married men are killing single men at an alarming rate?” Wanda’s hands never stopped moving, and the nervous chuckle only made Mr. Hart more frustrated.

“What are you going on about?” Another loud bang made you all jump and you had to stop yourself from cursing. “And what’s going on in there?” You luckily didn’t have to stop him from moving as Wanda fell ontop of him, his hands catching her by the arms.

The room seemed to spin, things were moving so quickly you could barley keep up. Wanda was still in the man’s arms when a loud knocking filled the room, you were sure you were going to faint.

“Who could that be?” Wanda practically ran to the door, happy for the distraction and Vision was quick on her heels. Mrs. Hart pulled at your sleeve, a kind smile on her face.

“Are you alright, dear?”

“I... uh,” The words got lost in your mouth. Could everyone just calm down for a second? The slam of the door forced you both out of the small moment.

“Who was that?” Her husband asked.

“A salesman”

“Telegram!” Vision felt the glare of Mr. Hart. “A man selling telegrams.”

“Wouldn’t you know it.” Wanda added, hands behind her back. “Good news is more expensive.” You couldn’t hear what Vision said after that, but by the way his wife frowned and pulled her apron off him, it must’ve been yet another problem. She glided past you, the sight of a pineapple behind her back didn’t answer any questions, but you let her go on her way regardless.

“Well.” Vision said, hands on his hips proudly. “I think tonight’s going swimmingly. Anyone for Parcheesi?”

“My head is spinning.” Mrs. Hart replied, feet dragging her to the couch.

“Oh, Mrs. Hart -“ You grabbed her arm, gently helping her down as Vision fanned her face.

“Did you hear that? My wife’s head is spinning. Generally speaking, I don’t like her head to do that.” You could feel the annoyance radiating off him. “You know, I’m beginning to think you’re not management material, Vision.”

“Sir, if you could just wait a few -“ The glare he gave almost made your knees buckle, looking at Vision for help as he continued.

“You know, I had high hopes for you. But from what I’ve seen here tonight, you can barley keep it together. I mean, look around.” He gestured around him with his hands. “There’s all the chaos going on in your household. Now, when are we gonna eat?”

“Dinner is served.”

Oh, thank God.

The table behind you was set to perfection; each plate the perfect distance apart, and each with a set of cutlery and wine glass. You’re stomach was growling and you were quick to move to your seat - the only glass filled with some kind of juice - and gave Wanda a grateful smile.

“Breakfast for dinner? How very-“

“European.” Mrs. Hart interrupted, eyes glued to the table.

“Ohh! Let’s have a toast!” Vision moves to his end of the table, the Harts following as you raise your glass. “To my lovely and talented wife.”

“To our esteemed guests.” Wanda adds with a smile. You all clink your glasses with a small “cheers” and take a sip of the juice. It was sugary sweet, but did nothing to fill your belly. “Well, please eat before it gets cold.”

You don’t have to be told twice; sitting besides Mrs. Hart - who Vision was quick to offer a chair to like a gentleman - and letting your napkin rest on your thighs.

“So,” She said as everyone settled properly in their seats. “Where did you two move from?” She grabbed her napkin. “What brought you here?” You cut a small piece of the sausage and raised it to your mouth. “How long have you been married? And why don’t you have children yet?” Wanda let out a small laugh, so many questions!

“I think what my wife means to say is that we moved from...” You took another bite, warmth filling your body, and it took everything in to not gulp down the whole plate.

“Yes, we moved from...” Wanda’s face was a exact mirror of her husband’s, both struggling with empty memory.

“And we were married...”

You couldn’t stop eating, fork always full of egg and toast, the conversation becoming background noise.

“Yes, yes, we were married in...”

“Well? Moved from where ? Married when?” Mr. Hart’s voice snapped you back, another bite and you swallowed it down with a gulp of juice, eyes now between each end of the table.

“Now, patience, Arthur. They’re setting up their story. Let them tell it.” His wife waved him off with a smile and bite of food. Wanda stumbled once more, her fumbling only causing the tension to rise.

“Yes, what exactly is your story?”

“Oh, just leave the poor kids alone.” You took another sip, gagging as you felt something on your tongue.

“No, really, I mean,” It was slimy and thin, and as you pulled it out with your fingers, confusion filled you at the sight of a brown leaf. “I think it’s a perfectly simple question. Honestly.” It dropped to your plate and you picked up the almost empty glass, the bottom was a dark orange, and the hundreds of little pieces floating in it made you feel sick. “Why did you come here? Why?”

Something’s Wrong

Mr. Hart slammed his hand down on the table, startling you to the point of completey dropping your glass, juice staining the carpet by your feet. You were left helpless as you stared at the man in front of you.

“Damn it, why? Why did you...” The air from his lungs vanishes, face turning red as he chokes.

“Oh, Arthur, stop it.”

Why won’t you move?

“Stop it.”

This doesn’t make sense

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.”

Mr. Hart grips the table, letting out another failed attempt of breath before vanishing under it, still chocking.

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.”

This is wrong, all wrong

“Stop it.”

I want to go home

“Vision, help him.”

And just like that, the world makes sense again.

You let out a shaky laugh as Vision helps the man up from the floor. You take one more bite of food as Mr. Hart checks his watch with a sigh.

“Well, would you look at the time?”

“Yes. We’d better be going.” Mrs. Hart replies, standing as you follow suit, making sure to tuck your chair in.

“Well... are you both alright?” Wanda asks, giving you a small smile as they walk to the door.

“We had such a lovely time.” She turns quickly and wraps her hands around Wanda’s eyes. “This guest is leaving your home.” She laughs.

“Yes, thank you for coming.”

You pay them no mind; body moving passed them on autopilot, you didn’t care to hear them say goodbye, didn’t care when Mr. Hart told Vision about a promotion, or when Wanda offered you the guest bedroom since it was just “too late to walk home alone, you didn’t care.

And when you finally slipped into the covers, eyes shutting as sleep took hold of you, you finally felt at peace.

Your mind was yours, and yours alone for the first time that day, and you wanted nothing more then to wake up under the star-lights in your bedroom.

Tag list (open, just ask)

@white-wolf-buckaroo @y-napotat @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @fruitiseavey

All my stuff is open, and I’m always happy to hear from people so feel free to let me know what ya thought. I always get stuck halfway through writing but I hope it wasn’t too hard to read

Off to the sixties we go

#daughter!reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #wandavison x reader #wandavision imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #teen!reader #stark!reader #marvel x y/n #wandavision x you #marvel x you

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mascwhump · 2 years

Text

Trenches, Part 2

Chapter 10 - Kill ‘Em With Kindness

Tag list: @whatwasmyprevioususername @milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101 @whatwhumpcomments @ashintheairlikesnow @tears-and-lilies @utopian819

CW: guns, alcohol

Charlie fought sleep for most of the night. He wasted hours listening, only for nothing to come. Mallory still hadn't woken up. If Charlie hadn't heard him breathing, he would have thought he was dead. He finally allowed himself to sleep after he was certain no one was coming.

He woke up to the sound of gunfire behind the door. His heart was racing, and the adrenaline forced him up instantly. Mallory was still unconscious. There was yelling, then silence. Then, the door opened. Crow and Ethan flew into the room, guns raised. Charlie put his hands up. Crow holstered his gun and walked up to him, pulling him into a tight hug. Ethan joined in as well.

"Never have I been more thrilled to have you point a gun at me," Charlie laughed.

Ethan freed him from the chains and Charlie reached out for the key. He gave him a confused look before handing it to him.

"We've got to go, now," Crow said.

"Hold on," Charlie replied.

He dropped down next to Mallory and started to unlock the cuffs.

"You're joking," Crow said.

"No, I'm not. He's coming," Charlie replied.

"Are you mental? No."

Charlie shoved him against the wall and held onto his jacket.

"He's coming with us, or I'm staying here," he argued.

Crow was appalled, but the seriousness on Charlie's face made him realize he wasn't going to budge.

"Fine, but I'm not fuckin' carrying him," he said.

Charlie went back to Mallory and started shaking him. He slowly started to wake, and Charlie got him to his feet. They followed Crow and Ethan out the door and got into the car.

"What about the dog?" Charlie asked.

"What dog?" Crow replied.

"The white dog. Was she not there with the Russian guy?"

"No, there were only two people."

They started off and Ethan explained that his parents had a cabin somewhere outside of Inverness. It'd be a good seven hours until they got there.

"How'd you find us, anyway?" Charlie asked.

"We saw them grab Mallory and followed," Ethan answered, "we assumed they had you, too."

The sun was beginning to rise. Mallory was asleep again, and Charlie decided to get some rest as well. Crow woke him up when they had stopped at a Tesco a few hours later.

He wasn't able to go in due to his lack of clothing. Crow handed Charlie his handgun to protect himself while he and Ethan went inside. Mallory, who apparently still had his wallet, handed Crow a wad of banknotes. Crow looked at him strangely before taking the money.

"Should be about three-hundred quid. Get whatever you need," Mallory spoke for the first time since getting in the car.

Charlie set the gun in the door pocket after they left.

"I feel like an arse," Mallory muttered.

"You are an ass," Charlie replied.

Thirty minutes later, they returned with a cart full of bags. Crow threw Charlie a shirt and joggers as they were loading everything into the back. Once they were done, they started off again. Ethan showed Charlie a stack of CDs he had bought.

"I have no idea what this is, I just thought the art was cool," he said, pointing to one particularly colorful CD.

"Put it in, let's hear it," Charlie laughed.

They listened to that album, then continued through the rest that Ethan had chosen. Charlie was grateful that they shared a similar taste in music. Finally, around two in the afternoon, they made it to the cabin. Charlie helped load everything inside.

"Alright. I need to have a shower and a nap before I can think about anything else," Crow announced.

"There's one bed, a couch, and a chair," Ethan said.

"Charlie and I can take the bed," Crow replied.

Mallory was clearly uncomfortable with that statement, but didn't protest.

"I'll take the chair," he said quietly.

Charlie was surprised, but it was clear that Mallory was feeling some form of guilt about the situation. Crow went off to take a shower and Ethan began preparing lunch. Mallory curled up on the chair.

Ethan and Charlie took their sandwiches outside on the deck.

"So, what's your reasoning for dragging him along?" Ethan asked.

Charlie shrugged as he took a bite of his sandwich.

"I didn't want to just leave him there," he replied.

"You're a better person than I am," Ethan said, then added, "Cap's not happy."

"He's just going to have to get over it. Mallory isn't going to try anything stupid. I'm pretty sure he knows the thin ice he's skating upon."

Ethan took a sip of his lemonade.

"I believe you. You know him better than we do. Hey, Cap bought a bunch of booze. Maybe we could all have a drink tonight."

"That might be a good idea. Let loose a little bit. We're all gonna be stuck here for who knows how long, might as well try to have some fun. Maybe once you see Mallory act like an actual human being, you'll trust him a little more."

"I don't know about that, but we'll see. It's kind of hard to trust someone after all that."

They finished their lunch and went back inside. Crow had finished his shower and was asleep in the bedroom. Mallory was asleep on the chair.

"I'm going to put away this stuff and take a nap myself," Ethan said.

"Sounds good," Charlie replied.

He went into the bedroom and crawled in the bed next to Crow. Crow opened his eyes and reached for him.

"Hey," he murmured.

He touched Charlie's face and tucked a bit of hair behind his ear. He could barely keep his eyes open. Charlie snuggled closer to him, hiding his face against his chest. Crow kissed the top of his head, and they both fell asleep. When they awoke a few hours later, they lied there for awhile, just enjoying the closeness.

"Ethan and I were thinking we all could have a couple drinks tonight and relax," Charlie spoke softly.

"I don't know if I want to let my guard down," Crow replied.

"If I thought he was a threat, I wouldn't have brought him. Please, I think it'll be good."

Crow sighed.

"Okay, but I'm putting him down the minute he tries anything. Keep in mind that he's not the only threat we have to worry about, though."

They left the room and Crow got started on dinner. Charlie was thrilled. He missed his cooking. Ethan was setting up one of the burner phones they had bought. There was barely any reception where they were, so he was getting frustrated with the speed at which things were downloading. Charlie watched Crow cook.

"Do I have to feed him?" Crow mumbled, half joking.

"Yes. Look, kill him with kindness. He already hates you, make him rethink it," Charlie replied.

Crow took his advice for once, and personally invited Mallory to come eat with them. He did so through gritted teeth, but it was a start. Mallory was hesitant, but he sat at the table with them. Crow had just made a simple spaghetti dish, but Charlie didn't care. Anything he cooked was marvelous.

"You should've been a chef instead," he said with his mouth full.

"I considered it," Crow replied, "it was actually my first choice, but I didn't want to go to school."

"Wow. I wanted to be a dinosaur when I grew up," Ethan butted in.

Charlie was drinking when he said that, and it caught him so off guard that he choked. Ethan started beating on his back.

"A dinosaur?!" Charlie laughed once he caught his breath.

"Yeah! A brachiosaurus," Ethan replied.

"The shortest man of all time wanted to be one of the tallest dinosaurs. Brilliant," Crow said.

Once everyone was done eating, Charlie washed the dishes, of course. Ethan brought the various bottles of alcohol out of the fridge and set them on the counter. Charlie dried off his hands and made himself a rum and Coke. He brought a glass of whiskey over to Mallory in the living room. Mallory took the glass, but looked confused.

"We're drinking," Charlie said, "let's relax a little."

He sat on the couch, and Crow and Ethan soon joined, drinks in hand.

"Maybe we could play a game. I saw this app that's basically truth or dare, but without the dares," Ethan suggested.

"Sure. I'd love to hear more about your weird childhood aspirations," Charlie jested.

Ethan downloaded the app. He tapped on the screen, and the first question came up.

Have you ever smoked weed?

"Uh, no, actually. I've never even really smoked a cigarette," Ethan said.

"Lame," Charlie said, "my turn."

He tapped for the next question.

Would you trade your sibling for a million dollars?

"I don't have a sibling, but you're the closest thing I have to a brother," Charlie said as he poked Ethan, "so if that was the case, yes. I'd sell you for a nickel."

"How rude," Ethan replied.

Crow was snickering behind his glass, until he realized it was his turn.

If you lost one hour of your life every time you said a swear word, would you try not to do it?

"Fuck no. In fact, I'd swear more," Crow said.

"Jesus," Charlie replied.

"I'm here for a good time, not a long time."

It was now Mallory's turn. Charlie slid the phone over to him, and he hesitantly touched the screen.

Did you parents ever give you "the talk"?

"I was lucky if my parents talked to me in general," Mallory laughed.

"I feel that," Crow murmured.

"Hey, look. You have something in common, absent parents," Charlie said.

"Hooray for us," Crow sighed.

They went a few more rounds, continuing to get more intoxicated. The more drunk they got, the funnier their responses became. Charlie was happy that everyone was getting along, even if it was temporary. He knew he was asking a lot for Crow and Ethan to be civil with Mallory. Nonetheless, he appreciated their efforts. It was his turn again.

Would you ever sleep with someone ten years older than you?

"Oh god," Charlie groaned.

"Hey, you've slept with someone eight years older. Ten wouldn't hurt," Mallory laughed.

It took Charlie a second to process what he said, and before he could react, Crow was out of his seat. Charlie grabbed his arm and forced him to sit back down.

"You're lucky I'm too pissed to maim you right now," Crow hissed.

"Yeah, sorry. Didn't think about that one," Mallory replied.

That was the sign to call it a night. Charlie did his best to clean up a bit before heading into the room. Once in bed, Crow held him tight.

#oc #whump #whump rescue #whump story #whump oc #easton’s unnamed story

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

Text

Bad Girl (JJK x Reader) 🎀💜☁️🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Good Girl AU, slight angst, fluff and romance, smut, oh god there’s so much filth

Warnings: DD/LG themes, it’s actually a major part in this so if you’re uncomfy you can skip this chapter thanks, GG is scared to talk to Koo about it, Koo thinks the worst, life lesson to learn from this: talk about shit, cockwarming, Dom!Jungkook, like he’s actually pretty demanding this time, Sub!Reader, non-sexual spanking, Bratty!Reader, toy usage, more to be added if I get carried away writing again

Summary: Jungkook has gotten so used to you being the sweet angel you are all the time, that he’s actually a bit confused when you’re not. Are you unhappy with him? Or do you only need to be put back into your place again?

Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl || Pretty Girl || Charming Girl || Enticing Girl || Bad Girl || ???

Taglist: @sweetenedcooky @ggukkieland @btsismybias22 @darkgvk @daddypkj @flowerprincess24 @crazylittlemay @zeharilisharaban @teresaisla @tangledsparkles @dammit-jjk

Well, this was certainly new.

For hours, Jungkook had been immersed into the screen of his PC- yet he wasn't playing any video game at all. He was desperately trying to come up with ideas, new inspiration, as his mind was seemingly clogged up with random thoughts that didn't fit what he wanted.

Time to get his mind off of things?

Maybe, but Jungkook had ignored you almost the entire day already, the clock now nearing 4 in the evening. You promptly walked over to him, ignoring his attempts to tell you he did not have time right now, but simply seating yourself ontop of his thighs, taking your rightful place on your throne which was his lap. He bit his tongue as he closed his eyes for a second, refraining from saying anything you could take wrongly. "Baby, I have to finish this-" He started, voice growing a bit whiny at the end as his head fall backwards, chuckle escaping him at your struggle to open his fly while he was sitting. "As much as I love the idea I can't fuck you right now princess-" He said, but you shook your head.

"I'll wait then, I can be good." You stated, making his pupils widen at the way you said that. You pulled him out of the warmth inside his underwear, hands moving over the skin of his length as he slowly grew more firm inside your palms. You moved a bit, Jungkook helping you by holding your waist to make sure you couldn't slip off as he watched you curiously, pulling the fabric of your panties to the side as you began to lower yourself. He held you still before you could move.

"No no no wait, condom-" He said hurriedly, but you simply giggled, shaking your head. "Baby no, we talked about that-" He began again, but you looked at him with an innocent face.

"But we're not gonna do anything!" You said, and it dawned on him what you were trying to do.

Cockwarming?

He'd heard of it, Taehyung having told him once that he'd tried but failed, unable to sit still for so long. Yet for Jungkook this could be a challenge for himself to try and keep himself in check, to train his own will by simply leaving himself inside you. This would be the first time going bare, and he didn't want to mess it up. So he nodded, letting you lower yourself down on him, his member enterin you slowly, entirely new feeling as he noticed the way your walls welcomed him inside, warmth comforting in a way he could not describe. This was.. actually not that bad.

"Hm.. you're comfy baby?" He asked, and you nodded, resting your head on the inside of his shoulder as he held you, pulling his chair closer to his Screen again, mind now a bit more calm as he began to collect sketches and ideas more orderly, finally able to catch a decent train of thought. Sometimes you really had great ideas.

Again you'd bee searching for ways to tell Jungkook about things that had been bothering you. No, bothering wasn't the right word.. it was weighing you down, prohibiting you any kind of full forced happiness, because it always crept into the back of your mind, corrupting your thoughts with harsh visions of him calling you weird or even going as far as to leave entirely. After all, it was quite.. weird.

It wasn't like you were regressing into a full forced baby, no. You'd learned to take care of yourself even when you were falling into your headspace, knowing how to make yourself comfortable without any help of someone to watch over you. However, just like everyone else in this world, regardless of who, you craved to share these moments of full on vulnerability with someone you loved and trusted.

Jungkook.

It wasn't like you didn't trust him, but he was someone who'd put his own needs and interests behind just for you, and you didn't want that to happen. As selfish as it sounded, you wanted him to care for you because he wanted to, not because he felt as if he needed to do it in order to keep you happy. You could let go of it just to stay with him, if that was what it would take for you and him to stay together.

"Baby, I was gonna go to the store real quick, you need some..thing.?" His voice got a bit slower and died down eventually as you shut your laptop with quite the amount of force from being startled by him, making him furrow his brows a bit. "Everything alright?" He asked, now a bit more serious in tone as he could sense something off about you.

"Yeah! Sure, eh.. could you pick up some Milk? We're out of it almost so, uh.. yeah.." You said, smiling, yet without true intentions. Jungkook nodded, telling you goodbye as he put on his shoes, grim look on his face not diminishing at all as he thought about your behavior lately. It was quite worrying, how you now began to pick up on the habit of locking your phone with a passcode, not leaving your laptop open anymore, or how nervous you became every time he caught you on either of these devices.

What else was he supposed to think?

Weren't you happy with him? Had he done something wrong? He tried to think of something, anything that would explain you putting distance between you two so suddenly, yet he could not come up with something that would sound rational. And even with all the signs pointing towards it, he could not make himself belief you would genuinely go out and meet someone else behind his back; you were not like that at all. So what was really going on?

He almost dropped the milk carton in his hand as his phone buzzed, the message something that made his stomach drop.

'We need to talk.'

This was planned way better than executed.

Having Jungkook sit in front of you on the bed was making it even harder to just come out and say it. Every time your brain attempted to send the proper signals to your tongue, trying to open your lips to form words, they just wouldn't come out. It was as if you tried to drive a car with the breaks still pressed; it didn't work at all.

Yet you couldn't seem to loosen your breaks.

Jungkook sighed, running a hand over his face, as he took your hand into his, worried look on his face. "Look.." He began, and you watched him as his thumb gently drew circles on the back of your hand, his eyes averting your gaze. "If you want to break up-"

"NO!" You immediately said, loudly, startling both of you as you sat up straighter, grabbing his hand with both of yours, holding onto it as if it would disappear if you didn't. He looked at you with wide eyes, genuinely confused. That.. wasn't it? Then what had you so secretive and skittish lately? "I mean, except if you want to-" He smiled a bit, scooting forwards to have you closer, legs now on either side of his hips as you sat on his thighs.

"No, never. I thought you wanted to." He said, interlacing his fingers behind your back to keep you close, as he looked at you more calmly now. "But I know there's something you want to tell me." He hummed, trying to coax you out of your shell with a gentle tone of voice. It seemed to work as you visibly began to think. "It's alright, you can tell me anythi-" He started, but you cut him off.

"Do you know what.. uh.. you know, dd-lg means.?" You carefully asked, and his eyes widened for the nth time that day, looking at you with wonder. That.. that was what you were so worried about?

He simply nodded. "I know about it. Why?" He asked, even though now he had a hunch of what was actually the issue. It did explain a lot for him as he thought about all the instances you'd hinted at it in the past, never having the courage to actually say it out loud. "You're a little, is that it?" He wondered, and you nodded, looking down as he smiled gently, lifting your chin up. "Hey no, it's alright, really. I already suspected something like that, to be honest." He said, and your gaze finally found his.

"You did?" Weren't you secretive enough about it? Maybe he'd seen your search history, but then again, you were always so careful to only ever use incognito tabs and to always keep your phone and laptop close so he wouldn't accidentally stumble upon anything weird. Yet he proved again that you could hide basically nothing from him, as he smiled, absolutely not unnerved by any of it.

"Hmhm." He hummed as he visibly relaxed. "I mean it. It's okay." He said, and you fiddled with your fingers. "But that's not all there is, isn't it?" He asked, knowing what you wanted to ask, yet choosing not to take that burden from you. You needed to talk openly to him.

"I just.." You started, before looking at him. "So, you're like.. okay with it?" You asked, and he still smiled, while nodding to confirm your answer silently. "Would you.. like, you know.. take care of me, when I'm like this..?" You mumbled, and again confirmed, before verbally answering.

"I'll admit, I'm kinda.. uncomfortable with you calling me daddy though, if that makes sense, but I guess I'll eventually grow into it." He said, as you shook your head.

"you don't have to." You said, hugging him tightly as you began to rest your head onto his chest. "You'll just stay my 'Koo.." You hummed, as he chuckled, holding you close to him.

Yeah, he could definitely grow fond of that.

"No baby, we can't just order takeout all the time. It's not healthy." He argued, as you sat on the couch, pouting at him as you were getting ready to call back, just to have him turn around. "Don't even start young lady, No means no." He said sternly, making you deflate as you simply rested your chin on the back of the couch, shutting your mouth. Ever since you'd both agreed on the dynamic you now practiced, Jungkook had been slowly setting up more and more rules for you, some being more strict than others. You loved that, you were happy he was feeling comfortable with it, and deep down you knew it was in your best interest, yet you also only now realized how much freedom you'd had before. Yet even though you could feel the need to test your boundaries, you'd stayed compliant and a good girl until now.

Even though you were curious what he'd choose as punishments.

Jungkook had informed himself after your talk, silently learning more about what he should and shouldn't do. He was growing more and more into the role of an actual caregiver, having agreed to simply test things out instead of using someone else's rules or punishments as yours. Communication was key for you, and honesty as well; you were always free to tell him that you were feeling big, in which case your rules did not apply and you were free to do as you pleased. He trusted you to never use that as an advantage, simply believing in himself and his ability to spot lies on your face as soon as they'd leave your lips.

Something crinkling caught his attention.

"Y/n." He simply said, making you halter all movements as you cringed, caught in the act as you'd tried to open a pack of oreos on the couch, hidden from his sight. He'd heard you, however, and the way he called your actual name meant that he was everything but amused by your actions. "I believe we talked about having sweets before a meal as well." He said, feet stepping closer before he leaned over the couch, inked hand easily taking the sweet treats from your hands as you looked down your lap. Yet your toes wiggled in tension. Had you finally reached the end of his patience?

"Go and wait inside the bedroom until I call you out for dinner. No Laptop, and your phone stays here as well." He said, tone not leaving any room for arguments against his statement. Your lips turned downwards, yet you slowly complied, pulling out your phone and placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch, before walking inside your shared bedroom, attempting to close the door. "No, leave it open so I can still hear you." He said, and you sighed, before flopping down onto the bed.

Yet you also smiled.

He slowly learned more and more about what was right, and what wasn't.

For example, whenever you were feeling small, you were absolutely oblivious to anything of a sexual nature, which made him come to the conclusion that your littlespace and subspace actually were two different things. It made sense to him, the way your gaze would change as soon as you'd switch mindsets was a clear sign of what he could and could not do.

Sure, there have been awkward moments as well, and you had been crying a few times from too harsh punishments such as time outs as well- but that was part of the learning experience for both of you. You'd told him that you genuinely never had an actual caregiver in that sense, which only stroked his ego even more as he realized this was another first he'd claimed as his. Even if it was without actually knowing.

He felt proud.

"Koo?" You asked, eyes wide open and watching him from the doorway as he read through an article about a convention nearby showcasing some of the best airbrush artworks the town had to offer. He turned around in his chair, patting his thighs.

"You're feeling small?" He asked, and you nodded, walking towards him as you sat down on his lap, hugging his middle the best you could as you tried to read whatever he was reading. Something caught your attention as you called out his name again, pointing at the screen where his name was actually written. "Yeah, that's me." He confirmed, smiling at you.

"Why?" You asked cursiously, genuinely wanting to know, yet your mind was hazy, making it hard for you to form proper sentences. He didn't mind.

"Koo 's gonna be there and show his work to others." He said, and your eyes looked at him in awe, happy that he'd actually been chosen to be able to show his talent. You wanted to congratulate him, yet the only thing you truly got to do was hug him tighter, mumbling something that sounded like the word 'proud' into his sweater as he grinned, running a hand over your back. "Thank you princess, I'm pretty proud of myself too." He hummed, before closing the tab, picking you up and letting both of you fall onto his bed, tired from the last days of work, trying to perfect what he would be showcasing the upcoming week. You giggled before moving closer, laying flat on top of him as he sighed happily, eyes closing as you both drifted off.

“Huh, so now you wanna be a good girl?” He grunts our as he pushes your wrists back onto the bed, denying you any physical contact you desire to have with him. He decides what you get, and you look at him with wide eyes as his dark ones stare into yours. “Well that’s not how it works sweetheart.” He mumbled, flipping you over so you were on your stomach, pulling your legs towards him to lift your lower body onto your knees, center exposed to him in a for you humiliating position. “You can’t just pull stunts like that and then try to wiggle yourself out of it just by batting your pretty eyes at me.” He said, voice dangerously low and steady. He seemed so calm that it showed how well he fit the role of the dynamic you’d discussed earlier. This was him, through and through. “What was that?” He asked as you mumbled something into the pillow below. He brought his hand down onto your bottom as you still didn’t speak clearly enough, making you Yelp.

“Said ‘m sorry!” You whined out, and his palm flattened out, soothing the still tingling flesh of your behind as if to apologize. He hummed, hands wandering until you could feel his fingers spread your lower lips apart, admiring your glistening center. You moved your hips a bit, only earning his hands on either side of them, holding you still.

“I don’t think you understand yet..” he said, as he unplugged the charging cable from the toy next to him on the bed, the device now charged. “You’ll have to do better than that.” He whispered, as he pushed the toy inside you excruciatingly slow, making you whine. He simply chuckled at that.

“Or don’t you want to be my good girl again?” He mused, turning it on as you squeaked, hands gripping the sheets underneath you as you gasped.

So how did you end up in this mess?

Well, it actually wasn't your fault at all. Jungkook had just been on edge that day, that was it, not the fact that you'd sneaked sweets into the bedroom to brighten up your punishments, how you'd 'accidentally' put one of his white shirts into the same wash your red underwear and dresses were in, or how you'd been throwing a small tantrum when he'd told you to stay seated and finish your meal. Peas were gross and he knew you hated them. You didn't get why he wanted you to eat them anyways.

So yeah, maybe you had felt particularly bratty today, but when you were little, he never punished you sexually at all- it was an unwritten rule not to take any sort of advantage of you while in that absolutely oblivious headspace. So how come this was happening?

Well, Jungkook was too observant for your own good, you'd realized.

Because in the midst of your impish tactics to rile him up, he'd noticed your demeanor change. Whenever you were little, he knew that you would eventually get tired more easily; you'd simply get boosts of energy before taking naps between them. You were also not that interested in being disobedient at all, only thriving from his praise and smile, never enjoying punishments at all. He knew something was off when you'd started to giggle every time he snapped at you, and his suspicions were confirmed when he'd spanked you in the middle of the hallway- earning a very different kind of gasp from you.

In subspace, things were quite different. You were completely sure of what you both were doing, knowingly and fully consciously giving your control up to him while being aware of what may happened. This was a different kind of headspace, where he was free to use and ruin you to every extend he deemed fitting.

And oh how he craved to put you into your place this time.

"I don't think I ever said anything about you touching yourself." He growled, free hand grabbing your wrists back yet again, holding them tightly above your head as you whined, craving a different kind of touch to a different part of you. He knew this, was very well aware of the fact that you could generally only reach an orgasm if you were being stimulated instead of penetrated, but that was his plan. This wasn't about you; this was a punishment, and about his own fun.

"hm, you think I could try and make you cum like this?" He sang almost, changing the settings of the toy still inside you to a higher one, making your hips stutter as you shook your head, trying to tell him not to, as he simply chuckled leaning back on his knees as he watched you squirm. "Huh, that wasn't a question baby." He said, beginning to move the toy before stopping, as he clicked his tongue when you tried to reach for it again. Three time's the charm, you guessed. He however was not amused, pulling the toy out completely as you gasped from the sudden feeling of emptiness as he flipped you over, pulling on your thighs to have your behind facing him, hand falling down onto it with force, making the skin sting and turn pink. "You really love testing me, don't you?" He gritted out, hitting again and again as you moaned into the sheets below, making him scoff. "I can feel you leaking on my thigh, dirty girl." He mumbled close to your ear as he moved you yet again, positioning you on your knees to present your center towards him embarrassingly, making you whine. "Oh you don't get to complain baby. You wanted this, right?" He said with fake sympathy as his fingers moved over your pearl, pace without any form of gentleness as your voice failed, simply breathing heavily as your hands curled into fists, holding onto the cotton sheets as if your life depended on it. The sounds made by his hand on your exposed cunt were absolutely obscene, making the tips of your ears turn red as he continued his pace, inked hand working on your most vulnerable muscle without any mercy.

Not even when you came.

You cried out, trying to reach him but failing due to his positioning, sobbing without tears as you felt something within yourself snap, Jungkook groaning out loud as he noticed the clear liquid bursting out, making his length ache as his free hand grabbed onto it, moving it leisurely at the scene in front of him. "There you go!" He exclaimed, letting you fall down as he turned you over, spreading your legs as you caught a glimpse of him, toned abdominal muscles glistening with your release as he pumped his length, condom already wrapped over it.See?" He said as he chuckled darkly. "You can be a good girl after all." He praised, making you smile a bit as your core clenched around nothing, still sensitive to anything that came close to it. His predatory grin told you however, that this was not over yet. Pushing inside you, you mewled at the sensitivity, as he hushed you, pulling you close by your legs as he began to thrust forwards, rhythmic pace easily found as his hand moved over your breasts, kneading them before his hands wandered lower, holding your waist as he continued, breathing heavily as he growled, head dipping down to bite and mouth at your neck, leaving your skin red on his way, those marks soon to blossom into heavenly shades of purples as he let himself go, mouth finally finding yours, stealing every breath as he kissed you with need, want, as if he wasn't close enough to you already. "Hah you're so sweet-" He moaned, kissing you again before letting your lungs fill with oxygen again. "I love you, I love you so much" He whispered, picking up his pace as he bit his lip, thrusts hard and shaking your body, the sound of skin against skin echoing inside the room with wet noises, yet both of you didn't care as he finally let out a breathy sound, head falling back as he came, before lowering himself again, catching his breath as he still moved lazily, riding out his high as you moved a bit underneath him, making him laugh without sound. "My good girl getting greedy?" He hummed, pushing himself inside of you and staying there, hand reaching between your bodies to find your sensitive bud, fingers drawing circles over it in well practiced motions that made you suddenly cry out, your walls clenching around his cock still nestled inside you, making him humm in oversensitivity.

"Thats okay.." He whispered, moving again as he huffed, sweat running down his temples as he felt himself overcome the almost painful feeling of his most recent orgasm, picking up his speed as a small laugh mixed in between his desperate tries to even out his breathing. His hair was getting curly from the moisture, falling over his eyes and giving him the sheer visuals of the devil himself, making you sob as you desperately tried to keep your hands away from him. "It's alright, you're so good to me, you can touch me, yeah?" He chanted, and you immediately took the invitation, hands reaching for his arms, holding onto them as if your life depended on it. He smiled at the sight, at the simply view of your tears dying down as soon as your hands got in contact with him again, mind now at ease again with his presence confirmed to your closed eyes. "Such a good girl, taking it all so well, so good.." He said, voice low and rumbling as he went faster, now feeling himself tense again, to his surprise. "Can you cum again for me? Just one more?" He asked, and you shook your head, although a bit unsure. "You can do it, I know you can, just one baby.." He pressed out between gritted teeth, breathing hard against your neck as his thrusts began to dwindle, growing more and more unsteady as he suddenly began to pick up his face, mouth opening before he bit down his lip, breath coming out of his nose as his forehead fell into the crook of your neck, hand desperately trying to reach your center, sloppily rubbing over it as you snapped yet again, hot white pleasure painting the inside of your eyelids it seemed as you mewled, holding onto him for dear life as he felt himself cum without spilling, your release however coating his thighs again, if not as much as the first time.

He fell down next to you after pulling out his now softening length, breathing heavily as he closed his eyes, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, both of you utterly and thoroughly spent. He wanted to take care of you, but all he could really do was tie a knot at the end of the condom after pulling it off of himself, tossing it into the bin, before pulling you close. He could do that after he'd taken a short nap. Right now his bones felt like rubber, his muscles aching in the most pleasing ways as he decided the cleanup could wait after recharging.

You noticed that you were being carried, before you slowly opened your eyes. The scent of laundry detergent filled your senses as you instinctively tried to curl closer to the soft material of Jungkooks sweatshirt, making him chuckle. "Baby you gotta let go, I have to change the sheets." He cooed gently, placing you on the couch as you simply nodded, fists uncurling as you simply stayed where you were, noticing the oversized sweater you were dressed in.

He did this generally after sex. He loved whenever you put on his clothes, yet after being close like this, it held a special meaning towards him, making him feel as if he'd claimed you.

You loved it.

Balling up the sheets in his arms, he began to throw them into the washing machine,open window letting fresh air inside the stuffy room as miri followed him, making him watch his steps as to not accidentally hurt her. He sometimes stopped to pet her head, grinning when her little tail began to wag excitedly. "Come on, lets go cuddle our sleeping beauty, yeah?" He whispered with mimicked excitement, making the dog bark as he hushed her, speedwalking towards the couch as the small poodle ran after him, yapping at your hands as he suddenly threw himself over you, careful not to crush you under his weight as he held himself up on his knees and elbows pressed into the soft cushions underneath, his nose tickling yours as you giggled.

The way he could go from an absolute demon to the softest young man alive gave you whiplash, but you wouldn't have it any other way with him.

"Jungkookie.."

"What is it?"

"Can you carry me to McDonalds?"

"First of all its been two days, second of all, get on my back."

#bts #bts imagine #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts reactions

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: If The Bunker Had Windows Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x female reader Words: ±5250 words Description: When a Djinn case doesn’t go as planned, not everyone makes it. Dean, who is burdened by guilt, holes himself up alone in his room for days, until Y/N comes in to check on him. Will the girl who was his perfect world be able to pull him back from the darkness? Warnings: Angst/comfort. Mutual pining, some fluff. Description of canon typical violence and supernatural creatures. Mentions of injury, death and alcohol abuse. Depression, refusal to eat, grieving, crying. Satisfying ending. Author’s note: A one shot that will punch you in the feels, according to my betas @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons. Always grateful for you girls helping me out! And to my readers, I hope you enjoy my reading, thank you for your support.

Serenity floats through the halls of the Men of Letters headquarters, like the morning mist on an autumn day. If the bunker had windows, the sun would have shone diagonal beams through the glass, warm and welcome, but instead it’s the light from the vintage table lamps that give this home its glow.

Y/N moves down the hall towards the galley, her sock covered feet softly padding against the marble floors. Despite her stealth approach, Sam is waiting for her to appear in the doorway, his eyes already lifted from the tablet that lays flat on the mahogany table. “Morning,” he greets, continuing to swipe through news articles, in his search for a case. “Coffee’s brewing.”

She descends down the two steps and sets foot into the kitchen, the aroma of roasted beans flooding her senses. The night hasn’t been without worries and all the more without sleep, so she can use a good dose of caffeine. “Thanks,” she returns.

After pouring herself a generous amount of the dark beverage, her thoughts wander off to the other inhabitant of this oddly cosy concrete structure. Dean’s absence is obnoxiously evident, the air not filled with grumpy mutters before he had his coffee, neither with a lame joke that he found on the back of the cereal box, that only he finds funny. With a deep sigh, she turns around with her favorite mug in her hand, resting against the counter. “Has he come out of his room yet?”

Sam’s jaw flexes, the tall giant with a gentle heart glancing over. He doesn’t even have to shake his head for Y/N to know the answer. Shutting her eyes for a few seconds, she takes a sip from her hot drink, burning her tongue, but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the pain she knows Dean is in.

It’s been three days since the brothers returned from a particularly tough hunt. She remembers Sam’s voice hollering through the bunker, and she instantly realized that something terrible had happened. When she found the Winchesters in the garage, Dean leaning on his sibling and barely able to stay on his feet, the air was stolen from her lungs. His skin was paler than those of the spirits she has faced and he seemed barely conscious. His eyes beheld an emptiness that faded the forest green of his irises, leaving nothing but a shallowness that reminded her of death, even though his heart was still faintly beating.

A Djinn had gotten to him, and by the time Sam found his brother, strung up to the ceiling of the monster’s den, he was barely alive. It was too late for the young college student who the hunters were hoping to save, her corpse dangling in shackles next to Dean, drained of blood and life. She was all but a grim memoir of their failure, a reminder of the fate that would have befallen the hunter, had the younger Winchester sibling not found him.

Back home, Sam and Y/N carried Dean to the infirmary and thankfully got a hold of Castiel, who came to the rescue as fast as he could. The angel might not be at full power, but he was able to pull his friend away from the reaper, who was without a doubt waiting to claim his soul like the vultures that they are.

Even though Cas glued the shattered shards back together until Dean was physically whole again, something inside him remains damaged beyond repair. The mighty hunter, who faces his enemies head on and with guns blazing, who laughs Death in the face, is defeated, and there is not much the cosmic being can do to change that. A broken body is much easier to heal than a broken mind.

Y/N puts her empty coffee mug aside and exhales, coming back to the present. “Did he eat, at least?” she wonders, a desperate hopefulness in her pitch. Again, Sam shakes his head. “He left dinner by the door without touching it. I’m sorry.” The younger Winchester doesn’t have to apologize, after all, it’s not his fault that the food was left untouched. Yet, he knows their female companion had put a lot of effort in making Dean his favorite burgers, hoping it would persuade him. “It’s okay, Sam,” she assures, forcing a smile.

While the younger Winchester brother returns his attention to his tablet, Y/N takes a moment to collect herself. She then turns to the kitchen counter and crouches down, taking a large frying pan from the lower cabinets. After lighting up the stove and carefully placing a second ceramic pot on the fire, the bunker’s second best cook opens the refrigerator and collects a carton of eggs, milk, bacon and cheese.

Sam watches her move around the galley, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing?” “I’m making Dean breakfast,” she states, matter of factly. The hunter sighs, pity evident in the soft exhale. “Y/N--” “I have to try, Sam.” She cuts him off, the tremble in her voice noticeable.

Their eyes meet when the woman glances over her shoulder, still stirring the milk and eggs in a bowl. The younger Winchester is well aware that this meal will most likely end in the trash like the others, but he understands why she feels the need to take care of his brother. It’s her way of letting Dean know that she’s not giving up on him, no matter how thick the fog grows in the mind of the tormented hunter. It’s her way of keeping busy and doing something, anything, because watching from the sidelines while someone suffers, is not in her nature. Especially not when that person is Dean, the man who she cares so much for, more than she would like to admit.

Sam’s lips press into a thin line, the corners reaching up slightly. The crow’s feet by his eyes wrinkle and become a little deeper, despite the brown hair that frames his gentle expression. She and Sam have been friends for a long time and often don’t need words anymore. With just a look, he explained that he sympathizes with her, and that he’s thankful for her efforts.

She returns his small smile and focuses on her cooking again, laying out the bacon into the hot frying pan, watching the meat as it starts to sizzle.

Twenty minutes later, Y/N walks down the hallway towards the dorms, a tray in her hands decked out with scrambled eggs, french toast and a fresh cup of coffee. Before the first room on the right, she halts, staring at the golden ‘11’ on the wooden barrier in front of her. Contemplating if she should leave the warm meal on the threshold or not, she looks down at her feet. “Dean?” she calls out, hesitant. “Is it alright if I come in?”

Her question remains unanswered, only fueling her doubt. Is he sleeping? Would she be crossing a line if she enters? Of course she wants to grant him his privacy, but he has been cooped up in there for three days now, without food, without social interaction. There have been many times when she was worried sick about the hunter who has already endured so much, and these past days only add to that count. What is the right approach here? Give him more time?

Closing himself off and pushing down the agony is his go-to coping mechanism, and although it isn’t a healthy one, she always respected the space he needed to move past the pain. She’s used to him being quiet, taking the Impala for late night drives, drinking more than usual and sleeping less. But at least he came out of his room, at least he ate. Now, everything is different.

Before she can reconsider, she balances the tray in one hand, freeing the other to reach for the brass knob. Carefully, she pushes the door ajar, allowing the light from the hallway to bleed into Dean’s room. The state in which she finds the resilient soldier, who courageously charges into battle and has won wars on strength and will alone, almost brings her to tears. He’s in his bed, curled up on the far left of the mattress, leaving the empty space next to him vacant. His back is turned towards her as he lays in a fetal position, the comforter pulled up over his shoulder. The darkness that surrounds him only seems fitting for his frail state of mind.

Y/N isn’t sure if the older Winchester brother is even awake, since he fails to respond to her presence, but she steps into the shadows nonetheless. “Dean? I brought breakfast,” she announces, softly enough that if he is sleeping, her words will not wake him.

The broken form in the bed shifts slightly. She might not realize it, but Dean has heard her, and has done every single time she has brought him something to eat. Her light footfalls passing his room, the hesitation on his doorstep, the soft knocks on the wood, the sigh when she turned away again. A part of him was glad she never came in before, yet at the same time, he was fighting the urge to call out, craving her company, her touch. Anything even remotely close to the way she was with him in his dreams, when held captive.

“I’m not hungry,” he croaks, his voice failing after not having used it for so long. “You’ve got to eat something,” she tries again. “It’s been a couple of days.”

The beaten hunter turns into his pillow, leaving the woman who intends to make him feel better by the door. A shuddering breath falls from her lips, one laced with disappointment and frustration. He should be used to letting people down by now, but it still stings. Struggling to not give in to his own longing, he opens his weary eyes and stares at the empty bottle on his nightstand, the whiskey it once beheld long gone.

Dean expects her to leave. It would do him justice, because he doesn’t deserve such kindness. But instead, he can hear her shuffle closer. She makes room on the side table, putting the remnants of his self medication down on the floor, the glass thudding softly on the stone surface, and sets down a tray. The smell of bacon fills his nose, and even though his stomach growls in response, he is sure the food would turn to ash in his mouth. Nothing can still the hunger that this perfect dream stirred up. Nothing can fill the hole in his gut that has only grown larger since Sam pulled him away from the world created by the Djinn he was supposed to kill.

He gave in to a fairy tale, even though he is well aware they are make-believe. He couldn’t leave that utopia, because for once, he just wanted to be happy. Instead of stepping up and slaying the monster at the end of the book, he was selfish, weak, and a girl died because of it.

His self-destructive chain of thought is interrupted when the bed dips down, Y/N taking up the small space on the edge of the mattress. Her delicate hand reaches for him, moving his tousled hair from his forehead, running her fingers through his light brown locks. Closing his eyes, he swallows with difficulty, biting down to keep the tears at bay. He doesn’t want her to see him in this state, to see the fucked up train wreck that he is.

“Talk to me,” she says softly, her whisper breaking the silence, but Dean shakes his head. “I can’t,” he returns, hoarse. “You should go.” She stands her ground. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tired hunter doesn’t have the energy to argue, and for a while, they just are. Dean on his side, huddled under the comforter, Y/N right next to him, one leg pulled under her, the other dangling from the edge of the bed. The motions of her gentle caressing almost lulls him to sleep, but he doesn’t allow unconsciousness to take him. The second he drifts off, he will be faced with either the same old horrific nightmares he has gotten used to, or return to the dream that will never be. Waking up from either will be too devastating for him to handle.

Wishing she could offer him any kind of solace, Y/N allows her thumb to rub his temple, cupping his handsome face gingerly. The action draws his weary eyes to meet hers for the first time this morning. The slight improvement should be a relief, yet it is anything but. The sorrow that swims in his gaze breaks her heart.

“It isn’t your fault,” she offers, her words so soft, that if the room hadn’t been draped in silence, the hunter would have missed it. Dean looks away, however, shaking his head slightly, unable to accept her comfort. “It is. I could’ve snapped out of it.”

The woman by his bedside furrows her brow, her expression soft and sympathetic. Why does he expect the impossible from himself? Why does he have to rescue everyone on this earth? No one can live up to that, not even the hero that he is. It’s a burden too heavy to bear for any being, a responsibility that sets him up to fail, because he can’t save them all. He would always beat himself up, whenever they would lose an innocent during a hunt, but this time there’s more to it. This time he can’t get up.

“A Djinn put you under. How could you have known it was a dream?” she says, trying to help him see that this blame is not his to take. “That’s the thing,” he sighs, the air that flows from his lungs substantial with regret and remorse. “I was aware it wasn’t real. I just… I didn’t wanna wake.”

Without pausing, her gentle touch traces the scruff on his cheek as she analyses his words that raise so many questions. If he knew what he was experiencing was indeed a fantasy, then why didn’t his hunter instincts kick in? Coming back from a coma as such is anything but easy. Yet just like with a vivid nightmare, once one realizes the terrors are nothing but a manifestation of their deepest fears, they can fight their way back to the surface. What could Dean have possibly seen that would keep him from coming home? “What did you dream about?” she wonders.

His focus turns in a thousand yard stare, as if he can see it all again. Every reason that made him decide to lay down his weapons when the creature captured him. Every experience that was so tentative, that he was ready to swap that reverie for reality. Every vision, every touch, every smile, every laugh. Every wish come true. It is right there, just out of reach, displayed behind the glass that encases his memories, reminding him of what will never be.

“Mom, Dad... they were alive,” Dean begins, the recollections causing his eyes to shimmer. “Your parents too. Sammy was married to Jess. She was pregnant.”

Y/N listens to the fallen hunter breathlessly, trying not to blink, because she knows it would force the tears to fall from her lashes. Slowly, it begins to dawn on her why he couldn’t find his way back.

“There were no monsters, we didn’t hunt. Sam was a lawyer, I owned an auto shop. We had family barbecues, dinner during thanksgiving. It was…” he lets out a shuddering breath, drops brewed by bittersweet reminiscence rolling down from the corner of his eye. “It was simple, peaceful, without the constant worry. No sorrow, no regret. And you, the way you were smiling… I’ve never seen you glow like that.”

He breaks away from the perfect vision, glancing at the woman who he got to call his in that dream. The woman who he lived with, in a house by a lake, with a back porch looking out over the water. The woman who he married and gave him two beautiful children. The woman who he loves, and in that perfect world he allowed to love him back.

Dean tries to swallow down the painful lump that obstructs his throat as a hint of a smile tucks at the corner of his mouth. He could tell her all that, but it wouldn’t do her any good. In fact, that illusion might break her, just like it broke him. Instead, he allows a final sentence to fall from his lips, but the emotion that has closed around his airway only allows a whisper. “We were so happy.”

Tears find their way down Y/N’s face, leaving shimmering pathways in their wake. Not a word has left her, not even the smallest sound. She doesn’t trust her voice to ease his dreadful affliction.

It makes sense now, why he couldn’t bring himself to pop that bubble. What Dean experienced, it sounds perfect. It is the definition of heaven, not just for him, but for all the people he cares about. It shouldn’t be a surprise to her that the selfless man only wants what’s best for his family, eliminating his personal desires, but it moves her nonetheless. Their happiness, her happiness, is Dean’s. It’s only then that his choice of words begins to settle in her conscience. “We?”

Confusion adds to all the emotions that pass by in her misty eyes like frames of a silent film. The hunter’s gaze meets hers again, and he’s not sure if he should be terrified or relieved when he sees that puzzlement transition into comprehension. The puckered lines between her brows even out as her mouth opens slightly, her eyes growing larger, boring into his soul. “We were together,” she realizes.

Dean doesn’t have to confirm, it wasn’t a question after all. She has figured it out already, and that conclusion now hovers between them, neither of the two knowing what to do with the revelation. “Doesn’t matter,” he eventually whispers. “It was just a dream.”

The downhearted conclusion has Y/N tilt her head to the side, watching the man who she has loved ever since she met him. The memory is one she holds dear, the wide grin he flashed after witnessing her taking down two vampires with a machete, before he and his brothers even got the chance to make the kill. She didn’t think she needed saving, but when his emerald greens took her in, she felt a warmth flair in her heart. He did in fact rescue her that day, and now it was her turn to rescue him. Y/N breathes in, because in order to do so, she needs to be brave.

Her left hand reaches for his, which is holding onto the pillow under his head. She takes it, unfolding his clenched fist, and laces their fingers together. “It doesn’t have to be,” she speaks softly.

For a few seconds Dean beholds their entwinement, astounded by the gesture. Is she doing this because she feels sorry for him? Because she’s worried that her resentment would send him further into the dark? But when he glances up at her, the look she gives him stuns the hunter. There’s no pity, nor desperation. All he sees is a softness in her beautiful eyes, a calmness that tells him that it’s alright, that she knows, and that she feels the same way.

“Y/N...” he utters, unable to let go of her hand, but not ready to close her palm in his a little tighter. “We can’t. It’s only gonna end sad and bloody.” She shrugs at that, running her thumb over his rough skin, the motion soothing them both. “Maybe,” she agrees, “but denying this, not giving in to what we feel, isn’t that worse?”

His chest rises and falls slowly, his focus now locked on their hands again, while the woman still seated on the side of his bed holds her breath. It’s almost as if he’s too scared to look at her, aware how fragile this moment is. They are at a crossroads, and depending on the direction he decides to take, this instant might remain just that, a jiff, or it might be the start of something new, yet terrifying.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Dean sighs, fresh tears glistening though his long lashes.

Swallowing with difficulty, Y/N looks down, sniveling. She can feel him slipping through her fingers like sand in an hourglass, every passing second taking the battered hunter further away. But before she loses him all together, she strengthens her hold. “I know you don’t,” she acknowledges, “but having to look back at some point, realizing we missed our shot and watched that ship sail by, that would cause me so much pain, that I--”

The whimper that falls from her lips, draws his gaze up to study her expression. She’s crying silently, her mouth firmly closed in a thin line. The woman who goes out her way to make him feel better, is breaking in front of him because of his doing, and it hurts him more than anything he has felt in the past three days. Instinctively, he frees himself from her hold, only to take her small hand in his palm, protectively wrapping his fingers around hers. The reassurance gives her just enough strength to continue her plea.

“After everything we’ve been through, the losses, the sacrifices. Hell, multiple apocalypses…” she begins, barely able to grasp how many battles they have survived. “We deserve this.”

There is not a doubt in the hunter’s mind that Y/N has earned all the happiness the universe can offer, but him? No, he hasn’t. People have died because of him, lives ruined, families torn apart. He has made too many mistakes, and no amount of good deeds could set the record straight. “Why would you wanna be with me?” he huffs, shaking his head slightly. “I’m such a fuckin’ mess...”

Y/N takes him in, the man who has never believed he was good enough for anything. There is not a monster on this planet that could hate Dean more than he hates himself. If only he could see how Sam looks up to his big brother, how proud he would have made his parents, if they had still been alive. If only he could see her, and know how much she loves him.

Taking a bold step, she begins to lower herself, leaning towards him. The action is rushed, afraid that the coward inside of her might alter the course, but once her lips meet Dean’s, she stills. She can sense him freezing against her and panic jolts through her body, the fear of rejection almost having Y/N pull back herself. But then he eases, his mouth moving with hers. The kiss is short and light. Neither of them intends to deepen the touch, the gesture adding enough depth to the situation as it is.

When she opens her eyes, his are still closed. Almost as if he was still in the Djinn’s hold, and can’t let go of the bliss that surrounds him. A small smile adorns her soft features as she waits for him to look at her, which he only does when she lovingly brushes her nose against his.

While his focus bounces over her features, taking in every perfect imperfection that makes the woman before him so unmistakably her, he mirrors her smile. No one wants to disturb this precious moment, but Dean has to let out the breath he was holding for some time. He shifts his head against the pillow, watching how Y/N pulls his hand closer, pressing her lips to the knuckles, lovingly.

“I’m a mess too,” she admits. “I’m just as scared, Dean. But, together it might just get a little more bearable. I know I’m just a fraction of that dream--” “- Y/N.” The hunter stops her then and there, pushing himself off the mattress on his elbow. He might not think of himself as worthy, but he will not stand for her effacing her own purpose. The interruption silences her instantly, her wondering eyes still glossed over with emotion, awaiting. Now it’s his time to be brave.

He doesn’t let go of her hand, nor of her gaze. He doesn’t let go of the woman he wants to spend his remaining days with, no matter how many or how few. “You are so much more than a fraction,” he expresses, heartfelt.

Having made up his mind, Dean sits up and reaches for her, the warm shade of green only hooded by closing lids when his mouth finds hers. He allows himself to graze over her soft lips, drinking in the one person who he has longed for, but never expected to be with. The sensation that erupts in his stomach once the kiss intensifies is the equivalent to a firework show, the bright colors and sparks lighting up the black skies. Euphoria overwhelms him, the same sense that flooded his conscience when the Djinn lured the hunter into that heavenly hallucination. This is a dream too, and yet it isn’t, because this, this is real.

The kiss leaves Y/N breathless, yet she is able to sense his warm hand coming up her side and sliding around her back to settle between her shoulder blades, hugging her tight without ever removing his lips from hers. Finally, they are here. After months, years of denial, they are ready to give themselves to each other. Sometimes you need to lose all that isn’t, to appreciate what is.

She has to pull every string not to cry in elation, but can’t stop the drops of emotion from rolling down. When Dean feels the wetness against his own cheeks, he reluctantly breaks the connection, cupping her face worriedly. “Hey…” he hushes. She shakes her head, dismissing his concern, and laughs through the tears. “I’m okay. I’m just - I’m so happy right now, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

A twinkle reaches her eyes, making it impossible for Dean to look away. He never thought he would be able to witness her so content, let alone have her admit it out loud. Not in this world, anyway. An image of the custom made dream forged by the Djinn pushes itself to the forefront, Y/N on the porch of their house, comfortable in his arms, absolutely beaming. When he awoke from that coma, he thought that the illusion couldn’t be further from reality, but he was wrong. “I’ve seen that smile before,” he says warmly.

Y/N grin grows even wider at that, but before she can ask what the man who she just revealed her affections to means, a rumble rises from Dean’s stomach, causing them both to drop their gaze to where the sound is coming from. Once she realizes what caused it, she giggles, and it’s the greatest harmony Dean has ever heard.

“You must be starving,” she comments while wiping her tears, hoping he will finally take in some food after having gone three days without it. “I could eat,” he admits with a chuckle. “Well, it’s a good thing I made you scrambled eggs with cheese and extra bacon then.” She straightens her back and shifts to the edge of the bed, taking the tray with both hands. “Scoot.”

Dean pushes himself up further and sits back against the headboard, his mouth watering when Y/N sets the platter over his lap. Only now does he realize how hungry he truly is. He picks up the cutlery and cuts off some toast, overloading it with egg before he has a mouthful, the delicious meal still warm on his tongue. “Take it easy, okay? Wouldn’t want you to get sick,” she says kindly, reaching for him and rubbing her thumb over his stubble. He looks up at here before taking a bite of the strip of meat, his eyes having gained some of that boyish sparkle again. Relieved by the sight, Y/N watches him, glad that she finally managed to get his spirits up.

“You want some?” Dean checks with his mouth full, pushing the plate of bacon in her direction. She frowns at that. “Since when do you share food?” “Since now, and only with you,” he admits. “Don’t tell Sam.”

They share a laugh and continue to eat in silence until the dishes are so clean, they barely need washing. The pair leave the darkness of room ‘11’, Dean heading for the showers, Y/N turning the corner towards the kitchen. With a spring in her step, the giddy woman makes her way through the hallways of the enormous building. The tray in her hands feels much lighter, and not just because of the cleared plates she’s carrying.

With a smirk on her lips, she hops down the steps into the galley, finding Sam by the fridge, who is restocking it with the groceries he just picked up. It’s not until he notices the empty dishes which she sets down on the counter, that his gaze shoots up to their female companion’s joyful eyes. “He ate?” he asks, hopeful. “He did,” Y/N smiles, dropping the plates in the sink. “He’s feeling much better, he’s freshening up now.” The younger Winchester continues to stare at her in awe, stammering something intellectual, before he pauses and blinks a couple of times. “What happened?” he can’t help but wonder, surprised by his brother’s improvement.

She remains silent for a few seconds while she runs the tap and adds dish soap to the hot water. What took place in his room is hard to explain. It required a long list of events, building up to this disclosure. It involved Dean opening up about what he went through, comfortable enough to share his grief and let it out. It included them both being fearless after being scared for so long. It comprehended two individuals, growing together, taking a leap to cross a gap that seemed impossible to overcome.

“He let the light in,” she states simply, meeting Sam with a meaningful smile.

Grateful, the tall hunter huffs in astonishment, before he closes her in a hug and presses a kiss on her hair, not needing words to tell just how appreciative he is of her presence. He assists her and takes up the task of drying the dishes, the two friends working side by side to finish the chore. They are storing away the plates, the noise of the china being stacked in the cupboards allowing Dean to wait in the doorway without being spotted just yet. He’s freshly showered, wearing his dark grey robe over comfortable clothes, leaning against the post and taking in the woman who has turned his life around.

If the bunker had windows, the sun would have shone brightly. The late morning rays would come in through the portals to the outside world, illuminating their home. The beams would have been warm and healing, burning away sadness and discomfort, like it would melt the snow on the last days of winter.

But the bunker doesn’t need windows. The bunker has her.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

#Dean Winchester oneshot #Dean x Reader #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Dean x Y/N #Dean Winchester #Dean oneshot #Dean Winchester x Reader #dean fanfiction #dean winchester x y/n #Supernatural #SPN #Supernatural fanfiction #If The Bunker Had Windows #Kate Huntington

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uwuwriting · 4 years

Text

Kenma, Kuroo and Nishinoya finding a pregnancy test

Request: mmmkay, so quarantines got me watching an unhealthy amount of anime, so could i please request kuroo, kenma, and nishinoya finding their fem SO pregnancy tests hidden in their shared bathroom? Thank you! love your writing i cant get enough!❤️❤️❤️ - anonymous

Another pregnancy request? YES PLEASE I LIVE FOR THESE. THEY WATER MY CROPS AND CLEAR MY SKIN. It don’t matter for which fandom it is, a pregnancy and/or domestic request is always a good one. If i get carried away it’s not my fault I can’t help it. Love yaa.💖💖💖

rules

warnings: fluff mainly, maybe some sprinkle of angst on Kenma’s but nothing major

Kozume Kenma

-You two have been living together for 3 years now.

-Being in a happy relationship since your third year of high school and then going to the same university, your lives were bound to one another.

-You weren’t married and it didn’t really bother you.

-Your friends would jokingly call you Mrs. Kozume and Kenma never denied it, he would usually just wrap an arm around your waist and bring you closer to him.

-So when you discussed kids it was a shocker.

- “I know we are not married and all, if you want to do that first that’s fine I have no problem with that it’s just that....have you seen how Hinata is with his little girl?”

-You had seen how happy Hinata was with his daughter.

-She was a few months old but he was so deeply in love with her.

-And you had seen how Kenma looked at them interact.

- “Okay let’s try, but no vlogging our journey or some shit!”

-You hadn’t seen him agree to something so fast in your life.

-That was about a year and a half ago.

-It has been a hectic ride and a disheartening one at that.

-You had a miscarriage earlier last year and after that you hadn’t managed to conceive again.

-At first you panicked, believing that after that misfortune something broke inside of you and you wouldn’t be able to have a child after all.

-But Kenma, being the calm one in your relationship, took you to a doctor who said that your body was just in shock and you would be able to carry a child.

- “Just give your body some time to rest.”

-It has been five months since that and now you are standing in the middle of your bathroom staring at the pregnancy test in your hands.

-Positive.

-You wanted to squeal and cry at the same time, maybe laugh a little.

-Kenma was setting up his computer to start a stream.

-One that he and 99.9% of his fans had requested to see you in.

-You had been in Kenma’s videos multiple times both on stream and on YouTube.

-Placing the pregnancy test in the cabinet near the sink you walked out and went to Kenma.

-You would tell him after this, give yourself time to control your excitement.

-The stream was going well, you were answering questions *some of them had been asked before but you answered none the less* and giggling along side Kenma as he started telling the story of your failed date at the zoo.

-A monkey had tried to take the flower that he had given you and it bit you in its attempts to take it.

-At some point Kenma got up and went to the bathroom and you were left alone with the fans showing them some of your favorite pictures.

-While you were enjoying the stream Kenma was having a heart attack.

-He had opened the cabinet to get some tissues you stored there and came face to face with the pregnancy test.

-The positive pregnancy test.

-You were pregnant? AND DIDN’T TELL HIM?

-What if it ended like the last pregnancy?

-Oh god he wouldn’t be able to pull out of there this time.

-Your laughter rang through the apartment and reached his ears, breaking his train of thought and bringing him back to reality.

-Walking slowly towards the room his saw you with your back turned towards the door talking to the camera at his fans.

-Right he was on a stream.

-It didn’t matter.

- “Y/N...this is real right?”

-Turning around you saw him in the doorway, head hanging low looking at the stick in his hands his hair framing his features completely.

- “Kenmaaaa I wanted it to be a surprise!!!”

-The chat was on fire as Kenma closed the distance between you hugging you tightly before he placed you in his lap and announced that you would be welcoming another Kozume in the world.

- “And no I won’t be vlogging anything!!!”

Kuroo Tetsuro

-He married you right after he finished university.

-You had known each other since your first year of high school but began dating during freshman year in university.

-Kuroo now an esteemed doctor loved calling you by his last name, it felt unreal.

-It didn’t long for him to start imagining an even more domesticated life with you.

-You worked at the same hospital as a nurse and you usually could be found in the kids ward.

-You were always great with kids, making the laugh and helping them stop crying.

-What did it for him was when you were helping at the new born section and you were cooing at a baby, looking so soft and happy holding the small human that he wanted to have a baby right then and there.

-He saw you again there helping a mother feed her baby and it felt just right.

-On the ride home he popped the question.

- “I saw you having fun in the new born isle today.”

- “Those babies are just too cute, Tetsu!!”

- “Yeah, seeing you got me thinking what our kids would look like.”

-He was trying to play it cool, but you saw right through him.

- “Real smooth Tetsu.”

-Little did he know though that you had already taken three pregnancy test this morning all coming out positive.

-You had left them on the bathroom counter because you were already late.

- ‘I need to hide them, make it a surprise.’

-The drive to your shared apartment was full of laughs and Kuroo’s poor sense of humor.

-It was dad jokes.

-He was practicing his dad jokes.

-Surprisingly he didn’t pressure you on the matter of kids.

- “We’ll talk about it later.”

-He had a small pout on his lips but he soon changed the subject.

-Arriving home you went to place the groceries but you didn’t balance them right and the milk carton fell on Kuroo.

-There was milk everywhere.

-On the floor, on Kuroo, some of it was on you, on the counter.

- “Way to go kitten....”

-He made his way to the bathroom to throw his clothes into the washer and wash his hands.

-Then he noticed the three sticks on the counter.

-Curiousity killed the cat.

-And Kuroo is cat.

-He has been a cat since high school.

-Looking at the sticks it took him some time to realize what they were.

-His eyes widened at the realization.

-Why didn’t you tell him???

-He was panicking ever so slightly, his breathing becoming erratic.

-Well he wanted to start a family with you didn’t he?

-After a few minutes of breathing exercises he still couldn’t decide if he should start jumping up and down from his giddiness or panic some more.

-You on the other hand had juts finished putting the things away and mopping the milk off the floor.

- “What is he doing in there?”

-You know how I said that you wanted your pregnancy to be a surprise?

-And how you wanted to hide the tests before he found them?

-Yeah you forgot and because you were dumb it took you some time to put two and two together.

-Sprinting to the bathroom you flung the door open coming face to face with a wide eyes Kuroo holding the test in his hands.

- “Surprise?”

-He looked at you, opening his mouth and then closing it not being able to find the right words.

-Then he was hugging you.

-He was lifting you off the ground and laughing/sobbing in your ear.

- “Thank you thank you thank you thank you.”

-Now you were sobbing too.

-The rest of the night was spent with you on the couch surrounded by blankets and snacks, while Kuroo did everything.

-He made dinner, he helped you undress and put on your PJs, all in all he wouldn’t let you lift a finger.

-He’s just so damn happy he can barely contain it.

-Next day at the hospital he was bragging to everyone and their mothers about your pregnancy.

Nishinoya Yuu

-Em he’s baby?

-Like literally.

-Living with him is like living with a five year old.

-And god forbid Tanaka comes to visit.

-Now you’re babysitting two five year olds.

-Anyways.

-Noya our sweet sweet libero here, wanted to marry you since high school.

-He even proposed while you two were in your third year.

-They had just won a very difficult game and he was on cloud 9.

-You had gone down to congradulate them on their win and give a few victory smooches to your boyfriend when you were tackled to the floor by a very sweaty Noya.

- “Y/N BABY DID YOU SEE ME????”

- “Yes I did, babe.”

- “I’M SO HAPPY I COULD MARRY YOU RIGHT NOW!”

-Awkward silence.

-He didn’t even look sorry after he said it.

-It didn’t sound like it slipped either.

- “What I am going to marry you so why don’t we do it now?”

-Fast forward five years and he truly kept his promise.

-You two share a nice apartment and are living a happy life.

-Not a peaceful one.

-Peace is not an option with Noya.

-Come on...

-You two hadn’t really talked about children but you knew he was great with kids.

-You saw how he got whenever your nephew and niece came to visit.

-He would be so playful with them but simultaneously protective and careful which was surprising because well he was Nishinoya.

-So when you started feeling sick one morning your first thought was to take a pregnancy test.

-You see Noya em likes to feel free....if you know you know.

-When the test came out positive you were both excited and nervous.

-What if he didn’t want kids?

-What if he left?

-Noya would never leave you and he would insist you went through every difficult situation together as team but you weren’t in the best state of mind at the moment.

-You were drawn out of your thoughts when his voice rang through the apartment.

- “Babe, Tanaka is here could you get the door?”

-Leaving everything as it was in the bathroom you went to open the door.

-your brain was running on autopilot.

-You had no brain cells to spare at the moment okay??

- “Heyyyyy Y/N how are you?????”

-And so the game night the two of them had planned began.

-You were making dinner waiting for Tanaka’s girlfriend to arrive so you can talk about your little revelation.

-And yes Tanaka has a girlfriend who is indeed Kiyoko.

-As you were cutting some vegetables, Tanaka stood up and went to the bathroom and at the same moment the door bell rang.

-Not even two seconds passed before you heard screeching form the bathroom.

-You had opened the door and were greeting Kiyoko when you remembered the state you left the bathroom in.

- “YUU HOLY SHIT WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU BASTARD?”

- “TELL YOU WHAT YOU IDIOT?”

- “THAT YOU’RE A DAD WHAT ELSE?”

-Le silence.

-Kiyoko was looking from your stomach to the pregnancy test Tanaka had thrown at Nishinoya.

- “I’M A WHAT???????????”

-Chaos ensued.

-Noya was talking frantically with you and asking you about when you found out, why you didn’t tell him etc while Tanaka was being scolded by Kiyoko for ruining your surprise.

-It was a very eventful night to say the least.

-But a happy one nonetheless.

TAG TEAM AY: @brattyquirks @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @reinyrei @axerrri

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wasabito · 4 years

Text

had so much fun writing for my baby boy tendou, so here’s my entry for the hqhq sfw server collab! be sure to check out the rest on the masterlist found here! enjoy ✨

words: 3.0k

prompt: “you woke me up at 3am for this?”

synopsis: your neighbor is ridiculous, kind of annoying and little bit on the weird side, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You had to be the biggest idiot on the planet—an obvious exaggeration, yes, but you were still inclined to believe it was true.

How else could you explain the feeling of being so utterly fed up with one’s actions like this? Were there enough words in the dictionary to describe just how exhausted you were by your own antics, more specifically, your forgetfulness since that’s what had landed you in a world of pain and embarrassment?

The answer was no.

You sat with your back pressed against your front door, head in your hands and chin tucked between your raised knees and chest. At your side was your wallet along with stacks of newspapers, coupons and whatever else had been stuffed in your mailbox, bills probably. Advertisements too. Honestly, it was hard to be happy about a new restaurant opening up down the block when you were currently stuck—locked out of your apartment to be precise.

The landlord of your cheap little complex wasn’t expected to be back for another hour according to the sign posted outside of his office. So until then, you’d remain posted up by your doorstep like some loiterer.

You shifted in place and blew a puff of air from your lips, feeling little pinpricks in your legs. For the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes you felt like kicking yourself, hard.

The sun hung low, nearly touching the distant horizon signifying the end of another day. Even the sky was painted a warm umber, casting dim shadows.

“Locked out, huh?” came a snide, but accented voice.

It took you way longer than necessary to realize that suddenly you weren’t the only person on this floor. God, where was your head at?

A pair of forest green crocs stood before you, complete with a few odd charms and trinkets. A cartoon volleyball, pinned next to a smiley face, a donut and a gaudy “i heart paris” chain dangling from the ankle strap. A person’s shoes could say a lot about who they were...your mother thought so, at least.

Resisting the urge to projectile vomit all over this stranger’s rather questionable taste in footwear, your wary gaze panned upward, glossing over white tube socks and a pair of the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a person—yet another exaggeration. You came face to face with a crooked smile. Curious ruby eyes returned your stare with almost the same amount of scrutiny.

Who the hell was this guy?

Mystery-man easily towered over you, and not only because you were hunched over and sitting. He was tall as hell, all lanky build, gangly arms and legs disguising lithe muscle and a surprisingly sturdy frame. He looked like the i-run-every-morning type; semi-athletic at the very least. His buzzed hair was the color of cinnamon, no that wasn’t right, paprika maybe? Either way, it contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin, so much so that you could see the faint blue of the veins in his arms.

“Yoohooo, anybody hooome?” He tilted his head at you.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, I’m locked out. I forgot my key inside and Mr. Laurent won’t be back until later.”

“Hmm. That sucks...”

“...Um… do I… do I know you or something? You look a little familiar.”

He pinned you with a funny look, before pulling out a set of keys from the back pocket of his shorts.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t~ I mean we are neighbors, after all.” Laughing as if he’d made some sort of joke, he entered his apartment with a twirl and a dramatic wave of his arms.

You stared at his door for a solid minute, only to finally succumb to your urges and facepalm at your own idiocy. Of course he looked familiar, how could he not when he literally lived four feet away.

With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for another hour spent sitting outside your front door. It wasn’t like there was any other place you could go or anyone you could call. The battery icon on your phone blinked red, warning that it was soon to run out of juice. Guess that meant no Among Us or Subway Surfer for you.

Five minutes later, the door next to you opened. It was Mystery-man again, but this time, he sat in front of his door, just like you were. And he did so with a bag of pretzels and a jar of nutella in hand.

“Must be bored out here by yourself.” He crunched on a pretzel before offering you the bag to take some. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya company.”

You weren’t sure why, but there was something about this guy that intrigued you. You half-wondered if it was the funny little curl of his smile, or the wideness of his eyes that made it seem like he was looking at all of you, all at once.

"You must be pretty bored...uh,"

"Satori Tendou, but most people call me Tendou. Miracle boy works just fine too."

"Right... Tendou, as I was saying, you must be incredibly bored to come sit out here with me. You sure you don't have anything important to do?"

Tendou's grinned widened. "Positive! And it costs me nothing to be neighborly, so don't even sweat it."

That was...nice of him?

If sitting outside with you was the way he wanted to spend his late Tuesday afternoon who were you to deny him? And truthfully, you didn't mind the company, at least not really. Provided this guy wasn't some creepy-stalker-weirdo, you were sure there wasn't any harm in getting to know the person who lived one door over.

"So, Tendou, how long have you lived in the area? You don't really look like you're from around here...I could be wrong."

Tendou raised a thin brow at you. "Weeeell, if you're asking about how long I've lived next door, it would be about three maybe four months give or take, but if you're asking how long I've lived in Paris, it would be a year next month. Speaking of, I think Semisemi has a birthday coming up..."

You watched as he pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the illuminated glass screen. You couldn't help but notice the goofy little anime stickers on his phone case. One in particular caught your attention.

“Is that...Kirara? From Inuyasha??”

“Oho! So, you recognize this?”

Backtracking, you mumble out, “Ah, well…only a little.” Though your face was turned away, the tiny smile on your lips was not hidden from Tendou and he thought you were pretty cute.

Funnily enough, what you had expected to be a rather unnerving and possibly creepy exchange turned out to be anything but. Tendou was incredibly fun to talk to—a bit teasing and a little overwhelming with his superfluous hand movements and gestures. But he was funny and a lot kinder that you would’ve given him credit for.

You learned that he was originally from Japan; it explained his accented French. He had come to Paris right out of high school to study culinary arts in one of the most renowned countries for it. Now he worked as a chocolatier, under the tutelage of a master patisserie in the city, an older man who was both a creative genius and a thorn in Tendou’s side. Tendou spoke of his teacher with equal parts awe and annoyance.

And he got to know you too. How you’d found yourself in Paris, thousands of miles away from home in an effort to rediscover yourself in the city full of rich history and culture.

You didn’t have many friends here, and it truly was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.

Soon, you both heard the telltale sound of jangling keys as your landlord rounded the corner with his clipboard in hand. Once you were able to get your door open, you waved a goodbye to Tendou.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you really didn’t have to.”

“No biggie, it was fun!” He threw a mischievous little grin and a peace-sign over his shoulder and reentered his apartment.

You found yourself wanting to cross paths with him again, and hopefully in better circumstances. But you hadn't known your wishful thinking was soon to manifest as you ambled through grocery store aisles a week later, eyeing down any items with pictures on it.

“Why in the hell is this toilet paper so expensive.” You mumbled.

“So, you complain about the price of toilet paper, but wear sneakers that cost two-thirds our rent.” That voice sounded familiar, and after hearing it for about an hour just days ago, you were a bit surprised you could recognize it so quickly.

Stunned, you looked up to find Satori Tendou, your quirky neighbor with an arm full of pita chips, a milk carton, and baby carrots.

“I never said I made the best choices.” You found yourself smiling despite the previous crease in your brow. “...Dude, get a cart before you drop everything.”

Instead of getting his own, he simply dumped what he had into your cart with a teasing grin. You couldn’t argue with his logic there. Tendou sidled up against you, once again towering over you with a kind of ease that should be criminal. “Need help reading something?”

You wanted to say no. You almost said no. But swallowing your pride, you gave a weak nod. “Yeah, this word right here.” Pointing to the unfamiliar script printed on the label. “What the heck is this?”

“Weeeeell, looks like that brand is scented, ya know, for when ya—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence...please.”

You quickly grab what you need and continue on down the aisle with Tendou following closely behind.

Just like when you’d first met him, he made conversation the entire way. By the time you both made it to the cash registers, you’d argued at least three times over french pronunciations and whether cashews were the cousin of peanuts.

And just as last time, he left you with a grin and a peace-sign while you stared after his retreating back, paid groceries in hand.

After an entire day spent baking, you found yourself on Tendou’s doorstep with a tupperware full of baked goodies later the next evening. You had been meaning to thank him for being such a good neighbor to you. It was certainly unexpected, but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

You only had to knock twice before the door was wrenched open and you were greeted with the set of...vanilla? Some pop song played in the background while your neighbor looked at you curiously.

"H-Hey Tendou, I um...I baked you these." You held out the plastic container, hoping he'd simply take it from you without question and you could return to your apartment without somehow embarrassing yourself. "There's a little bit of everything in there, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—wait you aren't allergic to anything, right?"

"Nooope! Not a thing, thanks neighbor!"

"It was no problem, especially since you've helped me, not once but twice now."

Frowning, you couldn't help but be a little upset with yourself. You'd come to France to prove that you could, in fact, live a normal life outside of your family’s jurisdiction but day by day you were proving to need them more and more.

It was disappointing, to say the least.

"Hmm, what’s with the constipated look on your face. Did the toilet paper not help?” Tendou tilted his head at you with a teasing grin, lips curled at the edges, taunting. You blinked up at him, surprised, and if you were honest, a little annoyed too.

"Hah?!"

"Just thought it was worth a mention, nighty-night~!"

Tendou proceeded to shut the door on you; one hand rested on the frame and the other held on to the cookies. You quickly took a step back lest he chop your entire arm off, ready to trudge off in the direction of your own home but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

Stupid Tendou, always saying stupid shit.

You were on the couch, half asleep when it dawned on you that it had been his own twisted, “Tendou” way of cheering you up.

The rest of the month passed just like that. Occasionally, you would bump into Tendou at the grocery store, or the leasing office, or even the laundromat. And every single time, he’d either make you laugh until your sides hurt or annoyed enough to want to give him a friendly punch. At one point, you two had even exchanged phone numbers, because according to Tendou “it was ridiculous not to have your friends on speedial” which only led to hours spent on Facetime or playing iMessage games.

You knew exchanging numbers would come back to bite you in the ass, it was only a matter of when.

It was clear you weren’t going to any sleep tonight, that was for sure. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone every five minutes was an enemy to your circadian rhythm. You could name on one hand those in your contacts with enough sense to know that you lived in a completely different time zone from them now.

Somehow your neighbor was the very last person you suspected, but it was his contact photo that stared back at you, goofy looking grin and all. You squinted against the brightness of your screen in your otherwise dark bedroom.

you up?

come quick

gotta show ya somethin

come oooon

you're awake, i know you are

It took you less than a minute to shuffle on a pair of slippers, grab your keys (you weren't going to forget them this time) and slip out of your apartment.

You hadn't even knocked twice before the door was pulled open. Tendou looked a mess, more so than usual. Unidentified stains littered the apron looped around his thin waist, streaks of what you hoped were just flour and granulated sugar were all over his hands. You almost wanted to ask if he was baking or dealing dope.

“You woke me up at three in the morning...for this?”

“Yuuup!”

"When I said you could call me at any time, I really didn’t mean any time.” You scratch your side, a contemplative look on your face at the sight of Tendou in what you would assume to be his pajamas. An old volleyball hoodie with the words "Shirazorizawa" printed across the front, and old sweats the were so obviously cut with scissors at the knee.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a curt, “Alright, move aside.”

Tendou ushered you over to his kitchen where several of his cooking supplies laid on the island, along with a tray of some chocolate dessert spread.

“It’s all still in the testing phase, but I think I’m onto something here.”

He was definitely giving off “mad scientist” vibes. You tried not to snort.

Holding a small chocolate cake in his hand, he smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Open wide."

You obeyed, far too tired to argue, and let him pop the treat into your mouth. Tendou watched as you chewed, as if it were the most interesting thing ever. His wide gaze carefully took in every shift in your expression.

"So? Whaddya think?"

"I...," You chewed a bit more. "...It's delicious! Is that—"

"—Pistachio, why yes it is!"

Tendou was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "It takes the entire thing to a whole new level."

You had to agree with him there. This was probably the best chocolate madeleine you'd ever tasted. "Great work, miracle boy. Will you be introducing this new recipe to Claude?"

Mentioning his teacher seemed to sober him up a bit. "Ehh, maybe? The old man's a bit of traditionalist, so I'll just have to figure out a way to get him to approve."

"Maybe try calling him at three in the morning?"

Tendou stuck his tongue out at you before popping a dessert in his mouth. The pure delight on his face was so contagious, you found yourself smiling just the same. You couldn’t help but admire his passion.

“Hey, Tendou… do you like your job?”

He blinked at you, chewing coming to a slow halt. “Well of course! The pay isn’t the best just yet, but it’s a labor of love. I’m willing to put my all into it at least.”

“Huh… that’s pretty cool.” You wiped your fingers on a nearby rag. “I hope to feel the same one day… if I can figure out what I wanna do.”

“Why not bake? You’re pretty good at it.”

“Oh am I? Last week you said my baking needed some work.”

“Well, duh, but my standards when it comes to confectionaries are impossibly high. Even so, I think you’d be successful as a baker. What’s stopping you from pursuing your labor of love?”

And that was the thing with Tendou. He talked a lot, teased even more, but it was never idle ramblings. Somehow, he always seemed to hit right at the heart of the issue with almost painfully uncomfortable accuracy.

“I don’t really know so…” You looked away, trailing off.

“Either way,” he said and placed a finger under your chin, raising your head until you were looking him in the eye. “I’m rooting for you.”

For a moment, you simply stared, awestruck. It was the first time in a long while someone was actually putting their faith in you, believing in you. He had come blazing into your life unabashed with his easy grins and gaze alight with mischief. His encouraging words, sincerity, sensitivity. Tendou was really incredible.

“Tendou…” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course, what are neighbors for.”

BONUS:

Three months later you sat curled up next to Tendou on his sofa, his entire apartment smelled of chocolate cocoa with hints of cinnamon.

Before you was an application. Culinary school.

“You really think I can do this?”

Tendou placed his head on your shoulder with a tiny smirk. “One hundred and twenty percent!”

You pondered for a moment, then decided that if he thought you were up for the challenge then you’d believe him.

“For the record, you probably aren’t supposed to recommend your girlfriend for an interview. You know, conflict of interest and all.”

Tendou laughed and pulled you closer. “Trust me, we’ll be fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head, ‘kay?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #tendou x reader #tendou satori #satori tendou #satori tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #sabi.writes

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yuta-nakamots · 4 years

Text

misfit - j.sc

Pairing - Sungchan x Reader

Genre - Horror/Thriller, Angst, Fluff

Warnings - serial killer, character death, violence, murder, implications of sex

Summary - A murderer is on the loose, killing with no regret and ending the lives of more than just a few people. No one knew who it was, turning against each other upon even the slightest bit of doubt. Maybe you should’ve been more careful with who you chose to trust.

Word Count - 5.3k

A/N - this is inspired entirely from a dream I had a few days ago. I've added very little to what I saw in my dream aside from Sungchan as the male lead. yes, I am freaked out by this and yes, I am scared of writing for Sungchan bc I don’t know his personality all too well but as an ‘01 liner myself I have faith in us

Written for the #NeoHalloween writing festival hosted by @nct-writers. Check out the masterlist here.

For five months now, your town has lived in fear. A serial killer was on the loose and he was known by the name of Hickleback Jack though no one knew where the name came from or who had started it. Each month, the population of your town voted on the local community board to have one person executed who they thought was Hickleback Jack. So far, not a single guess was right leaving five innocent people dead. Well, five plus an extra thirty, give or take.

See, the thing about Hickleback Jack, was that every time the votes came in at the end of the month, he could see just who voted for him and targeted them as his next victims. He killed six of those people over the following month, adding up to seven dead each time the town guessed incorrectly. It was getting to a point where no one trusted each other, no one dared to say anything against each other in fear of being accused or in fear of being the next to fall mercy to Hickleback Jack.

Not much was known about this killer other than his appearance. He’s male with a tall and broad figure though he always covers his face with some kind of mask. His common weapon is known to be an axe. People have claimed to have seen him late at night under the dim orange glow of the street lamps but he was never caught by the authorities, leaving everyone restless and waiting for the next kill.

The night was still young when you had gotten home from school and it was a Friday night which was basically an open invitation for you to call over your boyfriend, Sungchan. He had transferred in to your university at the start of the school year, and had ended up sitting next to you during your sophomore seminar class, leading to the start of your friendship with him.

A simple friendship soon blossomed into a relationship after Sungchan’s bright personality began shining through his somewhat intimidating exterior. You lived without fear when Sungchan was around, the love you had for him blocking out anything else in the world that wasn’t him.

You sat on your bed, your homework spread out in front of you while you held your phone up to your ear. “Do you want to come over tonight?” You ask as soon as he picks up your call.

You hear rustling on the other end of the call before Sungchan clears his throat and speaks, his voice husky from sleep. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“I said, do you want to come over tonight?” You paused and heard him yawn. “You fell asleep after class didn’t you?” You smiled to yourself thinking of your boyfriend’s handsome face as he napped after getting back to his apartment once he finished with his classes for the day, which was a common occurrence now that the semester was in full swing.

“Mmm,” he hummed in thought, “as much as I’d love to, I really shouldn’t have taken that nap because of how much homework I have.”

“Oh, that’s okay, do your homework first,” you reassure him, “maybe we can hang out some other time this weekend. It’s only Friday after all.”

“Definitely. Are you starting yours right now?” Sungchan asked.

“Yeah, I’d rather not wait and end up cramming on Sunday night.” You laughed, knowing that said event has happened more times that you’d like to admit.

Sungchan let out a noise of agreement. “I’ll let you know when I’m done with my homework though.”

“Same here.” You promised.

“Alright, let’s get to work and I’ll talk to you soon.” He told you.

“Sounds good, love you.”

“Love you too.”

With that you hung up, eager to start on your homework in hopes of getting to spend more time with your boyfriend. You actually had a lot of it this weekend thanks to molecular biology, and you figured that if you couldn’t talk to Sungchan, who had yet to take the course, you called up your study group discord instead. Luckily, many of them were in similar situations as you, faced with the daunting task of completing all the worksheets assigned during class earlier in the day.

“Okay so was anyone paying attention during the lecture today?” Your classmate Chenle asked.

“I know Yeji fell asleep so you’re in the same boat as her.” You interject, recalling the sight of both of them knocked out in their seats as the professor droned on about the functions of the structures inside cells.

Yeji let out a gasp of shock at how blatantly you called her out. “I may have fallen asleep but at least I still know that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

“Everyone knows that, Yeji.” Your other classmate Jaemin said, his voice void of enthusiasm.

“Okay, Jaemin, we get it, Mr. Serious.” You teased.

“Yeah, this is a biology study group, not a bible study group, lighten up a little.” Chenle jokes.

Jaemin scoffed, “sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who’s trying to do well in this class.”

“Well not all of us enjoy the taste of coffee with six shots of caffeine in them.” Yeji argued back.

“Guys,” you called out as Jaemin and Yeji started arguing, “guys!” They finally stopped to hear what you had to say. “Let’s just get this over with sooner rather than later because I know none of us want to be awake at 2am trying to figure this out alone.”

“Agreed,” Chenle said, “so question three, the one about the DNA mutation, how is missense different from nonsense?”

“Missense is where one of the bases mutates and changes to something else, therefore changing the protein level,” Jaemin explained, “nonsense is the same theoretical concept except it spells out one of the stop codes.”

Yeji let out a groan, “can you slow down, or like, I don’t know, use easier words or something?”

Most of your night passed by like this and before you knew it, it was already nearing midnight and you could tell your classmates were just as exhausted as you. “I think we should call it here.”

“Definitely,” Yeji confirmed, “tomorrow morning at 10?”

You all let out similar answers of acknowledgement before Chenle spoke up. “The poll closes on tomorrow night so make sure to vote if you haven’t already.”

Because of how long this has been going on for, everyone was already on the same page once someone mentioned the poll or voting. “There were only five kills this month so I wouldn’t be surprised if the last one is announced tomorrow or Sunday morning.” Jaemin chimed in.

“All the recent kills were related to the university so I know a lot of people are suspecting someone in our age range.” Yeji informed the group.

Jaemin let out a chuckle, “if the killer actually is a college student, I wouldn’t be surprised since it is getting close to the last wave of midterms and then finals so that would explain why the victims fall into the same category.” The chat fell silent at that. “I’m just saying that he’s getting a little lazy by grouping all his kills like this.”

“Jaemin, are you sure you’re not the killer?” Chenle asked with a laugh at the end.

“Guys, I can promise you that I’m not the killer, I swear on my life.” Jaemin promised.

“Alright, that’s enough detective work for tonight, I’ll start the call again around 10 tomorrow. Sounds good?” You conclude, wanting to curl up under your covers already, which is exactly what you do once everyone wishes each other a good night and hung up.

Morning came a little too quickly for your liking, the bright sunlight flooding into your room through the window and forcing you awake. Checking your phone, you saw that it was 9:30am, meaning you had some time to spare before your next meeting with the bio study group, along with a notification from Sungchan that he had sent well after you had fallen asleep.

Sungchan > y/n

2:14am: Just got rescheduled to work opening shift tomorrow.

2:15am: Didn’t finish my homework but I can stop by at your house after work with my stuff and we can hang out and have fun once we’re both done?

Your heart warmed at how he stayed up late trying to finish his homework for you and that he suggested the idea of coming over after his shift at a small local restaurant finished just so the two of you could be together even if you’d be focusing on your own tasks for a while.

y/n > Sungchan

9:32am: Sorry I didn’t text back earlier, I just woke up!

9:32am: But of course you can come over, I might even be done with my work by then ;)

You plugged your phone to let it charge and left it on your nightstand as you made yourself breakfast downstairs. The house was quiet since your mom already left for work and you dad worked a night shift job and was probably sleeping at the moment. It was strangely serene as you prepared yourself a bowl of cereal though the calm was rudely interrupted by the sound of your ringtone coming from your room.

Deciding to get it after eating breakfast, you poured the cereal in first, thinking about the way Sungchan had told you before that he liked to pour the milk first and let the cereal soak up the milk. “It makes it super soggy and I like it.” He tried reasoning with you, to which you only raised an eyebrow at.

Just as you put the milk carton back into the refrigerator and was about to take a bit of your cereal, your phone started going off again. You placed your bowl onto the kitchen table and made your way back up to your bedroom to see what it was that was so important this early in the morning. Checking the notifications, it was Yeji who had been calling you so you shot her a message.

y/n > Yeji

9:39am: What’s up?

Yeji > y/n

9:40am: I just dreamt that it was Jaemin who was the killer

9:40am: please call me right now I feel like I’m going to go insane

You heeded her words and called her immediately. “So what happened in the dream?”

“I don’t know, I just remember being chased by a man with an axe and I was running to the school to try to see if I could get help but then I tripped and when I turned around, it was Jaemin.” Yeji blurted out without a single breath in between.

You paused, trying to take in all the information she just threw at you. “Do you have any reason as to why you think you dreamt this?”

“The way he was talking last night,” she stopped to catch her breath, “he spoke so in detail that I couldn’t help but overthink like, what if he is actually the killer? What if we’re next?”

“Well, you can vote for him in the poll if you want but personally, I don’t think it’s him.” You think of your next words carefully. “I’m not trying to invalidate your thoughts but Jaemin does come from a reputable family-”

“Y/n, it could be anyone. Family doesn’t matter. We have no information on the guy, we don’t know what economic class he’s in or anything.” Yeji interrupted.

You took a few seconds to gather your thoughts before speaking again. “That is true, but we all know Jaemin wants to be a surgeon right? He’s in all these difficult classes and he maintains such high grades-”

“Okay but how is that relevant?” Yeji interrupted yet again.

She was getting on your nerves but you held yourself back. “Listen, I’m just trying to say that with the amount of time and effort he puts into school, I don’t think he could be the killer. The killer plans his kills well enough that we just can’t find him and that probably takes just as much time as school does for us.”

Yeji took a while to respond though when she did, her words surprised you. “Now you’re starting to sound like the killer.”

“Yeji, I can promise you that it’s not me. I’m just as scared as you are in this whole situation,” you reasoned, “I’ll even vote for Jaemin if it makes you feel better.”

She let out a sigh across the line. “Okay fine. Maybe a kill will happen while we’re on the call and it’ll clear Jaemin’s name.”

“I think you’re letting it all get to you, just try not to think about it for a bit.” You advised.

“But am I really overreacting y/n? We live every day in fear of being the next victim. Tomorrow is not promised to any of us, so am I really overreacting?” You look over at the clock on your wall as she spoke, realizing that it’s already 9:55 and you should probably start the call already.

“No, I don’t think you’re overreacting, I’m just saying that constantly thinking about it to this extent isn’t good for you. We still have school to pay attention to,” you explain, “speaking of, I’m gonna start the call now.”

“I can’t just stop thinking about it that easily but whatever, let’s just hope that we’re not associating ourselves with a murderer by doing this.” You can only shake your head as you start the call.

Chenle joined immediately followed by Yeji. “Good morning ladies, President Zhong here. How are we doing on this fine day?”

You rolled your eyes even though a smile spread across your face. “I’m doing good, Mr. President. Ready to finish off these worksheets.”

“Good, good,” Chenle affirmed, sticking with his act, “and you, Miss Yeji?”

“Fine.” She shot out.

Chenle let out a quiet chuckle, “someone’s a little grumpy this morning. Maybe we should’ve met a bit later.”

“No, let’s just get this over with.” Yeji grumbled just as Jaemin joined.

“Great! Now that the head brain cell is here, let’s get this meeting started.” Chenle exclaimed.

Four hours into your meeting and eight out of ten worksheets later, your phone begins to ring with an incoming call from Sungchan. “Hold on guys, I gotta take this call. Hello?”

“I’m downstairs, come pick me up.” You couldn’t deny the butterflies that spread throughout your chest upon hearing your boyfriend’s voice. You got up to let him in though you certainly didn’t miss the teasing coming from your laptop as your classmates yelled about you and Sungchan.

As you made your way downstairs, you froze halfway down the stairs, seeing Sungchan already in the kitchen eating the bowl of cereal you forgot about. “I’m guessing you made this for yourself earlier and forgot to eat it.” He said through a mouthful of food.

“Babe, no, don’t eat that, it’s like five hours old. The milk is probably stale.” You exclaimed, worried about his health if it really did go bad.

Sungchan only shrugged as he took another spoonful into his mouth. “Tastes fine to me.”

You rolled your eyes before turning to head back upstairs. “Join me in my room once you’re ready, you cereal monster. Leave the dishes in the sink too.” As you returned to your room, you couldn’t help but wonder how Sungchan got in though you figure he’s probably seen you use the spare key under the doormat a couple times since you often were too lazy to get your own keys out of your bag most of the time.

When you sat down in front of your computer again, Jaemin had just finished explaining the answer to the problem you guys were working on earlier so you chimed in asking him to go over it again though he was quickly overrun by an excited Chenle. “Is Sungchan there?” He practically yelled.

“No, not yet, he’s eating some soggy cereal downstairs.” You inform him.

“Alright, let me know when he comes in.” Chenle says, unphased by your boyfriends’ odd preference of cereal.

Halfway through Jaemin’s explanation, Sungchan came into your room, placing his bag down at the foot of the bed before he took his jacket off and stripped out of his work uniform. “I heard a door open, is that Sungchan?” Chenle shouted over Jaemin once more.

“I never get to fucking speak in this group.” Jaemin huffed, at which Chenle muttered a quick ‘sorry’ back.

“Yes, Chenle, Sungchan is here,” you announce, looking over at the boy in question who had just finished pulling a shirt over his head and winked when he saw you staring at his body, “he seems very flirty today, must be because of you, Mr. Zhong.”

Sungchan sits down next to you and places a kiss on your cheek, smelling oddly of cleaning supplies, but you pay no mind to that, figuring he must have used them at work. “How’s it going Chenle?” He asks, though his attention is only on you and he places his hands on your cheeks and leaves a quick kiss on your lips.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t just hear the two of you kissing,” Chenle remarks, earning a laugh from Sungchan, “but anyways, you should come back to the basketball team. We miss our giant point guard, you know.”

“Nah, I’m too busy these days. I already have work and school plus I still want to spend time with y/n.” He commented as he shifted to lie on his stomach next to you.

“Man, who knew a girl would be all it took to make this dude throw his love for basketball out the window.” Chenle taunted.

“Love makes you do things, you know how it is.” Sungchan replied, resting his head on your thigh.

Running a hand through his hair, “anyways,” you divert, “back to what Jaemin was saying about meiosis.”

“Thank you, y/n, I thought I’d never be able to speak again.” Jaemin uttered pointedly. “As I was saying, the main difference between meiosis and mitosis is that it creates four daughter cells instead of two like mitosis does.”

“Hey guys, wait, did you see the article that just came out?” Yeji inquired. “It’s another death.”

There was a moment of silence before anyone said anything. “No but you can read it to us.” Chenle concluded.

“Okay,” you could hear the deep breath Yeji took before reading the article, “it says here that the body was found at around 1:20pm in an alley between the lower-income housing apartments, the cause of death is assumed to be by Hickleback Jack using his axe, and the estimated time of death is anywhere from 12 to 1pm.”

“Wow,” Jaemin began, “so he just killed out in broad daylight.”

“Not gonna lie Jaemin, but I thought you were the killer.” Yeji let out blatantly.

You were mildly shocked at her bluntness, but not surprised given how stressed everyone was. “Me?” Jaemin gasped, “Yeji, you know I’m pretty much Rapunzel with how much time I spend in my room studying. And when I’m not studying, I’m either editing pictures or playing video games.”

“It’s true,” Chenle confirms, “he really doesn’t leave his room. We had a sleepover once and I felt like I was becoming a hermit like him.” Sungchan slightly wheezed at that, sending Chenle over the moon. “Did you hear that? Did you guys hear that? Sungchan thinks I’m funny!”

“Yeah yeah, enough about me being a hermit. But Yeji,” Jaemin addressed, “why did you think it was me?”

Yeji hesitated before responding. “I just- the way you were talking the other night...I don’t know. It just sounded so specific and detailed that I couldn’t help but think that it could have been you.”

“I don’t think a murderer would simply reveal his plans like that, you know.” Sungchan proposed.

“Well yeah, but it’s just the way he spoke, it was like he had things organized...you know what? Let’s forget I said that, but I know the four of us are clear.” Yeji resigned.

Sungchan sat up, “wait, why am I not cleared?”

“Y/n, what time did he call you?”

“Like 2-ish.”

“Exactly. Sungchan, you don’t have an alibi, as far as we know, until 2 and the time of death is stated to be 12 to 1pm.”

“I was at work earlier in the day, though.”

“Can you prove it to us?” Yeji pressed on.

“Yeah, my coworkers can vouch for me.”

You were quite surprised at how aggressive Yeji was being towards your boyfriend but you didn’t see any reason to stop her since she had very valid arguments. “Send a screenshot of it to Chenle and we’ll verify you from there.” Yeji commanded.

Sungchan slouched down a little next to you. “I don’t have the numbers of my coworkers though.”

“Alright, then you’re still on the list of suspects.”

After finishing all the worksheets for microbio and ending the call around 3:30, Sungchan pulled out his laptop and started typing away at a half-finished lab report for his human A&P class. You fell asleep curled into his body, his warmth and the constant tapping of his keyboard lulling you to sleep.

When you woke again, you immediately noticed the absence of a large boy next to you and frowned to yourself. As you came to, you heard noise coming from the kitchen and identified your mother’s voice followed by Sungchan’s. Noticing the time on your phone, you guess that he was probably helping her prepare dinner since it was already past 6 and your family ate around 7 before your dad left for work.

By the time you made yourself presentable and came downstairs, your mom and Sungchan were already setting the table. “Looks like our sleepyhead finally woke up.” Your mother exclaimed, making you grimace. “You didn’t tell me Sungchan was staying over,” you were about to open your mouth to say that you didn’t know that either but you weren’t given the chance to do so, “it’s okay, especially with that killer still on the loose, it makes me feel better knowing there’s someone around to protect my baby.”

You looked at Sungchan as if asking him for answers though he seemed to only avoid your gaze, reluctantly taking the seat across from you at the dining table. Your father walked in, delighted to see your boyfriend. “Sungchan! Good to see you, how are things at school?” He asked as he joined you all at the table.

“Okay for the most part, I haven’t taken to my writing class all that much though I enjoy my other science classes.” Sungchan answers.

Your dad hums in approval while you stare down Sungchan, trying to get him to look at you. “Remind me again what you’re majoring in again?” Your mom asks, Sungchan whips his head around faster than you can make eye contact with him.

“I’m majoring in forensics.” He states.

“Interesting, interesting,” your father contemplates, “you know, y/n here wants to become a pediatrician. The two of you are practically opposites in the science field, one dealing with crime and the other dealing with children.”

Sungchan let out a laugh, “I guess opposites really do attract then.”

You hated how well he entertained your parents and you hated how much they liked him. For the rest of dinner you tried to pin him down through your stares and even played a game of footsie with him but nothing seemed to work. It was only once the two of you were back in your room getting ready for bed that you were able to talk to him.

“Look, I’m not mad at you or anything, I’d just appreciate it if you talked to me first before just telling my parents that you’re staying over.” You told him as you went through your skincare routine.

Sungchan jumped onto your bed as he apologized. “Sorry, I just thought that since both of us finished our homework and with the killing today, it would just make sense for me to stay over.” He opened his arms, inviting you in as you stood up after finishing your night routine.

You copied him, jumping into your bed straight onto Sungchan, effectively pushing the air out of his body. He grunted as your weight fell onto him though he still wrapped his arms around your waist and shifted you up the length of your body so your face was level with his. “Hi” you giggle, shy from the sudden close proximity.

“Hey.” He says back with a smile as you slide off him, leaving an arm and leg slung over his body. “Tired?”

“No, not really, I took a nap earlier since someone didn’t care to wake me up.”

“You looked too cute, besides, you need all the rest you can get.” Sungchan explained, using his free hand to squish your cheeks. “If you’re really not tired then I know a way to make you tired.” His hand found its way down to your butt to further emphasize his point.

“Ew, no, not now.” You quickly refused, moving his hand up to your waist. “Just go to sleep and I’ll probably fall asleep after you anyways.”

“Oh wait,” Sungchan said, reaching over you to the nightstand for his phone, “did you vote on the poll yet?”

“No, I almost forgot.” You groaned, lazily reaching for your phone as well.

You pull up the local community board and enter your information, looking at the list of all the citizens, pondering on who you’d give your vote to. “Who are you voting for?” Sungchan asks, looking over at your screen.

“I really don’t know.” You tell him, though truthfully, you had someone in mind.

Thanks to the nap you had, you really couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard you tried. You ended up dozing off occasionally but you’d wake up half an hour later only more irritated than when you first fell asleep.

You don’t remember what time it was, but at some point, Sungchan had removed himself from your grasp, unaware that you were still awake, though you made no effort to stop him thinking that he was just going to use the restroom and come back. Five minutes passed, five minutes turned into ten, then twenty, and you decided to check on him once thirty minutes had passed.

The house was completely dark, not even the light from the bathroom was on. You checked inside in case Sungchan had maybe gotten hurt and passed out, but he was nowhere to be found. After searching almost all the rooms in your house, you had yet to find any sign of him. After a bit of thinking, you had wandered out to your mothers’ greenhouse thinking that maybe some time with the plants would help to calm your mind.

It did anything but that.

Not long after setting foot inside of the small shed, you heard screams coming from nearby, getting closer and closer. You watched from the inside of the tinted glass as three girls ran through your backyard and into the next property. You couldn’t help it that you were frozen to your core, knowing who was coming.

You saw his frame as he jumped over the fence from the other end of your yard, axe in hand, running through the open grass and you thought he might have noticed you until he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes glued on you. You should’ve ducked down as soon as the girls ran past but it was too late now and there was no second way out of the greenhouse.

You knew you should have tried to run, maybe smash through the glass panelling but something in you told you that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to stop him. Steeling your nerves as he crosses the threshold of the greenhouse, you call out to him. “I know who you are.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

It was as if your world was crumbling before you, the once so comfortable relationship you knew felt fake, even though Sungchan, your loving boyfriend stood right there. The only difference was that you knew who he really was.

“Why?” You start, “why did you kill all those innocent people?”

“It’s all for fun, y/n.”

“What do you mean ‘for fun’? Those are real people you know, people with families and friends who miss them dearly.” You nearly cry out as he continues to approach you.

“You see, life is a game.” He paused his words as he came to stand in front of you. “Laws are nothing but a social construct that us humans follow mindlessly until our own demise.”

He takes a step closer to you, but you stand your ground. “Laws are what keep us safe and keep us happy. They allow us to lead our lives peacefully with others-”

“They are nothing but limits.” He closes the distance between the two of you, an arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you towards him, and you allow him to do so. “My dear, sweet, y/n. If only you weren’t so smart, I wouldn’t be faced with this dilemma.”

“You wouldn’t kill me.” You were trying to persuade him just as much as you were to yourself. “You’d never.”

“Oh? And what makes you think that?”

“You love me.”

“I do, I love you so dearly, but now that you know who’s behind all the killings, there’s no way that I can let you go.” You felt his axe nudge the back of your leg as he brought both arms around you. To an outsider, it would look as if a couple were having a conversation, but for you, this was a fight for your life.

“Take off the mask.”

“Why should I?”

“So I can talk to you properly.”

He took off the mask without much more convincing, his normally handsome face now distorted by the crazed look in his eyes. People often say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and if they really were, then Sungchan didn’t have a soul.

“I swear to you that I won’t ever tell anyone about this, about you.”

“I don’t believe that you’ll keep that promise, my dear.”

“You know how much I love you. As long as we can stay together, I will not say anything.”

“This is not a tale of beauty and the beast. I am no beast to be tamed and there is no happy ending to this story.”

“Sungchan, no. You don’t mean that.”

“Do I really not mean it, or is that what you would like to believe? Something tells me it’s the latter.” He held you tight against him with one arm, the other raising his axe. “It’s truly a shame that your beauty must go to waste, you were truly a wonderful person both inside and out but I’m afraid that your life must end here.”

Before he could prep his swing, you pulled away and grabbed the nearest pot, launching it at him, the ceramic breaking against his head making dirt rain down upon both of you.

Not even a second passed before his axe was flying at you, lodging itself into your neck, nearly severing your head from your shoulder. You should’ve been thankful really, thankful that Sungchan had given you a quick death, not his usual route since it was so painless and easy for both the victim and the assailant.

He liked a struggle, but for you he made an exception out of love so that the last thing you’d see was him, your lover, before everything stopped.

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