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fanaticfangirl001 · 3 years

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Like Real People Do:Ch 7 For The Longest Time

Taglist: @p3nny4urth0ught5, @kissofvenom922, @loudbandittreemaker

Author's note: Staypuft is a ghostbusters reference and the title is a reference to the Billy Joel song not the old song that Steve and Peggy dance to. (Both have the same name)

“We have to go after John.” Winnie wipes her eyes.

“I know.” Bucky nods.

“Just to talk.” Sam reminds the two.

___________________________________________________________

Winnie, Sam, and Bucky peer into the warehouse that they followed John into.

John on his knees with the stained shield in front of him. Head down.

“Time to go to work.” John says softly to himself before walking over to the three.

“Walker.”

“You guys should see a medic, you don’t look too good.”

“Have you looked in a mirror?” Winnie scoffs.

Sam ignores Winnie and continues “ Stop,Walker.”

“What?” John starts pacing.

“John, you should get some help.” Winnie tries again.

“You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.” Bucky adds. “ Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.”

“I’m not like you.”

“No you’re not. You're your own person. And asking you to be more than that wasn’t right. Let us help.” Winnie stands closer to Bucky.

“Listen it was the heat of the battle, Okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“John?”

“You gotta give me the shield, man.” Sam says.

“Oh, so that’s what this is?” John says in realization. “You almost got me.”

“You made a mistake.”

“You don’t want to do this.” John looks between the three.

Winnie’s hand goes to her holster.

“Yeah we do.” Bucky adds.

Bucky, Sam, and John run at each other starting the fight. John kicks Sam off of him, while Bucky and John are equally matched.

“Shit.” Winnie hides behind a pillar. “ This is great, I mean what’s more fun than pissed off super soldier.”

She looks out and sees John’s back to her, standing over Sam ripping off his wings, while Bucky is down. Winnie aims for the center of John’s back.

John raises his shield. Winnie unloads the pistol into John’s back. Six shots, six bullets enlodged in John’s back. He turns around and stalks over to Winnie.

“You!”

“Nice to see you, too, John.”

“You shot me. “

“Yeah I did. Like Sam said earlier you don’t have to hurt anyone else.One last chance.”

“One last chance or what.” John grabs Winnie’s arm and twists it. She drops the empty gun.

“First Ow, second let’s think about this, what do you think will happen if you hurt me?”

“Let’s find out.” John yanks her arm the other way, breaking it and then throws her off to the side. She hits her head on the floor and blacks out.

Bucky tackles John and punches him, Sam rejoins the fight and together they grab the shield and break John’s arm.

Bucky drops the shield near Sam and kneels down by Winnie. He checks her neck for a pulse, her head for any bleeding.

“How is sh…” Sam starts to ask.

“She’ll be okay, I got her.” Bucky picks her up. “You’ve got bigger things to think about.”

___________________________________________________________

“The GRC is conducting raids to try and find Karli, but so far they’ve only found her followers.” Sam informs Bucky and Winnie. “They’ve searched this camp, and just like the last camp nothing. She’s gone, we’ll never find her.”

“Well, we can’t just sit around.” Winnie adjusts her sling, trying not to jostle the broken arm.

“No, that’s exactly what you should be doing.” Bucky helps her with the sling.

“Nope. I’ve been with you this far. “Winnie smiles at him.

Bucky sighs and walks off.

“Are you off to take care of Zemo?” Sam asks.

“Hey Gadget!” Joaquin hugs her.

“You remembered.” Winnie hugs him carefully avoiding her left arm.

“Course,” Joaquin moves closer to her and whispers “ How’s operation boyfriend coming.”

“I don’t even know, at this point.”

“Are you coming?” Bucky asks, waiting at the door.

“Yeah.” Winnie yells back.”Any way it was nice seeing you.” She walks over to Bucky.

“Here.” Bucky hands her a train ticket.

“Thanks.” Winnie puts it in her pocket and the two start onto the train station.

_________________________________________________________

They sit on a bench waiting for the train to the Sokovia memorial.

“That was stupid, what you did.” Bucky breaks the silence.

“I had a clear shot at John, I wasn’t going to shoot Sam.”

“It was a perfect shot, I meant putting yourself in danger. You were safe by the pillar.”

“I’ve been in danger this whole time and you weren’t weird about it.”

“Well now I’m weird about it.” Bucky shrugs.

“But why do you get weird about it?” Winnie asks.

“Because I’d rather you not die.” Bucky answers bluntly.

“I feel the same about you. I’d rather you not die, but you do the dangerous thing all the time.”

“Trust me, you don’t feel the same way about me.”

“Ditto.”

“Shhh, follow me.” Bucky whispers to Winnie as they walk closer to the Sokovian memorial.

Zemo stands in front of the memorial peacefully,staring at the statue. The last traces of his wife, children, his people.

“I thought you two would be here sooner.” He says softly looking over at Winnie’s arm.” A bit of trouble with the super soldier.”

“Uh yeah, he broke it .” Winnie answers.

“Don’t worry, Winifred, I’ve decided not to kill your boyfriend.”

“Good.”

“Imagine my relief.” Bucky says clicking his gun.

“The girl has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned Sam but he didn’t listen to me. He’s as stubborn as Steve Rogers before him. But you...They literally programmed you to kill. James do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere,and there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.”

“I appreciate the advice. But we’re gonna do it our own way.”

“Yeah. I was afraid you would say that.”

The gun clicks again. Bucky raises the gun and aims it at Zemo’s face.

Zemo gives the slightest nod.

The gun is empty, Bucky drops the bullets.

The Wakandan soldiers surround him.

“Ladies.” Zemo says.

“I took the name of crossing off my name in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought had to do.Goodbye James.” Zemo looks towards Winnie and says “ I hope you’re very happy with him.”

“We will take him to the raft, where he will live out his days.” Ayo informs Bucky.

_________________________________________________________

On the commercial airplane back to the United States, Bucky gently nudges Winnie.

“What?” Winnie whispers, as the people around them are asleep.

“Back with Zemo.” Bucky starts.

“Yeah.”

“He said for you not to worry that he wasn’t going to kill me.”

“Yeah.”

“He called me your boyfriend.”

“Again yes.”

“You didn’t correct him.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.”

“Do you want that?”

“Want what?”

“A boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I’d love one, Buck but unfortunately Build A Boyfriend doesn’t exist.”

“Easy, ask Joaquin out.”

“No.”

“Sam’s a little busy.”

“I also don’t think I’m his type.”

“Right, have you tried online dating, it’s overwhelming and everyone lies but..”

“You’re not really selling it besides I have my eye on someone, but I don’t think he’s interested.” Winnie leans her head back to go to sleep.

“Well, he’s an idiot and blind.”

“Yeah, yeah he is.” Winnie falls back asleep.

Once out of the airport, Bucky and Winnie sit in a small hole in the wall diner.

“So what now?” Bucky asks.

“Lay low, do something for yourself, it’s now the government’s problem, but Joaquin said he’d keep us in the loop for updates.”

The waitress walks over, handing out the menus.

“ What can I get you?”

“Do you have malts?” Bucky asks.

“Yes: Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, and caramel.”

“Can we get two malts and a side of fries?” Winnie says to the waitress.

“Sure what flavor?” The waitress starts writing down the order.

“Strawberry for me.” Winnie answers looking at Bucky.

“Chocolate.”

“Aw, this is so cute, minus the broken arm, darlin’. More young people today need to go on little dates in the middle of the week.” The waitress says walking the order to the kitchen.

“So that guy that you have your eye on, have you talked to him since leaving with me and Sam?” Bucky asks. “Cause if you want to skip out to see him, it’s fine. I can get your malt to go.”

“Yeah I’ve talked to him.” Winnie shrugs as the malts and fries arrive at the table.

“And, he must be worried about you.” Bucky unwraps the straw for his malt.

“Yeah he is.” Winnie puts her straw in. “ But he said he’s okay.”

“Good, so what’s he like?” Bucky sips his malt.

“Very caring, protective, smart. Also very attractive.”

“Protective, does that mean he’s gonna start shit, since you’re here with me.”

“No, he’s like one of those fancy chocolates, hard on the outside but a marshmallow on the inside.”

“Good, where did you meet him?”

“Message boards.” Winnie answers trying to give Bucky a hint, that it’s him, who she has her eye on.

“That’s a strange way to meet people.”

“It’s how we met.”

“Yeah but you’re a hacker, and I’m a nutjob.”

“True.” Winnie trails off then adds,” Do you think Sam is okay?”

“Yeah, he probably went home.”

“Well remember in the club with Selby, his sister called and told him about the boat.”

“Yeah nearly got us killed.”

“Well you used to work on a boat, and I like tinkering with parts. We can help.”

“You have a broken arm and should be resting.”

“I’d rather help Sam.”

“Fine, but how are we going to find out where he lives.

“Give me five minuets.” Winnie grabs her laptop out of her backpack. She logs onto Facebook.

The two finish the shakes by the time Winnie has found an address for the wharf where the Wilson’s boat is and the address for the house.

_____________________________________________________________

“Roadtrip!” Winnie yells as Bucky jingles the keys of a rental car.

“I regret this immediately.”

“Oh come on, I have the best road trip playlist.” Winnie plugs in her phone. “I made a new one especially for you.”

The car is filled with big band music and jazz.

Twenty one hours later, Bucky and Winnie walk out of the car.

“We can walk from here.” Bucky says noticing a lot of people loading a truck. He runs over and helps them with it.

“You helpin with the Wilson’s boat?” An older man asks Bucky.

“Yeah, where is Sam?”

“We’re goin that way.” The older man says.

Bucky waves Winnie over and the two riding in the back of the truck.

“Tommy, Carlos this is amazing. Thank so much man. “

“Hey when the Wilson family needs us, we have a bit of usefulness in us.”

“How do we get it off the truck?”

Bucky picks up the engine and helps Winnie off the truck bed.

“Hi Sam.” Winnie waves.

“You’re welcome.” Bucky adds.” Dropping this off.” He puts the case on the boat. “I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”

A pipes starts hissing and letting out steam.

“Sam!” A woman yells.

“My guess is Sarah.” Winnie adds as Bucky

“Hi.” Bucky greets Sarah and goes to help Sam with the pipe.

“Hi.” Sarah waves at Bucky then looks towards Winnie.

“Are you Sarah?” Winnie asks.

“Yes, why?” Sarah asks.

“For starters, I’m Winnie, a friend of Sam and Bucky’s. Second you should probably scrub your Facebook or just delete it. You have a lot of sensitive information on the internet.”

“Sam told me about you. Do you want to sit or something? You really shouldn’t be out here with a broken arm.” Sarah offers.

“Sure, “Winnie sits then says “ Just so you know Sam isn’t going to kill a banker. He just said that so he could look tough in front of Selby.”

“Who’s Selby?”

“Well she doesn’t really matter now, she’s dead. We were in Madripoor.”

“Madripoor?”

“Yeah it’s like a criminal's heaven. But don’t worry about your brother, he’s with a good group.”

“Sam told me what you did...to John.”

“Yeah shooting someone in the back isn’t really honorable but…”

“You saved his life. John was going to kill him.”

“Yeah.” Winnie shrugs and rubs her shoulder.

“You ever need anything, call us.” Sarah says.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?”

“Well I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m right handed. So this is the boat, huh.”

“This is it.”

“It’s nice. Want any help?”

_____________________________________________________________

“I swear, Winnie, this is going to help.” Sarah says walking over to the guys.

“I look ridiculous.”

“You look hot. Daisy Dukes are a classic for a reason.”

“I look like a sexy picnic table.” Winnie tugs at the gingham shirt.

“Maybe he’s into that, besides you’re you. You could wear a garbage bag and still have Bucky’s attention. I’m off to work.”

Winnie continues to the boat.

“Need some help boy?” Winnie asks.

Bucky and Sam both look up to see Winnie leaning against a post, wearing the shortest Daisy Dukes and a yellow and white gingham top tied into a crop top, leaving little to the imagination of what lies beneath it.

“Yeah.” Sam calls out helping Winnie onto the boat.

“Sarah let me borrow a few things.” Winnie sits on a box.

“I can see that.” Sam laughs. “ When in rome.”

Bucky is sanding boards.

“Think she's gonna throw in the towel.”

“I think she’s gonna double down.”

“Anything from Joaquin?” Winnie asks.

“No.”

“Any idea how to stop her?”

“I got Joaquin working on something.”

“Well Zemo says there’s only one way.”

“And since when do we take advice from him.”

“Well gotta drive back tomorrow.” Bucky takes a sip of his beer. “Get a hotel room for the night. Crash, you know.”

“It’s been nice being on the water.” Winnie adds looking off to the horizon. She takes down her bun and shakes out her auburn hair.

Bucky discreetly looks over at Winnie, the sun washing over her, he’s never seen her so relaxed.

“You’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.”

“It’s okay, Sam.”

“Winnie, you literally saved my life, you two are staying. The people here are the most welcoming people.

_____________________________________________________________

“Push the stopper.”

“Oh, in there.”

“Thanks.”

“Yep.”

“So, since we’re benched for a while any progress on the love life stuff with Winnie?” Sam asks.

Bucky looks up towards where Winnie is and sighs “ No and it’s too late.”

“Damn man, so what’s his name?”

“She didn’t say, but he’s the whole package.”

“Tough.”

“But an idiot. Winnie doesn’t think the guy feels the same way back. I mean who wouldn’t want to date her.”

“Buck. “Sam starts laughing.

“It’s not funny, Winnie’s great, and any guy that doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

“Buck, you’re the guy that Winnie is after.”

“No I’m not. She described him as caring, protective, smart. She said he’s like a fancy chocolate with a hard outside but is a marshmallow on the inside.”

“You’ve been all those things around her.”

“I’m not a marshmallow.”

“Good luck with your girl, Mr. Staypuft”

____________________________________________________________

“Excuse me, no!”

“There should be a three-sixeteenths bolt that goes in the big gear.”

“Hi Sarah.” Winnie waves wearing a pink number with the Daisy Dukes.

“Nope.”

“Uh-huh. No.No.”

“You didn’t even look.”

“I didn’t have to.”

“No Sam listen to Buck. He used to work on boats, but back then it was just wind and sails.” Winnie laughs with Sam.

“I told you the water pump was not the problem and yet here you are.” Sarah tells Bucky and Sam, “ I also need to borrow Winnie for a second.”

“Yep Samuel.”

“In our defense we were suppose to be done long before you woke up.”

“Sure thing.” Winnie walks away with Sarah.

“So how are things going with Bucky.” She asks.

“Little more the same, the shorts and sexy picnic table look isn’t doing much.”

“You sure about that.” Sarah asks.

“Yeah, have you noticed something different?”

“Since I pulled you away he’s been staring at your ass and legs.”

“What’s wrong with my legs?”

“Do you normally wear long pants around him?”

“Tactical overalls.”

“Interesting.” Sarah says.” What to help with an experiment.”

“Okay.” Winnie nods.

Sarah drops her tape measure. “Could you pick that up for me?”

“You are the least subtle person I’ve ever seen.” Sam says watching Bucky check out Winnie.

“Technically Sarah’s fault. She gave her the shorts.”

“Like a teenager, at least look away before she or Sarah catches you.”

“Not gonna happen, I’ve done this before.”

“Sure.” Winnie bends down and picks up the tape measure.

“Thank you so..” Sarah fumbles with the tape measure and drops it again.

“Okay butter fingers.” Winnie bends down and grabs it again before placing it in Sarah’s hands and closing them.

The second time Winnie bends down to grab the measuring tape Sarah moves to the side and makes direct eye contact with Bucky before smiling.

“Shit.”

Sam starts laughing. “Serves you right.”

“Is the experiment over?” Winnie asks.

“Yeah, the results are conclusive. Bucky likes you.”

“How did you get those results?”

“He keeps checking you out whenever you aren’t looking. Which seems to be a lot because you like the water.”

“First time on a boat. There’s a lot to look at.”

“Yeah there is.” Sarah laughs looking Winnie up and down.

With Sarah at work and the kids at school. Sam and Bucky have the front yard to practice throwing the shield. Winnie watches from the front porch, drawing in her sketchbook.

“Feels weird, picking it up again. The legacy of that shield is complicated, to say the least.”

“When Steve told me what he was planning, I don’t think we understood what it felt like for a Black man to be handed the shield. How could we? I owe you an apology. I’m sorry.” Bucky holds out the shield for Sam.

“Thank you.” Sam takes it.

“Whatever happened with Walker, it wasn’t your fault. I get it. It’s just that shields the closest thing I’ve got left to a family, so when you retired it, it made me feel like I have nothing left.Made me question everything. You, Steve, Me. You know I got his book, and I just figured if it worked for him,then it’d work for me.”

“I understand man. But Steve is gone. And this might be a surprise but it doesn’t matter what Steve thought. You gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are. Let me ask you: You still having those nightmares?”

“All the time. It means I remember.It means a part of me is still there.Which means a part of the Winter Soldier’s still in me.”

“You up for a little tough love.”

Bucky nods.

“You want to climb out of the hell you’re in,do the work.Do it.”

“I’ve been making amends.”

“Nah, you weren’t amending. You were avenging.You were stopping all the wrongdoers you enabled as the Winter Soldier, because you thought it would bring you closure. You go to these people and you say sorry, because you think it will make you feel better, right. But you gotta make them feel better. You gotta go to them and be of service. I’m sure there’s at least one person in that book who needs closure about something, and you’re the only one who can give it to them.”

“Probably a dozen.”

“That’s cool. Start with one.”

“Good talk.”

“You look really good in that light, Sam.” Winnie says showing Sam the drawing of him by the weeping willow. “I also found some lemonade if you guys want any.”

“You guys know Karli won’t quit.”

“Call us when you have a lead, we’ll be there.”

____________________________________________________________

It’s near midnight in the Wilson household and everyone is asleep except Bucky on the couch and Winnie in a guest bedroom. She walks out into the living room where Bucky is and sits on the other couch.

“You can’t sleep either.” Bucky asks.

“No.”

“It’s not a nightmare is it?”

“Nope, it’s my arm and my neck. I hate my sling.”

“You know what helps a broken arm?”

“Helping a friend fix their boat.”

“No, the opposite actually, resting and taking it easy. Which you didn’t do because you’re stubborn, and…” Bucky starts adjusting the sling again making it slightly more comfortable.

“You’re good at this nursing stuff.”

“Yeah I had some practice on a stubborn easily breakable person before he got very unbreakable and big. Does that feel any better on your neck?”

“Yeah.”

“And for the arm, I’ll get some ice. How long has been hurting this badly?” Bucky asks.

“If I was honest you’d hate me.”

“Winnie! You can’t just..not take care of your arm.”

“I want to help you guys. Whether it be boats or super soldiers. Besides why do you even care?”

“Because I love you!”

“You..do…”

“Yeah but you have got your eye on a guy.”

“That’s you. You’re the blind idiot, marshmallow.”

“It's a bit harsh.”

“You called yourself a blind idiot in the diner.”

“I didn’t call myself a marshmallow though.”

“Buck, I’m glad we talk about us but uh my arm still hurts.”

“Come here, I have an idea.” Bucky says holding the ice pack with his vibranium hand.

Winnie sits on the couch next to him.” Now what.”

Bucky carefully wraps and arm around Winnie and picks her up to put her on his lap.

“Buck, really, how is this.”

Bucky holds the ice to her arm with his vibranium hand.

“For starters it won’t get numb. Second, you're very stubborn. The only way you’re going to actually rest and take it easy is if I hold you down to the couch myself.” Bucky grabs the blanket and wraps it around the both of them.

“You’re not wrong. I guess we can try it.” Winnie gets comfortable and uses Bucky’s chest as a pillow.

“It can’t make it any worse.” Bucky mumbles sleepily.

___________________________________________________________

Whoosh, Huh Huh, Whoosh

Bucky looks over at Winnie, still asleep then the kids in the doorway playing with the shield.

“Hey.” Bucky waves

“Put it back.”

“Hurry hurry.”

Winnie stirs until she opens her eyes and nearly jumps when she sees Bucky looking at her.

“What?”

“I forgot we went to bed together. I wasn’t expecting you to be right there.”

“Yeah well we leave today, so I’m expecting an even better playlist for the ride home, and I'm open to that rock stuff.”

“Did you have any nightmares last night?”

“No.”

“Good. I like that for you.”

“Me too, you know we sleep well together.”

“Excuse me.”

“I just mean, your arms broken and you don’t really know how to care for a broken bone, I do, so.”

“Are you asking to move in with me?”

“Temporarily, yes.”

“Sure, let’s hit the road.” Winnie grabs her back and slings it around. “Ow.”

Bucky rolls his eyes taking her backpack from her, “ I’ll carry this, you just make it to the car without any more injuries.”

#Bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes #marvel imagines #bucky barnes x winnie #tfatws

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laughing-with-god · 5 years

Text

Pen Pal II

Words; 4.6k

“I love you so much that nothing could matter to me- not even you...only my love- not your answer. Not even your indifference.”

Reincarnation was an interesting theory, you decided.

It was a philosophy that held the utmost importance upon karma and charity. In a way, it made sense. If you did something good in a past life, you should be rewarded in the next one with good fortune. This mindset explained how some of us seem to have been born under the worst circumstances that was only added on by very odd and horrid luck that appeared in the form of people or situations. While others have the rare ability to just waltz past life without a single hitch to hinder their enjoyment.

You deduced that you must’ve been a very wicked person in the life prior to this one.

That could be a grand explanation for the awful series of events that have been striked upon you by an outside force whom is hell-bent on making you pay for crimes you weren’t aware you committed. ‘Yes’, you thought, ‘I must’ve been a devilish person in my past life.’

You were cursed to forever be terrified of the world, your only sibling meant to guide you through life was murdered in front of you, your mother has gone mad and the one person you found comfort in somehow found a way to be worse than what you already knew him to be- a criminal.

You bitterly chuckled.

You wished he was a good-for-nothing criminal.

You would have much preferred that over what he truly is.

A serial killer.

Tuesdays were the worst. In your rather short and uneventful life, a pattern had formed concerning the second day of the week. Your sister was murdered on a cloudy Tuesday afternoon. The day you were labelled with a disorder was on a Tuesday morning, right in your own home. The day your mother had finally broke and yelled atrocious things at you that you’ve always known she thought but never voiced, was on a Tuesday evening. And the day you discovered the jarring truth about your ‘pal’ was at 2 am while surfing the web on a Tuesday.

You were naive to be giddy at the latest letter you had received.

Jungkook had said some rather mean things about your mother, however due to your bruised ego and lingering depression caused by the woman’s harsh put down of you; you couldn’t bring yourself to be upset with his insults toward the woman who gave birth to you. In fact, your heart felt warmed at his protective slandering. For it meant that he was offended on your behalf, that he cared of what you felt and that anyone who disgraced you was harshly judged by the critical eye of your ‘friend’. He took your side in the matter. Like a loyal ally that you have always wanted on your side for times like this.

He mentioned that he wanted to utilize the option of calls instead of letters. You had to admit as an old soul that writing letters to a companion was a very vintage and refreshing practice that you had grown fond of. Childishly, you would picture yourself in a Fitzgerald novel as a lonesome and willowy woman who eagerly awaited the letters of her dear partner who was far far away. Or maybe off to war. You supposed that reading all those books had made you a romanticist.

But there was something rather intimate about getting to hear someone’s voice despite the miles in between them.

You wanted to please Jungkook by surprising him with a call. And more secretly, you wanted to see if his voice matched his face in the picture he gave you or the voice in your head that would recite his letters whenever you read them.

You imagined it being very gentle and almost musical, like the light buzz of bees on a Spring day, humming around the blooming flowers. You hoped (and somehow just knew) you were right in this prediction.

But, you needed to find a way to make this possible.

That’s when you seeked information in the form of the internet. Although you loved to picture yourself in a Fitzgerald-esque, roaring twenties type of era, you couldn’t deny the usefulness of the current one that you were living in.

According to the re-search you had gathered, a telephone account had to be set up in order for Jungkook to talk to anyone. Also, inmates were allowed to make outgoing calls but incoming ones were not allowed. You frowned, this meant that Jungkook had to call you but you couldn’t call him. The air of surprise was deflated.

However, you did have a role to fulfill. Only someone from the outside could set up the calling account. You would have to pay for the ability for Jungkook to call anyone.

You then went onto the prison’s website and began to fill out the form for the account.

Name: (Y/n) (M/n) (L/n)

Age: (Age)

D.o.b: (Date of Birth)

Address: (Address)

Relation to Inmate; Friend.

Card Info: (xxx-xxx-xxx)

Phone Number: (xxx-xxx-xxx)

Prisoner;

You were stunned at the prisoner section of the form. It wouldn’t allow you to write Jungkook’s name down, instead you had to enter numbers. You sighed and realized that you had to get Jungkook’s number in order for the system to match him up with the account. Luckily for you, the info of prisoners was public knowledge for anyone wishing to seek it. You opened another tab to go the the penitentiary’s website and searched for Jungkook’s name.

A mugshot of your friend popped up. his boyishly handsome face stared almost disinterestedly at the camera, dark and glassy eyes brooding with raven strands of hair revealing his smooth forehead and framing his sharp face that was marked with intense brows, strong Romanian nose and plush berry lips that sat above his cleft chin that marked the ending point of his angular jaw. The frosty complexion of his skin made the darkness of his features and orangeness of his jumpsuit stand out. You knew he was very good-looking, and it was a shame that he was locked up. You were sure many ladies would be all over him if it weren’t for the fact that he was stuck in an all male prison for a lengthy amount of time.

The top of his head met the 5’10 mark of the background of the mugshot, making you note the height of Jungkook which was a detail you never really thought about before. He was tall, but most handsome men were.

Below the image was information about him. You briefly felt as if you were violating privacy, but you consolidated yourself by reminding yourself that you simply needed his number to further the calling process. It had to be done. Besides, Jungkook was your friend. You were positive that he wouldn’t mind.

Name: Jeon Jungkook

Height: 5’10

Weight: 154 lb

Date of Arrest; June 6th, 2018

Crime: Serial Killing, Multiple Homicides, First Degree Murder, Crimes Against Humanity

ID Number: 65709-303

Your blood ran cold.

You would have made a decent journalist.

But to be fair, it wasn’t like his crimes wasn’t that well documented.

He was practically famous.

A warm cup of joe is all that you had to company you as you began your plunge into the crimes of Jeon Jungkook. It had required the use of many old news clips, dramatically written articles and even pictures of the vulgar crimes along with court documents and police reports. Amidst this crazed quest for knowledge that was fueled by a harsh sting of betrayal, a narrative formed from the foggy woodworks. The jagged puzzle pieces of your beloved ‘Jk’ formed, creating an image that you wished to never have witnessed.

On March 27th, 2016 an innocent woman was murdered. Her name was Lee Ji-eun and she was a music teacher at a prestigious private high school. She was found in her office, throat slit from ear to ear and body laying lifelessly across her desk, school papers stained scarlett red in her blood. The killing shocked the community, she was adored by her classmates, respected by colleagues and admired in her community. No one had a clue on who could’ve committed such a random act of violence.

On April 16th, 2017 a man called the police due to his missing wife and daughter. The daughter, Nayeon was found in a field out in the country, throat blue from having been strangled to death. Her mother was only a few yards away from her, bullet enlodged in the back of her head from being shot execution style. Nayeon’s father was desperate for justice, but the police had told him that the killer was just too good.

On April 1st, 2018 another girl named Lalisa was found in her room, dead. Unlike the other crimes, her murder wasn’t a dramatic or gory one. It had appeared that she was poisoned to death. Up until then, the police had no leads. It wasn’t until the realized that Lalisa’s boyfriend had been missing as well. He was caught getting in a suspicious vehicle on surveillance camera, only to never be seen again. A vehicle that was traced to Jungkook.

Jungkook admitted the murders of all three of these girls, along with Nayeon’s mother and Lalisa’s boyfriend. Although the boyfriend’s body was never found.

He did all of these crimes on Easter.

The first murder of Lee Ji-eun just so happened to fall on that day.

But like other serial killers before him, Jungkook formed a habit. A ritual. A routine.

You noted with distaste how little the motives were discussed.

Jungkook never told why he killed his victims. He was silent. Even in the interrogation process, he just admitted that he was indeed the killer. Nothing else was uttered from his lips. The trial was semi-famous, due to the fact that such a young and handsome man turned out to be a murderer. People even called him the new Ted Bundy for his aristocratic fall from grace that was the revelation of his sick minded actions. He came from a rich family, was somewhat quiet as a student but still earned high marks. Someone no one thought could be capable of taking five innocent lives in such a bloodthirsty fashion.

The Easter Bunny was what some struggling news station tried to nickname him in a frenzied act of getting higher viewership rates. Turns out, the name stuck.

You shut your laptop and stared off into space.

The five faces of the victims would forever be burned into your memory.

You just had one question, why?

Why take away these people’s lives as if it were nothing? What had they ever done to him? It was just so random and it puzzled you. Jungkook was a smart man, why did he never tell anyone the reasoning for his snap? Why did he let the press run with guessing motives and possible reasonings instead of putting the victim’s family at rest by telling them the truth? Did he plan to take it to his grave?

What could those five people have done to make him murder so ruthlessly?

You gulped down the last of your coffee that was somewhat chilled due to the long passage of time.

Remorse slid itself over you body, spreading its’ inky and sticky dread until every part of your body was effected.

You felt dirty.

You had unknowingly created a friendship with the slayer of five lives.

A psychopath had somehow became your closest buddy. You had seeked comfort within his sweet words.

Was this how he lured in his other victims as well?

A shudder came next.

He lied to you. If you had known all of this from the beginning, there would be no way that you would have tried to reach out to such person. You fancied yourself a empathic and understanding woman, but this was just something from hell itself.

You stood and decided to take a shower, hoping that scrubbing the invisible stains of guilt would somehow ease your racing mind.

It was a given that you would stop all communication with Jungkook.

You could never even attempt to play as if things were normal after this. As much as it pained you, you would have to lose a friend.

It would be rather simple, you will stop sending letters and he would catch onto the silence and move on with his own life. You were sure that he would have more vital concerns in that concrete jungle that was his home. Although you would miss the communication, you valued your conscious more.

You attempted to fill your time by distracting yourself with mundane things. You managed to stay away from your front door, not wanting to catch yourself longingly gazing at your mail slot for Jungkook’s letters. You began binge-watching one of your favorite shows. And when this wasn’t quite enough to divert your mind and heart, you ordered a new novel online. Reading always made you emerge yourself into other worlds, you would drown yourself into any plot at the moment. Despite not being able to relate to most characters within those free-spirited stories, you still rather bury your head in a book then spend your time thinking of Jungkook and what he was doing.

This lead to another problem.

The drawings.

Your assumption of him being an artistic soul was indeed spot on. He sent you three etchings, all done by pencil and depicting of you. The first one was just a drawing of your selfie, you could tell by the hair-do, pose and outfit. The second one was just of you, portrait style with eyes staring ahead at any observer and very detailed. And the third one was of you tapping a pen against your chin, brows scrunched and staring down at your hands that held a piece of paper. Right next to this image was a side note of ‘this is what I picture when I think of you writing me letters.’

It was almost unbelieveable how good he was at drawing you.

It was as if he knew your face for years, he created it so well from just having a picture to go off of. The cross-hatching, the shadowing, the use of texture, the blending and the perfect imagery of every feature on your face.... It was baffling. It was like looking at the lense of someone else’s perception of you. He clearly thought you were way prettier than you did. The girl he drew was elevated from what your self-esteem would let you think yourself to be. It was so odd….but you couldn’t help but marvel at his works. It was nice of him to draw you, almost intimate. You wondered how carefully he dissected your picture to be able to draw you in situations that he’s never seen you in. You never thought you’d say a boy took the time to draw you, but you were flattered.

Too bad you were unable to tell him how impressed you were with such effort.

Too bad you couldn’t study them any further.

You thought about burning them. Cutting them into millions of pieces. Throwing them away. Letting them drift in the wind onto some random street below your apartment.

But when you worked up the nerve to initiate any of the acts of destruction, you just couldn’t.

You may hate the artist behind the creation. But not the creation itself.

You stored them under your bed, not wanting to spare any thought to Jungkook but also wanting to preserve the art for a later time when your heart wasn’t wounded and a certain serial killer was in your rear view mirror.

But you couldn’t ignore the killer for as long as you would’ve liked.

Your book arrived. And you had to get it,

While doing so, you were faced with three envelopes addressed to you. From Jungkook.

Your halted your actions for a split second. It was almost second nature to feel the bubbling excitement and instinct to reach for them.

But then those deceased five faces flashed before your eyes.

In the end, you ignored them in favor of retrieving your freshly purchased book.

But after you laid yourself on your couch and found yourself re-reading the same first paragraph over and over again, you realized that those letters just couldn’t be ignored. They stubbornly beckoned your attention, a siren’s call demanding your priority. You huffed and set the book down, fixing your gaze towards the entrance of your humble nest, were the letters innocently laid.

Here you were faced with a dilemma.

Did you trust yourself enough to read the contents of the letters and not send a response of your own?

Would it be the right thing to even open them?

Could you bear not knowing what he had to say to you after you haven’t made contact in a while?

You bit your lip and contemplated the ethics at play.

Surely, just to read the letters wouldn’t mean any harm…...right?

You had ended the ties but what was so wrong with glancing over some previous records of the relationship? Because that’s what Jungkook’s letters would be...evidence of the past friendship you shared with him.

You honestly couldn’t bear the mystery.

You just had to know what he had to say.

You grabbed the letters and ripped them open in a rush to put an end to your inner turmoil.

He was worried.

He was confused.

He was hurt.

Jungkook expressed his somberness for not hearing from you. He also voiced his concern for your well being. He was anything but mad at you, just alarmed. That alarm was genuine from what you could tell by his growingly frantic penmanship.

This set ablaze a glowing fire inside your chest.

The audacity of that...that...heathen.

To act so kind and compassionate when he lacked those same emotions towards his victims. You almost wanted to laugh at his pitying tone, wondering if he had such ability when he put those five bodies six feet under. How dare he put the blame on you for not responding back? For making you feel guilty? It was him who was at fault.

A sudden urge to inform him that his jig was up suddenly hit you.

You wanted nothing more than to shove his face in the fact that you broke free from his cute manipulative narrative concerning his mother. In a burst of fury, you quickly grasped for a pen and paper. A rebuttal was all too ready to escape your mind and pierce his soul.

‘Dear Jungkook (or should I say Easter Bunny?)’

It had been a week.

Usually, this is when you would get a response letter.

But when you went to your mail slot and opened the incoming letter, you were left scratching your head in bewilderment.

‘My Dearest Y/n,

I see you found out about the nickname the hideous press gave me.

Well...I think this type of revelation is best talked over in person.

I’ll see you soon.’

It hardly seemed like a proper response to what you had said to him.

You had exposed his truth and his despicable crimes and the only thing he had to reference was the nickname bit? Was he avoiding the topic? Why was the letter so fucking short? And how come he mentioned seeing you in person?

A little bit of paranoia was the theme for the rest of your day.

Logically, you knew that he had no way of seeing you. He was locked up and the severity of his crimes would surely mean that he was heavily guarded, and even if he did manage to overcome that burden, then how the hell would he find you?

But still….you didn’t think Jungkook was capable of murder either. He still did that as well as lied to you to add a ripe cherry on top.

Perhaps he was just trying to fuck with you? To play with your head one last time and freak out the mentally ill girl as one last ‘fuck you’. It wouldn’t be the first time someone used your fears against you. Maybe he wanted to manipulate you once more so you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder even after you two stopped conversing…..

Yes. Getting into the mind of a killer, you would think this was the most effective way he could cause lasting harm to you from behind bars. He was most likely snickering in his jail cell, telling his inmates about how he managed to scare his lunatic of a pen pal. He probably delighted in turning your phobia against you.

This was the only logical explanation.

But still, you made sure your doors and windows were locked after this letter. Just for the sake of clarity.

Days have passed along with your paranoia for the oddity of Jeon Jungkook. You were focused on getting your life back to normal. Or normality to you, considering that not much changed. You just opted out of daydreaming of conversational topics to send to your pal along with the obvious sending of letters. Sure, you still thought about him from time to time...but you would catch yourself in these moments and force some random chores upon yourself to occupy your brain.

Today was a rainy day and you made a goal for yourself to finish the novel you had bought only days prior.

About 30 minutes in, a knock at your door sounded, interrupting your leisurely reading.

You smiled and checked the time.

Your groceries had arrived.

You went to answer the door, making sure to grab the delivery boys’ tip on the way.

When you opened the entrance to your home, the usual boy was there, handing over two big brown bags that were overflowing with food. You grabbed one of the bags and reached for the money to hand over so you could have to tact to grab the other bag without having to struggle to give the boy his tip, when something struck you.

The boys’ head was ducked downwards, not show casting his face but instead the grocery store’s logo on the hat. His hair was darker than you remembered….now that you noticed it, he was taller too. And overall just bigger….

The grocery boy you were used to seeing was of a more adolescent type of figure, you knew it would be preposterous for the boy to have such a growth spurt in only a weeks’ time. Unless he suddenly decided to take up steroids. Confused, you tried to call out his name to get a better look.

“Renjun?”

A moment of suffocating silence.

An icy shock of terror crashed down upon you and somehow you just knew who was under that hat without him having to look up.

A flurry of movement commenced, marking the beginning of your doom.

You tried to keep him out, but your reflexes weren’t fast enough,

In a haste, you dropped the bag and moved to shut the door, pressing your weight against it with all your might to keep him out. Your body was acting faster than your brain could, not sparing a second to even comprehend how the hell he was here. You had to keep him out, he couldn’t violate your safe haven like this! Survival instincts were kicking in.

But he was faster, and stronger and arguably more determined.

He strode in easily, as if your attempts were at a child’s level. Your found yourself with a large and snowy hand clasped over your mouth, preventing any hollerings for help.

He ducked closer to you, big glassy eyes staring at your horrified expression with an almost dreamy manner.

“Why are you shocked? I told you I was going to see you.”

You never gave much thought to what it would be like to be in the presence of a killer.

Somehow, you knew it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You sitting on your couch with the killer wrapped around you, large frame practically enveloping your smaller one as you were forced to feel his pulsing muscles up close. His face in near proximity to yours, big eyes absorbing your profile with an unreadable look upon his graceful face.

You were under close inspection, it had been like this for twenty minutes at least, him staring at you whilst keeping you caged under his far more capable body. He stared at you with such focus, you found yourself wondering what possibly could have been going through that demented mind of his.

Were you next?

Were you going to be the sixth notch under his belt?

Why wasn’t he saying anything?

The silence was unbearable, for you knew that when it would be broken; something very unpleasant would unfold. You wanted the silence, but it also petrified you.

Finally, you gathered the courage to pierce the blanket of quiet.

“A-are you going to kill me?”

His nose scrunched up at this, transforming his stoic expression into that of confusion from a now somewhat boyish face. His already big eyes seemed to widened and they peered into yours with a new softness that you wouldn’t expect from a killer.

“What? Of course not! I just wanted to talk to you.”

His voice was indeed what you pictured it to be, somewhat breathy and puerile but musical in a sense that could not be explained. You didn’t have time to analyze the person behind the letters, compare him to the mental image you had in your head, when you were too busy trying not to panic and hyperventilate. You read somewhere that if a person is ever kidnapped it’s best to not outwardly panic because it could cause the attacker to want to get rid of you sooner. With this in mind, you tried to calm your racing heart and breathing. First, you need to find out what he wanted, convince him to trust you, and make him turn himself back in. Freaking out could get you nowhere, you must use logic as your escape plan.

“What do you want to talk about?” You wished you sounded as calm as your voice sounded, it completely masked the chaotic state your nervous system was in.

“My crimes.” He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent very loudly as if the smell was addicting to his nose. His behavior was odd, it was as if he was separated from a long lost lover who he finally found once again. He was attached to you, petting you, studying you and even breathing you in. It was so intimate and you felt like you were being groomed for slaughter….

“Why did you do what you did?”

Jungkook halted his cuddling for a moment to lean back and stare into your eyes with a more serious feeling.

“They didn’t love me like I loved them….”

You were sure you were going to die.

He was insane.

The killings were crimes of passion, towards innocent girls who were unfortunate to witness the side of Jungkook that you are seeing now; a love-struck and delusional man with no boundaries or sense of relationships.

In a last effort to stay alive, you wrestled against his larger form and made a reach for the door.

To your surprise, nothing prevented you from getting up. He didn’t stop you.

“What are you going to do Y/n? Leave?” He called out from behind you in a cynical and delighted tone.

“Sugarplum, you know damn well you can’t go out there.”

Terrible, terrible realization dawned upon you like a poisonous fog that forced your eyes to water and lungs to clog. You were only a foot away from your front door, but you knew you couldn’t venture behind it. Your safe haven has become your own prison.

“You’re stuck here with me.”

#yandere jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #BTS jungkook #yandere #bangtan boys #obsessive #love #yandere kpop #kpop #pen pal #bts #fanfic #my writing #horror #murder

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gruntadminloch-moved · 7 years

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((you ever have one of those days where you wake up and like everything’s feeling great as it ever will and you’re like “I’m gonna get so much done this is gonna be a good day”

and then you literally step on a staple not even in like the sensitive part of your foot just like one of the calloused bits that shouldn’t care much about a staple and it hurts like a needle or a pin or something but you’re not even bleeding and it’s nbd but it just

fucking ruins your good mood and you feel miserable and ready to go back to bed

because that’s me right now today i stepped on a staple and my fuckin Positive Vibes vanished I feel like ass and I’m going back to bed now /flops))

#ooc | out of commands #needles mention #((maybe i just need to sleep it back off maybe i need like 30 more minutes of sleep and a shower and i'll be grand))#((i was doing so good shit was getting done and now i feel like crying over a staple i managed to enlodge in my fucking foot))#((this is the smallest problem but it's ruined my day))

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kasawi1 · 5 years

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Selecting A Drug Treatment Program Minneapolis MN

By Harold Morgan

Any type of addiction can lead to huge problems for many years to come. Drugs are a classic example of this. These days, this begins earlier and earlier. It can start off because people are just socializing or because of peer pressure. However, there are underlying reasons for this as well. It is important to keep tabs on this, and to find a drug treatment program Minneapolis MN when you feel it is getting out of control. However, a treatment program can be very useful because this is usually designed by someone who is qualified and specifically experienced in the area. They will know of various methods and techniques with working with people who have these addictions. They know how to relate to individuals and understand what they are going through. It is unlike family members who sometimes feel like giving up because they don't have the understanding. Of course, when someone is addicted to heroine, it is not something to take lightly either. There is no way in which you are able to quit this cold turkey. Not matter how much courage you have or how much discipline you have, this is a drug which is enlodged in the body and in the brain. It can be hugely difficult to eliminate this and one needs to go through with a detox program for it to take effect. It doesn't mean that one has to go to rehab. There are many different options to help a person who doesn't have the time or the money. Many cost next to nothing. At the same time, you will receive a very good service and you will be communicating with people who have specialized in the area of drug treatment. There may be people in groups which you can communicate with as well. It is usually when one has reached rock bottom, that they find themselves moving towards a rehab program or an outpatient program. Many people find that this is what changes them. There are programs which arrange family members visitations. It is important to reconnect with loved ones. Most addicts don't remember what they have said or did during this time. It can especially be difficult for kids. One needs to listen to them and to be patient. It is important to realize that there are affordable options available as well. Everyone is able to receive assistance. There are government programs which are available. There are programs which are available in community centers which are very good and very reasonable as well. Many people are able to get a sponsorship. In some cases, the workplace is able to sponsor the individual. Hope is never lost. There are people who will go to a psychologist and finds that the one on one attention can be the answer. There are counselors who have been trained in this areas especially. They have the experience and they know of various methods and techniques which can help the individual go forward. They may learn to replace this addiction with a hobby of their choice. Some people learn about painting or something else that is creative and which they begin to enjoy. They will also talk about what led them to the addiction in the first place. For many people this can be traumatic and it can take time to talk about this.

About the Author:

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Selecting A Drug Treatment Program Minneapolis MN via http://bit.ly/1pVxpX4

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melancholrhiandsaddymaddy · 5 years

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Boom! Your whole head is enlodged in my arse hole

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arcanelokadottir · 7 years

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🏋🏻 {{Cay}}

@telekineticdivinity

“BASTARD!” Arcane screamed, hurdling a rather large tree into the distance. Due to the velocity and force of the throw, the tree crashed into a mountainside; causing loose boulders from the top to roll down the side and onto the land below.

GODS SHE HATED HIM. She hated the hold he had over her, she hated his stupid gorgeous looks, she hated his venomous smile. No, ARCANE LOATHED CHAOS. She teleported over to the trunk of the tree she just enlodged into a mountain, hopped on it, using her agility she would ascend the mountain, taking only faint steps to the top. Once atop the mountain, she leaped into the air and forced herself down, fist aimed at the mountain top.

As she edged closer to the mountain, her whole form became a pyre of azure flame and she slammed into the mountain.

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themaraudersstoriesandtales · 7 years

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Peter Parker x Reader: My Fault pt. 1

Okay. I know I said that I'd do a Jonathan Crane x Reader, but I really can't right now because I want to do one when he returns to Gotham. I think I'll just give you all a Peter Parker. Gotta love some Pinecone Parker as I call him 😉 You threw your heavy bag in the back behind the passenger seat. "Sleep in?" You ask your cousin. She picked you up every morning for school, and today she was late. "Partying. Should not have drank so much last night." She says, leaning her head back on the seat and pushing her dark blue glasses up closer to her eyes. "Should not have gone at all." You murmur. She looks over to you, you could feel her scolding you through her shades. "Maybe you should pull that stick out of your butt and have some fun. Life is about more than grades and achievements you know." "Says you. I'd like to get a good job as an adult, one that'll put food on my table for my family, not pay for my drugs and cigars and alcohol." You sit in the car and slam the door. She nods and turns toward the road. "Fair enough." ---- She pulls into the parking spot terribly. She took up two spaces without a care and jumped out. "Come on, I have to check you in." "This school system is dumb. I'm old enough to do as I please." You both approach the doors as she opens her black water bottle, you see it isn't water as she sloppily drips some down her chin. "What's in the bottle?" "Beer. I'll be okay as long as if i have this. I'm Jeffrey Dahmering it." She smiles and snaps the lid shut and opens the door. "That's not funny. He killed seventeen people." "Just shut up and get in the building." She shoves you through the door and up to the main office. "Good morning Miss Oliver. And Miss (y/l/n). Running late?" The kind desk lady asks. "Yes, Y/n had a Doctors appointment." She lied smoothly. She did this every once in a while. "I hope it all went well." She smiles at you, you nod in response. She scribbles something down on a post it note and then abother, she handed you each one. "Give these to your teachers, it's time for fourth period." You both walk down the man hallway and then up the stairs to science. "Okay kiddo. I'll meet you at the truck later. Remember to do something bad, live a bit. Pull out that stick." You knock on the class door as Olive runs to her class, clearly hungover as she rubs her forehead. Peter Parker, your closest friend, opens the door. "Where have you been?" He whispers. "At my house waiting for a ride." You roll your eyes. "Miss L/n." Your teacher scoffs. You hand her the post it and take your seat by a window, you drop your heavy bag to the ground and drown her out. This is how you take things in. Look outside while listening to her babble on. Class ended dully, you walked out to the hall with Peter by your side. "We didn't even get to sit together. What happened?" "I'll tell you at lunch, kay? It's a story you won't like to hear." --- The day dragged on, lunch is the last period of the day. You sat in front of Peter and leaned across the table, talking quickly and lowly so no one would hear. Peter was shocked, but also found the news hilarious. "Maybe we should tell someone though, in all seriousness." "No! She'll get in trouble, her mom will yell more, she'll drink more, get into trouble, and won't be safe." "Yes, but it isn't safe when you get in that car with her when she's a drunken idiot. You know she's been drinking all day." "I think I'll be okay." The bell rang and everyone got up to exit the building. "I'll go with you." Peter walked with you to the truck, telling a story about Aunt May getting hit on by random guys and how awkward that made him feel. You laughed, "She doesn't even notice?" "Not a bit!" He chuckles. "Your laugh sounds like bells." He blushes at his comment. "I uh. I mean." "Y/n?" Olive calls as you and Peter stand on the sidewalk talking. "What are you doing? Let's go." She complains. "I'll see you Peter." "Wait!" Peter grabs your hand gently before you step onto the concrete. "Um." He lets go and moves his hand to his back pack strap, clenching it tightly so his skin was ghostly white. "Would you like to hang out sometime? Maybe go for coffee?" "Like a date?" You smile. "Yeah." He says hesitantly. You smile more. "Yeah, that'd be great. I can call you later, to plan it." He smiles and nods, relief floods his face. "Great, I'll talk to you later then." He waves and turns away. "Let's go, freak!" Olive calls, you sprint to her truck, her glasses were lopsided, and hair a mess. "You look awful!" "Fell asleep in Algebra II." She shrugs. You close yourself in the car, feeling uneasy, and buckled up. "I think I want to walk." You say, feeling sick. "No. You're fine." She slurs. "Hold on." She pulls the lever to go backwards, and then yanks the car out, then turns, and yanks it forward. "Olive, you're drunk!" "Not too much, so relax and shut your mouth." When Olive was drunk, Olive got aggressive. Not hilarious and dumb, but abusive and mean. You get onto the road and hold onto the handle. "Olive, stop at that gas station, your not driving right." "Shut up!" She yells, and slaps her hand to your mouth, she turned her head for a second to hit you, hit the gas pedal too hard, and the car lunged into the forest. The car tipped and fell off the hill, over the railing, the screams from Olive made your heart race faster than the adrenaline, the front of the vehicle hit a large evergreen tree, smashing in the windshield and lunging Olive out of the passengers side, it yanked you forward too, and slammed your temple into the dashboard, and everything went blank as the car continued to roll down the hill, slamming you into the window over and over, harder and harder. --- Peter called your phone again and again, wondering if you had gotten home safely, or if you had just been busy, or ignoring him. But his mind took over and assumed the worse. He had to be sure. He decides to go to your house to check on you. "Peter?" Aunt May called just before he could open his window and sneak out. "Yeah May?" "Come here." He obeyed and stood in the doorway, she sat on the couch and watched the news. "Look at this." She turned up the volume. On the television was a silver truck, the licence plate the same as Olive's. "One women found dead at the scene, and another was found a few feet from the vehicle, it isn't clear what caused this crash, but police suspect alcohol was involved. The victims were recognized as Olive Oliver and Y/n L/n, both students at Midtown High School. I'm Lillian Baker reporting to you live." "They go to your school Peter." Aunt May says. "I have to go." Peter says, sprinting for the door. "Peter?" She shouts as he runs down the hall of the apartment, and down the street to the hospital, to you. -- The doctors pulled you into the emergency room, you had a broken arm, two broken ribs, a huge gash on your head full of glass, pieces of glass enlodged in your arm and shoulder, a swollen eyelid, and a busted lip. Blood made it look worse, you had blood everywhere on your face from the gash, and blood on your clothes, making the stick you, warm and thick. Your eyes remained closed for three days. You woke up, arm in a cast, torso wrapped up, skin cleaned, in new clothes, the glass was removed, and stiches every where, above your eye, and up and down your right arm. You were in so much pain. "Hey!" Someone says beside you, "you're up!" A hand touches yours, warming it. You saw nothing but darkness. "Peter? Is that you?" You recognized his voice. "Yeah, it's me." You grasp his hand that he placed in yours. "Peter, I can't see! I can't see Peter!" You felt your eyes open, yet you saw nothing. "I know. Relax." "What happened? Where are you?" "I'm right here-nurse!" He calls. "Nurse!" You grasp his arms and pulls yourself up, yelling about the darkness, confused and scared. The doctor came in followed by two nurses. "Calm down Miss L/n, we have you." They break your grip on Peter's arms, and lay you back. "We'll explain it for you, okay?" You grasped Peter's hand. They told you that you had lost your sight because of the impact on the dashboard, they told you about the stiches, and your cousin. You began to cry at the loss of your cousin. "We're so sorry." They left, you began to sob hysterically. "It's okay." Peter says. "I can't see! I want to see!" "This is how it's going to be now, okay? Don't worry, I'll take care of you. You can come live with May and I." You lived with your mom, who wasn't ever home. Your parents divorced six years ago, father taking all the money and leaving you two with nothing so your mom became a prostitute, got addicted to drugs and alcohol, and stayed out late. "You can't love me anymore." You cried. "Can't love you anymore? Why would this stop that? I will love you until the world ends, sight or no sight, scars or no scars. I love how you look, yes. You're goregous, but I love your heart more." That calms you down. "Hello." A new voice appears. "How are you feeling? Are you hungry yet?" "No, sore and sleepy." You say, still holding Peter's hand. "It is time for medicine. This is going to make you sleepy really quickly, okay?" You nod. The nurse stays a few more minutes, filling your IV's with the medicine, and then leaving. Your eyelids already felt heavy. "Peter?" You whisper to him because a whisper is all you could manage. "Yeah?" "What did she look like?" "Uh, she had dark brown hair, brown eyes, hair up in a pony tail, lavender purple scrubs with Doc Mcstuffins characters on them, pale skin..." You fell asleep to the sound of his voice. Peter smiled as your grip loosened and eyes closed, he leaned over and kissed your forehead, holding his lips there and closing his eyes. He pulled away and lay his down on your bed, kneeling down on the floor. "Peter?" Aunt May stood in the door way. He said nothing, not even a glance. She walked over when he didn't respond. She set a hand on his shoulder. "Is this the girl you told me about?" Nothing. "I could've done something, like walked her home. I let her go into that car." "No! No, Peter. You don't blame yourself! It has nothing to do with-" "I need her to come home with us. May, please. We have that extra room, I have to make up for this. Please May." She just nodded. I'll possibly write a second part later, hope you all liked it! ~Sirius

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