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strawwritesfic · 2 years ago

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Loki Laufeyson x Female!Asgardian!Reader: Sunrise

Summary: As a matter of fact, the life he was living wasn’t enough.

Rating/Tags: T (Implied/referenced depression; post-Thor: The Dark World; not canon complaint; Thor & Loki; Thor & Reader; Peasant!Reader)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Sunrise

Loki could not for the life of himself understand what was so wrong with him. Sitting in a comfortable bed alone and watching the sunlight creep up the opposite wall, he felt a strange dullness settle over him, body and soul–if one such as he could claim ownership of a soul anymore, he supposed. Yet even the soulless felt joy, did they not? So why was it that when he at last had peace that he could feel no joy?

Was this not enough? What was so suddenly missing from his life? Where was he?

Perhaps it was best to start from there. Green eyes slowly dragged themselves away from the dust motes dancing in the sunbeam splayed across his dark green sheets. A bedroom, small and tidy, met his gaze beyond the edge of the mattress. A worn but tasteful bedside table sat nearest to him. A stack of equally worn and tasteful sat books atop it. Loki sat up to run his pale fingers over their spines. The books smelled old, of dust and paper and ink–as old as he felt at that very moment.

His joints still worked well enough, though, and his stomach, too, by the sound of things. Having solved his simple mystery (brought on by nothing more than sleep and mental numbness), Loki thought he should maybe eat some breakfast. What else was there to do, save more sleeping? He would have preferred to not waste what remained of his life like that, whatever few choices he had otherwise–and those were just as few as he had for meals.

That wasn’t to say the cabinets weren’t full. They were, and with perfectly decent food. Loki could not taste it, though, just as he could not feel the sun coming through the windows or appreciate the antique furniture filling the rooms. There was something wrong, something missing. He just didn’t know what.

A knock on the wooden front door interrupted Loki��s attempts to work the puzzle out. Having no intention of letting whoever it was in, he did not get up from his place at the kitchen table.

Of course, Thor just opened the door anyway. That he smiled while he did it was simply a further annoyance.

“I suppose since you have me under house arrest, you think you can just barge in here whenever you want,” Loki observed. His voice lacked its usual tone of derision, but still served the purpose of smacking the grin off his adopted brother’s face.

“It is not house arrest, Brother,” Thor replied as he sat down–uninvited–in the chair opposite Loki. “You are free to come and go as you please.”

“But not to the palace, nor to the stables, nor to the armory, nor to anywhere else worth going.”

“You are as free as I could arrange you being.”

“Yes, I’m sure you tried very hard.”

“It is what Mother would have wanted.”

“She would not have wanted me caged.”

“She would not have wanted you to usurp the throne, as you have in my absence numerous times!”

Even getting Thor riled up did not have the same effect on Loki as it once had. Instead of watching his face with amusement, Loki stared at his own fingernails.

Only Thor’s sigh brought Loki’s attention back to reality. “I did not come here to argue.”

“Pray tell, what did you come here to do, then?”

“I came to check on you.”

Loki’s face slowly furrowed. “Why?”

“You have not touched your breakfast,” Thor said, just as slowly inclining his great blond head toward Loki’s plate. Before Loki could argue, Thor went on, “Heimdall says you rarely eat. You rarely move.”

“Oh, so now it’s okay to have your men watch me at all hours. Yet you would have me believe that I am free.”

“Heimdall would be watching anyway. You need watching.”

No argument left Loki’s lips. Was he hoping to drive Thor away by not giving him a fight? Loki didn’t know. After a few minutes, Thor sighed again.

“When we got you out of prison, I expected to be throwing you back in within the week. You were supposed to use your freedom to give me headaches with your mischief, not your apathy,” Thor said.

“I am sorry to have disappointed you all.”

“I am not disappointed, Loki. I am worried.”

“Because I have no desire to find myself behind bars again?”

“Because you have not attempted to escape those bars completely. Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine, Thor.”

Thor regarded him for several long moments. It was a scrutiny Loki was unused to after such a long imprisonment and the isolation Thor had rewarded him with. If Loki had felt up to it, he would have lashed out until he’d driven Thor away.

Like with so many other things of late, Loki did not feel up to it. He didn’t even feel anything over Thor seeing straight through his lie.

“You’re not,” Thor announced, getting up from his seat, “but you will be.”

Loki's eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”

“Because I did not come alone.”

Thor’s grin was back, and despite himself Loki felt a flash of something: discomfort. Before Loki could do more than blink at this sudden flare of emotion, Thor wrapped his meaty paw around the front door’s handle and pulled the door to Loki’s house wide open.

Standing just outside was a familiar woman with [color] hair and [color] eyes.

“[Name],” said Thor. “Please come in and join us.”

You took Thor’s offered hand and stepped over the threshold–the threshold of Loki’s sun-warmed hovel. He found himself suddenly on his feet, a most unprince-like gape gracing his features as he looked between your shy expression and Thor’s bold smirk.

Silence. You said nothing. Loki said nothing.

Thor heaved yet another sigh as he rubbed the back of his head. “It took me some time to dig her up, but once I explained who I was and she knew I bore her no ill will for her association with you, she became just as worried about you as I am.”

“There is,” for the first time in ages, Loki could feel his cheeks burning, “nothing to worry about.”

“I disagree. What about you, [Name]?”

Despite your obvious nerves, you did nothing more than swallow, then take a step forward. “It–You do not sound like yourself, your--your highness.”

Thor waggled his eyebrows at Loki’s bewildered stare.

Loki, again, said nothing.

You ducked your head. That was more familiar.

Loki could remember: a hot day coming in from a ride, a young woman not of high birth admiring the horses, Loki refusing to let the guard throw her out and insisting on escorting her home himself. He had not known then what would blossom from the exchange. Soon he was riding his horse to see her every week, thinking of her smile over family dinners, and sharing secrets with her that he spoke of to no one else.

But that had been another lifetime, another man entirely.

“I do not have to stay if you find my presence displeasing,” you said in a rush. “If you wish, I can–”

“No!” Loki burst out.

So long feeling nothing, and now he felt this: shaky, embarrassed, flustered, and so very, very annoyed at Thor grinning at him behind your back. Loki took a deep breath to try to steady himself; his knuckles gripped the back of his chair.

All the while, you watched, with those [color] eyes Loki had almost forgotten.

“You are here. You might as well stay. It has been…a long while since I have had conversation. Good conversation,” he added as his eyes met Thor’s.

This only caused Thor’s grin to grow wider still. Obviously Loki wasn’t to win anything that day. However, this did get the King of Asgard to release you, something Loki noted you greeted with relief.

“I will take my leave, then,” said Thor in his migraine-inducing voice, then more gently said to you,” You are free to come and go as you please, as decreed by Thor Odinson, King of the Realm–not his younger brother, who may no longer claim a royal title.”

With this last poor attempt at a friendly barb, Thor swept out of Loki’s cottage. Loki watched him go, then stared at the closed door. Thor had left. He was gone. Now Loki was all alone with…

“Your higness?”

To add to just how undignified the whole situation was, Loki nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your voice. You were too close all of sudden, having apparently crossed the room while his thoughts were elsewhere. His heartbeat sped, a sensation so foreign that he wondered if he ought not lie down. This could all be some horrible fever dream. After all, he had never thought it possible that he could look into those eyes again. A girl of such low birth–even a girl that appreciated horses–had no business being the consort of the Realm’s future ruler. He had had such grand dreams. Now all of those dreams were dashed to pieces.

Slowly, as if in a dream, Loki lifted a finger to your cheek. You did not move. You did not disappear either. You were real, solid, somehow forgiving. He felt his lips lift in a slim smile.

“No,” he said. “Thor’s right. It’s just Loki now. Like it always should have been.”

Tears filled your eyes, but perhaps you were feeling a plethora of emotions, too, because then you smiled in return. Only then–not when he was briefly king, not when he was free of prison, and not when he finally got out from underneath Odin’s roof–did Loki realize what he’d been missing all along. Only then did the sun rise again on Loki’s hopes and dreams.

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yoooespinosa · 3 years ago

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could you please write a draco x reader fic, where the reader is hopelessly in love with draco, and she's not afraid to show it. but draco doesn't feel the same. and draco being draco, he rejects the reader with no remorse. then when the reader finally comes to the realization that she deserves better, she started seeing new people (not necessarily dating, but more like talking), then that's when draco feels a bit jealous now that the reader isn't all over him anymore. the rest is up to you, love! just something really angsty, you could end it in any way you'd like.

also, sidenote. you're an amazing writer and i love you!!

a/n: Thank you for your request! ily <3

To say you had a crush on Draco Malfoy, was an understatement.

You couldn't help it, you couldn't just stop the feelings you developed every time he came around.

When he walked into the room it was butterflies breaking out of their cage, palms growing sweaty and your heart racing so fast you were scared you'd be able to see its indentions.

It was scary at first, to have such feelings at only thirteen years old. So you did your best to ignore them. You did your best to stay out of his way.

That only worked for so long.

When you are friends with Draco and the people that surround him, it becomes very hard to stay out of his path.

So it was only inevitable that your crush on him would become so much more. Especially as the years went on.

He hadn't made it much easier. Sometimes you felt as if, maybe, he returned your feelings. How could you think otherwise? With the way he walked with you to class, carried your books at times and spent time with you. Just you. Alone.

How could you not fall in love with him.

With all that simmering in you, you finally let it out. You made your affections obvious, not afraid to show Draco how you felt for him. You had thought it was welcomed. You thought that the feelings would be returned.

It seemed as though he could only tolerate you for so long. Yes, that was the right word for it, the only thing he had for you was toleration.

Your shoes sounded on the stone under you, on your way to the Slytherin common room. You had just got out of detention with professor Snape. You suppose it was well deserved, you had seen Draco almost put the wrong ingredient in his potion, so you being you had wandered to his table and helped him, much to Snapes dismay.

Whispering the password, you made your way through the dim passage. Chattering of people from all years and faint laughter was heard all around.

You spotted your friends right away, seated by the green flamed fireplace, as usual.

"She just can't take a hint." You heard Draco grumble, you paused your steps, you didn't mean to eavesdrop but it seemed as if your feet had a mind of its own.

"Wait," Blaise closes the book he had in his hold. "who are we talking about again?"

Pansy sighs, seeming they had been on the topic for some time. "We're talking about y/n."

Your brows furrow. Going back to the first thing you heard Draco say, she just can't take a hint, what was that supposed to mean. What hint?

"Why can't you just tell her how you feel?" Theo adds, his voice is laced with annoyance, maybe this isn't the first time they've talked about this.

"I thought how I felt would be obvious enough, without having to say anything." He huffs.

"Well," Theo sighs. "apparently not."

You were becoming anxious. What were they talking about and what exactly was Draco feeling? There was streak of hope in you, maybe he'd confess right here that he felt the same.

"What do you suggest I say then, oh-wise-one?" Draco asks teasingly.

"Easy, just say exactly what you tell us." He clears his throat dramatically, adopting a mock version of his voice, "Y/n, you have to be one of the most annoying girls, I have ever had the dissatisfaction of meeting. Please, oh please take the hint and leave me alone because these attempts at getting at me are getting more pathetic each time." He finishes with a clumsy curtsy.

The other Slytherins try to stifle their laughs.

You hadn't even noticed the gasp that escaped your throat until four heads turned to your direction.

"Y/n, I didn't kn-" You cut of Theo's words and apologetic stare.

"Is that true?" You ask Draco, your voice low, laced with hurt. Your nose was stinging and your bottom lip hung heavy, but you refused to cry in front of them. You wouldn't give them another weakness to laugh about.

Draco managed to keep his face blank, no emotions shining through. He shrugged, "Pretty much summed it up."

You almost flinched. He didn't even care about the hurt those words brought you.

You left without a look back. Leaving behind your friends call of your name. They weren't the ones you wanted an apology from. They had known how much you felt for him and didn't even bother telling you that it was definitely not mutual. They even laughed, like it was a joke, like your heart was a comedic topic.

The cold air hit your face, freezing against the tear stain tracks. You sat on a lone stone bench in the court yard, letting those tears make a home on your cheeks.

It wasn't obvious--his dislike to you. If it was, you would have gave up long ago. But a part of you felt that there was hope and you had chased after that.

Why couldn't he have just told you when you first let your affections known, it seemed that he had encouraged it back then, with lingering touches and soft smiles.

Looking back now, you notice that those advantages had slowly disappeared. You had been too caught up in his silky hair, those gray eyes filled with mirth and mischief, his angular face with high bones that no one could compare to, that you hadn't notice everything was unrequited.

A sick part of you even felt honored to have your heart broken in the hold of his beautiful hands, the part that saw him do no wrong.

Maybe that was the first problem, you put him on a pedestal, so high up you weren't able to see anything negative of him. You weren't able to see his cruel reality of his feelings towards you.

And he didn't even seem sorry. He didn't even look bothered by the damage of his words.

You were so nice and considerate to him. You would support him at every quidditch game, cheer the loudest even when he lost. You bought him presents for every one of his birthdays and even Christmas, each one sentimental and thoughtful. You had comforted him when he got those letters, that he despised, from his father. You had voiced encouragements when he showed a little tell sign of his insecurities. You had been there for him.

And he treats you like this, like you can be so easily dismissed. You didn't deserve that, you didn't deserve to be called pathetic for having normal feelings and then being laughed at for it.

The longer you sat on that cold bench, the angrier you got. A bitter feeling growing in your stomach, melting away those knots.

You wasted all this time and effort on some guy who didn't even deserve it, some guy who didn't appreciate you. It wasn't fair.

"Hey, you okay?" A familiar voice sounded through your revelations.

You looked up and met green eyes framed with circular glasses.

"Yeah. I was just thinking." You mumbled, the bitter taste was stuck on your tongue, you wanted rid of it.

"Mind if I sit and think with you?" Harry asked, he was nervously scratching the back of his neck, smiling warmly at you.

You offered him a smile, welcoming his genuineness. "Go ahead."

He sat there with you for hours. Surrounded by the sound of wind. It was nice and comfortable. The bitter feeling leaving you completely. You were content now, even if you could still feel the ache in your arms from holding onto Draco for so long.

Weeks had passed. Weeks of no signs of you. The first week Draco hadn't been worried, a little curious, but that was all. The longer it went on though, he became a little more than curious. Not because he cared, cause he didn't, just that if something happened to you, it would be his fault. His rejection was the reason you ran off like a fool to who knows where.

Which is the only reason he went looking for you. He already got a lot of shit from the others, he didn't need more problems stacking up.

He checked all of your favorite places. Starting with that tree down by the black lake that you enjoyed to lean on and watch the sun go down, the sunset wasn't near so he should've known you would not have been there.

He then went to the gardens, there was a bench there that was next to a small pond. It was filled with odd creatures and was home to your favorite flowers, lotus's. You weren't there either.

Lastly, he went to a certain abandoned hall. You had to be there. You went there to be alone with your thoughts, you had taken him with you there a few times. There was a big window there with a thick ledge, streams of sunlight beamed through and tiny rainbows would reflect on the opposite wall due to the cracks on said window.

He heard you before he saw you. A soft laugh reverberating through the empty hall, a laugh he had always found annoying. Hearing it now though, just made him want to get closer to you.

So he did, walking with light footsteps. He froze, you were not alone. Sitting there in the space he once accompanied, was Harry fucking Potter. What kind of sick joke was this?

Why were you sitting with him? And does that mean you just laughed at something he said?

Your laugh sounded through again, once piercing now melodic. It was a bitter feeling, Potter shouldn't have the honor of dragging that sound out of you, he shouldn't even witness it.

Draco left the hall before either of you saw him, he needed to get himself in check.

More weeks passed. Weeks of you hanging out with Potter. You were doing things with him that you had done with Draco.

It was on purpose, you had to be doing it on purpose. You were simply trying to make him jealous and it was annoyingly working.

But how could you be doing that when you didn't even look back to see a reaction.

Draco didn't know what to think. He didn't even know what to feel, or more like let himself feel. Something had changed in the weeks you were away from him.

A revelation of sorts. He missed you. Missed what you would do for him. He regretted what he said and what he never had the chance to say. Because maybe deep down those feelings had been returned, but he was just too stubborn to show.

And now he's seeing you realizing that you deserve more than blurred lines and assumptions. And he's realizing maybe Potter is that more that you deserve.

Draco doesn't like that one bit, he can't even stomach the thought. So he promises to himself that he will do everything in his power to win you back. Even if that means saying that he was sorry and admitting that he was in the wrong, something he's never had to do before.

But if that makes you his again and gets you away from Potter, then its worth it.

Part 2

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dollslayer · 4 years ago

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Fight or Flight

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve comes clean, in the aftermath and shock you turn to the one person who you know you can trust.

W/C: 2,369

Warnings: Implied cheating, angst, swearing

A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @sweetlyscared 's 1k celebration (congrats, it's well deserved!), prompt is in bold. I'm still pretty new to writing and this is my first true Angst fic so any and all reblogs/comments are super appreciated! Please check out my other stuff if you liked this fic!! Cheers!

PART TWO I Masterlist

____

The feeling of everything crashing around you was slow. Like your world was moving in slow motion as you processed the words. Everything else he was saying became distorted, going to waste as he tried desperately to explain himself to you. All you could hear clearly was your own breathing while you tried to will yourself to do something, anything.

Fight or flight is a funny thing, you were always so feisty and eager to fight back, A Bulldog, Steve had affectionately called you. But when he told you he was in love with someone else, that he has been in love with someone else for months, your body couldn’t find anything in it but to walk away.

Your breathing picked up and your eyes searched the ground, refusing to meet his. You felt your legs raise you up to stand and start walking away, unsure of your destination. When you pivoted to leave the room your eyes met his briefly, staring emotionlessly as his desperately searched for anything at all in yours.

“Where are you going? Doll, please, can we talk about this? I’m, I’m so sorry I-”

Whatever else he was saying wasn’t heard over the noise of opening the door and shutting it behind you. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were feeling other than the obvious. You were in a state of shock, it’s one thing to hear awful news and another to understand that it’s true but you were fastly approaching that truth head-on.

You paused for a moment in the hall and heard no movement come after you. You almost let yourself be surprised but he’d admitted he gave up on you a long time ago, so it only makes sense he wouldn’t fight your exit. You kept walking and tried to hold the floodgates of your heart closed for a bit longer.

Flashes of what was said come back to you slowly as reality sets in. “I can’t put this off any longer. I want you to know that I will always love you, but there’s someone else.”

Your head hurt like it would as if you were already crying, the blood pumping in your ears and pressure building in your temples that would no doubt evoke a long-standing headache. Your face felt hot as you stepped into the elevator, maybe you’d go for a walk in an attempt to fend off your tears. Or maybe you’d walk to a safer place to have an emotional breakdown. Whichever is easier.

Brisk gusts of air greet you as you exit the building, making you realize you left your jacket on the arm of the couch. You took a second to evaluate yourself and noticed you’d also walked out in your house slippers and a thin pair of leggings. Trying to evade the cold you tucked yourself in the doorway of a bodega down the street and dialed Bucky.

Two rings and he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Did you know?”

The silence on the line only reminds you of the blood pumping in your ears. The silence tells you everything you needed to know.

“Liste-”

You hang up.

You’re breathing even harder now. Who else knew? For how long? How long was I the joke? You need to find somewhere else to be soon or all these strangers are going to get an eyeful of a grown woman sobbing. You dial the last number you’d expect to at a time like this.

“What’s happening, shortstack?”

You can hear Tony’s grin through the phone and his easy greeting gives you momentary comfort.

“Can I come over? Something happened.”

“I’ll let Jarvis know to let you in” Tony’s tone is understanding, not needing you to explain further, just letting you know you can come to him.

____

Tony’s only seven blocks from yours and Steve’s shared apartment, a fact you’re grateful for when you feel your feet aching every time they hit the pavement. The conversation replays in your head, you try to word what happened in your head and your anger starts overtaking the heartbreak. It’s almost a welcome reprieve from the settling heartbreak but you’re not sure if you’d rather be numb to it completely.

When the elevator doors open Tony’s waiting for you with two tumblers of scotch in hand. You shake your head and move past him to the couch. He joins you on the opposite armchair and sets both his elbows down on his spread knees, resting his face in his hands.

“Would you like to talk about it or not talk about it?” He asks with a sigh.

You don’t make eye contact with him so you don’t cry, choosing to focus on the Iron Man coffee table book you’d gotten as a gag gift for Tony all those Christmases ago. It almost distracts you enough to laugh, the fact that he just has it out. But you need to tell someone what happened and get it all out before you can let yourself feel it all.

“Steveisinlovewithsomeoneelse,” You rushed it all out in one breath afraid if you didn’t get it out fast enough that you’d break. “He has been for months. He said he doesn’t know when it all changed but when he was with her things just clicked,” you paused to collect yourself, “But don’t worry, I’ll always hold a special place in his heart and he hopes this won’t affect the future of the team or our friendship.”

“Oh, and he’s really sorry.” you added.

You laughed bitterly and shook your head in disbelief. His delivery had been so cold but so sincere, very to the point but pained in its delivery. “I just, whatever we had, it’s just gone. Things are just different now, with her, this kills me though, please believe me. You’re still really special to me.” Bullshit. Special enough to act as a placeholder until someone better comes, special enough to cast aside.

You’re broken momentarily from your spiral into anger by the sound of a glass hitting a coaster a little too hard. Looking up, you find Tony quietly seething. He and Steve aren’t close by any means so you figured that he wouldn’t have known, it’s why you called him over anyone else.

He moves slowly to your side on the couch and pulls you into his side. You can smell his aftershave and what you think might be burned grease from one of the many things he’s been tinkering with in the lab, it smells like him, like comfort.

“That fucking asshole. Unbelievable, I don’t even…” He leaves the thought unfinished.

His hands move up and down your arms in a soothing motion and you finally let yourself have it. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel the tears wet his shirt when you bury your face in. You sniffle up tears and snot when your face heats up.

There’s no way to know how long Tony lets you sob into him, no doubt ruining his vintage Depeche Mode shirt. Somewhere in the back of your mind you make a mental note to buy him a new one later. But for now you’ll just allow yourself to cry and you can deal with the world in the morning.

____

Tony lets you fall asleep on his chest, feeling somewhere between furious and heartbroken by proxy. He thinks about letting you sleep and giving Steve a piece of his mind but figures that’s not what you need right now. Your phone sits on the table and he touches the screen to check the time. No notifications on your homescreen except for a missed call from Bucky and an old photo of Steve making a funny face as your background.

Had Steve not even tried to call you? Had he not even tried to go after you? Why was Bucky of all people the only one to be trying to get a hold of you? Prick.

Selfishly Tony is glad that he has a good reason to be rude to Steve now, he has to admit. You two had always been close but when you and Steve started dating he saw less and less of you. He couldn’t fault you for it though, you were so in love with Steve and you knew that the relationship between the two of them was strained so you kept your distance a bit.

He thought of all the sacrifices you’d made for Steve. You gave up your childhood home in the Bronx that your parents had willed to you to move in with him because he wanted you to be closer to the tower. You gave up a promotion and transfer to DC when you were still just an agent, granted you were an avenger now but it doesn’t matter, he’d made a very big deal out of you turning it down. You gave up the friendship the two of you had.

It was incredible, really. How much you had done for him only for him to turn around and love someone else behind your back. Brave enough to fight aliens and terrorists but too cowardly to break up with you and leave you with some dignity. Did anyone else know about this?

Tony had to stop himself from getting too angry, afraid he’d wake you up. So instead he went back to plotting up schematics for the half-finished suit mod he’d been in the middle of when you called.

____

It’s been a week and you still haven’t properly talked to Steve. After two days on Tony’s couch you need to look at things from a logical stance. Where am I going to stay? It’s not like you had your parent’s place anymore and you didn’t want to sign a new lease on an apartment. You could always move into the tower but that meant a higher chance of running into Steve.

You were thinking about all of this out loud to Tony when he offered you the guest bedroom in his penthouse. You were shocked, he’s always been a generous man but after you drifted apart from him you were surprised he even let you stay these past few days. Maybe now was a good time to rebuild your friendship with him and have some space from work.

What’s work going to be like? You agree and go on a temporary leave from the team, just a month to collect yourself. If you really wanted to you could go back but the thought of seeing everyone that knew about Steve’s affair was humiliating and enraging in one go.

It turns out Sam had been playing therapist to Steve in all of this, Nat figured it out through some sleuthing, and Wanda had inadvertently heard his thoughts about her. And none of them thought to tell you? To save you from the anguish but to let it fester? Steve wasn’t the only one that betrayed you. They all had.

What will I say to him? Should I say anything to him? Turns out the answer was ‘nothing’. You texted him to let him know you were moving out and you’d be by to get your things as a courtesy. You walked into an empty apartment and you were almost relieved.

He’d chosen to not be here but he’d left you a letter on the kitchen counter next to a framed photo of the two of you on vacation last year. You scoff but don’t touch the letter. Every ounce of restraint you have is being used as you leave it untouched. But you don’t need to know what excuses or apologies he has on deck, nothing he could say would exonerate him of his wrong-doings. You had no intentions of speaking to him but secretly you hoped he suffered as he stewed in his guilt and inner-turmoil. He deserves to.

When you pack you leave every gift he ever gave you, taking only what you’d brought with you in the first place. You take one look at the unmade bed and almost go to make it out of habit but then you think of the two of them there together. All the long missions you went on without him, all the times you stayed late at work or went out with your friends. How many times had he been here with her while you were there?

You end up only leaving with two suitcases and a backpack full of things. Tony waits for you in the lobby, understanding you wanted your space when you went to get your things in case Steve was there.

The elevator doors open to him taking a selfie with a couple of fans and shaking hands. He’s all too happy to be recognized but when he sees you his eyes soften. Not out of pity, but fondness, like he’s proud of you for getting out.

He sends you a questioning look with a silent question. Are you okay?

You smile at him and for the first time in days it’s a genuine, non-placating, happy-to-see-you smile. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.

He takes one of your suitcases from you and helps you load them into the back of the car before opening the door for you. The drive back to Tony’s is silent but comfortable. The trust you have in each other is strong and unspoken. Something you’ve always been grateful for between the two of you.

He doesn’t ask you about Steve or what happened, always letting you come to him first, which you appreciate. And when you talk he just listens. No bullshit unsolicited advice about moving on or how everything happens for a reason or getting back out there, just listens.

You know the road ahead is long and it will be difficult, but you have someone in your corner and the knowledge that what happened isn’t your fault and that you’re a badass and fuck Steve Rogers and fuck anyone else that did you wrong in all of this. Maybe you’ll forgive them someday but for now you’re gonna focus on you and work on building yourself back up. You’re ready for the ups and downs, you’re ready to fight.

#sweetlysad1kchallenge #steve rogers x reader #tony stark & reader #steve rogers angst #angst #implied cheating #marvel fic #marvel au #marvel x reader

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j-j-ehlby-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Almost (c.e.)

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Word Count: ~5.9k

Summary: You and Chris were set up on a blind date by your mutual friends. Sparks flew, but you never heard from him again. Two years later, you come face-to-face with him once more for their friends wedding.

Warnings: Some angst, swearing, not much else

A/N: This is a mixture of the movie “Life as We Know It” (mmm Daddy Josh Duhamel 🤤), a dating experience I had, and one scene from One Tree Hill. Enjoy.

My Masterlist

Two years ago…

My heart is pounding all the way to my ears. My hands are shaking under the table. My knee bounces uncontrollably as I wait.

I knew this was a bad idea. Why did I let her convince me to do this?

“You haven’t had a boyfriend for as long as I’ve known you.” My best friend so pointedly mentioned when we were out to lunch last week.

“What’s wrong with that?” I counter.

“I’ve known you for three and a half years.” She deadpans. Even without looking at her, I know she has her eyebrow raised at me and her lips are pursed.

“Your point?” I know she thinks my serious lack of companionship these past few years is wearing on me, but it��s been quite the opposite. Not being attached is freeing. I can do what I want when I want; I don’t have anyone to answer to. If I want to sleep until 3 on a Saturday, I’m going to do it. If I don’t want to socialize with anyone, I won’t. If I want to take a spontaneous road trip, I’m going to do it. My life is my own and that’s how I like it.

“I want my best friend to have someone to experience life with.”

My shoulders dropped, sighing in defeat. There was no way I was getting out of this conversation.

“I want you to be as happy as I am.” I see the love in her eyes as her mind goes to her boyfriend and their new relationship. They’ve only been together for a few months, but I know that this is it for her. She’s a smitten kitten and he is equally as infatuated with her. They’re sickeningly cute. “Which is why I think you need to meet one of his friends-”

“Lemme stop you right there,” I interrupt her, “I hate blind dates.”

“You’ve never been on one.”

“And there’s a reason for that.” She rolled her eyes at me. “They’re cliché, they’re awkward for both parties, and they never amount to anything, thus being a total waste of time.”

She sighed, “Ever the skeptic.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Regardless,” she continues, “I think you’ll really like this guy. He’s already expressed interest in you.”

Like that makes everything better. “Great so now I have to live up to his impossible expectations of me when I know absolutely nothing about him.” As if the idea of a blind date wasn’t bad enough, now it’s only a semi-blind date. There’s no doubt in my mind that she has hyped me up impossibly high, that’s what a best friend is for. However, when your confidence level is next to none and already skeptical of the pending meeting, there’s no way he’ll like who I am in reality.

“I can tell you anything you want to know about him.” She is bargaining with me. She really wants me to meet this guy. She wouldn’t be trying this hard if she didn’t believe we would hit it off.

“Well is he nice?” This was the only real question I had. If he isn’t kind then there’s really no future.

“Incredibly!” She continues to tell me of the many things he has done for a charity he started a few years ago and slowly but surely she was starting to convince me. If he was that generous then he has to have a good heart and therefore is a good man.

How bad could it be?

I check my phone, glancing at the time. Great, he’s late. That can’t be a good start.

Numerous reasons why popped into my head.

Reason one: he saw me and bolted.

Reason two: he got into an accident on the way here and he could be in the hospital.

Reason three: he changed his mind and decided to stand me up.

More and more played through my head as I sipped my drink.

By the time I was on my second drink, I was convinced he wasn’t showing up. I knew this was a ridiculous idea. I knew I shouldn’t have done this. I never should have listened to her.

I chugged the rest of my drink followed by some water before standing up to leave some cash. I was slightly humiliated for actually thinking this would be any different than all of my expectations.

My shoulder rammed into another as I turned to leave.

“Oh my, God, I’m so sorry!” A hand steadied me, gently grabbing the shoulder he ran into. “Are you okay?”

“My already small ego is a little bruised, but I think I’ll live.” I looked up to meet my assaulter’s eyes and immediately I froze.

Holy shit, it’s Chris Evans.

His piercing blue eyes were staring right at me, his concern was directed towards me. In all of his charming, ray of sunshine, bearded glory, he was here.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late. Traffic was insane over the bridge. I would have called but I don’t have your number.” He half-smirked but not in a cocky way. I’d seen him do it in interviews before. He could have come up with a lame excuse, but somehow I knew he was telling the truth.

“No, it’s okay. I understand completely.”

He sighed in relief, his gorgeous and perfect smile taking over his features. He looked down at the table and it disappeared. “Were you leaving?”

“Uh,” I stammered, “I was because I thought I was being stood up.”

“I feel awful. Please let me make it up to you. Let’s sit down, have a nice dinner, and get to know each other.”

I hesitate, now even more nervous than I was before.

As if sensing my hesitation, he decided to sweeten the pot a bit to persuade me, “We can even get dessert.”

I chuckle at his attempt. That’ll do it though. I sit back down with him following suit, finally starting our date.

We talked about everything. Anything and everything. No topic was off limits. Hours went by but it felt like minutes. We didn’t even know how long we’d been there until our waiter came to tell us that the restaurant was closed. We left and walked around the city until the night sky was giving way to the morning. He accompanied me back to my car, gave me the best hug I’ve ever received and a kiss on the cheek, promising we’ll get together again soon, and opening and closing my car door for me. I drove away with the biggest smile on my face and literal butterflies in my stomach. That was the best date I’d ever been on.

When I made it back to my apartment with the early morning rays peeking through my shades, I had a text message waiting for me from him. Just a simple good night, he had had an amazing time, and he couldn’t wait to see me again.

I fell asleep, hopeful. Hopeful that I would see him again, that this could maybe go somewhere. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it was hard not to. I hadn’t felt this way in an exceptionally long time. I haven’t been on this good of a date in equally as long. I can’t wait to see him again…

Present day...

I finally pull into the parking lot after an hour stuck in traffic. My 12-hour day at work today has taken a lot out of me. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically. Thankfully though, my 2-week-long vacation starts tomorrow. After that, I have fourteen days of no working, no getting up at the ass crack of dawn to be able to drive in miserable traffic, no dealing with difficult or boring co-workers. Just fourteen days of rest and relaxation, after the wedding of course.

My best friend and her fiancé are getting married on Saturday. I’ve watched them go through all of their highs and lows throughout the last few years and when he came to me telling me he planned on proposing, I couldn’t have been happier for them. He even asked me to secretly photograph the moment for her. She was more than surprised about everything.

Now their wedding is here and everyone couldn’t be more excited to celebrate them.

Tomorrow is their rehearsal dinner. The wedding party and their plus ones are all invited.

I walk into my apartment, immediately relieving myself from the confines of my shoes. A heavenly scent registers to me and I’m carried all the way to the kitchen. I see my sexy boyfriend standing at the stove with his back towards me.

“Hey babe,” he calls without turning around.

I hum, happily making my way towards him. I wrap my arms around his waist, placing a kiss on his back. “What is that unbelievable smell?”

He chuckles, vibrating through his chest. “Your favorite, of course.”

I hum again, “You spoil me, baby.”

He chuckles again, turning in my arms. His handsome face finally came into view. His gorgeous brown eyes look into mine as I get lost in his. For the past year, I’ve been the happiest I’ve been in a while. Since the day I met him, it was like everything fell into place. He’s sweet, ambitious, funny, kindhearted, passionate, and just overall the best man I had ever met. He makes me so happy…

Oh who am I kidding? He’s perfect. He is everything I ever wanted. If I made a list of all of the qualities I wanted in a husband, he would check off every single box.

But the feelings I have had for him over the last year are nothing compared to what I had in one night for him. I find myself wishing his eyes were bright blue instead of dark brown. I wish his arms were around me instead of the ones around me right now. The butterflies from that night have stayed dormant ever since.

I don’t know what happened after that night. I honestly thought we had a good time that night. Conversations flowed seamlessly. We made each other laugh so hard we had tears running down our faces. The physical connection was there- at first he had his arm around my shoulders as we walked around town, but as time went on he slowly moved lower around my waist, eventually intertwining our hands together until we arrived back at our cars. He even said that he wanted to see me again.

But I never heard from him again after that one text message. No call, no text, not even a message from my friend’s boyfriend. Nothing. I was disappointed beyond belief. I didn’t think he was that guy: the type to ditch someone without any explanation or goodbye. I thought I understood him to be a gentleman. Everything I had read about him pointed to him being one of the purest humans in the world. This was the opposite of all of that.

From that day on, I’ve loathed him. He gave me the perfect evening and then cut me off cold turkey from anything further. I have a three strike rule. His first: he was late. His second: he tricked me into liking him. His third: he lied to me. Three strikes and he’s out.

I have tried not to look back since. It’s not without its difficulties though since he’s literally everywhere. On magazine covers, in commercials, movie trailers, streaming services- he’s there. Why did he have to be such a successful actor? If he weren’t, it would make for forgetting him that much easier.

No closure. No answers. Nothing.

The rehearsal dinner went smoothly the next night which hopefully was foreshadowing for the big day itself.

A majority of us were standing around about to start when the doors loudly being opened drew everyone’s attention away from our milling about. A man stood in the middle of the doorway then strode in like he owned the place. The closer he got, the more the details of his face came into focus.

No. Freaking. Way.

I look toward my best friend. She looked like she wasn’t shocked he was late, but she knew he was coming. I creep up behind her and clear my throat. Instantly she cringed.

“Did you forget to tell me something?” I whisper to her.

She sends me an apologetic smile, “Well, I actually put off telling you ‘cause I didn’t know how you would react and then I meant to tell you last night but with the whole ‘I’m getting married in two days’ buzz took over and now the rehearsal is here-”

“Just please tell me I’m not walking in with him.” I beg.

She chuckles nervously before she escaped to go greet him with her fiancé.

I turn to her sister who is also one of my closest friends. “Did you know he was going to be a groomsman?”

The guilt written in her face tells me everything I need to know. “She made me promise not to tell you.”

I groan, “The loyalty level around here is staggeringly low.”

I head over to where my boyfriend is standing and take comfort in his arms before I have to deal with the man who broke my heart.

“Are you okay?” He asks a little confused by my actions.

I nod, “Just tired from last night.” He chuckles at the mention of the night before, squeezing me into his chest.

“Alright everyone! Time to get started.” The wedding coordinator beckons us all to the back entrance of the barn standing next to our corresponding wedding party member. I stand right in front of the Maid of Honor and Best Man. I kept my eyes forward focusing on anything but the guy who took his place next to me.

“It’s good to see you,” He murmurs to me over the instructions of the coordinator.

I scoff and roll my eyes. He has the nerve to say that to me after two years of silence. I imagined a million times what it would be like to see him again. I’d imagined a lot of screaming with possible hitting. Or I thought about the ever-effective, old fashioned silent treatment. He doesn’t deserve to know that our one night out together effected me so much and I’ve carried a rather large torch for him ever since. At the very moment, it will be the latter, but there’s no telling what tonight and tomorrow will bring.

“Now ladies, rest- don’t grab- your hand near the crook of his arm. Men, keep your arm at that angle with an open hand resting on your stomach- no fist. And don’t forget to smile- this is a happy day!” As quickly as he showed up, the coordinator was on to the bride and her father before either of us could register he was there.

I begrudgingly did as I was instructed, “resting” my hand on his bare forearm, holding a stand-in bouquet for the occasion in my other hand.

“Are you not going to talk to me?” He speaks again but I ignore him once more.

Thankfully that was when it was our turn to walk down the aisle. For the rest of the rehearsal, he didn’t get a chance to say anything else. As soon as we were done, I go straight for my boyfriend. I figured there’s no way he would approach me if I were with another man.

We all head to the restaurant afterwards to celebrate the last night before our friends begin their lives together as husband and wife. I keep my distance from Chris, always sticking close with my boyfriend.

The one moment I was alone was when I went to the bathroom. I thought for the few minutes I wouldn’t be in danger.

However I was wrong.

As soon as I step out an arm shot out in front of me. A very pale muscular arm.

“Are you seriously going to ignore me for the next two days?”

I duck under his arm fully planning on continuing what I set out to do.

“Y/N,” he grabs my arm, “will you please talk to me? What did I do to make you so mad at me?”

I whip around hopefully sending daggers his way. “Are you serious right now?”

“She finally speaks!” He exclaims.

“Because I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Like, I don’t think I heard you right.” All of the feelings I’ve been burying for two years were making their way up to the surface and I don’t think I can stop them. “We had a fantastic night. It was literally the best night of my life, it was the most comfortable with a guy that I had ever been. You made me laugh, you gave me butterflies, you helped me feel for the first time in years.” I try to swallow down the lump that was forming in my throat. “You told me you wanted to see me again. You made me excited for the future for once in my life… and then you took it away.”

With every second that passed, his expression got closer and closer to utter defeat: his shoulders slumped, his grip on my arm loosened, his jaw slowly unclenched, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You were late,” I hold up one finger, “You tricked me,” two fingers,” “You lied to me.” Three fingers were up and in front of his face for emphasis. “Three strikes and you’re out.”

I back away from him, having nothing more I wanted to say. As soon as I turned the corner, I felt liberated… for about five seconds. When that passed, devastation hit. For the last two years, I’ve held out hope- I tried not to- but I did, that maybe someday something could happen between us. That maybe, just maybe, we could pick up where we left off that night.

Now that the moment of confrontation has come and gone, I feel all the hope fade away. All of those possibilities I pictured have left the building. Being with him is no longer an option. I have my boyfriend who makes me happy, who gives me everything I could possibly want.

The rest of the night went on without another incident. Chris kept his distance. However, I could feel his eyes on me for every second that passed as we sat at the table. It was a relief when we finally left and could retreat back to our hotel rooms for the night. The bride and I got to stay in a suite that we’ll all be getting ready in in the morning. They wanted to uphold the “not seeing each other the night before the wedding,” even though they’ve lived with each other for a year and a half now.

On the wedding day, everything went according to plan. Everyone was on time to hair and make-up, pictures went flawlessly, the weather cooperated with everything, Chris didn’t attempt to talk to me at all- it was a perfect day to watch two people who love each other commit to the other for the rest of their lives.

But then came the reception. That’s when I knew apparently all bets would be off. The ceremony was over. Niceties would wear off as more and more alcohol is consumed. I was not looking forward to it.

We make our ridiculous entrances and take our seats at the head table. We eat then speeches were made. Lots of laughs were had as the Best Man dished on stories he had with the groom growing up, a few tears were shed at her sister’s after recounting the moment the bride knew he was the man of her dreams- overall I’d say they were a success.

Again, I felt his eyes on me, burning holes in the side of my head from the other side of the groom for the entire dining portion of the evening. I kept myself from glancing in his direction, instead focusing on the conversations with the bride’s sister next to me and my boyfriend who is across the way- anything not to meet his eyes.

Finally the DJ announces it was time for all to convene on the dancefloor after the specialty dances. I immediately see my boyfriend start to stand, knowing he’d been ready for this all night. I’d been looking forward to dancing with him all night as well, I even removed my shoes in anticipation. As I stand up, a hand is held out in front of me. I knew whose hand it was. I remember staring at it as he would rub his lips on our date. The strength of it as it intertwined with mine as we walked down the streets of our town, the safeness I felt as he squeezed it if he detected I was getting anxious around a group of people and I needed the reassurance. I knew that hand well, unfortunately.

“Dance with me?” He nearly whispers in my ear. I didn’t realize he was that close until I could feel said whisper on my neck. I contain the shiver that runs down my spine at how husky his voice is. God I’ve missed that…

No! I will not be enchanted by him again. He does not deserve me.

I exhale the breath I was holding, it comes out a lot harsher than I expected. “No, thank you.” I turn away from him, but his hand gently grabs my arm stopping me from going any further.

He whispers again, “He’s not good enough for you,” before walking away.

I’m frozen in place. I glare at his retreating back as he makes his way over to the bar. My mouth hangs open in disbelief. How dare he… How fucking dare he assume anything about me or my relationship. He doesn’t know anything about what our relationship is like. My boyfriend treats me so well, spoils me even though I know I don’t deserve it. He listens to me, he cares about me, and he makes me laugh until I cry- he’s everything I’ve wanted in a man. Chris is the one who had his chance and subsequently blew it. He has no right to judge or even comment on my relationship when he knows absolutely nothing about it.

I hurriedly make my way to my awaiting boyfriend and pull him onto the crowded dancefloor. “You okay?” He asks me, “Did he say something to upset you?”

“Nothing worth repeating.” All I wanted to do was forget about him and his irrelevant feelings towards my relationship…

…Except I couldn’t. His words rattled me. Does he see something I don’t? He told me on our date that he’s an excellent judge of character so he wouldn’t say something like that unless he got a bad feeling, right? Either that or he said it just to get under my skin and force me to talk to him. No matter the reason I hate him for it because my pride won’t let it stand.

I spot him leaning against the bar, staring directly at the two of us over the rim of his glass. His perfect eyebrow quirks up at the eye contact, that sets my blood to boiling. He thinks he’s so smug. I wish I could just slap that stupid hidden smirk right off his perfect face…

Following a few dances, I mutter something about him going to dance with the bride to my boyfriend before exiting the dancefloor. I rush out of the barn, away from the crowd needing some air from his suffocating gaze. I find a little lit area that’s perfect for pictures. There are rectangular hay bales set together as a makeshift U-shaped bench with some low watt bulbs strung up above between two poles. It would be serene if I weren’t already on edge.

After taking a few deep breaths, I finally feel like I can speak without yelling. “You had no right.”

I didn’t have to turn around to know he followed me out here. It’s exactly what I wanted him to do, just like it was his intention to get under my skin. As much as I wished to avoid this conversation it seems that we can’t go on without it. We may tear each other apart in the process, but this is my chance for closure. This is my only opportunity to get the answers I’ve been needing to move on for the past two years. Two years of wondering what went wrong after the most perfect date I’ve ever been on with an equally perfect man has been eating at my heart and mind. I hated always wondering “what if” or “what would I be doing right now if I were with him” especially when I started dating my boyfriend. I had no answers as to why those questions could not be. I thought with time I’d stop asking them, thinking I’d never see the man again. He’s a big movie star, why would he wonder about a woman he went on one date with?

As I expected, his deep baritone voice comes behind me, but his words do little to ease my nerves. In fact they set them off even more so than before. “I’m sorry.”

I scoff at his half-hearted apology, knowing he doesn’t mean it at all. “Oh bite me, Christopher.” I turn around to face him. God he looks even better out here. The subtle gold glow from the lights are complimenting his skin tone, they make his baby blues shine which just frustrates me more.

“Please, Y/N,-” He takes a step closer to me, but I won’t have that.

“No,” I take a step back keeping the needed distance between us for fear I may strangle him. “I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit excuses. You had no right to pass judgment on a relationship that you know absolutely nothing about.”

He slips his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. “Oh, I’ve seen enough.”

“Really?” I jut my hip out, resting my hand on it. “In the two days you’ve been here, you think you’ve got us all figured out?”

“Yes,” he answers with conviction.

My shaking hands clench into fists, trying my damnedest not to lose control. I entangle them into my hair as best as I can without ruining the work the hairstylist did this morning before running them down my face. He has some nerve.

“We had one night. One night! One nearly perfect night together and suddenly that makes you an expert on what is good for me?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘an expert’-”

“I wouldn’t say anything!” I interrupt, “I never heard from you again. Now after two years, you come in here acting like you know anything about me or my relationship? Who do you think you are?”

“A man who made a mistake!” He snaps.

There was a long pause. I never expected to hear that from him. All these years I wanted to think the worst of him for leaving me hanging like that. He got my hopes up, thinking we may have a future together only for them to come crashing back down to Earth when he never contacted me again. I wondered and wondered if maybe I read the signals wrong. Maybe I took his flirting as more than it was. Maybe the small gestures like his arm around my shoulders, on the small of my back, or the hand holding were only him being friendly. I wracked my brain going over every single detail of the night to try and pinpoint a reason for him not to have called me afterwards. I found nothing, which was equally as frustrating.

“Alright, I made a mistake.” He moves to sit on one of the hay bales. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his head in his hands, letting out a huge sigh. “God I wanted everything with you.”

Once again, I’m frozen by his words. He what? But that doesn’t make sense. His words and his actions don’t line up- how could that be?

He removes his hands from his face, staring at the grass. “After that night, I wanted it all. I wanted to settle down, get the house with a white picket fence in the suburbs, carry you through the threshold after our wedding day, bring our children home from the hospital, watch them grow until we’re old and gray. I wanted everything.”

My heart aches. All of that was exactly what I wanted, especially with him. I could feel the tears building behind my eyes, my heart breaking mourning the loss of what we could have had by now if he had only said something.

I also find my anger growing as well. If he felt all of that, why did he not contact me again? Why did he give me hope that our night out together could have been the start of something good and then taken it away just as quickly?

“But?” There had to be a “but” coming after his statement. Clearly something stopped him from pursuing the possibility of “us,” destroying any future we could have had.

He sighs, “but…” he finally looks up at me with more emotion in his eyes than I was expecting. There was contemplation, confusion, honesty, agony…

I look away. In an instant I knew what he was about to say. It makes complete sense. He was at the height of his career, shooting movie after movie all around the world for a majority of the year. How would he have had time to have a relationship mixed in with that? He couldn’t.

“Your career was more important,” I interject, “I get it. I do.” I couldn’t fault him for choosing work over someone he just met, no matter how much he claims to have liked me right off the bat. He was going to be busy. We probably wouldn’t have had a lot of time to see each other. It’s not like I could give up my career to follow him. Besides even if I could have, he wouldn’t want that. He said so himself. He wanted someone who was independent; who could do their own thing and not be enveloped in his crazy life.

He stands up and steps closer to me, “no, that wasn’t it. I promise you that wasn’t it.”

There’s that word. Promise. He promised we’d see each other again soon after our night together. But he broke that.

“Then what was it?” My voice cracks at the end. I can feel my reserves slipping the more he speaks. I didn’t realize how much I missed his voice until now. I haven’t seen any of the movies he’s been in the last few years. I have him and his hashtag blocked on all social media platforms so I don’t see anything of his on any of my timelines. My other friends think I don’t like him (only my best friend and her now husband know about our date). To hear it again brings back all of the good memories we made together in that short night and all of the emotions I’ve been holding back since. “I have been wracking my brain for years wondering what went wrong after that.”

“I got scared,” he finally admits the truth. “I got scared of how much I liked you and how much I wanted to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From me,” he casts his gaze down at his hands as he fidgets with them, “and my life. I didn’t want to subject you to the chaos that is my life. I know what my fans would do to you if we were in a relationship, I was trying to protect you from all of the ugly that being with me comes with.”

So that’s what he was afraid of? He was afraid our relationship would inevitably end exactly like his last one? His “fans” were horrible to her. They sent death threats to her and her family members, always commenting negatively on her social media pages all because she was dating him. I remember reading about it right after it happened. I knew that side of his fandom was toxic. But did I care? No. Did I think I couldn’t handle it? I honestly don’t know, but would I have been willing to deal with it for him? Yes. I would have given up anything to be with him. That’s precisely why he did what he did. He didn’t want me giving anything up for him because he knows I’d be giving up any semblance of privacy I had if I were in a public relationship with him.

If I had known these were the reasons why he ghosted me, I would have been broken hearted but I would have understood. Hell, I probably would have fallen more in love with him if I knew that, not fallen in loathe.

He continues, “I thought that if I never contacted you again, you could move on”- he clears his throat-“and find someone better than me who could give you the normal life you deserve. Which as much as I wish I couldn’t, I see that you have…” he pauses as if deciding whether he should keep speaking. When I don’t stop him, he does, “But I can’t help feeling like that could have been me.”

My slightly shaky hands cover his fidgeting ones. His hand moves until he’s intertwining our fingers together, palms touching. They fit perfectly together as if they were each other’s missing puzzle piece. His thumbs stroke mine sending warmth down my arms all the way down to my toes. The sparks I felt back then return with full force. He leans down, pressing his forehead against mine. My heart is beating out of my chest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t feel it in some way.

I feel my heart break in my chest. My lip quivers and the tears threaten to make themselves known. My only saving grace is the fact that he can’t see my face. I may lose it completely if he did.

His breath is coming out equally as shaky between us, he squeezes my hands as if he doesn’t want me to let go. Believe me, I don’t want to. I bring one of our interlocked hands up to my lips. I kiss the back of his hand because I can’t kiss him where I want to. I pull back just enough to see his beautiful baby blues that could have any woman in the world swoon. They were terribly bloodshot right now but that only made them more tragically breathtaking. I tear one of my hands out of his and bring it to his cheek. He leans into it, a tear drops into the crevices between the contact.

The barely above whisper that came out was all I could muster without having a total breakdown because he’s right. It could have been him. We could have been something great. We could have built a life together. We could have had it all. And it broke my heart into a million pieces knowing all of this could have been avoided if life had handed both of us different lives.

“It almost was.”

~*~

Taglist: @the-marvel-wars @elusive-beauty @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @fantasy-is-my-reality @princess-evans-addict

#almost #Chris Evans #christopher robert evans #christopher evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans drabble #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #jj ehlby writes

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thedragonnerd · 4 years ago

Text

Ficlet: Betrayal

(Inspired by this lovely anon)

Namaari has never seen Raya so still.

She’s used to Raya being full of energy and tightly coiled reactions, running around finding things to do, people to spar with, or adventures to get lost within. Even at dinner, Raya cannot be motionless, instead jostling her leg or bumping shoulders with Namaari, and Council meetings are a lost cause when it comes to hoping Raya will sit quietly through the entire meeting without finding some reason to escape early.

But now she lies still, her eyes closed and her lips pale and drained of blood. Namaari keeps her eyes fixated on Raya’s breathing, where the slight up-and-down of her chest is the only thing that proves Raya is still alive.

The doctor has said that if she can survive the night, she will be much more likely to make a full recovery. Yet when Namaari places her palm on Raya’s cheek, the skin is cold to touch. Her other hand clutches onto Raya’s fingers, and she tries to share her strength through sheer determination, attempting to manifest Raya’s recovery into existence with her willpower.

‘Maari, are you almost dooone?’ Raya asks with a whine, her lips pouting dramatically as she flops down into the chair opposite Namaari’s desk. ‘I’ve been waiting for ages already.’

Namaari lowers her paperwork for a moment, peering across at Raya with a small smile on her face. Raya hates to sit and wait in her office, and the fact that she has been quietly reading for so long already shows her willingness to let Namaari work for the afternoon.

‘I’m sorry, dep la,’ she says with a sigh, wishing she could escape and spend time sparring with Raya instead, as she had promised. Duty always seems to call, however. ‘I have to finish signing off on these policies, and I’m only half-way finished.’

Raya groans, her head lowering to the desk until her forehead is resting on the table.

‘Why don’t you go and find something to do?’ Namaari suggests, recognising Raya will only get more and more restless from here on. Raya turns her head slightly, so she can peek at Namaari’s face through her hair.

‘Are you sure?’ she asks. ‘I don’t want to leave you alone with this tedious work.’

‘Absolutely,’ Namaari reassures her with a smile. ‘Go and have fun, and I’ll join you later.’

‘Great, I’ll go find someone to spar with for a while,’ Raya jumps up enthusiastically. ‘And if you haven’t reappeared in two hours from now, I’m going to come back and drag you outside. You need a break yourself too.’

She rounds the desk, grabbing Namaari’s face with both her hands, and kisses her deeply for a moment. Then she flees out the door with a backwards wave, Namaari watching her retreating figure with a smile.

Namaari throws herself into the paperwork with more vigour, determined to get it done so she can join Raya. She doesn’t even notice the two hours passing, so wrapped up in reading policy articles on fishing.

Raya never shows.

Virana comes to sit with her when the hour is nearing midnight, her arm resting around Namaari’s shoulders as they wait in silence.

‘I sent word to Chief Benja,’ she says softly after a while. Namaari nods, but says nothing else. Benja has trusted them – trusted her – to keep Raya safe during her visits to Fang. And yet here they are, Namaari without a scratch on her, whilst Raya fights for her life in the darkness. Would he ever be able to forgive them, if Raya dies? Would it cause a war between their lands?

Would Namaari ever be able to forgive herself?

‘I wasn’t even there to protect her, Ma,’ she chokes, unable to keep the tears from leaking out. The guilt is suffocating.

‘Raya?’ she calls, walking briskly through the palace. Dusk is beginning to move in; she feels bad for working so long without realising where the time went. Clearly, Raya also got distracted by her activities. Often when one (or better, both) of them are sparring, it draws a crowd of eager onlookers, so perhaps tonight Raya has decided to teach a lesson to anyone who wants to challenge her fighting abilities.

However, it’s been long enough that she’s also slightly concerned, especially when she sees most of the usual sparring partner culprits back in the palace, doing their guard duties or otherwise.

Still, her best assumption is that Raya will still be at the training grounds, so she hurries outside and makes her way over to the large open area.

‘Raya?’ she calls again, not seeing anyone moving in the evening light. It seems quiet…too quiet.

And then she sees a shape on the ground.

‘Raya, what-?’ she cries, racing forwards and dropping to her knees. Raya is lying still and pale on the ground, and it takes a moment for Namaari to realize the earth surrounding her is stained dark red from blood.

‘Raya…Raya, wake up,’ she pleads, one shaking hand sliding under Raya’s shoulders and cradling her close to her body, the other pressing down hard on the stab wound in her abdomen. The blood seeps through her fingers, trickling down her wrist as she desperately tries to stop it.

‘Somebody help!’ she screams into the night.

Ma leaves her at some point in the early hours of the morning, kissing her forehead before heading off to sleep. She doesn’t even try to ask Namaari to get some rest, knows that she won’t. Not tonight.

Not long after, there is a soft knock at the door, and General Atitaya peers into the room.

‘Princess Namaari?’ she asks quietly. ‘I can relieve you of your post if you wish to retire for the night. Keep watch over her, for you?’

It’s a wasted offer, and Namaari is already shaking her head before the other woman finishes speaking.

‘No thank you,’ she says, her eyes never leaving Raya’s face. ‘Her attacker is still out there, and I’m not going to leave her until they are apprehended.’

Besides Raya’s injuries, that is the worst part of this attack – that it must have been carried out by a Fang citizen, who has now willingly betrayed both their land and, on a more personal level, Namaari herself. She has dedicated her life to protecting her people, and the realization that one of her own could have done this leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, and anger in her veins.

Namaari doesn’t even notice Atitaya leave. Her two swords sit close, ready to reach in an instant if someone dares to try and attack Raya again, and she leans forwards, tension running through her muscles as she continues her vigil.

The rest of the night is quiet, with no-one else disturbing them besides the doctor, who checks on Raya sporadically.

And then, just as the warm rays of the sun begin to filter through the window, Namaari hears a sound.

‘Raya?’ she calls, up on her feet instantly and leaning over the bed.

Raya shifts her head slightly, emitting a slight groan, and then her eyes flutter open.

‘Maari, come back to bed,’ Raya grumbles, her voice filled with the scratchy tone Namaari only hears in the morning. She laughs softly at the sight before her: Raya’s disgruntled face peering out from beneath the covers, her hair in a massively tangled mess around her face, and her mouth turned down slightly in the corners as she sees Namaari already up and dressed.

‘I have a lot of work to do today,’ Namaari says apologetically, although she does take a moment to bend down and give Raya a proper kiss good morning. ‘Hours of paperwork that you’ll just find boring.’

Raya wrinkles her nose at this, and burrows deeper into the bed, dragging Namaari down with her, a tight grasp on her wrist.

‘Tell you what,’ Namaari continues, attempting not to faceplant into the bedcovers thanks to Raya’s pulling. ‘If you let me go now, I’ll try to get the work done as quickly as possible, and then we can go spar together this afternoon.’

‘Fiiine,’ comes Raya’s voice from the depths of the bed. ‘Go do your boring work. I’ll bring food and my own amazing company later. And after, you owe me a fight.’

She finds her in the barn, tying a heavily-laden bag to her serlot.

‘Atitaya,’ she calls, and the General spins around quickly, hand moving towards her weapon before she sees who it is and deliberately relaxes her stance.

‘Princess,’ she greets, head bowing in the appropriate manner.

‘You’ll be pleased to hear that Raya has woken up,’ Namaari continues, her voice deceptively light in comparison to the blood roaring through her veins. ‘Interestingly, she’s also able to identify her attacker.’

They stare at each other for a moment, neither willing to be the first one to flinch. Then Atitaya drops her gaze to the ground, and although Namaari had believe Raya instantly when she said the name, the confirmation still hits her like a stab to the heart.

‘Ati…Ati, why?’ she whispers, and this time she can’t help her voice shaking as she tries to hold back the horror and the tears. ‘We grew up together. I trusted you with my life – with HER life. How could you betray me like this?’

Atitaya’s expression darkens at this, and Namaari sees her mouth twist into an ugly grimace.

‘Because you betrayed us first, Namaari,’ she snaps, fists clenching. ‘You bring the Princess of our enemy into our land, into our palace. You trust her with all of Fang, share all our secrets. She is your greatest vulnerability, a threat to our people, and if I did nothing, I thought she would bring death to our doorstep.’

‘Raya isn’t a threat to us,’ Namaari counters. ‘She isn’t a spy; Heart isn’t our enemy. We aren’t at war any more, Atitaya. We haven’t been for a long time. The only person who risked changing that was you.’

Atitaya raises her chin in defiance.

‘I did what I thought was right for our people, no matter the sacrifice. Just like you used to be willing to do.’

Namaari always thought her anger ran hot, a passionate burst of emotion that drove her in fights. But in reality, her rage runs through her body like a chill, and her mind feels separate from her body as a deadly calm settles over her.

‘I should kill you where you stand,’ she says softly. ‘If Raya had died, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.’

For the first time, apprehension flutters across Atitaya’s face.

‘You’re lucky that Raya is more forgiving than I am,’ Namaari finishes, and then whistles loudly. At once, the barn is filled with soldiers, all training their weapons on their former General.

Namaari turns and walks away, refusing to look over her shoulder as voices ordering Atitaya to surrender filter up around her.

She doesn’t want to waste another minute here – she has Raya waiting for her, and she’s promised to entertain her through her mandatory bed rest, duties be damned. After all, Raya doesn’t like to be still for too long.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #ratld #raya #namaari #raya and namaari #raya x namaari #ficlet #ficlet: betrayal #sorry for making atitaya the villain #woopsie #angsty #but also sweet

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scriptaed · 4 years ago

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his side, her side finale | 00:00

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut;

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 4.6k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

No matter how infinite the pages could write itself, in the way that he catches her stealing glances from across the room or the scalding spark imprinted on her hand by the touch of his own, there really are only three versions to every story: his side, her side, and the truth’s side; and in your unsolicited albeit self-justified defense, the truth is, what was once seemingly perpetual is now merely trivial. The imagery that once had you kicking and screaming into your sheets at night, the fleeting moments that were shared by both but valued by one, and the inevitably incessant burden of jealousy brought upon by a fervent want that could never be had could only have been falsified by a break—spatially, temporally, and heartfully. The mind can only tug so much at one’s strings; and yet, to be bent, only time could prove possible.

...and that time is exactly what is needed by all.

her side;

“Are you joining us for dinner tonight, Y/N?”

“Huh? What?” your ears perk at the sound of your friend’s call.

“Oh, there she goes again,” your other friend interjects with the roll of her eyes. You almost collapse when she swings a hand over your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to get your ears checked?”

“No, but I might have to get my eyes checked,” you joke, despite pulling in all the performance points you could win with a disdainful scan up and down her less than professional attire. Thankfully, your act is gleefully extended by her cheesy gawk of an expression. Putting up a merciful pair of hands in the air, you laugh, “hey, in all seriousness, it’s not my fault you guys keep drooling over boys.”

“Uhuh, so you’re trying to tell us that boy talk is what’s putting you to sleep?” your friend’s accomplice crosses her arms, raising an accusatory pair of brows.

“Yeah,” you say much too seriously so you throw in an airy laugh, “I mean, there’s more to life than boys, y’know?”

“Right, like…?”

“Like…” your voice trails off because, for some reason, your mind goes blank as you attempt to recall your lifestyle from your previous hometown. “Like… hanging out with friends! With you guys!”

“Gah! You’re only able to say that because you have dozens of boys chasing you around the office. Us, on the other hand, time just… it just keeps ticking…” the two of them sigh in synchronization and you feel the heat of her arms retract as she shakes the hand of her one and only sympathizer.

“Psh,” you can’t help but grin throughout the frown elicited by their vivacious performance, “you guys have plenty of time. Just enjoy life for now and I’m sure you’ll find someone along the way.”

“Wait, but seriously,” her voice suddenly rises from her previously sullen state, as does her head on her friend’s shoulder. She looks you dead in the eye, and, honestly, you almost feel as though your privacy had just been invaded. “You really haven’t ever liked anyone before?”

“Uh…” you scatter through the disarrayed files that were your buried memories, eyes squinting at the sun that peeks through the clearing sky after a day full of rainfall. “Elementary and middle school don’t really count… too busy studying in high school… college was full of fuck boys I couldn’t care less for… and at work…”

The more that you hear yourself ramble, the more the reality of your lonesome future settles into the already burdened shoulders of yours.

“At work? You mean here? Or do you mean your last job?”

“Well,” you frown, trying to recall every male colleague that had piqued even the tiniest of interest in you; and as the two of your friends lean in, you start to lean back, despite the charging light bulb that flickers from the unlocked recollection of two years ago. “There was a guy who liked me and told everyone at work that he liked me, which I thought was really weird… nice guy, kind of a nerd, but I didn’t like him that way. Who else? Uh, hm—”

—bzzz.

The vibration against your back pocket pulls the plug from your train of thought.

“Aw man,” you hear your friends curse in the background, “just when we were finally getting her to spill something.”

The name on your screen has your heart skipping with delight.

Yezi [5:20 PM] Hey, I know you’re gonna forget, so you before you do, we’re having dinner together tonight :)

“It’s okay,” your friend pats the back of the other, “there’ll be some cute enough boys for her at tonight’s barbeque, I’m sure.”

“Ah shit,” you curse under your breath, hastily typing a response before peering up at your friends like a deer caught in the headlights, “actually, guys, turns out I already made plans with my friend from home. I’m sooo sorry.”

“Oh, really?” the two of them gasp. “Isn’t that a two hour train ride from here?”

“Yeah, so I really got to go now,” your phone tumbles into your bag as you begin to widen your strides like a woman on a mission.

They shake their heads in unison, “no, no, it’s okay!”

“I’m seriously so sorry guys,” you say as you pant, the distance between you and your friends widening by the second and forcing you to whirl around as you pace backwards. “I’ll make it up to you next time and do whatever you guys want, okay?”

“Really? Anything?”

“Yeah,” your hands draw a wide, inclusive circle into the air, “anything.”

“Even a blind date?”

“You know what? Why the hell not?” you chime, whirling back around with your back on them and a smile hidden away. Skipping off into the opposite direction toward the train station, you exclaim nonchalantly, “new year, new me!”

Lately, either through a stroke of luck or a reset of a life in a new town, there’s been something spectacularly whimsical about tonight’s air; and when a zephyr passes by, lifting you to the tip of your toes to an invincible high and relaying the confuzzled whispers of your friends—

“—wait, it’s not a new year, it’s already April—”

��you finally acquire a two year long-sought sensation: golden.

“I can’t believe you almost forgot about our plans!”

“Hey, I had a reminder set on my phone just ten minutes after your reminder” you quip with pursed lips, “and I still made it on time, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Yezi prims with a stern look plastered across her face, gesturing, “with your hair and clothes damp in rain and your face smiling like a wagging, clueless beagle.”

“Well… beagles are cute, so I’ll take that as a compliment?”

She frowns, ignoring your remark, “did you not check the weather forecast?”

“I did.”

“So why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”

“I forgot.”

“Ugh, you forget everything these days,” she plants a palm to her forehead before returning to her plate, “well, I’m glad that at least you’re so carefree nowadays. You’ve finally settled into your new workplace, huh? You look so happy now.”

“You talk—” it’s difficult to speak with food being stuffed into your mouth “—as if I lost a loved one.”

“Well,” she grits her teeth, as if biting her tongue, and proceeds to slice the slab of steak, “I wouldn’t say that’s too farfetched.”

Frowning, your words come out muffled through puffed cheeks, “whaddya mean by dat?”

“You can’t tell me you forgot about what happened last time you were in town.”

“Uh…?” you furrow your brows, tracing into a forgotten yet familiar field you had long neglected for your own wellbeing. Last time you were in town, last time you were working here, last time you went out on a company party, last time you walked through this town’s treacherously embracing frosty breeze, last time you were dining here, last time you got wasted, not just here but anywhere, last time you shed tears… all the last times of this town shared only one similarity, a similarity you had subconsciously left behind at some point in your transition between the past and the now.

“Do I really have to say it myself?” she leans in, concerned. “I don’t want you bawling your eyes out again…”

Did she possibly mean… him?

“Jeon Jungkook,” she blurts, “there! I said it!”

Her utensils clatter onto her plate as she tosses her hands in the air in mercy, almost as if bracing herself for the storm after the calm, observing you intently but warily; that supposed storm, however and ever so fortunately, never arrives.

“Oh,” you utter, words slipping from your lips like sand through a palm, “I’m not crying.”

“You’re not crying,” she confirms, astonished.

“It doesn’t… hurt anymore?” you almost ask yourself.

“It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t,” you utter, shaking your head. Just as she’s caught off guard, you lurch across the table to pinch her cheeks, “but that doesn’t mean I appreciate you bringing him up during a perfectly lovely night!”

“Sho—” she furrows her brows in combination to her squished cheeks “—he doesh make you shad shtill?”

“Well, he doesn’t make me elated,” you finally release her from your wrath, returning to stare downward at your food, “but I guess it makes me reflect fondly on the past. It’s kind of like a scar. I know how much it once hurt but I can’t feel it to the same magnitude anymore. Actually, instead, the happy, jittery moments are more vivid to me than the tears that were shed. Is that… odd?”

“Like… like what? Examples?”

Like when his arm bumped into yours for the first time on the walk after work, like when he discretely went out of his way to ensure your safety across the bridge home, like when he enamored over the ‘ripped abs’ of a fully nude female character design of an upcoming project whilst you stood awkwardly with a set of breasts in full display for the two of you, like when the two of you escaped to become the aloof, static noise of an unbefitting party, or like when he held you in his hands and kissed you at the stroke of midnight, the butterflies live on—even today—to shield you from the dampened blows struck by dull weapons of jealousy, insecurity, and remorse.

With time, the silver lining finally showed itself like a sun shining through after a stormy night. You’ve finally accepted the truths behind every weapon. She was pretty. They were pretty. She never wronged you. They never wronged you. They deserved his love. His heart belonged to whomever he desired.

He never badmouthed his peers and, as blunt of a man as he was, he never pointed out your flaws, even if that meant you would later return home only to find mascara flakes on your cheeks. He treated women like a gentleman, as contradictory as it may seem from his appetite demeanor; and while you fell for him for that, you also cursed him for that very reason. He didn’t owe you anything… up to a certain point until the lines were too blurred to decipher between the truth, the deserved, and the faulty. Be it Ji-eun or Jennie, you’ve come to terms with his relationships.

As much as your relations with him seemed to run on a fragile thread of fate, your time had run out and the window of opportunity had been shut—but hey, at least you had fun.

“Are you… smiling?”

“Hm?” you look up to find her staring at you in concern. Blinking blankly, you quickly clear your throat and retract the smile you had subconsciously adorned. “I am?”

“I… don’t know if I should be worried or not,” Yezi downs another glass of iced water and you’re about to follow suit until she almost chokes on her water, “hey—isn’t that Jennie over there?”

“Jennie?”

You almost curse at Yezi for teasing you over bygones that should’ve been left as just that, but she really wasn’t lying. You can’t believe your eyes when you whirl your head around to look through the darkened tint of the restaurant’s window panes. You might have never really spoken to Jennie, but that figure is undeniably Jennie.

“What is she doing?” you squint, struggling to grasp a clear vision of her silhouette under the dim, orange street light beside her. You could only catch a hint of her side profile but those cheeks and unique sense of fashion definitely belonged to her; on the other hand, the constant stumbling and the hand to her head, almost as if she’s about to collapse at any second, did not resemble her. “Oh, oh, hold on, wait, whoa—we should help her!”

You scramble to your feet and bolt out the door whilst Yezi takes care of your abrupt leave with the restaurant staff. A freezing blast of wind welcomes you as soon as you step into the sidewalk but you waste no time. Abandoning the cold behind you along with the past, your mind is set on aiding the collapsed woman on the streets.

“Hey! Jennie, hey!” you call out to her as you sprint to her side, dropping to the floor without caring to notice the shards of glass that consequently cut your knees as you carefully roll her limp body onto its back and away from the sharp hazards. The pain has you wincing and seething under your breath, but the conditions of the person lying before you has you even more concerned. Her skin is even paler than usual. Her chest rises and falls rapidly in an evident struggle. Your taps against her shoulder gradually become frantic shakes until all you can hear is your voice and the whispering commotion of bystanders behind you. “Jennie! Can you hear me?!”

“Y/N!” you turn around to find Yezi peering down at you from above. “What happened?”

“I don’t know but something’s definitely not right,” you say as calmly as you could, “call 911. I’ll call her family.”

“Got it,” Yezi nods, immediately dialing the numbers on her phone but pausing in the midst of the ring to face you, “wait, do you know anyone from her family?”

Gritting your teeth, you frown as you dig into your memories, “...no, I know she might have had a boyfriend back then, so he might know, but I don’t know if they’re still together and I don’t even know his number…”

“Do you know anyone who might know her boyfriend then?”

“Well…”

The ending trails of your voice are whisked away into the returning wind of that fateful night. Hands gripping at your phone and eyes staring at the stranger yet familiarity of a name that glares off the screen, it’s an inevitable force that has you stupefied yet marveled at the revival of a tugging string that ties you to him through the strangest, most meandering paths.

his side;

It was almost like a fever dream. Her name plastered across his screen and his eyes squinting through the glaring light that illuminates his room. It had been two years since he had any contact nor mention of her; and now, out of the blue, in the midst of a nap after gym session, she calls him for help. He couldn’t believe his ears when he first heard her voice, believing it all to be another one of those numerous dreams that had him regretting his past or questioning his choices. He shot straight up in bed, phone grasped and glued to his ears that blocked out the computer fan that ran in the background.

Even now, after throwing on a sweater and jacket and bolting out the door in a state of rescue, he can’t quite believe his eyes; because there she sits on the hospital bench, in the signature slumped boyish manner and the confused blank stare off into the distance that still has him quirking a smile in remembrance every once in a while. In her favorite white blouse and her only slack of black dress pants, it’s almost as if nothing had changed, almost as if she had never left.

It’s almost like time had bent to his incessantly subconscious pleas and reversed its works; but the almost will always be an almost, for as long as those hallmark vivacious eyes and those rekindled mien of ambition lives. As far as Jungkook knew, she left with a dreary heart and returned with a fiery purpose.

Despite all that, he can’t help but notice the way she fidgets in her seat, nearly sinking and avoiding all contact the second his presence had been noticed. Instead of the sheepish flickering stolen glances of the past, he finds himself at odds with the way she fights to return the locked gaze of his eyes. She fought so hard that she might have forgotten how to speak, rendering a soft chuckle from his lips because the girl he endlessly dreamt of might still live after all; and for the first time in a long while, Jungkook has to put forth the effort to fill in the silence.

“Why did you call me?” he asks plainly as he stands before her.

“Well, I didn’t know any of her friends except you…” he watches as she fidgets with her hands, gaze falling to the floor before returning to him, “are you going to visit her? I think the doctor should be okay with it if you’re her close friend.”

“No, Kai will be here soon,” he explains, finally bending down and placing the bottle of rubbing alcohol beside her on the bench. “I have other shit to attend to.”

“Oh, right,” she mumbles. The evident surge in annoyance amuses him that he just can’t quite wipe the smirk off his face. Turning her head, she continues, “you must’ve had plans with Ji-eun tonight. Sorry for the trouble.”

This is it. This is the moment that replayed on repeat like a broken tape in his dreams. This is his chance to mend the wounds he had inflicted upon the confessing girl who cried her eyes out on the cab home that one, indelible night.

An uncomfortable silence fills the air with the exception of the unscrewing of a plastic bottle and the gentle return of the bottle against the metallic bench, which is then followed by another staggering silence.

“We’re not that close and I’m not dating Ji-eun now.”

The girl turns with the quirk of a brow, especially when she spots him kneeling before her with a soaked cotton ball. “W-Wait what? Wait, shit, ow.”

“I don’t talk to Jennie as much as you think,” he states as a-matter-of-factly and continues to gently pat the cotton against the wounds on her knees. After hesitantly placing a band aid over the wound—something he had never done for anyone else nor for himself who just “sucked it up”—he finally lifts his gaze to interlock with hers, observing intently as if to soak the reality of it all in now before the inevitable tape begins to replay for the near future. “I broke up with Ji-eun before you left.”

“And...” she utters slowly, “why are you telling me this?”

Just like in the pool on that one night, her challenging eyes never budge and neither do his.

“I thought the past you would’ve liked to know,” he states. Head tilting to the side as if to get a better look, he remarks, “shit, you don’t look away anymore, huh?”

“Why would I?” she quips, snorting and finally breaking contact to stare off to the side. “It didn’t matter if I knew or not. It’s not like we were a thing.”

“Really?” Jungkook hums, gathering the scraps of cotton and paper before standing to his feet with a genuine soft sigh. It’s hard to brush off the two year old sinking sensation in his chest for something so nonchalant, but he manages to do it like he always does with that stoic look on his unreadable face. “Cause I thought we were.”

“What?” she gapes and he only gazes firmly back at her. “Why? It’s not like I… liked you.”

“Really?” Jungkook��s eyes flicker up at the ceiling for a brief second, lips pursing as he concludes the cards on the table: the unapologetic albeit risky truth or the defensive albeit purposeless self-deception. Unbeknownst to her, Jungkook had all the cards in his hands.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze and shrugging, “and it’s not like you liked me.”

Peering down at her from above, the boy’s crooked grin gradually settles into the silence along with the usual unreadable mien that he wears on the daily. “How would you know?”

Finally turning to return his gaze, she raises a brow at him before uncrossing her arms and standing to her feet. One step, two steps until she stands before him as close as she could recall on that night, she utters the one mutual truth of the night.

“Because you never told me.”

The brief silence filled with tension seems to last an eternity, yet neither of the two could take their eyes off the other. A rush of thrill intermixed with panic floods his blood. His fight or flight system screams at him to obey the very laws he had followed all these years but his mind warns him that change is a necessity for this euphoric heat that radiates from this very moment. He’s never quite felt like this before: throat knotting and heart leaping nearly out of his chest.

“Let’s—”

“—I need to catch the last train home,” she blurts, quickly taking a step back to distance themselves.

Like a magnetic force that she is to him, her retraction almost pulls the breath from his lungs along with it.

“What?” he frowns, trying to steady his breath. “It’s 10 right now. My last ride is at midnight.”

“Yeah, well mine is at 11 and I still have to walk there,” she shrugs indifferently to the entire ordeal—something that Jungkook takes to the heart.

“What?” he mutters, “the station is right next to this hospital.”

“What can I say? I’m a slow walker,” she prims, bowing her head and waving her hand to bid farewell. “Thanks for the band aid and all the help today. It was nice catching up. See y—I mean, take care.”

He stands there in silence, too stunned by the constant turn of events. Distracted by the crestfallen weight in his chest elicited by his shattered hopes, Jungkook raises a hand in response to her pressed, upcurved lips. He can only mumble a seemingly indifferent, “...see ya.”

There she goes—as gracefully as she had reentered his life and as fleeting as she had left for a second time. All this time he knew his side of the story: growingly regretful, discovering a yearning he never knew was within his capabilities, and helplessly pondering over a past he could not change and wondering if she did the same. At some point in time, those feelings became a fragment in time and that person he wished she knew became a version of his present self. He moved on, he forgot the magnitude of the pain, but he never quite came to terms with what it all could have been.

And all at once, the very moment he stands before her, the past him whomst he had perceived to be temporary comes flooding back into reality—flesh, fervent, and feelings of an immensity he could never have been prepared for—and if he were to be honest, he thought it would have been the same for her.

He never really knew her side, after all; but at the very least, he desires to hear it from her, herself. She never missed him, she never thought of him from time to time, she never woke up from a dream of him so vivid that it felt so real that she was left with a melancholic loneliness in the air—those words would close the gap in his chest.

If there’s one thing Jungkook had absolute control over at this very moment, it’s the last chapter of their shared novel in time and this is not the conclusion he imagined.

Before he knew it, Jungkook finds himself sprinting down the train station. Across the coldly lit hallways, up and down the stairs instead of the ‘shitty, slow escalators,’ and cutting through the nearing midnight breeze of the platforms until the breeze finally brought him to the last unvisited area, his daunting final destination.

Checking his watch, Jungkook’s chest heaves as he holds his hands to his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. It’s well past 11 now, nearing midnight, and he’s standing at the platform in the opposite direction of her new hometown. To the mere bystander, this platform really didn’t make any sense; but to Jungkook and his inkling, perhaps by a disheveled and desperate state, every twist and turn of the wind brought him right where he believes he belongs.

Puffs of his breath mark the airy night as he watches his last ride pass by the rails before him. Every cart, every seat, he scans them all. No one. His heart sinks with each check, each flicker of the eyes, and he begins to curse himself for his state of delusion until the last cart of the train flashes by to reveal his finale.

And as if by some sort of invisible string, life had somehow led him to her once again.

Because there she sits, across the wide yet surely crossable gap of the railway, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap, as if she had been waiting for him all this time.

Jungkook stands there, stupefied by the works of fate, “why are you—”

“—hey, Jungkook!” she calls out to him, voice echoing across the vast, empty station. “What were you going to tell me back at the hospital?”

Taken aback by her question, Jungkook chuckles to himself in utter amusement; and as if by the magic sifting through the night, the nearby tower bells ring across the remaining distance between the two at the precise stroke of midnight.

“Let’s date!”

The boy’s zestful holler resembles more like that of a cheerful proclamation, for the way he holds his hands to his lips before throwing them freely into the air garners a giggle from his spectator. His voice projection accompanies the bells, perhaps too softly and thereby physically undetected, but she could hear him nonetheless.

“I liked you and I still like you so damn much, you dumbass!”

After witnessing the boy’s courageous display, the words she’s been waiting for but never knew she needed until their paths crossed once again for a limitless nth time slips from her like second nature, almost as if she’s practiced it in her dreams all this time. Her loud proclamation, however, slips beneath the bells like an accompaniment to a ceremonious work of fate.

The two of them stand on opposite sides of the platform, their confessions are far and wide and perhaps inaudible, but the dorky smiles adorning their lips as they gaze across at their inevitable final chapters serve to prove an undeniable fact.

Whether by sheer will or by this invisible string, whether by his side or her side, the truth is: their eternities will be forever tied, forever golden.

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geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde · 4 years ago

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Sun Shines Bright

I had the honor of co-writing a fic with my most dearest of soulmates @jaskierswolf for @lindianaj0nes birthday! Happy birthday Linda!!!!!!

All the good parts of this fic were written by Wolfie and the rest was me 😂

Lambden

Warnings: self image/body insecurities, mentions of past bullying

Lambert wasn’t sure what was brighter, the sun shining through the windshield of their car or the smile lighting up Aiden’s face as he made another joke. He practically radiated the sun’s rays back with how vibrant he was. Aiden’s personality was everything Lambert’s had never been, bright, optimistic, joyous. He loved the man more than words could possibly say.

A speedbump brought Lambert back to reality, grimacing as Aiden pulled into a parking spot at the beach. They wasted no time getting out of the car, already pulling off his shirt to soak in the warmth from the sun. He had been thrilled by the idea of a beach trip and the second it had become warm enough he had begun begging Lambert to join him. It had taken a lot of convincing on Aiden’s part and Lambert had really only conceded because he knew it would make his boyfriend happy. He honestly hated the beach.

The last time he actually remembered being at the beach, he had probably been thirteen or fourteen and he had been laughed at until he had retreated to Vesemir’s side to hide in the shade of an umbrella. Lambert had always been incredibly pale. His black hair and dark brown eyes stood in a stark contrast to how pale he always was. Even when he did spend time out in the sun he never really seemed to tan, he simply burned.

And sure, he and Aiden had been together for going on six months, and he had certainly seen Lambert in all states of undress, but he had never seen Lambert out in the sun like this. Lambert had been called ghostly before, complaints had been made that he reflected the light back, blinding everyone around him with his unnaturally pale skin. Until he began to grow redder and redder, of course and then the insults changed. His pink tinged skin had been compared to that of a hot dog and, when he really reddened, he had been compared to a lobster.

He wasn’t ready for Aiden to see him like this.

They were polar opposites in this regard, Lambert’s pale complexion was incredibly different from the deep olive tone that Aiden sported in the winter months which easily darkened a few shades when he was finally able to get out in the sunlight.

Aiden was just… beautiful.

A knock to the window beside him jolted him from his reverie. Aiden was standing outside the car, staring curiously at Lambert.

Lambert pushed open the door slowly and slid out of the car, shooting a hesitant smile at Aiden, “Sorry, got lost in my own thoughts.”

Drawing Lambert in close, Aiden tilted his head to the side as he studied his boyfriend closely, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Lambert responded, trying and failing to sound unbothered.

Aiden reached up, framing Lambert’s face with his hands, “Hey, what’s going on? Talk to me, Lamb.”

“I just… don’t have the best memories of the beach.” Lambert turned his head, knocking away Aiden’s hands.

Aiden sighed, running a hand through his hair, but he didn’t make any attempt to push the matter. Lambert was grateful for that. He never reacted well when he was backed into a corner, having a tendency to lash out at the ones he loved. That was why he’d been alone for so long, to the point where he’d begun to feel unlovable.

Aiden had changed that.

Aiden had been the one to thaw out his heart, to carefully take down the walls that Lambert had spent years building up with every insult that was thrown his way. If he could trust anyone with this, it was him, but that didn’t stop the nerves from crawling over his skin. It didn’t stop his heart from fluttering in his chest like a damn hummingbird.

He sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair only to realise his boyfriend had done exactly that just moments ago. He snorted. They’d just been berating Geralt and Jaskier for acting like an old married couple just the week before, and now he was doing the same thing with Aiden, mirroring his boyfriend without even realizing.

Fucking hell, he was smitten.

He took a deep breath as he tried to gather his thoughts, tried to find a way to explain the storm of emotions brewing inside him. It wasn’t easy, but then neither were relationships. That’s what everyone kept telling him, but Aiden was worth the effort.

Aiden was worth everything that Lambert could give him.

He reached for Aiden’s hand without words, lacing their fingers together. Aiden’s other hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into the touch, letting it ground him. The warmth of Aiden’s palm against his skin calmed the storm, gave him strength to be vulnerable.

“Kids are cruel,” he started, squeezing Aiden’s hand and pressing his forehead against his boyfriend’s. “I was different, pale… too pale, a ghost.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Aiden whispered, looking at Lambert with such adoration that he almost wanted to run. It was too much, too overwhelming, but his gaze didn’t waver. He was stronger than his past. He could learn to take the affection that his boyfriend was so determined to lavish upon him.

“Then I’d start to burn,” he continued before Aiden could distract him, he needed to finish. Perhaps he could get that closure that his therapist was always telling him about. “Fucking lobster!” he spat out, the word bitter in his mouth.

Aiden’s eyes were a burning fire. He was Lambert’s sun, but right now he was a blazing inferno of rage. “I wish I could murder every bastard who made you feel anything less than perfect,” his boyfriend hissed, gritting his teeth and tensing up his jaw.

Lambert rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to Aiden’s forehead. “No one is perfect, love.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m not, and neither are you,” Lambert teased, “but imperfect is beautiful.”

Aiden snorted, shaking his head as he pulled Lambert in for a chaste kiss. “You’ve been hanging out with Jask too much.” Lambert shrugged. He wasn’t going to admit that he’d stolen the line from their friend. He was quite content to plagiarize. No one needed to know. “You’re a bastard, Lamb.”

Lambert grinned. “And you love me.”

Aiden’s own smile turned coy, and Lambert recognized the mischievous glint in his boyfriend’s eyes. His hands slid up the inside of Lambert’s shirt, and he placed a kiss to the corner of Lambert’s mouth. “I promise that I won’t laugh, sweetheart. I just want to enjoy a day in the sun with my boyfriend, and that includes rubbing sunscreen on your back, maybe even your front… anywhere I’m allowed.”

Lambert scoffed, rolling his eyes as he captured Aiden’s lips in a kiss, mostly to shut him up. Not only did Lambert burn easily, but he also blushed brighter than a tomato. It was embarrassing and Aiden loved it. “I’ll still burn,” he mumbled against his boyfriend’s lips.

“Even more reason to make sure I don’t miss a single spot,” Aiden practically purred.

“Can’t believe you’re trying to seduce me with sunscreen,” Lambert groaned, pressing his face into Aiden’s shoulder.

Aiden laughed, and just like that all the tension eased from Lambert’s body. Lambert hated how much the bastard could affect him, he wasn’t used to it. He wasn’t used to letting someone into his heart, but somehow Aiden had managed it. “Is it working?” Aiden asked, his fingers running up the length of Lambert’s spine.

“Maybe.”

“That’s a yes.”

“That’s a maybe, cocky little shit,” Lambert growled.

Aiden cupped Lambert’s cheek, pulling his face up so they were gazing into each other’s eyes. “I love you.”

Lambert smiled, a warmth glowing in his chest. “I love you too,” he mumbled back, his cheeks undoubtedly burning a bright red.

Aiden’s laughter was sweet, a balm against the hurt from his childhood, and Lambert knew that his boyfriend was laughing with him, not at him. He was just happy.

Happy.

That was a thought, Lambert smiled and ducked his head to hide his blush. He rather liked happiness, and happiness was found in Aiden.

“So,” Aiden began, “will you join me on the beach? If you don’t want to we can go home.”

Lambert shook his head, unable to stop smiling, “I’ll join you, but you better make good on that sunscreen promise.”

“You won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” Aiden responded, leading the way toward the beach.

Lambert looked around him, taking in the brilliantly blue sky and the sun's reflection off the waves of the ocean and felt peace. It was long past time for him to make some good associations with the beach and with Aiden by his side, this would undoubtedly be the best association he could make.

Check out my masterlist!

Tag list: @stinastar @feraljaskier @bastardofmothman @hailhailsatan @moonysrz @its-onions @elliestormfound @dapandapod @jaskierswolf @fontegagrilledcheese @negativenuggetz @veritasrose @feral-jaskier @kozkaboi @kueble @llamasdumpsterfire @selectivegeekwithstandards @dani-dandelino

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #fanfiction #lambden #laiden #lambert #aiden

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seungminotes · 4 years ago

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Broken Noses and Potted Plants (pt.1)

w.c. ~2k

warnings. some cursing I believe, gender neutral (please notify me if anything suggests otherwise!)

desc. high school au, love triangle w/ student body president! seungmin and reckless and lazy! jisung

a.n. hello! I am getting back into writing! this will be part of a series updated weekly, for now please enjoy part 1 and tell me if you're liking it? any and all feedback appreciated.

For someone as lonesome and timid as you, Kim Seungmin was what you'd call your savior.

Him being Class President and the longest standing place holder of the first rank of your grade, you would think he was the solitary and studious type of person. No one would think such a straightforward and driven student was so popular and well-liked as he was.

You being only second to him, knew it was difficult enough to balance academics with a few simple extracurriculars, imagine having a social life on top of that, it made your head spin.

And yet, somehow Seungmin managed to do it all. He was class president, captain of the baseball team, and on the officer committees of at least five clubs and honor societies. On top of all that, he was one of the most popular and well-known students in your year.

Sure, Seungmin had lots of friends and acquaintances, but some he would consider a lot closer than others. You weren't really one of those, let’s face it. You knew that much.

In fact, you and Seungmin were mostly just "friends" for the academic benefit of it all. You'd sat near him all year long, were his vice class president, and were also in numerous of the same honor societies. It just made sense that you'd be at least academically close, a lot more would get done that way.

For instance, you two would often study together at the school’s library after classes, specifically on Fridays, when no extracurriculars were occurring to keep you busy. Lunch time was strictly student government briefing for you two. And in the time between lessons, you’d regularly check each other’s classwork and homework for each other, catching any errors either of you made before it was time to submit, not that Seungmin made many errors anyway. To say that you two spent a lot of time together would be a bit of an understatement.

Despite all this time though, you could hardly say you really knew Seungmin, at least not on a personal level. You knew he always preferred chicken at lunch, and how math was undoubtedly his best subject, whereas he struggles a bit more with language. You knew he was an amazing leader and how his decisions were always very well rounded and well-received amongst the student body. You knew he was an exceptional baseball player.

But that was about it really. Yet you somehow still managed to develop some huge crush on this guy. This boy who would never feel the same towards you surely, because you two were merely classmates with similar goals and no intentions of building upon this acquaintance-like friendship.

Knowing this, you still sometimes tried to get closer to Seungmin, you really did, out of the sheer possibility that one day he may notice and you’d have an implicit agreement of friendship at the very least.

One of these attempts was made with the founding of the club you’ve always wanted the school to have, but were sure hardly anyone would join unless prompted to do so.

The morning you had asked Seungmin to take into consideration a new club proposal, he had initially rejected it quite harshly.

“Who would join this?” he smiled. To be quite honest he had found the idea of a gardening club maintaining potted flowers and vegetables on the school’s old rundown rooftop greenhouse to be pretty wholesome, but did not think it held quite the right formality to be taken as seriously as other clubs if presented to the rest of the student government. Everyone was way too stressed and busy with exams to waste time playing with dirt.

He eyed the proposal form meticulously, looking for the student’s name, but to no avail.

“Who submitted this?” he asked, looking up from the table for the first time since lunch began.

“I just thought it’d be a nice stress reliever for everyone,” you replied, now feeling a lot less confident than when you had slid the piece of paper in front of him.

Your shy look told Seungmin he had probably hurt your pride just now, something that he would never mean to do on purpose of course, and now he felt the remorse creeping up on him. Perhaps the club wouldn’t be such a bad thing, he thought over. Maybe tweaking the name just a bit would make it sound more worthwhile to students.

He sighed.

“Put your name on it and change the name to an Environmental Awareness Club, something along those lines at least. We can present the idea at today's meeting.”

Headstrong and confident as always, Seungmin brought a smile to your face as you reached over into your bag to fish out a pen and correct the form.

Seungmin had always been this closed off and serious, never speaking informally to you, and never wasting his words, he was the most concise and careful speaker you had ever met. And for some reason this only drew you in. His big brain energy was just that attractive.

On the other side of the table, Seungmin took notice of your surge in mood and smiled to himself, relieved to have boosted your spirit.

The board hardly agreed to the proposal until Seungmin cut in and beautifully explained the benefits of gardening and plants on stress relief and the ideologies of being environmentally conscious at your age.

After that everyone was pretty much sold on the idea with just one condition. Miroh High’s new Environmental Awareness Club would have to be established in time for the annual club fair in two weeks. Meaning, recruitment of leading members, supplies and set up on the rooftop would have to be set by at least next week to be considered for the school’s extensive list of beneficial extracurricular activities for students.

The condition was enough to falter even Seungmin’s confidence. He was unsure if you’d manage to do all that on your own in just a week, especially with your rather quiet tendencies, he doubted you could recruit many students in such a small amount of time.

He looked over at you, almost as if asking for your approval, to which he caught your lingering gaze on him, a look he had never seen coming from you. You slightly nodded your head once in agreement to the ruling and Seungmin politely shook his head towards the rest of the government board members, bowing as he took his seat once again.

Seungmin had made your dream gardening club a hopeful reality, you just needed more people now, that was the only problem. Still, you imagined having Seungmin join and coming along to your gardening club, gently taking care of a flower. No, a vegetable, you decided. Seungmin would prefer a vegetable, it’d be more practical of him.

The day following your ‘environmental awareness club” approval was a Friday. Your designated study session with Seungmin was as always to take place in the library after classes had ended, only today he had opted to stay behind a bit and insisted you meet there in thirty minutes instead.

“I’m helping Han with cleaning duty today, so I’ll meet you there,” he explained, before he stood up from his seat making way for the desk behind you.

Behind you, a certain Han Jisung had sat for the last 3 years of school in which somehow you two were always assigned the same classroom and the same seating order, you in front, him right behind you.

Today Jisung was dead asleep, as he usually was after a math lesson. The sight made you smile, Seungmin lightly shaking his friend awake as a very disoriented Jisung began to stretch and groan from his interruption.

Jisung was actually a very close friend of Seungmin’s. Very unexpected given their contrasting qualities. Sometimes opposites just attract huh. Seungmin could never sleep in class, for instance, while Jisung might as well have brought a pillow on the daily.

You knew Jisung wasn’t exactly the most driven student either, but his rank had miraculously never sunk below 10, he was just naturally smart that way. He also never bothered with extracurriculars much, claiming music was all he cared enough for to ever sign up for. Overall, Jisung was an unexpectedly exceptional student with lazy tendencies and not much academic ambition, a striking polar to Seungmin.

After watching the scene unfold, you stood up yourself and made your way towards the vending machine to pass the time waiting for Seungmin before heading to the library. You decided on a small bag of chips and two cookies. You also decided to save one for Seungmin, even though you weren’t supposed to eat in the library, you figured he could save it for afterwards or something.

Unbeknownst to you, Seungmin would later take this small offering in a different light.

Because you see, Seungmin had experienced a fair amount of admirers in his time and had been used to the small gifts given to him by more brazen ones before. In combination with the lingering gazes he felt you giving him both yesterday and now today, he was worried the same was occurring once again. Only this time he didn’t know to go about it. Usually he would simply refuse their gestures with a polite apology and it’d be enough to kindly reject them. But he was unsure this time. Not because he felt anything of the sort towards you, no, Seungmin was much too busy for romantic gestures and feelings to eat up his time, but rather because you were simply so close to him. Not in the personal sense, but in the academic proximity sense of closeness. If he were to “kindly reject you”, would you avoid him like his other past admirers often decide to do? That would make a lot of student government stuff difficult. He suddenly wondered if he could have led you on at all, had he been too kind towards you lately? His racing thoughts spiralling into a mess of ‘what ifs’ were fortunately cut short.

“Are you alright Seungmin? You haven’t finished the problem set yet.” you inquired. Seungmin was usually the one to finish long before you, especially if it was math.

He’d looked over at the fully scribbled page of your workbook, realizing his distraction.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No problem,” you replied, glancing towards our watch briefly. It was just nearing the time the school’s library closed and you had planned to leave a bit earlier to make a quick trip to the plant nursery just a few minutes off your route home, you had thought your study session would have ended by now.

“Do you need to go,” Seungmin voiced, noticing a slight impatience in the bounce of your knee.

You thanked Seungmin’s impeccable attention, you couldn’t find it in you to excuse yourself when he still hadn’t finished.

“I’m heading to the nursery today for some supplies for the club,” you unconsciously checked the time once again.

“We can look over the answers Monday if you like? I got a little distracted today…” Seungmin trailed off.

It was unusual for Seungmin to trail off his sentences and get distracted and for a second you worried for him and wanted to ask if anything was bothering him.

Only, you stopped yourself. You didn’t know Seungmin like that. It would be inappropriate and insensitive to ask him something like that, right? You decided it was best to let it go, everyone has off days after all. Even the amazing Seungmin isn’t immune to them.

“I’ll leave first then,” you offered, bidding him a polite bow of the head before slinging your bag over our shoulder and making your way out of the library.

Seungmin watched you walk towards the door, unconsciously biting his inner cheek, he felt... worried, that was the best fitting word, he would say, only he wasn’t completely sure that was what the heavy weight in the pit of his stomach really was.

When you had disappeared down the hall, Seungmin slumped his head down onto the table heaving a deep sigh.

#stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #skz angst #han jisung imagines #han jisung #kim seungmin #seungmin imagines #jisung imagines #skz scenarios #jisung drabbles #jisung fluff #seungmin fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines

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pandoraborn · 4 years ago

Text

Part one

How long has he been sleeping for? When he wakes, the sun is high in the sky, streaming in through the window and nearly blinding him. Tommy’s pretty sure that’s what woke him up in the first place. He lays there, hiding under the blanket, even though it does very little to block out the light.

He barely remembers what happened the night before. Barely, but he does recall vague details.

Tommy remembers Techno grabbing him and carrying him through the nether back to this stupid cabin in the snow. Tommy specifically remembers seeing Ranboo staring at him. He doesn’t remember much after that.

Slowly, Tommy stretches and tugs the blanket down, lifting a hand in a vain attempt to block out the sun. Curtains at this point would be perfect, but alas, Techno is either too poor or too stupid to craft some.

When he finally sits up, he feels a pounding headache. It’s something he can fight through, especially considering he needs to get back right away. He has business to work on, and he doesn’t want Sam to worry about him.

“Tommy?”

It’s Ranboo’s voice. Tommy fights back a cutting insult, forcing himself to clench his teeth instead as he responds with a very curt, “what?”

Ranboo pokes his head through the floor, blinking innocently at him. Tommy now remembers that he wanted to punch Ranboo, and he’s certain he could make that thought come to reality. It’s just the two of them, he’s sure, and seeing Ranboo crash to the floor below would probably help, but not by much.

“Er, I thought you might be hungry,” Ranboo says. “I was coming up to check on you to see if you were awake yet, and I...oh. You don’t look happy.”

If Tommy’s eyes could change any color, he’d love for them to change to red. Red is the color of fire and anger, and he wants Ranboo to see how furious he really is.

“I was kidnapped,” Tommy snaps. “Of course I’m not happy. None of you need to waste your time on me.”

“Yeah, but they care about you.”

“Who is they? Techno and Phil?”

“And Wilbur,” Ranboo adds gently. He lifts himself more into the room. Tommy finally breaks out of his frozen stance and moves forward, pressing his foot to Ranboo’s shoulder in an attempt to push him back down.

“Wilbur didn’t care before, he doesn’t get to show up with everyone else and act like he didn’t aid the rest of my family in turning their backs on me.” He narrows his eyes when Ranboo struggles against the pressure, finally managing to dislodge Tommy’s foot.

“Wilbur said he cared last night,” Ranboo says. “I don’t know how much you remember since you were pretty out of it, but Wilbur said you were a family. You two, especially.” He keeps a tight grip on Tommy’s ankle, not letting him go. Tommy gives up on trying to push Ranboo back down the ladder and sits down with a heavy thud.

“I don’t care.” He hates how stubborn he sounds right now. Because of course Tommy doesn’t actually mean it. He does care, he cares more than he wants to. He cares that they’d all banded together and showed up to show him some semblance of love. It’s all crumbs at this point though.

“Don’t you?” Ranboo asks. “Tommy, none of us have to be enemies. A lot of chaos happened to you, but you don’t have to push us away.”

“Shouldn’t you be telling yourself that?” Tommy retorts bitterly. “Like you’re not pushing people away or hiding your own issues from everyone.”

“This isn’t about me right now,” Ranboo says slowly. Tommy knows he’s treading on dangerous ground, but he’s too stubborn to give up. “This is about you and how you cope with your issues.”

“This is exactly about you,” Tommy insists, raising his voice. “You think I don’t know about you sleepwalking everywhere? You think I don’t know how you struggle to remember anything?”

In a flash, Tommy’s being pinned to the ground, with eight feet of enderman hybrid on top of him. He freezes, eyes wide, as he finally feels a spike of fear. Ranboo could destroy him in a second if he really wants to, and Tommy wouldn’t be able to fight back. At this point, he isn’t sure he’d want to.

“Tommy, enough,” Ranboo says, voice carefully controlled. “You and I can push each other’s buttons and make mortal enemies out of each other another time, but I want you to understand that I am not willing to do that. Just because we don’t talk much does not mean I hate you. It’s actually the opposite.”

Tommy’s struggling to breathe now. Not because Ranboo has a knee digging into his sternum (even though that’s painful), but because Ranboo is making more sense than he is. It’s strange to think that someone is actually showing kindness toward him. More than that, it’s someone he can actually relate to. It’s such a strange, alien concept and Tommy feels tears pricking his eyes.

“Why?” He whispers. “Why do you care so much about me?”

“Because Tommy, I think I need you. I need someone to talk to, I need someone to tell me I’m not a bad guy or evil or messed up.” Ranboo finally pulls away. “No one else but you knows what I’m going through. So yeah, you’re right, this is about me, at least partially. But I need you to understand first that you’re not alone.”

“But...Techno?”

“They care about you too. Techno spent half of last night beating himself up over how bad things’ve gotten. They’re still your family, but I don’t think any of you know how to show it.”

“They like you more.” Tommy forces himself to sit up, drawing his knees to his chest. “They didn’t hesitate to take you in. I’m still trying for Phil-”

“They barely trust me,” Ranboo corrects. “Techno barely lets me in this house, they’ve been doing something secretive and won’t tell me what it is. Something about a syndicate, I don’t know, and I’m past the point of caring. I’m literally only out here because I’m done with everyone else’s bullshit, and so are they. It’s not like we’re a family, not like you are with them.”

Tommy nods as if he understands, but he really doesn’t. He’s confused and feeling lost all over again, numbness settling over him. That same familiar emptiness he’s found solace in for so many nights...

“No, hey!” Ranboo shakes him. “Tommy, don’t dissociate on me, please. Stay with me, okay? Actually, come on. Let’s get you some food.” He gets to his feet, pulling Tommy up with him as well. Tommy allows Ranboo to guide him around, only needing to remember to put one foot in front of the other.

“There you go.” Ranboo’s voice is distant now, but he can feel the other teen’s arms around him. “Down the ladder, there you go. You’re okay. You with me?”

“Yeah,” Tommy breathes. “Sort of.” He’s dizzy, he’s spiraling, but he’s leaning against Ranboo once they’re on the lower floor. It’s keeping him grounded, like Ranboo is the end of a tunnel and a chance for safety. “You won’t leave?”

“No, of course not. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Tommy nods as they start walking again. He sucks in breath after breath, using his surroundings to keep him grounded. Ranboo’s arms around him, the scent of steak and eggs wafting from the kitchen. the sensation of home starts to settle in as well.

“Yeah,” he says after a few minutes. He’s sitting down now, with Ranboo setting a plate of food down in front of him. “Yeah, we’re friends.” He glances up to see Ranboo look elated by that confirmation.

“Cool.” Ranboo sits down next to him, reaching out to pat Tommy’s arm. “Let’s get you settled in for awhile, and then we can work on me. I’ll even page Sam for you, if you want.”

“Thanks, Ranboo.” Tommy hunches forward to eat. Maybe being kidnapped by his brothers and dad hadn’t been ideal, and he knows he has a ways to go before he’s ready to speak to them, he’s glad Ranboo is that bridge to fix the gap.

And hey, maybe Ranboo isn’t so much of an asshole after all.

#mcyt #dream smp #tommyinnit #ranboo #friendship piece #anxiety attack #dissociation #suicide idealization #suicide mention #whump #hurt/comfort #i want them to be friends please #long post #ask to tag #miishae writes

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mcheang · 5 years ago

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The critic

Sometimes restaurant owners are aware there is a critic among them, but they don’t know his identity. Sometimes they are unaware they are being visited at all. This is for @edeniz001

Meet Alain Ego. A youthful young man admitted to Ms Bustier’s class as an exchange student from Provence.

Here’s what you need to know about Alain. He is smart, responsible, but he’s dull. He is a wallflower. His appearance is unremarkable, his voice is softer than Nathaniel’s. And his social life is generally shy. His hobby is writing stories and taking photographs.

His deskmate is Ivan.

Predictably, after class was let out for lunch, Alain was surrounded by his class. Well, most of them.

Chloe and by extension Sabrina; could not be bothered to waste her time with a wallflower.

Marinette and Alya introduced themselves as the class president and Vice President. They warmly asked him to come to them if he needed help.

Nathaniel invited him to meet Marc since they both seemed to love writing.

Lila had never been to the French countryside but was inclined to boast about the Tuscan landscape. She seemed annoyed that Alain did not ask her for more details and that the rest of the class were paying more attention to the new student than to her.

Thankfully Alain would only be here for one semester. That was enough time for like...what, 25 akumas to show up?

Hope the new kid was fast. Dupont tends to be an akuma hotspot.

And was it ever...

The majority of the akumas were from Caline’s class. And that was remarkable considering how they had already been akumas. What is up with that?

Are they an emotional class?

Why is Hawkmoth out for them?

Granted some akumatizations happen outside school. But Alain happens to be there thanks to being invited to class activities.

Part of the blame belongs to Chloe.

A real bully that one. Alain can understand why the principal would be cowed by a corrupt mayor. For a so-called hero, he was a coward.

But Alain has noticed some students standing up to Chloe.

Namely the class president and her Vice President.

And yet for some strange reason, instead of telling Chloe off for being rude and mean, they just brush her off and redirect everyone’s attention.

Alain shyly asked Marinette why she lets Chloe get away with that.

Marinette: Because Ms Bustier told us to be good examples and forgive Chloe.

Alya: it’s why Chloe likes her so much. She lets Chloe get away with everything and tries to get her to be nice.

Alain’s eyes were wide at such a scandal.

When Alain’s witnessed his first akuma, he was at art class, making a photo collage of the students.

Let’s just say Chloe didn’t take criticism well at her first attempt at fashion design. Let’s also just say there’s a reason she stole Marinette’s design instead of relying on her mother’s genes.

Point is, Fashion Critic could make her harsh criticism a reality.

During that time, Alain had run for cover.

Unsurprisingly, Alya had run in the opposite direction.

Frightened, Alain asked for help as to where to run to.

Alya: There is no safe house or bunker. Akumas usually blow those up. Here in Paris, just run for cover.

Alain: any ideas?

Alya: not really. I don’t hide.

Alain: ....

Nino: don’t worry, dude. I know where the guys like to hide. Follow me. I’ll take him, Alya.

As they were running, Alain pointed out it should have been Alya leading him to safety.

Nino: she would have delegated it to me anyway. That girl loves to get her scoop.

Alain frowned in disapproval but said nothing. But perhaps he could try to talk to Alya later.

He did, and even Marinette took his side, when they both said she should stop running after akumas.

Alya: the public needs to know!

Alain: can’t you just post the location and powers and physical description? Why do you need to record the whole thing?

Alya; how else will my blog be popular?

Marinette: it’s still not safe, Alya.

Alya: oh relax, it’s not like the Teachers are complaining.

Ok, so Ms Bustier not only lets bullies run rampant without correcting their behavior, she also does not stop dangerous habits.

Curious about the students, Alain decides to be nosy. He visits the bakery and tries their delicious breads. He talks about animals with Mr Cesaire. He explored Juleka’s boathouse. He even babysitted Chris.

One day, Alain just so happens to visit the embassy building where Mrs Rossi works, at a time when she would be leaving for home.

Alain: Hello, excuse me, are you Mrs Rossi?

Mrs Rossi: Yes. And you are?

Alain: I’m Alain. Lila’s classmate. I thought I recognised you from her photos.

Mrs Rossi: oh. How nice to meet one of Lila’s friends. But I’ve been so busy with work, I barely have the time to spare.

Alain: I understand. But it’s nice to see you include Lila in your work.

Mrs Rossi: excuse me?

Alain: you know...you brought her to Achu last year to help out Prince Ali.

Mrs Rossi: I never went to Achu.

Alain: um...Lila was gone for months and FaceTimed us from there.

Mrs Rossi: when did this happen exactly?

Alain nervously tells her.

Mrs Rossi: Lila has been lying to all of us, it seems. She told me the school was shut down because of akuma attacks.

Alain: what? Akumas last only a day. The school has been disrupted by them, yes. But everything goes back to normal the next day. Didn’t you try calling the principal?

Mrs Rossi is stiff and she thanks Alain. She needs time to think. More than that, she wants another person’s opinion and confirmation about akumas before she decides on what else to do.

The next morning, Lila is at school. She makes no reference to Alain meeting her Mother. In fact she prefers to avoid him because he is so annoying. He rarely asks about her adventures and the questions are obviously and disinterestedly polite. What teenager isn’t excited by Jagged Stone?

In the middle of class, Lila is asked to the principal’s office. She returns fuming, with Mrs Rossi and the principal by her side.

Mrs Rossi ordered her Daughter. “Tell them the truth Lila.”

Lila is forced to confess her lies. In addition, for forging her mother’s signature and truancy, she is hereby expelled.

An akuma arrived to target her. As Caline rushed Lila away from the akuma, Marinette actually ran out and used her purse as a makeshift butterfly net. Since she wasn’t feeling negative (actually she felt pretty good about Lila getting exposed), the akuma was just fluttering around in her purse until Tikki threw a macaroon on it and proceeded to sit on it.

Alya is already posting on her blog about it, hopeful Ladybug will arrive to cleanse the akuma.

Marinette rushes out to the roof to wait for her there.

In the aftermath of Lila’s exposure, the class is certainly feeling wounded and guilty.

Caline is trying to advise them to forgive Lila who probably felt shy of their accomplishments.

Alain: Um, she asked me to carry her school bag because her arm was supposed to be sore from planting trees.

His words were a spark.

Kim: I bought her lunch.

Alya: I posted false information on my blog. Ok, technically I didn’t fact check. But Lila was not innocent!

Rose: I donated my summer job cash on her fake donation! (She proceeds to sob)

Caline: but she has already been punished, shouldn’t we extend our friendship to her now that she is alone?

Alain: She didn’t look all that repentant if you ask me. Didn’t you see her smiling at the akuma?

Adrien: Lila wouldn’t have hesitated to hurt us.

Alix: what a psycho.

Caline: that is enough. I want you all to forgive Lila and try to reach out a hand in friendship.

Ivan: But she’s dangerous

Max: and clearly not well if she keeps on lying that she can call Ladybug right after admitting she lied about knowing her.

Alain mutters to Ivan, “Wanna bet that Ms Bustier becomes Lila’s puppet if she actually does this?”

The next morning, Caline actually tries to order the class to say one nice thing about Lila and to write her a nice letter. Never mind that she clearly heard Alya report that Lila was exiled from Paris after Chat Noir admitted she had been working with Oniichan to endanger Ladybug. Apparently he had somehow heard how Lila was smiling at the akuma and suspected she was in league with the terrorist.

Alain so couldn’t wait for the term to end.

When it finally did, he gladly reported to the school board his investigation on the akuma class.

He blames Caline mostly for her redundant perspective that people need to forgive bullies and liars instead of educating them and correcting their behavior. Like seriously, how else would the victims get justice? She also lacks a sense of responsibility in that she refuses to correct Alya’s lack of self-preservation.

His advice: fire her or suspend her indefinitely, send her to get proper training. Get the class a strict and just teacher with a sense of fairness.

Once his job was done, Alain sighed and emptied his bag of textbooks. He could really go for some wine.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #lila gets exposed #lila karma #lila is exposed #ml salt fic #bustier salt #chloe salt #alya salt #lila salt #lila bashing

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cajunquandary · 4 years ago

Text

A Beacon to Beasts

AO3 Link (in the works, check back later)

Summary: While Dean is in Purgatory, he comes across some interesting monsters who help him through.

Created for @spndarkbingo

Square Filled: Fornication

Rating: R (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Benny

Warnings: Dark Fic. Canon level violence, SMUT (p in v, biting, anal, oral, dp, unprotected sex *dont be silly wrap the willy,* all the smut, also I might be developing a praise!kink here??), angst, traumatic memories. If you squint: suicide, Destiel, Denny

Word Count: 7600

A/N: Originally published in early 2017, this is a total rewrite with the tremendous help of @thinkinghardhardlythinking and @wonder-cole. You talented bitches. I love you.

Lightning spider-webbed across the sky, for a brief moment illuminating every shadow across Purgatory. The forest practically hissed in the unwelcome brightness as the trees whispered amongst themselves. A crack of thunder caused a quake larger than you’d felt in the god forsaken land ever before. It cracked the sound barrier, bent the hellscape reality at all of its slithering edges, and sent a shockwave so powerful it nearly tore apart every cell in your body. With an eerie silence, darkness fell again, and as your eyes adjusted, you could see that the beast attacking you was fleeing the other direction from whence it’d come—no, not fleeing. It was chasing the impact.

Something pulled in your chest like a red-hot meat hook, something that sent sparks of electricity straight into your brain and signaling an overwhelming raw need. You were familiar with such will-crushing lust. Your fangs were proof. But this… this was stronger than anything you’d ever felt before. It nearly drove you mad. You could feel your mind slipping, until you took a step forward, then another, and another. The more you walked towards the source of the prior disturbance, the more sated you felt. The more whole.

It took weeks of fighting others like you and endless backtracking to find the source—a vampire and another beast. It was a bit like a human, but no humans could be in Purgatory. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating.

Your body shuddered at the proximity of the delicious flesh. The warmth. You were merely a moth, drawn to a flame of your own destruction. Your head swam and you reached towards the man, but another fang sped from the shadows opposite you first. This was just enough of a distraction to pull you back from the brink.

You crouched behind a half-rotten tree, only one eye peeking from behind your cover. The human barely had time to react before the fiend had him forced into the well-trodden packed earth. His fall was hard. Your mouth watered as his pulse quickened and echoed through your soul.

The vampire accompanying the human sent the attacker’s head flying so closely that spattered monster blood landed on your hand. The foul stench drove you deeper into the safety of the trunk. You didn’t want to be next.

In this land, the best way to survive was to stay hidden, quiet, so you decided to follow them for the first few weeks, being careful to keep to the shadows. The thirst for the human ebbed and swelled unpredictably. At times, it was all you could do to resist the pulse exposed on his neck, especially when the man slept.

For days you tried to figure out what the other one was, who he was, but damn, was he a monster magnet. You’d been in pretty thick shit before, but never like this. Your cover was nearly blown a few times a day, but you were thankful the two were too busy fighting their own to notice you.

“Damn, man. You’re humanity is gon get us kilt.” The vampire wiped the rancid blood from his blade on the latest dead monster’s shirt.

“Yeah well, as soon as we find Cas, we’re getting the hell out of hell.” A human in Purgatory? How? No wonder there had been such a disturbance. He must have been pulled here by a great force--one that very nearly ripped the entire existence apart.

“Hey brother, I’m startin to think the angel don’t wanna be found. Dean, think about it. Every time we get close, he disappears again.”

“Benny—don’t.” The human stormed away from the vampire. What was going on? A human and an angel? Things must be getting really messy up top.

The vampire, Benny, turned suddenly in your direction, and you closed your eyes, hoping the thick layer of leaves and thorny bushes camouflaged you well enough. It must have, because he merely shrugged and walked after Dean.

This night was the quietest it had been since The Event. It had been hours since the last monster attack and you were almost as exhausted as they looked. It wasn’t long before the men settled down into the dust and a pile of dry brush and began to lightly snore. Usually one stood guard as the other slept, but on this occasion, both must have been too far gone to care.

You crept slowly forward, focused completely on the human. He was so beautiful. The creases of his forehead were reduced to fine lines as he slumbered, slow, tender breath fluttering across weary-pale swollen lips, freckles and mud mixed on his cheeks, hair tousled and bloodied, yet still so soft and shiny. His lashes twitched as he dreamed. You were only a few feet away now, beginning to feel lost in the warmth radiating from him, drunk in the light from his soul.

A sharp pain through your side interrupted your trance and you collapsed into a prickly shrub. Between gulps of agony, you could just make out that you were pinned to the ground with a rough makeshift javelin, reminiscent of a butterfly pinned to a shadow box as you’d owned as a human. You screamed in pain, and if you weren’t already twice dead, you’d worry about losing too much blood.

A pair of boots came into your view. “I smelled you days ago. I know you’ve been followin’ us. Why haven’t you attacked? You workin for someone?”

You looked from under your brows, straining to see if Dean was still where he had been, but found nothing. All you could do was gasp shallowly against the burning splinters. It had been years since anyone had gotten the jump on you like this. The bit of human that was left within you prayed that this was a bad dream, that you would wake in a moment in the gently swaying safety of the treetops.

The javelin was ripped from your aching side, and you screamed again as your organs smacked back together in the loss of pressure. The vampire threw you against the nearest tree. Through the pain that overwhelmed your ability to flee, you watched in utter captivation as the human secured you with heavy, rusted chains.

The latter bent close to your face, piercing green eyes a stark contrast to the caked mud and blood spattered across pale cheeks. “Now look, you piece of shit. I’m gonna waste you like I’ve wasted every damn thing in this place. But first, you’re gonna tell me where the angel is, and why you’ve been following us. If I like your answer, I’ll make it quick. If not… well, I don’t normally like the answers.” He smirked, tilting his head just slightly as if he was considering just how he was going to end you.

You gulped hard knowing the human meant business. You’d seen him firsthand, the violence, the rage. All this man left behind him were wide trails of blood.

You were shaking now, feverish and confused. When had your fangs come out? You retracted them in an attempt to look less intimidating and more cooperative. Between gritted teeth and a gradual tunneling of vision, you managed to respond. “I’ve been tracking you since you arrived. There was this storm, and I’ve felt a pull towards you the whole time. I-I don’t work for anyone, I swear.” His gnarly blade pressed into the soft flesh of your throat now and panic was rising and threatening to close off your throat if the blade didn’t do it first. “I didn’t even know about the angel until earlier today when I overheard you.”

“Well. I don’t think I like your answer.” Dean sliced deeply into your arm, which produced a guttural scream from deep within your core. The blade itself didn’t hurt that bad, but whatever was on it sure did. Benny walked away, knowing what was coming. Benny was a monster—Dean was worse.

“P-please I don’t know, I just know the light—your soul is like a candle in this endless darkness. I’ve been here for so, so long and you feel like home, like safety. I crave your closeness and I don’t know the details of why, but I couldn’t hurt you.”

Benny looked over his shoulder as Dean paused. Something struck a chord. Benny walked back over and pulled Dean slightly off to the side, almost out of earshot.

“Brother, I think she’s tellin’ the truth. We should give this one a chance to talk.”

“Why? She doesn’t know anything about Cas. She��s just another monster in my way.”

“And so was I. We were both human once. Let’s hear her out. She hasn’t even fought back.”

The fatigue and injuries caught up with you. Focusing on the thick red-black ooze streaming from your wounds, sleep was finding you swiftly with your head falling forward, blood-soaked hair in your eyes and chest pulled tight against the restraints.

Dean lifted your chin with the end of his blade, remnants of your internals still glistening on the edge. Your eyes followed the length of his arm to his face where he held you in an unwavering gaze. Those eyes were greener than anything in this world—more than the trees you hid in, the brush around you, or the sparse grass beneath your feet.

You seized your breath and relaxed your tense muscles. If this was finally what wiped you into oblivion, it would be okay, as long as you could stare into those eyes. After all, you were tired of fighting. Your mortal soul had been tired in life, grown wearier after you were turned, another century had passed before you’d been sent here after a hunter took you out. The memory flashed by: how you sat there on your knees, glad to be facing the barrel of the gun after so long that you didn’t even fight. Had you known you’d end up here, you may have fought more to stay topside. But now, you faced oblivion, or so you hoped. This would finally be the end of the suffering, the fighting.

Dean must have read the all-too-familiar look of defeat and acceptance in your face. He lowered the knife, letting your head fall forward again, and caught you in his arms as the chains broke and clattered to the dust.

He leaned you against the base of the tree. You weakly gazed upward through hooded eyes, wanting to see past the leaves to the empty sky, but couldn’t. It was all grisly branches for a hundred feet up.

“Why were you creeping up on me?” Dean pulled your attention back to them.

Battling the unconsciousness that nipped unwaveringly at the corners of your mind, you whispered, “The ache in my chest… the closer I get to you, the easier it is to handle. I wasn’t going to hurt you, I just needed to be... closer.”

“And is this better?” He motioned to the foot’s distance between you.

“Yeah,” You half-smiled through gritted teeth, the pain from your side still throbbing. It wouldn’t kill you. Nothing in Purgatory killed a monster except another monster—usually by beheading. It still hurt like a bitch, though, and left you exposed and vulnerable like a wounded animal.

He pursed his lips and shared a look with Benny, who shrugged. “I’ll stay up and watch, Dean. You get more rest before it starts again. And I’ll watch you, specifically.” The other vampire motioned at you, an intensity behind his blue eyes you could identify with. This human was meant to be protected, no matter the personal cost.

Dean was soon asleep again, his back turned to you.

The earth supporting your broken form was anything but forgiving. But still, you weren’t going to waste time whimpering to yourself now that you were a part of the misfit group. “Benny, where are you from? How long have you been here?” You wondered aloud.

He eyed you suspiciously, pausing before he answered. “I ran with a crew out of Louisiana, but we sailed all over the Americas. Been here a long time.”

You adjusted your position with a grunt. Benny’s hand was already on his weapon. “Calm down, sailor, just tryin to get comfortable... I’m from Shreveport. Been here a long time, too. Only did about two centuries up top, though.”

“Well, I’ve got a few on you then, sister. Shreveport was nice. Rolled through there a few times.” The vampire chuckled at the memory.

Even still, your body had different plans for the evening, and if anything else was said afterwards, you wouldn’t remember. Rest was in the cards that evening, even if your mind protested. Between stretches of sweet nothing, nightmarish memories flashed by in haphazard, non-chronological snippets.

There you stood, on the bridge above deep, twisting waters. Though the wind whipped your hair wildly, you could feel nothing. Not since the day you were bit.

Then you were in the shed on your grandfather’s land, centuries before, when you were young but still so old. Had you ever had a chance? And there were fires and anthills, guns and chains.

Before that one could go where you knew it would, you shot awake. Benny raised a concerned brow in your direction, but you couldn’t face him. Not after that. Within moments, sleep took you once again.

The butterfly pinned in the box. Such a stark contrast was that orange and red and blue against the green felt and the glint of silver pins. You would chuckle at the sight if you could. Tiny fingers traced the outline of the glass.

Then you were on your knees. You didn’t even fight. This? This was the day you died… the second time. By the hands of an inexperienced young hunter who was too focused on fighting with his dad to even notice you there. I mean, he practically tripped over you. The boy looked tall for his age, hazel eyes partially obscured by choppy bangs and mouth pressed into a thin line. He hesitated too long. You’d cocked your head to the side, wondering if he even had it in him to off you, and you almost felt sorry for the kid. Especially when his dad saw. The old black-haired ass berated him, belittled him. Compared him to his older brother. A disgrace, he’d said. Nothing like him, nothing like Mary. When the boy could look you in the eyes, you gave a slight nod as if to say, “It’s okay, I forgive you.” Those bright hazel eyes morphed into the moon cast over a monster wasteland.

By morning’s light, you felt better, somewhat healed, but mostly sore. You and Benny spoke all the while, learned your ins and outs, and caught up on the situation with Dean, the toothy leviathans, the apocalypse (again), the dick angels, and everything else Dean had filled him in on weeks ago. If you weren’t in Purgatory yourself, you never would’ve believed all this. I mean, angels? C’mon.

Sure enough, Benny was right. Beasts continued to attack in waves. There were a few close calls, and not one would speak of the whereabouts of the angel Castiel, though a few tried to save themselves by spouting lies. Dean would see right through them. It only ever took one question. “What color are the angel’s eyes?” A few had gotten lucky and guessed blue, but Dean didn’t even accept that answer. You asked once, what answer he was hoping for. He only shook his head in response.

There were times, though, when he would describe Cas to you in the quiet of night, and it was like listening to a lost lover. Dean gave in after some months and described the angel’s eyes as full of grace, blue, but slightly glowing. And not just any blue, no. The bluest blue you could ever imagine. The purest blue. He spoke longingly about things they’d done, things he wanted to do, wanted to say. Needed to say. You would close your eyes and drift off to him mumbling stories of Cas, the fondness softening his voice.

It was dark again and the almost empty end of a particularly difficult day. You’d all sustained serious injuries from the violent fray that only seemed to become more dense as of late. You and Benny would heal quickly, but Dean wouldn’t… and you worried for him, lingering protectively close.

The weary hunter screamed in time with the monster as he thrust his knife through its eye, his voice echoing long after the lifeless body crumpled in front of him. In a rage, he threw his weapon down, stalking over to a nearby tree. He punched, kicked and threw himself against the bark until he was nearly bloodied beyond recognition. Benny could only look down, powerless to help his friend. Unable to watch any longer, you forced yourself between Dean and the tree. His eyes were closed until his bruised fists struck soft skin stretched over bone, the unexpected change in texture catching him off guard. You winced against it but grabbed his jacket in both hands, balling your own fists into it to hold him firmly in place. Jerking him forward until you were nose to nose, breath and blood mixing, you growled, “We will find him, Dean. But not if you kill yourself first.”

“Y-you sound like him,” His voice cracked and his head fell to your shoulder. You could feel his tears, hot on your frozen skin. This world was so cold and it never ceased to amaze you how he kept his warmth. You held him tightly, even as his knees buckled and swayed. By the state of those green eyes, you could see resignation and defeat creeping up on him.

You shared a look with Benny, and he knew, too. “I’ll keep watch. You make him rest, cher.” You’d come to learn that Benny preferred to keep watch from all the years he’d had to watch his own backside here. You’d survived in hiding, while he’d made a name for himself—a killer, like Dean (not that either of them ever wanted to be.) You had to give it to him, though. After all, you’d tried to fight off everything in the beginning, but it was too tiring, like living was. So instead, you learned to thrive in shadows and whispers, moving like a ghost through whispers of the trees.

You were grateful for the moment alone with the warm beacon of a man, though. If the electricity across your skin anytime you touched the human indicated anything, it was a confirmation of your heart’s longing. You kept him pulled flush against your chest, his heartbeat so strong that it reverberated through your body. You focused on the feeling. How many centuries had it been since you felt your own beating? Dean’s was so strong it could surely support you both, you thought.

With a groan, Dean pulled the two of you down into a horizontal heap. You couldn’t make out the details of his face in the dark abyss of night, but his heart rate had shifted notably, along with his breathing. His anguish was palpable and you couldn’t help but to take some of it on as your own. He exuded it, it leaked from every pore.

Supple lips brushed against yours, and you closed your eyes, slowly guiding one hand to his back above you and the other through his hair. It was as soft and silky as you’d hoped it was. You pulled just slightly, allowing your nails to gently spread and retract in circular motions. Dean clenched, the softest sounds carrying on the thick night air. Smiling at the reaction, you carded through the messy spikes and repeated the measure for several moments before Dean crashed into you, with his sudden need matching yours. Every kiss grew deeper, longer, and your tongues began to wrestle gently but urgently between locked lips. He grabbed at you hungrily with a certain ease, unable to hold back anymore, with palms stroking openly up and down your torso, until they slipped below your core.

You both pushed and pulled, wallowed and rolled, careful of injuries but powerless to pull away, fighting to get closer. You helped him slip from his leather jacket, and he groaned into your mouth with a tantalising mixture of pain and pleasure. The sound made you shiver, and you hastily removed yourselves from worn and tattered pants, breaking only for a moment.

“Shh, Dean,” you whispered next to his ear. He nodded, understanding that even in this embrace, you were exposed and hunted. But with skin on skin, it was difficult to keep logic and sanity at the forefront of your mind.

Dean slowed his pace and shifted until you were straddling him. With a touch so light it tickled, he let his hands trace every angle of your body, until he felt the latest wound and drew back suddenly.

“It’s okay,” you breathed into his gaping mouth.

“No, I-- I’m sorry.” His voice was feeble, desperate.

Taking his hand in yours, you placed it back where it’d been. It was a small gesture, but the effect it had on Dean was profound. With both hands now, he clutched your sides so tightly, it sent swells of something delicious straight to your center, before rippling out to every nerve ending exposed to the cool air, and then some.

Just as you began to give in, a rustle from only several feet away snapped you back to reality. You shot up upon bare feet, weapon already in your hand as you scanned the malevolent shadows for the source, listening and feeling for any shift in the air. Dean lay frozen by your feet, head still spinning in weakness and lust.

In a swift turn on the balls of your feet, you faced the intruder, ready for war.

“It’s just me, cher. I heard something and wanted to make sure you two were okay.” As Benny took in the situation, he laughed softly. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ll be over there…”

With an annoyed frown, you allowed your stance to go slack. “Thanks.”

Dean touched your leg, leaning in to kiss it lightly before planting a little nibble at your ankle. You slipped back down next to him, gasping when he quickly found your neck and nipped along your clavicle to the sweet spot in the hollow of your neck.

He was shaking slightly under the strain, but lifted himself atop you. To help keep him steady, you placed your hands on his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his torso. With a grateful kiss, he traced his tongue across your bottom lips as he lined himself at your entrance.

His tip sank into your soaked folds and his resulting keen made you tremble beneath him, itching for more. “Dean, p-please…”

“What do you want?”

You rotated your hips against his, fighting to make him move. “Please, fuck… Dean I need you. Need more.”

Your begging tore his resolve to shreds and he sunk into you, stretching and filling you like nothing ever before. Your back arched at the sensations as they nearly overwhelmed you, drowning out the hell around you and leaving only Dean. Your heavy breathing barely registered as you whined his name. A shallow shriek betrayed you. Dean placed a calloused hand over your mouth, and it only drove you more mad.

As he bottomed out and began short but powerful thrusts, tears gathered at the edges of your eyes. Everytime, he hit that sweet spot. Everytime, you whimpered into his hand and dug your fingers into his flesh tighter. Everytime, he moaned in response.

It wasn’t long before those slow, drawn out jolts coiled you so tight you could barely contain yourself. Dean could sense the change as you began to rub against him, allowing the friction to take you over the edge. Right as you fell off into a fierce and roiling sea of ecstasy, Dean replaced his hand over your mouth with his own, swallowing your choppy breaths as you twitched and spasmed beneath him.

Still lost in the swell, you felt the hunter release and fall, spent, onto your chest. You managed to wrap your arms around him and held him steadfastly, not ready to let go. It was incredible to watch Dean unravel and relax for the first time. In fact, it’d just become your favorite drug.

Unknown to the broken lovers, a pair of “gorilla-wolves” attempted to interrupt throughout the steamy romp in the leaves, but Benny quickly took care of them. The nasty things wouldn’t have gotten as close as they had, but the vampire had been distracted by the sinfully delicious sounds coming from the far side of the tree. He’d tried to ignore it at first but found his mind wandering. It’d been ages since he’d felt the touch of another being, and the want rose up in him, a fire in his stomach.

You panted next to Dean when he rolled to the side, your injuries far from mind in the lasting rapture from being one with the human. His breathing was still ragged, but slowing. The wound on the back of his shoulder had reopened. Begrudgingly , he let you patch it again. Once dressed, you fell back to the sorry bed of leaves. Dean nuzzled into your side and let out a pained sigh as sleep found him. You could’ve sworn you heard the faintest “Don’t let me die here…” fall from his lips. Your grip on him tightened. You’d get him out if it killed you. But first, you had to find that elusive angel.

It was another month of the same routine. Days and nights ran together. The closer you got to the angel, the denser the swarm of monsters was. Even Benny seemed to be on his last leg. You offered to keep watch this time. At first Benny protested, but you shut him down.

“It’s broad daylight out here. I can see them coming from far enough off, I can give you plenty of time to wake up and fight if I can’t handle it. Don’t worry.”

He didn’t feel like protesting too much, and finally nodded, sad blue eyes locking on yours in a silent promise of trust in comradery.

A few hours passed, and you stood to stretch. A twig snapped behind you, and you twirled quickly, your knife to Benny’s throat. His hands raised. “Sorry cher, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nearly lost your fool head. Why aren’t you resting?” You dropped your arms and stood next to the vampire, staring out through the forest again, scanning. Listening.

“I rested enough.”

“Right, that’s why you have to use that tree to support yourself.” His lips pressed into a hard smile, electric eyes dropping to the ground. When he looked back up, something in them had changed. He reached towards you, hesitant, and brushed the wavy mess of hair from your face behind your ear, hand gently gliding across your jaw until his thumb rested on your lip.

You closed your eyes and shuddered under the vampire’s touch. It was more familiar than Dean’s. You leaned into it, following as it guided you into his embrace. He was larger than Dean and still smelled of the swamp and sea. The scent was intoxicating, dragging all of your attention to Benny.

He pulled back for a moment and cradled your face in the large, thick hands of a sailor. “You okay with this? Don’t want you to feel pressured, darlin’.”

“Mm not pressured,” you smiled up into those spirited sharp blue eyes. You lost yourself in them, completely ensnared. You could see past them, to cerulean glittering waters, could feel the lapping of them against your old boat, hear the seagulls and crows chattering as they glided on heatwaves, taste the salt on your tongue.

You stretched up on your tiptoes, craning to taste the salt on his lips, feel the waves in the way his tongue twists. Benny must have felt the same, as he met your parted lips in a feverish kiss, maneuvering you effortlessly between himself and the tree for support until he was rutting into you.

The touch was bittersweet and starved, driving both of you as you stripped away layers. Benny pressed into you until the bark bit into your back and arms. You knocked the hat from atop his head to get closer, to guide him in, and he responded by taking the thin flesh of your neck into his mouth. Fangs drug thin scratch lines over your chest and shoulders, followed by sucking kisses. Benny grunted as he settled next to your ear, the growing bulge in his remaining trousers becoming almost painful in the restriction.

Sensing this, you moved to loosen the last piece of his clothing until it slumped to his ankles, all the while raw, needy noises spilled from your mouth. If only you’d found each other topside, things would have been better. You wouldn’t have let that young, long-haired hunter boy and his grumpy father kill you.

In one smooth move, Benny hooked his fingers into your jeans and slid them off, until you were completely free of them. With lust in your eyes, you found his full lips once more. You bit and sucked at his bottom lip until he was throbbing against you and whispering your name in short breaths in desperation.

With a slight adjustment in position, he grabbed your ribcage and lifted you just enough to line himself at your entrance. Hungrily, you raised your knees and rested them on his sides. You dug your nails into his shoulders in anticipation, but he didn’t keep you waiting long. With a final shift of his angle, Benny slid into you unrestrained.

His pace was unforgiving. He was rougher, more desperate, yet somehow more controlled than Dean. Pain was something you both knew too well, and found pleasure in at this moment. Neither of you had to hold back in fear of hurting the other.

Benny muttered a long string of praises as he placed his cheek on yours and relished in the fragmented breaths and mewls leaking from your gaping mouth.

Between the friction to your front and the sharp ache in your back, the intense set of his pace brought unwanted tears to the corners of your eyes. Before you knew it, he had you biting back a scream as you came in his arms, your back digging into the tree as he held you through it. You sank your teeth into his neck, drawing blood and pushing back the sharper set as they threatened to emerge. He snarled into your ear and released, standing for a moment, relishing in your closeness.

For a time, you just remained in that position as he softened inside you, foreheads resting fondly on each other.

Dean stirred, grumbling as he woke. With a silently shared promise to continue the embrace another day, the two of you straightened yourselves back out and rounded the tree to greet the sleep-starved human.

Over the next two weeks, the three of you grew much closer. Sometimes in between attacks, you took solace in each other. Most times it was talk, but when words were too difficult and your bodies needed to feel something… else, something primal and good and pure, they would pass you between them, never straying too far.

Benny's eyes would always drift and land upon Deans. It intoxicated him, pulled at his heart in ways that tore him apart. Deep green eyes, full of hope and goodness and humanity… something fragile yet unbreakable, much like what he once saw in Andrea’s. Just like Andrea’s. As much as he tried to put her memory to rest, Dean’s gaze would always take his breath, whether they were fighting or fucking, and the feelings that washed over Benny were wild and raw.

You ventured off to scout ahead one day, leaving Benny to help Dean walk after a surprise run in with a gorilla wolf didn’t fare so well. Those things sure liked Dean. Could you blame them? As you cleared the spaces ahead, you reminisced on the first time it happened.

It’d started innocently enough, some kissing and tender touches traded between you and Dean. You craved comfort, and his touch never disappointed. The fading daylight illuminated something… different, something new in his eyes. There was a spark of acceptance? Resignation? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but for some reason the usually tightly wound hunter was relaxed. His movements were delicate and slow, a stark contrast to the usual quickie on the run.

You nearly lost your balance when he stripped your pants away and traced deliberate sucking kisses down to your sweet spot. You’d had to catch yourself from falling over at the heady sensations, threading your hands into his hair and holding on for dear life (or death.) Within moments, Benny swooped in to support you from behind, snaking a strong arm around your stomach as Dean began to lick and hum and stroke you in ways you’d never felt. Your blood burned like fire, causing every inch of your skin to become more sensitive.

Benny brushed the hair from your shoulder with his free hand, then took a fistful of it and guided your head back. With a contented sigh, he took your exposed neck into his mouth and you twitched violently between the shivers running down and the heat rising up. The contrast of Dean’s soft lips to the burn of his stubble mirrored that of the rough, blood soaked fabric of Benny’s jacket against the smooth of your skin… and it drove you mad. Your vision swelled with every wave and the sounds of the cursed world around you faded as if cotton had been shoved in your ears.

Your legs gave way and you fell into Dean’s lap as he chuckled, watching you come undone. The orgasm hit you somewhere along the way down, untouched but wound so tightly that you couldn’t hold out another moment.

While you writhed against him, Dean held you securely to his chest with arms that crushed into your ribs and pinned your arms to your sides. Your head finally came to rest upon his shoulder, and as your senses eased back into focus, you realized that you were completely laid down upon his bare chest. Still buzzing from the high, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck and laid a small peck. Dean’s resulting smile stretched wide, and you could feel it there without even needing to see it.

“You okay, baby?” Dean gently stroked your back up and down with one hand, and moved to tangle strong fingers in your hair to hold the base of your head tenderly with the other.

When you found your voice, you muttered a small, “yeah, thank you.”

Benny kneeled beside you and lowered his face until your foreheads met, the three of you so impossibly close. “You up for some more, sugar?”

You smiled wryly and closed your eyes. “Yeah, I’m all yours.”

Though your limbs were but heavy gelatin, you managed to lift out of your shirt as the men undressed. Pulling Dean’s discarded coat over you like a blanket, you rested against a fallen tree and admired them. Dean was more slender, but faster and stronger. The way his muscles rippled and creased beneath pale, freckled skin reminded you of a swimmer--all lean and mean. He was graceful in every movement, like a dancer. Benny was a little more solid, built like a tank. Maybe he wasn’t as fast, but there was no going through him. You’d seen beasts hit him straight on with full power, and the vampire had barely flinched. Those fists could break anything, but his face was always… soft. Kind. Dean’s was hardened, but you couldn’t blame him. And yes, there were moments, like this, where the lines of his face smoothed, and some color returned to his cheeks.

How you’d ever found Heaven in this Hell, you’d never come to understand. But you were ever grateful. Hopeful for a future with them topside, however it may go.

Dean’s outstretched hand pulled you from your daydream. You took it, letting the jacket go as he helped you stand. As you stood, he continued to pull you forward until you were flush with him. He pressed a firm kiss to your scalp and rubbed his palms up and down your body. His cock twitched against your belly, and you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing just a little tighter at the new flood of arousal.

Benny snaked his arms around you from behind, until his hands rested on your neck, not gripping, but just *there.* The weight of them naturally guided your head to fall back against his chest. He growled into your ear, “You’re so fucking beautiful. So good for us, cher.”

Your mouth fell agape and released a strangled moan as Dean kissed along your exposed neck and mumbled a steady stream of “You’re such a good girl for us, such a good fighter, a great companion.”

With every word, a new fire raged through your veins. Your face burned hot. Dean’s hands wandered south, caressing every inch passionately. One hand found its home grasping your thigh right under your ass, and the other came to rest in your dripping folds. You bucked against the touch and right into Benny’s length resting between your cheeks.

You whimpered, needing more, needing release. “D-Dean please, fuck. I need you. I want you inside me, please--unnghh.”

Dean teased your entrance for a moment more before the wrecked look on your face and the subtle, high pitched sounds spilling from you completely enraptured him. Benny nodded, moving his hands to steady your sides as you squirmed uncontrollably. With a swift movement, you were raised up with both of Dean’s hands cupping and spreading your ass until he lined up at your folds and let you sink down much too slowly.

Pathetic cries filled the air as you struggled to maintain control, the stretch of him almost too much to handle and not nearly enough all at once. You shook and grabbed at anything you could hold with a flutter in your chest that threatened to make you implode. And yet, the intense feelings only grew. Benny planted himself and anchored with a strong arm outstretched and clutching to Dean’s shoulder.

Dean bit his lip fiercely and let out a pained groan at the other man’s unyielding hold on him. His cock twitched again as he bottomed out deep inside you. The depth burned and ached, and with it your eyes came to focus on Dean’s.

The emerald green was more prominent now, outlined by the hot blush beneath a spray of freckles. His brows were drawn tightly and jaw slack, full, pink lips parted in bliss. His breathing was erratic, and with every intake of cool evening air, Dean trembled.

You mewled and whined, shifted against them, desperate for friction. The slightest broken smile graced the hunter’s face and he nodded, knowing but not yet ready.

Tears already began to gather as you fought the urge to physically fight the men into submission, to finally scratch that itch. Benny didn’t leave you waiting much longer though, before he was slipping and pushing into place in your ass. The deliberate burn of him spreading you open opposite Dean left you thrashing between them.

Dean took a deep breath in as a reminder for you to do the same. If it weren’t for him grounding you and helping you through, the black void would’ve already sucked you in as another victim. You did your best to relax and bore down, allowing Benny to fill your other hole completely to his base.

The vampire grimaced through his own keening, the tightness of you nearly sending him over the edge right there and then. You stilled between them, already on the verge of destruction as the three of you adjusted to the new feelings washing over you in waves.

Dean’s lips found yours, open and wanting. Taking his tongue hungrily into your mouth, you sucked and fell absolutely limp as he sucked your lower lip between his. The scent of him was utterly intoxicating, and you were ready once more.

Benny began to move in tandem with Dean. With every movement of the both of them against your thin membrane, a wailing cry seeped between your clenched teeth. Benny was now clutching both of Dean’s shoulders so tightly that were white bloodless patches beneath each of his fingertips. This made Dean buck harder until the hunter’s eyes shut tightly and left his head bobbing backwards in lust.

The symphony of your cries was lost beneath those of the two men, who shuddered and swayed. The sweet, sinful music flooded your mind and sent you reeling over the edge once more, clenching and swearing and falling against Benny’s outstretched arm.

Dean’s thrusts faltered as his stuttered, “I’m.. I’m about to--”

“Just let go, brother,” Benny encouraged.

It was the only confirmation Dean needed before his load spilled into you, sending renewed longing to your stomach as he pulsed inside you. “Fuck Dean,.. You feel so good,” you managed.

Benny came seconds later, and you relished in the full warmth of them.

You smiled to yourself as the familiar electricity flooded your veins and leaked to your core. It may have been the first time, but every time since had only been… better. Impossibly, incredibly better.

Upon your return, you noticed that Dean had found new strength.

“We’re closer than ever to Cas, he’s three days away by the river. We’re almost done! We can go home!” Dean was grinning widely, a spark finally back in his tired eyes.

You smiled, scooping him into a rough embrace. If Dean was happy, you were happy. Benny joined you in the bear hug. You were so ready to be topside again, and now, it was so close you could just taste it.

Your second chance.

With a start, Benny hollered and let go, leaving Dean tense and alert in your arms. Then, he threw you to the side as a beast attacked. Its whole face morphed into a shark-tooth ringed mouth, and you grimaced.

Leviathan. You must’ve been really close to that angel.

You drew your weapon as one engaged you, swung and lopped its head off easily after years of practice, until something glinting and sharp emerged where it should not have been.

You looked down, the blade bloodied and protruding through your chest, through your lungs. Unable to draw a breath, you fell to your knees.

“No!” Both Benny and Dean were yelling, voices echoing through the hostile forest. Black ooze covered them from the slain monsters. You looked up as your assailant withdrew the sizable knife from your back and placed it against your neck. It was another vampire. You looked back to the boys.

“You killed our sister, so now we’re gonna kill yours,” the voice behind you teased in a sing-songy tone. More boots shuffled into your line of view.

Benny looked absolutely broken as he charged, extra teeth bared sharply in defiance. Dean bounded to you, holding your gaze with those emerald green eyes as he expertly dodged the advances of his adversaries.

Once again, your breath was seized and you relaxed your tense muscles. If this was finally what wiped you into oblivion, it would be okay, as long as you could stare into the comforting depths of that hunter’s eyes. After all, you were tired of fighting…This would finally be the end of the suffering. To oblivion. The warmth from Dean’s soul flooded over you as he got closer, but it was too late.

Your head rolled from your body.

Dean decimated the group of vampires in record time, the rage fully restored and urging his body forward against all odds. Once again, the hunter had become more vicious than any monster in the land. In two days, he would limp to the river and find his angel.

You, however, woke on the other side of Purgatory. Oblivion was not something that would ever come for you. There would never be a release. Despair, overcoming any hope you ever had, creeped its dark tendrils through your entire being and swiped your feet from underneath you. So that’s what happens to monsters who die in monster heaven… they get respawned and zapped to another part. Great. You were stuck in hell, too far away now to reach them in time. One day you would find a way out. You had to. But first, you would have to find the strength. Strength you may never have again. You curled into a ball, mind silent as you gave into the feeling, a single, small tear streaking a thin line from your eye into the dust.

You were alone. Again.

Your second chance gone along with the human and his friends.

This was my second attempt at writing smut and maybe I got carried away??

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby @wonder-cole @itsangelpie-supports @thinkinghardhardlythinkingogblog@icecream-and-gadreel

ANGST BABES:

@trexrambling @abbessolute @emptywithout

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278 @will-winchester

#spndarkbingo #2020-21 #beacon to beasts #dean x reader #benny x reader #dean x reader x benny #smut #read the warnings #chris writes sometimes #supernatural #spn fanfic #spn smut #dean smut #benny smut #dean winchester x you #benny lafitte

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the-swedes-knees · 4 years ago

Text

Human Resources - The Swedes x Reader

Did I make a tumblr just to post a birthday present for @jossambird? Yes, yes I did.

Rating: Everyone

Pairing: Reader/Swede(pick your favorite)

It had started like any other work day at the Temps Commission. The case management room was silent aside from the rapid clicking of typewriter keys and the rustling of papers as employees cross checked their historical references. You were just another cog in the machine, expected to work efficiently and follow every rule in the handbook down to the letter.

Which is why it was a surprise when your supervisor placed the summons to HR on your desk.

"Cheryl." You greeted the HR representative coldly as you entered the meeting room. She glared at you as you went to take a seat, not even bothering to say your name. There wasn't a clear reason why she had been gunning for you the past few months but you suspected that it had something to do with the last company Christmas party. Or rather the point in the Christmas party when she had become dangerously intoxicated and you had walked her back to her living quarters instead of letting her fulfill her desires of making thinly veiled sexual innuendos to coworkers.

One might assume that kind of story would lead to a friendship, or at least a funny story to laugh about together...

"Do you know why you're here?" But apparently Cheryl didn't think so. When you crossed your arms and shook your head no she let out a catty hiss of disapproval. "Well this shouldn't be a shock, but I've opened up a sexual harassment investigation against you."

Your face hardened and your eyes shot to the folder that was placed in front of you, identical to the one infront of her and three more like it on the opposite side of the table.

"That can't be right... who - " The end of your question died on your lips as the three temporal assassins entered the room and sat down at the table across from you. Almost in perfect unison the three tall Swedish men regarded your presence before turning their attention to the woman at the head of the table.

Axel, Otto, and Oscar. More commonly referred to as simply The Swedes. You had handled a fair number of their cases in your career, and they were certainly some of the best the Commission had to offer. They were all handsome in their own right. Strong, stoic, and silent... but you had only admired them from afar, just sparing glances in passing through the massive building complex.

You weren't sure what drew you to them, like a moth to a flame. But just those sparing glances had ruined any other romantic prospects for you.

"Thank you for coming. I'm aware how busy the three of you are, but this matter simply demands to be addressed." She said smugly before turning back to you and opening the manila envelope that was placed perfectly perpendicular to her.

"In recent case number A-96353 you wrote an extra message to the Swedes that was not approved by your supervisor. Is this correct?" Cheryl asked your pointedly.

"Yes." You admitted, squaring your shoulders a little bit more as the reality of the current situation began to dawn on you.

"For the record, can you please recount what that message was?" She asked. You took a deep breath and kept your eyes focused on her. There was an evident threat of heat creeping up to your cheeks, but if this was some sort of weird power play, you didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

"I believe I wrote 'good luck boys' on the bottom of their assignment." You admitted in an even tone.

"Is that all?"

"I may have also drawn a small heart." You said through slightly gritted teeth. "I've already received infractions for that offense. It won't happen again."

You turned your body to face the three men, and bowed your head slightly in shame. Even though you had gone through getting slapped on the wrist and mandatory behavioral classes for not following protocol, it wasn't their fault that your attraction to them had led to your immature urge to flirt on the job. Even if the flirt was hardly a flirt, and it was sent via tube with a kill order.

"I apologize, for my unprofessionalism." You said sincerely, beginning to rise from your seat to leave this waste of everyone's time.

"Well there is also the case of these little locker room comments."

"I-I don't know what you're referring to." You froze as she sifted through her folder, placing her pen on the page as she began to read a section of notes verbatim.

"He could punch me in the face and I would thank him for it." She read with as much enthusiasm as a young fast food worker making minimum wage. Your heart throbbed in your chest wildly as you stared at Cheryl in disbelief. "Does that sound familiar?"

"Yes..." You croaked out softly, all moisture seeming to have left your mouth. Your eyes darted to look down at your lap, your fingernails suddenly much more interesting than the three assassins that were openly staring at your from across the table. The sound of rustling papers caught your ears as the men began to read through the reports for themselves, but suddenly you couldn't seen to move a muscle.

There was no telling who had overheard that particular comment from the water cooler, but it was just one comment... If you could shake off this terrible sense of dread and embarrassment you could chalk it up to a simple misunderstanding -

"Time and date 0923845753: I would pay him to crush my pelvis." She continued to read from the file in front of her in a monotone voice. In potentially the dumbest reaction possible your eyes darted across the table and made direct eye contact with Axel as the comment was read. His face was unreadable, but those blue eyes pierced into you so deeply you may has well have died right on the spot.

"Time and date 0202493192: God must be a woman to make men that fine." You decided that there was no God, if there was then he or she or whatever omnipotent being they were would have pity on your soul and allow your body to combust into flames instead of sitting there.

"Time and date 0221527010: He can break all two-hundred and seven of my bones." There was no blood left in your face, you were sure of it. It pulsed rapidly and loudly through your thudding heart and directly into your ears. Your brain couldn't pick between being embarrassed or downright mortified, a violent chill settling into your bones as the startling realization settled over you... this was the end... your life was over... just because you found the three men a few feet away from you devilishly handsome and you couldn't keep your damn horny mouth shut.

"Time and date 0940251637: I would let him step on my throat."

"Oh that one was actually-" You held up a finger to correct that that particular comment was made by your friend in payroll whom which you shared a similar horny braincell, but quickly decided against it. "You know what, I'll take responsibility for all of them... there's really no need to keep reading."

"For the case of this investigations, were all of these inappropriate comments directed at an individual or a collective?"

"It was, it was um... all. All of them."

"Any one of these comments could be classified as a serious offense, and you are in clear violation of several company policies." Her words barely registered in the haze that set in around you. This was it, your life was ruined... you were dead, and this was hell, it had to be... "And if they agree to follow through, I can have you fired by-"

The sound of metal screeching as Axel stood up from his seat silenced the HR representative. All three brothers shared a quick look before Otto and Oscar stood as well, tossing the files that had been placed before them back onto the table sloppily. Otto's eyes were glued to yours as Axel slightly shook his head at the woman at the end of the table.

"Byråkratisk skitsnack." He sneered before walking past you to leave the room. You had no idea what it meant, but from the offended gasping noise Cheryl made, you were sure she did. The other two men followed their brother shortly after, Oscar making teasing kissing faces at you as he exited through the door.

What just happened?

Both you and HR sat in a moment of stunned silence, obviously this meeting hadn't gone the way either of you expected. With the Swedes gone, you found the courage and sense of self determination to look at the woman again. You raised an eyebrow and looked behind you at the doorway, silently asking if this meant you could leave.

"One more slip up and I'll file for your termination, clear?" As much as you wanted to think of a snappy comeback to the woman who had just lost all the power she wrongly thought she had, your flight or fight response was still in full gear and you suddenly forgot all that was the English language. All you did was bite your bottom lip and nod before slowly rising from the chair and returning back to work.

Curious coworkers asked throughout the day if you were alright, the sense of dread still clawing at your heart at the utter humiliation that you had received... but there was no one to blame but yourself, you probably got what you deserved for making such comments in a professional environment. You briefly considered taking a vow of silence, never to speak again in penance for your sins.

The vow ended rather quickly after Dot offered you treats from her candy stash in an attempt to lighten your mood.

Everything will go back to normal, just don't think about them... ever again... You obsessively chanted to yourself while staring blankly at the copier and munching on your third candy bar. The mechanical machine whirred loudly as it spit out page after page of references that were needed for your current case. It was so loud, in fact, that you weren't aware that another person had entered the room until you felt a sharp pinch on your ass.

You suppressed the urge to scream as you jumped back, mind now alert as you whipped around to see the culprit.

Now standing a few feet away was one of the very same men with platinum blond hair that you were trying so actively to purge out of your mind. You had never admitted it to anyone else out loud, but secretly you did favor one brother more than the others... the slight mannerisms and the way that he held himself causing many obsessive dreams on lonely nights.

And here he was... alone... the closest he has ever been.

"Hi." You greeted dumbly, not even confident enough to say his name. Your eyes flickered from the ground back to his face before holding out your chocolate. "Kit-kat?"

His face remained neutral as he reached out and broke off a section from the bar, eyeing you up and down more properly than before.

"You know my name." He remarked before biting the chocolate wafer in half and slightly gestured his chin towards you. "Yours?"

You told him, a bit surprised that he didn't seem to know it after that disaster of a confrontation. Had he not read through the accusations? Or if you were such an unnoteworthy person to him, why was he here... talking to you?

He's going to kill you, you pervert.

"Do you eat?" Just as you were preparing to plea pathetically for your life, you were instead caught completely offguard. Confusion overtook you as your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to understand the question.

"Eat? You mean like... eat food?" You asked slowly, mind going completely blank as you watched him pop the rest of the wafer in his mouth and chew slowly. Even with something so small, your knees were going weak at the close proximity. You shook your head gently to refocus, dangerous thoughts like these were what got you into trouble in the first place. "Um, I guess? Yes?"

"Good. Six o'clock, pervers." He declared firmly with a stony expression before turning to walk away. Unintelligent noises of sputtering and half words left your mouth as you moved to walk with him, keeping a bit of a distance as you held your copies tightly against your chest.

"Six o'clock what?"

"You eat dinner, with me. Or I step on your neck, your choice." He said casually, eyes keeping straight ahead as he spoke... almost ignoring that you were even there.

"What? Where? Why?" Even though you were trying to whisper as you paced through the hall, your voice was rising in octaves as each question left your lips with little filter. He stopped his long stride abruptly, inadvertently causing you to flinch as he turned back to look at you. The slightest ghost of a smile toyed at his lips as he stared you down like a hunter with eyes on its game. You remained as still as humanly possible as he leaned down to speak in your ear.

"I will find you."

You watched him turn around once again and strut down the hallway like a man on a mission while you stood there, mouth gaping like a goldfish. He was coming for you, that much was certain... There was no where or time that you could possibly hide from the not-so-secret item of your affection.

Should you be horny or terrified?

Both. You decided. Both sounded good.

#the swedes #the swedes x reader #tua the swedes #ikea mafia #hbd jossambird #the umbrella academy x reader #axel x reader #otto x reader #oscar x reader

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septic-dr-schneep · 4 years ago

Text

JSE - Given Time (Part 12)

Previous chapters: [x]

A/N: You know how I said I would wait to post this? I lied

Three and a half weeks.

Three and a half weeks since Marvin had wrenched awake with a ragged scream, feeling like someone had punched a hole in his chest.

Three and a half weeks since he’d half-stumbled, half-crawled from his room to the others, everything in his body singing, Wrong! Wrong! Danger!

Three and a half weeks since they had broken down Chase’s door to find nothing but his hat, phone and wristwatch strewn on the floor. Weeks of terror, rage, grief and determination warring within Marvin as he drilled through every tome on his shelf, searching and scanning for answers in every line, for some kind of sign.

By only the sixth day his fingers were bloody with papercuts and burnt from entangling too many spells at once but the others knew better than to try stopping him. They were far too busy with their own search methods.

Jackieboy had scoured the city, cashed in as many favors as he could spare, dragged as many police officers as he could get his hands on into the search. It was a testament to how much of their faith he had earned, working with them over the years. “He’s my friend,” he said, and that was all they needed to know.

Schneep contacted every hospital, every urgent care, every house caller he could think of in the city, then as many as he knew in the Ipliers’ city. Dr. Iplier had sworn he would do what he could on his end, though who knew how much?

Whenever he wasn’t on the phone, Henrik was crying into scarred, shaking hands. “I wish it were me. If the monster has him, if Chase must endure what I did…” There were nightmares and horrors in his eyes that wouldn’t let him elaborate. “I wish it were me. I would take his place, I would endure it all again if it would spare him!”

Jameson, meanwhile, did the work that was left by the wayside: food, water, blankets when the others finally passed out with their desks as their pillows. After the initial panic he seemed to go into shock. China-pale and puffy-eyed, he drifted from task to task in a daze. His speech slides were scarce, his signs nonexistent. On the rare occasion that he rested, he prayed.

There were no traces of static lingering in Chase’s room—not a speck, not a flicker. Emergency calls and hospital reports of stab wounds came up empty. Chase’s gun was still in its locked drawer, as were the bullets. There was no note to detail a goodbye. When Marvin grit his teeth, swallowed his pride and bitterness and called Stacy, she said that neither she nor the children had heard from Chase in a couple of months.

That should have been a relief, a sign that this wasn’t another attempt. Chase wouldn’t dare try to leave this world again without telling Brianna and Connor that he loved them one last time. Nevertheless the fear churned, always, in the back of Marvin’s mind.

What if he did try to reach the kids but couldn’t get through, so he gave up? What if he doesn’t have his gun because he’s going to try some other way? What if he took the note with him so it would be on his body when he’s found?

No. No. I would know. I would have felt it.

That tether he held, that thin lifeline tangled up around Chase’s soul was all that Marvin could count on every day. Chase’s face card, the King of Clubs, could not locate him, aimlessly fluttering up and down the streets. With every dead end the card’s enchantment found, Marvin was taken back to the days of watching Schneep’s card tumble in the wind, unable to reach him in the pocket dimension where Anti had stashed him away.

That train of thought found a new track.

Three and a half weeks since this new twist of their living nightmare began and at long, long last, they had found something solid to stand on.

Marvin’s plan had been to utilize his soul bond with Chase from the start, combing through dimensions one by one, searching for any pang, any sensation. Yesterday afternoon, however, Dr. Iplier had called Henrik to pass on a message.

“The Host is well aware of the Septic Egos’ trouble. Marvin the Magnificent approaches it on too small a scale. Pocket dimensions will prove trivial, fruitless…but the Host Sees beyond. For the price of a future favor, he may be of assistance in locating Chase Brody’s thread of reality.”

It was the easiest debt they could ever agree to. Another nine months with a hole in their household was not an option.

Marvin emerged on the opposite side of the portal, the opposite side of the universe, with Jackieboy tensed for a fight beside him. Schneep was quick on their heels, machete raised for an upswing, and Jameson had his sword cane drawn before his feet even hit the rocks. It wavered in his hand, however, as he laid eyes on the city in the middle distance.

“Jeepers…That truly is Elvery Heights. It’s the spitting image of our own…yet darker,” he murmured in wary disbelief.

“I don’t understand. Should this portal not have taken us straight where we should be? We are on the outskirts,” Schneep demanded.

“The Host wasn’t about to do all our work for us—and it’s probably better that we haven’t been dropped into the middle of a fight,” Jackie pointed out. “We know nothing about this place. We should find our bearings first.”

“We should find Chase; he’s waiting for us somewhere in there and I’m not going to waste any time sightseeing! We need to get in, get out and get him home!” Marvin snapped, pushing past him into a jog toward the far street. “I’m going to West General, Schneep; if he’s hurt, the Anti of this universe would probably dump him there for you to find!”

He had hardly sprinted ten feet before Jackieboy caught up with him. “Marvin,” he began in a warning voice.

“I feel him now. He’s here and he’s frightened,” Marvin snarled, dodging the hand that grabbed for his shoulder. “Isn’t this how you felt when Schneep was gone? Can’t you understand, you of all people?! Wouldn’t you do anything to get him back, no matter the risks? You would’ve plowed right in too if you knew where he was and I will not hesitate to do the same! Chase is—”

“I know. I know, Marvin.” Jackie matched pace with him, gaze steady, low voice unfaltering. “But even if I had found out where Anti kept Henrik, I would’ve been an idiot to go alone, with no reconnaissance and no plan. I don’t doubt for even a second that I would’ve gotten us both killed.”

“I don’t plan to make that mistake.”

“It would be an even bigger mistake to leave us behind! He’s not just your brother. You think JJ wouldn’t do whatever it takes to save his dad right now? But he’s keeping it together and coming along with a level head. We’re all here to help you.”

Muscles twitching in his jaw, Marvin quickened his stride. I’m coming, Chase. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just hold on.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

All of the buildings, the streets, the parks, shops and walkways—They all seemed to be “right” but Henrik couldn’t shiver away this uneasy chill from his back as he followed Marvin and Jackieboy toward the hospital. It was his hospital. Shouldn’t he feel at ease, knowing this street so well? But as intricate as the familiar surroundings may be, they didn’t hold up well when he truly looked. It was like an optical illusion or a spot-the-difference game, everything further skewed as he ventured further in.

The passing cars were few and far between, the pedestrians dotted across the street so rarely that it was startling to see one. None of them smiled. None of them even seemed to care about each other’s existence. Unlike the civilians at home, these people didn’t give a second glance to the “quadruplet” Egos passing them. They didn’t bat a lash at their attire, didn’t bother meeting their eyes.

“You feel it creeping up on you too, doc?” Jameson shivered beside him, leaning on his sheathed cane to keep up. “The cold? The strangeness of it all? I can’t rightly put my finger on why but this place feels…ill, like the heart has drained from it. I find myself hoping that the hospital will show happier signs of life!”

“I hope that too.” Thanks to those words his patients’ faces were already flashing in his mind as they stopped before the double doors. “Okay…it looks normal enough, the way I know it…”

“You’re obviously the one who can get in and check around for any sign of him the fastest without being suspected,” Marvin announced, wasting no time to steer him forward by the shoulder. “You know where they keep the patient logs, right?”

“If they keep them where they do at home, yes, but that is an ‘if’,” he reminded him tersely. “This is a different world, Marvin; we do not know if I even work here, if I have ever worked here. Hopefully my coat and expert doctoring will let me pass through at a glance but if it doesn’t—”

“Henrik? Is that you standing dillydally around I see? I thought you were scurrying out to fetch our coffee twenty minutes ago!”

All other fears fled his mind at the call and left him paralyzed at the sound of that voice. Marvin and Jameson retreated a few feet, taken aback, but Jackieboy wasted no time shouldering defensively between him and the approaching figure.

“What’s going on? Henrik?” Albrecht repeated, glancing curiously between the rigid pair. “If you don’t hurry to the shop, our break will be over before you’re back.”

Henrik could only stare at his old enemy, openmouthed, drawing a blank on any possible response. The mere fact that Albrecht was unmasked, ungloved and clean of any bloodstains was enough to render him speechless. Jackieboy didn’t suffer that malady.

“What are you doing here, Doll Maker?” he barked.

“That’s the Doll Maker?” Marvin breathed, glancing at Jameson as he tightened white knuckles around the head of his cane.

“Well?” Jackie spat, eyes burning. “Have you been waiting for us to arrive? Are you the one who’s taken him?”

A snort of bewildered concern escaped Albrecht as he shifted back, hands lifted placatingly. “Very sorry, sir, but I imagine you think of someone else. I have never heard of any ‘Doll Maker’; I do not know why you call me that. Do you need a doctor’s help? Who was taken from you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Are you trying to mock us?”

“Not at all! If you are looking for a patient, you can ask the front desk in there—or if you would like to wait just a tick, my friend Dr. Schneeplestein and I can gladly listen to your story and see if there is anything we can—”

A nearby crash, splash and clatter cut him off before he could finish, making them jump. As he spun sideways Albrecht lit up, calling out, “Oh, hello! There is the coffee! I—”

“Schneep,” Marvin whispered.

Jameson flinched. Jackie swore.

Albrecht wavered uncertainly, glancing to and fro with the same disbelief mirrored on the others’ faces. “W-Wait. Wait a moment…How can there be—?”

As the steaming brew collected in a puddle that stretched for his shoes, Henrik remained absolutely still, unable to breathe. On the other side of that gap, his other self, bony, pallid and haggard, stared him down with sunken eyes that still shone as cold and sharp as razorblades.

“What is this?” he hissed.

___________________________________________________

@viostormcaller @misslennie9 @obsidiancreates @plutoandpolaris @rainidaydreamer @alvie-ashgrove @subtleshenanigans @victory-cookies @happysingingturtles @c4link @ashphoenix06 @a-humble-narcissus @jackskeptically @burningbirb @theblackphoebe @hexatrash @realcanadianmoose @o-0notsteph0-o @help-trashbin @blitzindite @rats-this-username-is-taken @lildevyl @droidreamer @number1120 @bookwormscififan @wynterst0rms @awesomekattyk @the-weirdest-fangirl-blog @epicfangirl01 @rammypaige @the-spawn-of-loki @isa-ghost @rabbitsartcorner @totallynotanti @thesinginggal @akiacreates @veryanxiousdev @stardustdragon130 @10th-no-name-person @immabethehero @rataccoonn @darkiplurrr @smolswolpotato @gay-but-still-feral @definitely-asexual-volcano @0-chaotic-potato-0 @jade-orade @nagrom10714

@egopocalypse

#youtube #jacksepticeye #fanfiction #youtube fanfiction #writersofjack #given time #marvin the magnificent #chase brody #jackieboy man #dr schneeplestein #jameson jackson #dapper jack #antisepticeye #stacy brody #chase brody's family #dr iplier #the host #the doll maker

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fallenrepublick · 4 years ago

Note

HI. Can I request a fluff where reader tells maul "i love you" for the first time and he just stops working? (might be angst too)

This got a lot deeper than I intended it to, but by the time I realized it, I had already written all of it so...

Warnings: I don’t... think any...

Months had passed on the surface of Mandalore, a planet ripe with internal strife wild enough to match the beating of a heart that didn’t quite know what it wanted. You had been there, you had been with him, and all seemed well, at least in the eyes of onlookers too distracted in their own affairs to pour through the reality you experienced. In truth, the unfathomable uncertainty about the role you played tugged at your conscience at every moment.

Maul didn’t enjoy discussing it outright. He never approached the subject, and when you attempted to ask about what you were to the people, or even what you were to him, he dodged the question or simply said you were “important.”

For this reason, a wall began growing in your heart, not yet tall nor strong enough to fare against what you felt for him, yet prominent enough within you that you worried your future would allow for the wall to encompass you completely if left unchecked. But the fear of the unknown still held tightly to you, and though it was entirely possible his side glances that landed on you much longer than normal, or the compliments he gave you that extended past your work, or even the light touches he brushed onto your arm could be misconstrued as something more, you knew it would eat away at you if you were never given a direct answer.

And so came a day when the world seemed quieter than normal, and the overcast sky outside your office window created a haze that only intensified the distractions in your head, and you found it even more difficult to concentrate on your work. Maul sat across from you, brow furrowed and cheek resting on his fist as he typed away, boredom taking hold. Every so often, he glanced up at you, golden eyes glowing softly in the dim lighting, and you struggled to make it seem as if you didn’t notice.

It wasn’t like you didn’t normally interact with him. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He may have been harsh to other advisors or members of the Death Watch, but he smiled at you frequently, and made it fairly obvious that you were a, if not the, favourite amongst them. You spent time with him on his days off, and made sure to check on his well-being frequently, as he often did with you, sometimes urging that you take a break for the sake of your mental health. Still, you hesitated to call it a “relationship,” seeing as he still made little effort to specify how, exactly, he saw you.

On any other day, you would make passing remarks to him as you worked or joked about some of your colleagues’ incompetence when it came to organization or militarization. He would then respond with some sort of eye-roll or a laugh that came out more like a hum than anything, and offer to take a walk through the halls while you complained. But today, you remained silent, your thoughts and deliberations of the past few months competing for dominance and a chance to be spoken aloud at the subject of your affections.

“How bad is it?”

You jumped, not expecting to hear a voice that wasn’t your own in the silence of the room around you. The navy curtains fluttered out, urging you to find an answer, dull as it may be, to at least fill the silence.

“Bad? What’s bad? Who? Me?” Nice one.

He stared at you a moment, unblinking and completely still, his frown of concentration gradually being replaced by a frown of concern. “Are… you alright? You’ve done nothing for the past twenty minutes, and though I personally don’t mind, it’s not like you.” He straightened up, elbow lowering and brushing past a pile of data discs that had been on the desk for a week.

“No, yeah, I’m…” Pause. “I’m fine. I’m good. I’ve just been thinking a lot. Doesn’t matter, though.”

“I enjoy hearing your thoughts,” he said, a slight smile softening his gaze. “What might be occupying you today?”

There was a large part of you that wanted to get out of this conversation. There was a small, but significant, piece of you that wanted to answer him. “It’s really nothing interesting…”

“Neither is this.” He gestured to his screen, a mocking scowl forming when he referenced his work. “Believe me, I’m certain you can do much better at interesting me.”

If ever there were a time to find out, this was it. You took a deep breath, stealing yourself for the worst. Or the best. You weren’t sure yet. “You know how… some people are really close? But they’re not… together… they’re just… interacting. I don’t want to be stuck in some sort of weird rut where I don’t know where I’m going, or if there’s even a future with someone… I don’t want to be left wondering, and end up wasting my time on something that wasn’t real. But at the same time, what if it is? And I never act on it, and it just fades? What I guess I’m getting at here… well, what I’m saying is… I think, uh, I… love you.”

His expression changed rapidly, the look of interest and concentration on your rambling melting into wide-eyed surprise that made the silence in the room all the more terrifying.

“What?” he asked finally, voice strained and exasperated, as if the very air he breathed ceased to enter his lungs the moment you finished speaking.

“I love you.” You looked away from him, face beginning to flush.

“I’ve never…” He struggled, mind failing to process your confession, eyes darting around the room for an answer that didn’t exist. It struck a chord within him, one that hadn’t been touched once in his life, and the icy fear that resonated with its vibration shook his faith in his composure. “That simply isn’t possible.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. It was not that. You stood, unsure why, but following the reflex regardless. “What does that mean?”

“I am not… the kind of person who is ‘loved.’” Each syllable carried weight with it, a heavy chain welded together by lies still wrapped around his soul as he remembered his purpose. “Those that dare care for me are often disappointed by what they find afterwards, and though you may not believe it now, your fate will prove the same as any other.”

“I think you’re confusing ‘care’ with ‘expectations’.”

A laugh. But low, a foolish attempt to downplay the truth. “Maybe. But it doesn’t change the fact that my sins shouldn’t mar the face of your perfection. You’re... good, far better than I surely deserve, and while you desire that which stands beneath you, I must insist that you could do so much better.”

“And if there isn’t any better?” Posture straight, you held yourself at attention, sure of yourself as ever. “You say all of this, you reference a failure that… doesn’t exist. Whatever happened back then… you know it doesn’t matter now, right?”

He looked away from you, exhaling sharply and shutting his eyes, urging himself to hold fast to his convictions, horrible as they may be. “Who’s to say?”

It was enough to concern you. Stepping away from your desk, you tread carefully over to him, crouching down so that you were at his level where he sat. “What’s going on? This… This isn’t you.”

His lips were downturned, and in the relative darkness it almost seemed as if his tattoos were designed especially for him to hide behind, as if they were placed strategically to deny others access into who he was. They took the place of his emotions, wrapping across him as bondage restricts a captive, a reminder that he was to be feared and nothing more. But as you watched him, you saw him as well, the movement of his eyes and tightness of his lips betraying his purpose.

“Isn’t me…” he repeated, still not meeting your gaze. “There’s very rarely a sense of self when your very existence was meant to be a weapon, and it was only recently that I realized what I had been made into was far from my truth. I won’t lie to you... Nothing in the galaxy matters more to me than you... And for that reason I will not risk harming you.”

“Is that what you think? That hurting me is inevitable?” You reached up, the pads of your fingers brushing at his cheek. He didn’t move away.

“How can it not be?” When he finally looked at you, you could see a sadness in his eyes that hadn’t before revealed itself. Only now, when he was no longer withdrawn, could you identify it.

Your voice became soft, an understanding taking hold. “I’m not afraid of you… I couldn’t be here if I were. You don’t give yourself enough credit for what you’ve done.”

“And what have I done?” He tilted his head, the movement just enough to rest into your hand.

“You made me fall in love with you. Against all of the odds you insist stand in your way.” You smiled at him, contentment lacing your features as you realized where you stood.

“Then…” He hesitated. “I… I love you, too.”

#i'm glad microsoft identifies mandalore as a real word #darth maul #darth maul x reader #darth maul x you #maul #maul x reader #star wars x reader #star wars x you #this was disgusting hahaha

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bearstarseraphffxi · 4 years ago

Text

Anxiety

Also available at https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257798

The blasts shaking the palace had servants and soldiers running, some even jumping out of windows.

General Nappa was grabbing people in the panicking horde.

“Have you seen Prince Vegeta?” “Have you seen Little Geta?” “Has anyone seen Prince Vegeta?!”

~~***~~

Prince Vegeta was ducking in and out of doors. Many adults had tried to grab him, but he forced himself out each time.

Vegeta turned into a servant’s hallway to cut through one of the kitchens. There was another boom and plaster from the ceiling dropped.

“It’s coming from the throne room,” he thought. “What is Papa doing?”

He had tried hiding Tarble from his father and succeeded for a month before he was captured. He knew the palace inside and out.

Vegeta jumped in the dumbwaiter.

~~***~~

Vegeta opened the door and found it blocked by a large block of stone. He quickly kicked it out of the way and climbed out.

The throne room was a pile of rubble. Vegeta’s eyes darted around the broken columns and shattered marble. He made his way towards his father’s throne as more stone tumbled and crashed. He went to cross the room when he discovered a feasting table full of food, now covered in dust.

“Can your miserable little brain comprehend why I’m so angry, Saiyan King?”

Vegeta saw his father on his hands and knees with a purple cat-like man stepping on his head.

“Forgive me because I promised to fulfill your mission in the time you gave me, Lord Beerus, but it took longer than I thought it would.”

“Wrong!” Beerus said.

“Father’s being humiliated. How can he take that?” he said softly.

“I consider myself a rather flexible deity. I know you mortals have your limitations but there is one thing I cannot tolerate. The callous arrogance of those who do not pay the respect a Destroyer is due.”

Beerus then shoved his head deep into the floor.

“I ordered you to find the most comfortable pillow in the universe and I know for a fact you obtained it. Your tenacity was impressive, although your methods a bit severe.”

The man pulled his father up by his hair. “I bet you don’t even know how many creatures you killed in that raid. Of course, being what I am I could have accepted all that if you’d actually given me the best pillow, instead of keeping it for yourself and try to fool me with the second best.”

He then began to beat King Vegeta.

“Papa!” Vegeta charged forward.

Beerus glanced over his shoulder and Vegeta felt a pulse go through him.

He instantly collapsed.

King Vegeta turned his head to look at his son on the ground.

Beerus dropped the king back on the ground and stood. “Well, that little stunt almost makes up for the utter waste of time this was. Whis, let’s go.”

“Yes, Lord Beerus,” Whis said walking towards him.

Then he stopped walking and looked down at the prince’s body.

“Oh!” Whis laughed into his palm. “Lord Beerus, you are so merciful. You surprise me.”

Beerus looked over his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

“The little prince is still alive.”

Beerus spun around. “What?! That would have dropped Frieza. That’s impossible.”

He saw Vegeta begin to get his limbs under him.

“Are you trying to stand?!” Beerus stomped over as Vegeta got on his hands and knees. Beerus kicked him sending him flying.

Vegeta landed on the throne. It tilted backwards before coming to rest.

King Vegeta looked behind him. His son was still moving.

“Consider this my greatest mercy,” Beerus said.

King Vegeta turned back to him and saw Beerus raise his hand with his fingers touching his thumb.

“That you get to see your son die on the throne.” Beerus snapped his fingers.

King Vegeta spun around hearing his son scream.

The prince was almost bent in half backward. His legs were straight, arms twisted, wrists reared back and his fingers clawed the air. The screaming stopped but his body did not relax.

King Vegeta heard an explosion behind him. He looked and saw Beerus had blasted a hole in the ceiling to the outside. He turned his head and smirked as Whis cast his bubble and they vanished.

The king got off his knees and ran to his throne. Vegeta was stiff as a board, unseeing eyes wide with his tongue sticking out of blue lips.

King Vegeta cupped his son's face in his hands. “Gods no… Please no… Please…” Then his face hardened. “No. No gods. This is their fault.” He pulled his son’s face to his. “Listen to me Vegeta! You are stronger than this! You are the Saiyan of legend! Greater than every Saiyan to come before you! Greater than Frieza! Greater than all the damn gods! But you need to breathe! BREATHE! Fight it, Vegeta! Fight it! Don’t give up! Breathe! BREATHE! BREATHE! BREA—”

Vegeta’s head suddenly jerked as he gasped.

“Yes, Vegeta! Keep fighting! Keep breathing!”

Vegeta’s head jerked again in the opposite direction as he gasped again. The tips of his fingers started to twitch.

King Vegeta picked up his son. “You can do Vegeta! Keep at it! You can beat this!” He ran. “Keep breathing!”

~~***~~

King Vegeta sat in the elite hospital. After almost an hour, Prince Vegeta was still randomly twisting and jerking in the fluid. Suddenly, Vegeta unbent and went completely limp in the fluid. The doctors scrambled as the rhythm of the machines suddenly changed.

“What’s happening?!” King Vegeta demanded.

“Checking!” a doctor shouted.

King Vegeta watched his son hang in the liquid. He saw his son’s right hand weakly paw at the fluid.

“Sire!” the doctor turned around. He smiled. “He’s stabilizing.”

King Vegeta walked over and put his hand on the glass.

Prince Vegeta seemed to respond and tried but failed to lift his arm.

The beeping on one machine quickened.

“King Vegeta, please,” a doctor put his hand on his chest. “Please step back.”

He stepped out of the way and Vegeta’s arm lowered.

The beeping slowed.

“Ok… Ok, his heartbeat is stabilizing again.”

“King Vegeta,” the doctor asked again. “If you could wait in the side room. We’ll call you if there are any changes.”

King Vegeta took one last look at his son. “…Alright…”

~~***~~

After another half hour, there was an explosion. Then he heard Vegeta scream.

King Vegeta burst through the door just in time to get the remains of a doctor splashed across his face.

The room was destroyed, with one wall collapsed into the next med bay. Body parts covered the floor and equipment.

And his son was screaming, attacking everything that moved. Prince Vegeta lunged at his father.

King Vegeta struggled for his life against his son. The prince was born over twice his power level, and the gap had only grown. But he was crazed, wild like an Ozaru on a moonlit night.

The king got behind him and locked him in a bear hug. He could feel his leg bones cracking from his repeated kicking as he struggled to dodge the flailing headbutts. Suddenly, a doctor climbed the rubble and jammed a needle into the boy’s arm. After a few minutes, he stopped flailing and began to moan.

King Vegeta looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath and sighed.

~~***~~

The king stepped out of the medical shower stall and found new royal robes waiting for him on a table guarded by Nappa. King Vegeta relaxed at the sight of the one man he considered a confidant. They were raised together. Destined battle partners, the supreme general had become a second set of arms to his brain.

Publicly, the prince’s power was so overwhelming he would not be able to have a proper partner. In reality, the king had no intention of keeping the tradition. No one would share his son’s glory.

“How is he?” King Vegeta asked, dropping his towel. He reached for his clothes.

“Tranquilized.”

“How many did we lose?”

“Nine doctors. Five were technically employed by Lord Frieza… their commander has contacted him. Frieza has ordered the best doctors the PTO have to offer to take care of him and to keep him updated.”

King Vegeta facepalmed. “Perfect… so much for keeping this quiet…” He lowered his arm. “When will they arrive?”

“About 40 minutes.”

The king grabbed his clothes, “Then let’s get ready to greet them.”

~~***~~

“Oh! Lord Beerus, you are so merciful. You surprise me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The little prince is still alive.”

“What?! That would have dropped Frieza. That’s impossible.”

“So, this is the video our spy collected?” Frieza asked, glaring at the screen.

Zarbon bowed, “Yes sire. Straight from the security cameras of the throne room itself.”

“Consider this my greatest mercy… that you get to see your son die on the throne.”

Frieza listened to Vegeta scream. “So… you’re telling me a child survived two attempts by Lord Beerus?”

“Apparently, sire,” Zarbon said. “But our doctor’s review of the data suggests the strong possibility of brain damage. He said it is impossible that something he called a “status epilepticus” of that severity didn’t do something to his brain.”

Frieza moved his gaze from the screen down to a tablet. “Seems his heart has been struggling as well.” He scrolled through it. “His file also lists a near fatal dose of adrenalin and other hormones.”

“Lord Beerus sure picked an odd way to kill him,” Dodoria said.

Frieza smirked and handed an aide back the tablet. “Actually, it’s quite simple Dodoria,” he chuckled dismissively. “Fear. Lord Beerus tried to kill him with fear.”

Frieza looked back up at the video as King Vegeta was screaming at his son to breathe.

“This monkey survived two attacks that would have killed me,” he thought. “Either Lord Beerus underestimated my power,” he glared at screen. “Or this child will be trouble.”

“Make a public announcement that Vegeta has caught an unknown virus from clearing a primitive world, and is in isolation and receiving the best care we have to offer. That planet will be destroyed as a safety measure, as this is clearly dangerous to sicken Saiyans, who have the best immune system in the galaxy.”

~~***~~

A few months later…

King Vegeta stormed into the care team’s office.

“You’ve been tranquilizing my son at night! Why?! Why wasn’t I told?!”

A reptilian doctor turned to confront him. “Because you have been interfering with your son’s treatment time and again, so I went over your head! It’s because of you his healing has stagnated!”

“My son does not need tranquilizers!”

“He’s barely slept in five months! Whatever mask he has been wearing to stroke your ego evaporates when he sleeps!”

“My son is fine! He has never been stronger and more ruthless! What happened to him was a blessing in disguise.”

“The prince’s brain chemistry has never recovered! If anything, it’s more unbalanced than before. He’s overcompensating trying to hide his symptoms. And you and your people’s view towards emotions are only making things worse!”

“Saiyan elite do not feel emotions! We are not weak! Watch your words defaming the Saiyan Prince!”

“Your son has brain damage! And his brain chemistry shows he’s in constant anxiety and fear.” He waved the tablet in his hand. “You can’t argue with science! The stress of the shame you are forcing on him is only exacerbating the problem! If you ever want your son to actually heal, you need to relieve that stress before his brain completely scars over! If you don’t, you might as well toss him in the trash like your last child and find a new wife! Isn’t there a law about a couple producing two defective children? Because fuck it, my child should be able to survive two murder attempts by the fucking God of Destruction without a scratch!”

The king grabbed him by the arm and threw him out of the room. “Get off my planet! All of you! Off! Off! Off!”

King Vegeta chased the entire group into the hallway. “Out! Out! Out! Out!”

“King Vegeta!”

“What?!” he spun around and saw Nappa. He relaxed. “What is it?” he said calmly.

Nappa only extended a piece of paper.

King Vegeta thought he felt his heart stop in his chest as he read it.

“KING VEGETA 3,

IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT I HAVE BROKEN MULTIPLE SACRED LAWS OF HONOR. COMPLETE FAILURE CAN ONLY BE DEALT WITH BY DEATH OR EXILE. I SURRENDER ALL TITLE AND HONOR AND GO INTO EXILE BY MY OWN POWER.

LONG LIVE THE KING AND HIS UNBORN HEIR.”

“How many have seen this?”

“Just me,” Nappa answered.

King Vegeta burned it to ash with his energy.

Nappa stood at attention. “Orders, sire?”

King Vegeta formed his fist as the ash fell from his hand. “We find him and bring him back.”

~~***~~

A few weeks later, the two men landed in the middle of a blizzard.

“Holy fucking shit,” Nappa said jumping up and down and rubbing his arms. “It’s fucking cold.”

“I told you the signal was in the northern latitudes,” King Vegeta said, dressed in royal furs.

“But this planet is listed as tropical!”

“Low priority worlds are only surveyed every few million years. And this planet had obvious markings of recent glaciation even then, if you read the description.”

“What type of fucking planet swings from tropical to glaciers every few million years?!”

King Vegeta touched his scouter, then pulled it away from his ear.

“Damn it,” he began to play with the settings. “A local transmission is messing with the scouter communication link.”

Nappa turned his scouter on. “Oh, music… Catchy. Flees Navy Dad. Flees Navy Dad. Something anus Flees knee dad.”

“Nappa… Just stop…”

“You sure? The lyrics just switched to partial Uni.”

King Vegeta put the scouter back on. The numbers began to roll across the eyepiece. “Yes… I’m positive.” He looked left after its final beep. “There he his.”

They made their way through the blowing snow and discovered a small dwelling with smoke coming from a chimney.

“Scouter says only one person in there,” Nappa said.

“He better have killed the previous occupant, at least,” King Vegeta growled.

~~***~~

King Vegeta kicked down the fragile plant-derivative door. “Vegeta the Fourth!”

He saw a small form scurry on an upper platform.

King Vegeta grabbed his son and held him off the floor. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING HERE?!” he shouted millimeters from his face.

The king then saw something he never thought was possible. His son started to whimper and cry.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” King Vegeta wound him up and threw him through the wall, causing the structure to partially collapse.

“Vegeta, what the hell?” Nappa shouted, digging himself out as it caught fire. He followed the path of broken trees and discovered King Vegeta on the ground clutching his stomach.

“Did you really think screaming at a kid that was strong enough to kill you as a newborn was a good idea?”

King Vegeta coughed as he struggled to sit up, “He’s -cough- never acted this way before.”

Nappa crouched down. “As if these past 6 months have been anything but normal. Here, let ol’ Uncle Nappa work his charms. Kids love me.”

“Fine…”

Nappa stood and flew off.

Vegeta laid on his back. “It’s because you’re such a freaking moron. You’re just a bad joke without me…”

~~***~~

Nappa followed his scouter and it led him to one of the many trees with needle leaves, its bottom buried in snow. He stood next to the tree.

“Hey Vegeta!” Nappa shouted. “Where are you?!” “Oh…” he said loudly. “I hope the little prince is all right. I’m REALLY SCARED something bad happened to him.”

The tree shivered, knocking snow from it. Nappa turned his back knowing Prince Vegeta was peeking through the branches. “The king was SO TERRIFIED when little Geta got sick. I never saw him SO SCARED. He even CARRIED and HELD him IN HIS ARMS. He could have CAUGHT IT TOO, but HE DIDN’T CARE. All he cared about was his SON OVER HIS DUTY and HONOR.”

“Nappa…” he heard a soft voice behind him. “Is that true?”

Nappa looked over his shoulder, “Of course. You should know better than anyone I’m a terrible liar.”

The tree shook again.

“Come in,” he heard louder.

Nappa circled the tree and a hole had been dug in the snow bank. He crawled through and found the prince had cut down the branches to make a cave. Even then, it was a tight fit for the giant.

“Wow, it’s actually warm in here. Nice job, my prince.”

He smiled at him and the child’s face hardened into a miniature of his father’s scowl.

“I order you to tell me the truth,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

“Vegeta, even elite Saiyans feel fear. It’s rare, but it’s true. Our strength means very little challenges us, but,” he leaned in, “We are not Super Saiyans. There are races stronger than us.”

“But that’s temporary!” Vegeta protested. “Saiyans grow and evolve! We will surpass all and rule the galaxy!”

“That’s very true,” Nappa said. “But we are not there yet. Vegeta listen, the sickness you got is very rare and very deadly. In fact, you are the only known survivor in millions of years. It even wrecked your body so badly you even got a huge zenkai. Your power nearly doubled.” Nappa held his finger in front of his face, “That is how close you came to dying. And you are actually still in recovery.”

Vegeta looked up at him, shocked.

Nappa nodded, “I’ve overheard your father screaming at the doctors constantly. They say you’re still in recovery, but your father hasn’t taken them seriously.” Nappa tapped his head, “Because it’s in here. The fever left you wild and uncontrolled like a third-class Ozaru; you were sedated for weeks. Then you were confused which left you crying and screaming, so your father drugged you again.”

Vegeta began to tremble. “Is father going to sedate me again?” he asked, burying his face in his knees. “So I can’t move?”

“Wait, you remember that?” Napa asked, shocked.

Vegeta nodded.

“Your brain scans said you were completely unconscious.”

Vegeta lifted his head. “Well, I wasn’t!” he shouted before burying his face again. “It was no different than looking at the moon, but I couldn’t get my body to obey me.”

Nappa’s eyes widened. “You don’t just remember your nights, but can control your form?”

Vegeta nodded.

Nappa looked forward. “Well, fuck…”

“But it was harder last time, I almost blacked out transforming. I… I was afraid. I was afraid of myself. And I almost lost my grip. I don’t think I was fully in control. I couldn’t play.”

“You shouldn’t waste time on the battlefield,” Nappa scolded.

“I just like practicing making noises. I want to be able to talk.”

“But why?”

“I… think it would be scarier… if I could talk. Ozarus are supposed to be mindless beasts. What if during battle one actually talked and fought intelligently? An Ozaru can still be wounded because it’s nothing but an animal, and can be outsmarted like any animal by a skilled hunter.” Vegeta peeked above his knees and Nappa saw his signature smirk. “I want to turn the hunters into the hunted and watch their faces when they realize everything they planned was useless. How powerless they are.”

Vegeta buried his face again, “But now I’m the powerless one…” He started to shake. “Please just go. Father can do so much better than me. I’m broken now. I’m scared,” his voice cracked, “I’m always scared. I’m scared of everything!”

“Vegeta, you’re young. You’re barely four years old. You have a century of battle ahead of you. This will heal. It will get better. Let’s go home and talk with your doctors. Figure out how to make this heal. But that can’t happen if you keep lying that everything is alright.”

“But what about Papa?”

“You mean the man you left rolling in the snow after a single punch?” Nappa held his palm out, “Vegeta, you’re now the strongest Saiyan in modern times.” He formed his fist. “You can take anything you want. Even the throne, if you wanted.”

“But no one will follow a weak king. I feel fear. What if my guards strike me while asleep?”

“Wow… you’ve really thought this through, huh?”

“Papa told me what guards are for…” he answered. “But what’s stopping them from turning?”

“Wow… you are so paranoid right now.” Nappa shifted. “Vegeta… I don’t know if I’m saying this right… but… Stop being afraid of your own fear. …A warrior can still dominate the battlefield without an eye or even an arm. The only thing stopping a warrior from doing that is their fear of that injury and being unable to see past it because of that fear. These emotions you can’t control at the moment are from a head injury. But even if it leaves a scar that never fully goes away, you can embrace it and alter yourself around it to make yourself a better warrior.” He patted Vegeta on the back, “But hey!” he chuckled, “If you have the patience and determination to conquer the impossible feat of becoming a talking Ozaru, then you can become the strongest Super Saiyan that’s ever lived, even if you feel a little bit of fear inside.”

Nappa put his arm down. “And you’re already well on your way. You really blindsided your father and I with that letter, which was burnt to ash before anyone else saw it. No one knows you abdicated. All this can be forgotten.”

Vegeta’s voice cracked again, “I just didn’t want to disappoint Papa. I thought everything would get better if I toughed it out, but it never did.”

“Which is why you need to be honest with the doctors now. If your head isn’t healing on its own, you are going to need help fixing it. Which is why we need to go back and tell the doctors everything you just told me, my prince.”

Vegeta nodded.

Nappa leaned in smiling, “Does that mean you’re ready to go home and get fixed up?”

Vegeta nodded.

Nappa stood up breaking the tree into splinters. “All right! Let’s get moving!”

Vegeta looked out over the snow bank. “Papa?”

Nappa turned around and saw the king.

“So… how long have you been there?” Nappa asked nervously.

“Long enough,” he answered. King Vegeta walked over and stared down into the hole in the snow.

Prince Vegeta squared his shoulders and looked up at him at attention. “I will agree to return to take my place as heir.” He then pointed at his father. “On the condition you no longer interfere with my recovery so I may become the heir required of a Saiyan Prince!”

King Vegeta looked down at his son’s hardened, determined face.

“Agreed.”

~~***~~

King Vegeta unburied his son’s pod, programmed some coordinates, then sent him off.

“Man, I can’t wait to get back home and get warmed up,” Nappa said.

“Oh, we’re not going home just yet,” King Vegeta smirked and he began programming Nappa’s ship.

“What? Why?”

“We need an excuse for being missing these few months. There’s a desert planet nearby with a breathable atmosphere. The story will be we took Prince Vegeta for special training in a place where there could be no collateral damage.”

He stood up and put his hand on Nappa’s shoulder. “And I think for the crime of plotting a coup with my child,” he gave a sickly smile, “spending a couple days in a healing pod upon our return is quite merciful.”

Nappa chuckled awkwardly.

~~***~~

A month earlier…

Frieza smiled down at his tablet. “So this is the final composite rendering of that note King Vegeta burned?”

“Yes, sire,” a technician bowed. “We used every camera angle that caught a glimpse of the paper.”

“Thank you, you may leave.”

After the door closed, Frieza began laughing.

“Sire?” Zarbon asked nervously, “May I ask what you find so funny?”

Frieza passed him the tablet to him and Dodoria looked over his shoulder.

“Prince Vegeta has abdicated his throne?!” Dodoria exclaimed.

Frieza continued to laugh, “Poor little Vegeta is so tormented with anxiety and fear he’s run away from home! Oh! What lovely blackmail for when the king brings him back!”

~~***~~

A couple weeks later, the three ships land back on Planet Vegeta. Prince Vegeta ran to the crews before the door even fully opened. “Help!”

The crew stopped, shocked at the mangled state of his clothes and armor.

“Prince Vegeta? What’s happened?”

“I hit Papa too hard! We were training,” he dropped to his knees. “I hit Papa too hard.”

“Hey! General Nappa needs attention too!” the crew that recovered his pod shouted.

A Saiyan knelt down to the crying child. “Don’t worry my prince, I promise the king will be fine.”

Vegeta followed the medical teams into the elite hospital at the palace. He grabbed onto the coat of a passing staff.

He looked down, “Yes, Prince Vegeta?”

“Can I please see my doctors?” Vegeta asked softly.

He nodded, “Yes. Of course. Let me tell them.” He hurried off.

~~***~~

Vegeta waited on a bench swinging his feet in the air.

The lizard doctor walked quickly down the hall. “Young prince. It is good to see you again. If you could follow me into an empty room, we can go over your father’s and the general’s conditions.”

Vegeta followed him into an exam room. He climbed on the table as the doctor opened his tablet.

“You will be happy to hear that they will both make a full recovery,” he said sitting down on a spinning stool. “They won’t need more than three hours in the chamber, then they will be good as new.”

“Actually, doctor,” Vegeta looked up at him with a stern face. “I want to talk about me.”

“Oh… I see. What is it you want to talk about?”

“General Nappa has told me I am actually still in recovery, but my father has been ignoring your advice on my treatment.”

“…Yes…” he hesitated. “That is the case.”

“General Nappa has convinced my father to no longer interfere. You can confirm once they wake up.”

The doctor gave a sigh of relief, “That is good to hear. Lord Frieza was growing quite impatient with the stall of your recovery. Now we can finally work. And I promise we will heal you.”

“General Nappa compared my…” Vegeta hesitated. “my… my… my fear…” he stuttered. “To a warrior losing an eye. And I need to adapt as a warrior and overcome. But to do that, I need to tell you everything.”

The doctor smiled, “The fact you were able to say the word fear is a great start, Prince Vegeta. And I promise that word will never leave my team. I know how hard that word is for a Saiyan to say. But if it is easier, the special type of fear you have is called anxiety.”

“An-xi-ety,” Vegeta said slowly. “I will need to ask my father who I am allowed to say that word around.”

The doctor nodded. “So, what else did you want to tell me?”

“The machines lied to you. I was awake the whole time I was sedated. I just could not move.”

“What?!” the doctor stood. “How?!”

“It felt no different than being an Ozaru, that’s why.”

“Wait, I thought Saiyans were unconscious during the transformation?”

“Almost everyone is, and only a handful remember anything, like Papa. But I not only remember. I am in full control. I’ve even been working on trying to learn to speak if we finish before the moon sets.”

The doctor set down with a plop. “That… that is incredible. I don’t even know where to begin. Would you be willing to undergo testing in that state? The change in brainwaves would go far in understanding what’s going on in your brain.”

Vegeta nodded. “I’ve been having trouble the past couple months. It’s safer to confirm I’m awake before weaklings like you approach me.”

“Yes. Yes.” he nodded looking at his tablet. “Oh, I’m writing this in the wrong file. Darn it, give me a moment, Prince Vegeta, before we continue.”

Prince Vegeta chuckled as the frantic doctor swiped and poked his screen.

~~***~~

That night, Vegeta was sitting up in his bed drinking a small glass of water.

“Did your pill go down smoothly?” the nurse asked.

Vegeta held up the empty glass, “Yes.”

The nurse took it.

“If everyone is finished,” King Vegeta said, “I would like a moment alone with my son.”

Everyone bowed, and the nurse and guards exited the room.

After the door closed, King Vegeta sighed. Then he looked down sternly at his son.

“Papa?” he asked nervously.

“I’m told you gave quite the performance when we landed. Why? You knew our injuries.”

“You destroyed your honor when you carried and held me when I was sick. Now we are even in the public mind.”

“I see. Politically astute for a small child. You have a sharp mind.” He took a deep breath.

“I’m told you can fully control your Ozaru… and have been practicing speaking?”

“Yes, Papa,” he nodded.

King Vegeta smiled. “Prince Vegeta the Fourth,” he paused. “I am in awe of you. I am proud, that you are my son.”

Vegeta’s jaw dropped as he gave a tiny gasp.

King Vegeta chuckled. Then he put his hand on top of his son’s head. “And since this is private, don’t feel the need to even the playing field. I already know.”

“Yes, Papa,” Vegeta said softly.

King Vegeta turned and walked away. He opened the door to discover Nappa with a cup.

King Vegeta bristled. “Nappa!”

“Worth it!” Nappa shouted as he ran away.

Prince Vegeta laughed as his father quickly disappeared from view.

~~***~~

One year later…

“Sire,” Zarbon bowed. “Prince Vegeta’s quarterly medical report has just finished being reviewed by your private physician and is ready to present.”

“Show him in,” Frieza said, not turning his back.

The doctor entered. “Sire,” he bowed.

“So, how is our dear little monkey doing?”

He pulled out his tablet and synced it to the screen. “Quite well. The prince has seen rapid improvement since the start of his specialized cognitive therapy after his Ozaru study.” He scrolled to a new page. “But there does seem to be permanent damage that will most likely leave him emotionally unstable the rest of his life. He’s currently on a mild antidepressant that was specially developed for him to overcome Saiyan livers.”

“What do you mean unstable?”

“Well, he is still exhibiting behaviors not seen in Saiyans, like showing unusually strong emotional attachments and being quite clinging to his father in particular. This neurodivergence seems to be permanent and will most likely cause continuing issues functioning in Saiyan society.”

“So, he has a soft underbelly,” Frieza said. “What are his improvements?”

“He is now able to enter the throne room without experiencing distress. He is now cleaning and organizing to the same extent he was prior, according to staff, but the doctors feel it is quite excessive and may be a sign of preexisting control issues or OCD. His nightmares are still present, but he is no longer experiencing waking terrors. He hasn’t wet his bed in 47 days of this report. His sleeping tranquilizers have been discontinued accordingly.”

“What is this section on his power level?” Frieza asked, reading the screen.

“Apparently the nursing staff informally used a sudden drop in power level to predict an oncoming panic attack or other sudden issues, and reviewing records they discovered a steady depressive state of between 10 to 15% that only began correcting recently. His precision and speed have picked back up in training but his awareness of his surroundings has dropped, but that can be interpreted as a drop in anxiety and the resulting hypervigilance.”

“So, what you’re saying is that under stress Prince Vegeta’s power drops and his fighting ability suffers?”

“Um, yes. Fear and anxiety causing a drop of energy is quite common in other species but this is the first time it has been documented in a Saiyan.”

“I see,” Frieza said. “You may go now. I’ll read the rest of the report on my own time.”

“Yes, sire,” he said surprised. He bowed and left the room.

Frieza smiled.

“May I ask what you are thinking, sire?” Zarbon asked.

“I’m thinking I may have a use for the little monkey after all.” He turned his floating chair around, “Dodoria, call ahead and tell King Vegeta I’ve decided to bring his son into the main army, but this is not the announcement I have ordered his people to gather for. Tell him not to worry for his health. Any continuing treatment will be handled by my own private physicians and he will be in constant communication. I will pick him up personally after my official visit, so have him ready to depart.”

“Sire, won’t that complicate matters?”

“Did I give you permission to question my orders?”

“No, Sire! Right away, sire!”

“Zarbon,” Frieza said as Dodoria ran from the room. “I want you to remove mentions of his medication from Prince Vegeta’s medical file. The doctors and chemists will take care of themselves. And also,” he smiled. “Make sure the men know they will have free reign with young Vegeta. As long as they do not hurt him. We can’t have him getting stronger, can we?”

“Yes, sire,” Zarbon bowed while Frieza laughed.

~~***~~

On planet Vegeta, the King was reading the decoded message in the radio room.

“Your Majesty,” a guard said. “You’re not going to let him take the prince, will you?”

King Vegeta crumpled the paper in his hand. “No. Of course not.”

~~***~~

…

It was almost two weeks since Bulma’s birthday, and her shoulders and back were sore. She had been going to bed early to avoid the coming conversation, but tonight was not to be.

She opened her bedroom door, only to discover Vegeta already sitting on the side of the bed. He was slumped over with his elbows on his knees. He gripped the first three fingers in his left hand so hard his knuckles were white. It was rare for him to use this technique because it was so obvious. Physical pain helped clear his head when everything else failed, but this meant something was wrong even the GR couldn’t handle.

“You’ve been going to bed and waking up early,” Vegeta said.

Bulma put her hand behind her head, “Well, after our cruise so much work built up so—”

Vegeta lifted his head slightly and side-eyed her. “Don’t lie to me woman,” he hissed. “I know I injured you.”

Bulma sighed and sat next to him on the bed. She put her hand across his back and held his wrist with the other. “Don’t worry about it,” she said leaning into his ear. “It hurts no worse than going to the chiropractor. I don’t even have a mark.” She ran her hand up and down his lower arm. “Are you ready to talk or was this just about me?”

Vegeta let go of his fingers, and Bulma knew he’d be wearing his gloves the next few days to hide the bruise forming.

“You know…” he began breathing hard, “after that allergic reaction… How the therapist thought the holes in my memory were most likely from a traumatic event even I couldn’t handle, based on some random medication the doctors found in the medical files we got from the dragon?”

Bulma tightened her hug, already knowing the answer.

“The time you met Lord Beerus he mentioned?”

Vegeta began shivering, just like he had been doing every night since her birthday.

“Don’t force yourself, just tell me when you’re ready.”

“Promise me you’ll never attack Beerus again,” he said breathlessly, “and I’ll do it now.”

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