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moody-alcoholic · 3 days ago

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This Is Going To Hurt

Part 2 - There's Pleasure In Pain

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: Dead dove don’t eat, mentions of torture, suicidal thoughts, childbirth, blood, medical stuff, medical inaccuracies.

AN: Yes I know about the show 'this is going to hurt' I haven't seen it but from what I do know it's good so check it out. Also as an aspiring midwife this was so fun to write.

Part 1 - next

Enjoy <3

You don't know how long it’s been.

Hours? A day?

More people have questioned you, with new questions.

‘Where was the convoy heading?’

‘Who give you the intel.’

‘What are the Americans up to?’

Some of the questions you don’t even know the answers to. Makes it all the more easier to ignore them. It feels relentless, like it’s never going to stop. Death would be easier.

You remember one of the first things you were told in training, a dead medic is no use to anyone. You remember once during a training exercise you ignored Price’s order to fall back, instead you ran into the field to pull someone out.

It was the angriest you’d seen Price get. He screamed at you in front of everyone, chewed you out with the entire platoon watching. That was the night he told you he loved you, they all did. You’d never seen them get so emotional before, especially over a training exercise.

‘You’re not allowed to put yourself in danger like we do. You need to keep us alive, and we’ll keep you alive.’ You remember John saying that, the way he apologised for screaming at you even though he was in the right. The sex that night was amazing.

It makes you smile thinking about them. You’ve been thinking about them alot when you’re not being tortured. You have to assume they’re not coming for you, that's what you were taught. If you’re ever captured; don’t talk, don’t trade, don’t let them break you. Not that you have a choice over the last part, it’s all a test of willpower.

You wonder how long it will be before they break you. You can handle the waterboarding to some extent, these people are evil though, terrorists, the worst of the worst. They don’t care about human rights, they’re not answering to any UN or even their own countries' laws. These people could do whatever they wanted to you and there is nothing you can do.

You secretly hope they’re coming for you, you’d like to imagine Simon and John tearing up buildings to find you, breaking the rules and hunting down every last person who laid a finger on you. They’re soldiers though, they have orders to follow, other people’s lives are at stake not just yours.

You’re a liability now. They have no way of knowing what’s happening to you, if you’ve talked or where you are. You hope they know deep down you’ll keep your mouth shut. You’ll keep them safe, even if it is from a distance.

The door to your room opens and you stand. A man walks in and grips your arm tight. You’ve stopped struggling, there’s no point. He walks you past the room you’re usually taken to, it makes your stomach drop. Somethings wrong, something’s changed. Maybe this is it and they’re going to kill you.

You hear a woman scream, you dig your heels into the ground. The man says something in Arabic then continues to drag you along. This is bad, there is no way this ends well. You can still hear the woman screaming. Maybe they have someone else they’re torturing. He stops you outside a door and knocks.

A few seconds later it opens. A man is standing there, he looks young, even with the beard, he’s the only person you’ve seen without his face covered. You hear a woman groan, he moves to the side and you see a woman bent over a table with another woman rubbing her back.

You’re still taking in the scene when the man in front of you says something then pulls you into the room. The door is closed behind you, you look at him confused.

“Do you know how to deliver a baby?” He asks, you recognise the accent. He’s the person who patched up your arm.

“Do I look like I know how to deliver a baby?”

“No, but you’re a woman and a medic.” He says “She’s Khaled's wife. If this baby dies he’ll kill me.”

“Great, he's not going to like it if I kill her.” You scoff. This can’t be happening.

“You’re dead anyway.” He says, it’s like a knife to the heart. Now you want to help even less. The other woman rubbing her back asks something in Arabic.

“She’s been in labor for 13 hours, I think something is wrong, she’s not progressing.” The man asks.

“Then take her to a hospital. I don’t know how to do this, I don’t even know where to start.” You say holding your hands up. The woman screams again and it makes your head ring. You look round the room, there’s a bed and some basic supplies but not much.

The man goes over to a book he has laid out on the bed and brings it over. To your surprise it’s in english.

“This is all I have, I’ve done everything so far.” You scan over the book and turn the page, you see diagrams of anatomy and pictures of a vaginal birth. You try to think of anything you know that could help. You’ve seen documentaries, you’ve learnt some things, you close your eyes for a second pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Okay. Get her on the bed.” You say looking over at her. The man orders the women around, as she moves you see supplies on the table. You go over looking for gloves.

“Do you have anything sterile?” You ask, turning to look at him. He shakes his head.

“My bag, you must have taken it when you kidnapped me. It has sterile supplies in it.”

“We’ve used it already.” He says.

“All of it?” You ask shocked. There were enough supplies in there to last at least a week.

“We needed the supplies.” He says. You sigh pulling on some gloves. What you have will just need to do. You go over to the bed and he follows, the woman's laid back hair is stuck to her face as her friend grips her hand and whispers at her in arabic.

You let the adrenaline calm you, you ground yourself before you sit on the end of the bad. She looks down at you and grits her teeth through the contraction. Shit, you should be counting them right the time between them. You don’t have a watch you start counting in your head.

“Do you know how far apart the contractions are?” You ask. He asks the woman who replies.

“2 minutes sometimes 5 minutes.” He says. That’s good right? Means she might be ready to push soon.

“Has she had a baby before?” You ask.

“This is her 6th.”

“6th?” You turn back to look at him. You’re not sure what to do with that info though, Does that make her more or less of a high risk. At least she probably knows what to do by now, she probably knows more than you.

“Can you ask her to pull her legs up. I need to check internally.” He talks and she nods, her friend helping her get comfortable - well as comfortable as she can be. You’re not sure you’ll be able to tell how dilated she is, it’s more to check if everything feels right. Although, you’re not sure what the vagina of a woman in labor is supposed to feel like.

You smile at her, you have to be confident, she needs to have faith in you. You’re trying to be as gentle as you can, you doubt she’s had any pain relief. You don’t envy her right now, going through labor for 13 hours like this, in this heat, you do feel sorry for her.

“I can feel the head.” You say, it gives you a boost of confidence. “Can you ask her if she’s had any urges to push?”

You look over at her as she nods. You pull your hand out, you look down at blood on your fingers, your stomach sinks.

“Is that bad?” The man asks looking over.

“I don’t think it’s fresh. It could be normal, she is pushing a baby out.” You say taking the gloves off. You walk over to the table to grab a towel and he joins you.

“What should we be worried about?” He asks in a low voice even though you don’t think the women can speak English. We, there's no we, it makes a lump form in your throat.

“Hemorrhage. I’m assuming you don’t have blood.” You say, he shakes his head. So that's a death sentence.

“The cord could wrap around the baby's neck.” He says. That could be happening right now and you have no way of knowing. You turn back to look at her. There’s no way to monitor the baby right now, you have no idea if it’s in distress and that could be why the labor is taking so long.

“If she’s having urges to push, maybe she could try?” You say.

“What if that makes things worse?”

“I don’t know you’re not exactly set up for a cesarean.” You say. He sighs, you can tell he’s nervous. You should be nervous but you think the surge of adrenaline is keeping you going. Besides, what's the worst that could happen to you? They kill you? They’re probably planning on that anyway.

There’s a knock at the door and the man goes over to answer it. You watch him out of the corner of your eye hearing him talk. You look back down at the tools. You pick up another pair of gloves and a towel and go back over to the bed.

You lay the towel out and pull the gloves on as the door closes and he comes back over to you.

“Have you ever done CPR on a baby before?” You ask him. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

“Only in practice.” You turn looking up at him confused. “I’m a doctor, well I was training to be one.”

“You should be doing this, not me.” You scoff shaking your head

“I wanted to be a neurologist.” He says, you sigh, you don’t care, you’re mad he didn’t tell you.

“Do you have something to clamp the cord with?” You ask looking over at him, he goes over to the table and comes back with an actual clamp. You take it from him and place it on the bed. The woman groans again and you look over at her.

“Tell her we’re going to try pushing, after the next contraction.” You say getting yourself comfortable and moving her legs so they’re apart. You feel awkward all of a sudden, this is definitely not something you thought you would ever be doing, especially not here of all places, as a fucking hostage.

You look down-holyfuckingshit. There’s the head.

“Push, push, tell her to push.” You call as you move your body to get your hands into position. You’re not really sure what you're going to do. Support the head right? Don’t let it fall out of your hands. You’re shaking as she pushes and the head comes out. You see eyes, a nose and mouth.

The lips are slightly blue, it makes you hold your breath.

“Tell her keep going, she’s doing great.” You say. You need her to keep going, you need to get this baby out. As soon as the shoulders are through the rest is easy, it just flops out. You look up at her and smile as you reach over for the clamp.

“I need another clamp.” You say, you place the baby on a towel.

Why is it not crying? It should be crying.

You wipe its face, nose and eyes. Cry dammit, you’ve never wanted to hear a baby cry more than anything.

“Here.” He says handing you another clamp. You turn the baby on its side and start rubbing his back. You’ve seen people do this on TV before.

“Come on, come on baby.” You mumble. When it cries you almost start too. You roll it on its back as its crying rings in your ears. You take the clamp out his hand. He has the scissors too, you nod at him.

The woman is shuffling on the bed, she’s asking something. “She wants to know the sex.” the man asks.

“B-boy. It’s a boy.” The words catch in your throat the adrenaline is wearing off now, you swallow hard you need to keep it together. Your hands shake as you cut the cord. The other woman has moved over to you holding her hands out. You nod, wrapping the baby and handing it to her.

You hear a knock on the door and the doctor leaves you. Or you guess he’s not really a doctor. You look back down between her legs. You’re not sure what to do now, you’ll have to wait for the after birth right?

She’s not bleeding out though, that’s a good thing. You’re taking your gloves off looking over at the woman stroking her baby's head. You let yourself smile, holy shit you just delivered a baby. Johnny would love to hear about that. Your smile fades as you remember where you are.

“They want to take you back.” The doctor says as he comes over to you. You nod looking at the person standing at the door. As you get up the woman calls out for you saying something in Arabic. You look over at the doctor.

“She says thank you. And she hopes you have a safe journey home.” He looks away from you. You turn and smile at her nodding your head.

“Congratulations.” You say and go over to the door.

“Oh by the way.” You say turning back to him. “The placenta, when it comes, make sure it’s complete.”

“How will I know if it’s complete?” He asks.

“Maybe there’ll be something in the book.” You say shrugging. He nods as the man in the door reaches out, gripping your arm and pulling you out.

___

The door to your cell opens. You watch as the doctor comes in carrying a plate of food and a bottle of water. Suddenly your stomach grumbles and your lips smack together as you realise how dry your mouth is.

He sets them down on the slab of concrete you think is supposed to be a bed. You look over on the plate, there’s flatbread and what looks like hummus. You don’t care what it is, you’re so hungry you’ll eat anything.

You look back over at him, if you eat you’re breaking down your defences, gathering your strength just so they can torture you more. You are so hungry though, the weaker you get the more likely you are to give up intel you know you shouldn’t.

“It’s not poisoned or anything.” He says you look over at him, you hadn't even thought about that.

“How’s the baby?”

“Good, they’re both good.” He says leaning against the door.

“Where did you study?” You ask.

“America, Princeton university.” He says.

“Fuck me, and you chose to come here?” You scoff. He doesn’t reply, pressing his lips together.

“You should eat, you might not get another chance. They won’t leave the plate in here.” He says nodding at the food.

“What? I deliver your leader's son and I get some hummus?” You spit at him, you want the food less now.

“Better than letting you starve.” He says. Starvation would be a pretty horrible way to die. You shuffle over to the plate, opening the water bottle first and trying not to drink it down so fast. You can’t help it though, you don’t even care that it’s warm, it feels like you haven’t had a drink in weeks.

When you’re done you put it back down letting out breath. You pick up one of the flatbreads and pull some off dipping it into the hummus.

“Why’d you leave America?” You ask.

“I couldn’t stand it. I thought it was the way to a better life. Then I saw all the abominations, I had to leave.” He says, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Why are you here fighting in a war that isn’t yours to fight?” He asks, theres hostility in his voice.

“You keep blowing shit up in our country.” You say as you dip more bread.

“You’re special forces or something aren’t you?” It makes you stop chewing, you look up at him.

“I’m a medic.” You say.

“No ones ever lasted through torture the way you do. Most of them give up after a few hours, or a day.” He says. So it’s been longer than a day, you don’t know if you should be glad or not. It’s been over 24 hours and they still haven't come.

You look down at the food, suddenly it’s sitting heavy in your stomach. You remember the feeling of ingesting all the water and the feeling of it coming back out when your stomach’s full. You put the bread down and push the plate away.

“My name is Sayyid.” He says bending down to pick up the plate.

"I'm not going to tell you my name." You say. He nods pressing his lips together.

"Good luck" He says, nodding and leaving the room. You don't need luck, you need to get the hell out of here.

___

The car ride went in silence. No witty remarks from Johnny. There’s no filling the deafening silence, the only noise is coming from the engine and the wheels turning on the dirt roads.

48 hours that's how much time Lawell could realistically buy them, if Shepherd was going to send shadows after them they have to move quick. Ghost pulls the car up to the building.

This is the closest they can get to the next town without being spotted, there's an al-qatala base there. That’s where they’ll get intel, that's where they’ll find out where you are. It’s too late now though, the journey to get here was long.

“Gaz, Soap clear the place, we’ll wait here.” Price says as Ghost turns the engine off. There’s no reply, just the sound of doors opening and closing. Price watches them walk round the car and over to the front door. The building will be empty, as soon as they’ve confirmed that though, they can hide the car.

“I shouldn't have put her at the back.” Price says as he watches Gaz and Soap enter the building.

“It was the right call.” Ghost replies. Price sighs, yeah it was, he didn’t expect things to go so wrong though. Ghost's hand lands on his thigh, he looks over at him. He can see the softness in his eyes.

“We’ll get her back, John.”

“I know, I just hope we’re not too late.”

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be-xkyy · 13 hours ago

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Yandere Platonic Twin Brother (a bit of yandere friend in love)

Warning: violence, blood, a broken nose, overprotective brother, a friend in love, a clueless reader but with strong character, This is PLATONIC and a little ROMANTIC but not with the brother.

(By the way, I was going to be inactive this month, but it's quite the opposite, why does inspiration come to me when I have so many things pending😰? I'm juggling the blog and school 💀)

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★ @minshookie29 ★

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Yandere Twin Brother who was already attached to you from the womb; when your parents went to their appointments with the OB they always saw him by your side even in an ultrasound (that your mother framed) it looks like you are holding his little hands.

Yandere Twin Brother who when he was born (just five minutes before you) cried at the top of his lungs and his cries only calmed down a little when you were born and he heard you cry.

Yandere Twin Brother who shared the same crib with you (although your parents bought one for each of you) when you were babies since he always cried if they separated him from you.

Yandere Twin Brother who comforted you when you cried on the first day at daycare because you missed your parents and you were scared; he hugged you rubbing your back with his little hand and promised you with his pinky that he would always take care of you.

"Don't cry sis! Everything will be okay, I'm with you. I promise I'll scold our parents for doing this to you! Please don't cry..."

Yandere Twin Brother who never let anyone bother you or get close to you at daycare; one day a boy pulled your pigtails making you cry and your upset brother pushed him to the ground and another boy approached your bully and bit him (two teachers had to make him let go)

Yandere Twin Brother who only had one exception to the rule and allowed him to get close to you; that exception was Jamie a boy his age who seemed enchanted with you and became friends with your brother after biting the boy who bothered you.

Yandere Twin Brother who from that day on basically spent all his time with you and Jamie; They were the three musketeers, as you grew up you became even closer (if that was possible) and Jamie's feelings for you became more obvious (to everyone but you) your brother liked to tease Jamie.

"Maybe my sister doesn't like you because of your idiotic face, she has good taste you know?"

"Oh shut up! I'm really handsome and she's just shy, plus we all know you're the ugly one of the group"

"EH?!—"

Yandere Twin Brother who like you and Jamie was quite popular at university; although he was surrounded by girls he never put them above you and always spent time with you; also he and Jamie were howling at your suitors constantly (much to your annoyance)

Yandere Twin Brother who got furious when he saw Jamie flirting with another girl and even kissed her, how could he do this to you?! (it's true that you don't even know that he loves you, but it's still wrong, okay..?) He approached angrily, when Jamie saw him she greeted him only to receive a strong punch in the face.

Yandere Twin Brother who started a fight with Jamie when he recovered from the shock of the blow, both began to punch and hit each other while yelling at each other, some students ran to separate them.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! YOU THINK YOU CAN TELL ME YOU LOVE MY SISTER AND THE NEXT DAY BE WITH A BITCH?!"

"IT WAS JUST A THING! WHAT DO YOU CARE ABOUT IT?! SHE AND I ARE NOTHING YET!"

"YET?! YOU THINK YOU'LL HAVE SOMETHING WITH MY SISTER AFTER THIS?! I'M GOING TO FUCK KILL YOU!"

Yandere Twin Brother who tried to break free to hit him again but they both held him firmly; a teacher arrived and they were both taken to the infirmary, a smile slipped across your brother's bruised lip when the nurse said that Jamie's nose was broken.

Yandere Older Brother who looks at you embarrassed when you enter the infirmary with judging eyes asking you both what happened but you don't answer and you end up asking them if they fought over a girl and they both answer at the same time exalted.

"NO!"

"NO!!!"

Yandere Twin Brother who ends up making up a random excuse for why you two fought and Jamie nods his head agreeing with him; you on the other hand look at them unconvinced before sighing and rolling your eyes; after being treated you both are called to the dean's office and end up being suspended for two weeks.

Yandere Twin Brother who when you leave the office approaches you along with Jamie who tries to joke a little about the situation (to calm the waters with your brother) but your brother ignores him taking you by the arm and leading you towards the exit while Jamie follows them.

"Well, it's not so bad we can spend more time together, right?"

"Shut your mouth Jamie, don't talk to this idiot sister."

"Hey, wait for me, don't leave me!"

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shanastoryteller · 2 days ago

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Tracking down a prince of hell is surprisingly easy. The other demons can’t avoid them if they don’t know where they are, after all.

Castiel gives up arguing against it, but instead he’s taken to brooding in the corner, arms crossed, and glaring at him. As his main source of human bodily expression, Sam wishes he wasn’t so good at it. He doesn’t look like that, does he? Jesus.

Sam knocks on Ramiel’s door. There’s no reason to be impolite.

“Huh,” Ramiel answers, wearing the face of a weathered old fisherman. Which, from all accounts, is exactly how he’s been spending his infinite life. Sam learned how to fish like he learned all of his father’s lessons, grudgingly, but compared to how he’s living now, he has to admit it sounds peaceful. “You’re the kid that killed my brother.”

“What,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “were you close?”

Castiel makes some sort of choking sound that Sam knows he didn’t learn from him. Maybe he should be monitoring his television usage.

Ramiel cracks a grin. “You here to kill me, boy?”

“Do you want to be killed?” he asks.

“Not especially,” he says. “But if you killed Azazel, then you can kill me. We going to fight about it?”

“You’re not hurting anyone,” Sam says. He’d checked. “I don’t think you’re especially loyal to Lucifer.” If he was, he would have made an appearance during the apocalypse, would have been helping Azazel find Lucifer’s vessel, not hiding out in the middle of nowhere fishing and drinking. “If he comes back, that’ll be a problem for you, I think. So helping me is in your best interest.”

“Well, if it’s in my best interest.” He steps back, nudging the door open a little wider. “Come on in.”

Ramiel is surprisingly open giving Sam his blood. He looks fascinated and doesn’t question what Sam wants it for, apparently already well aware that Sam and Castiel are in the process of destroying the remaining seals.

“He wants to destroy Lilith,” Castiel says, the first thing he’s said since Ramiel opened the door. Sam wishes he was close enough to hit, which is probably one of the reasons Castiel is staying propped against the wall rather than sitting down with them. His vessel doesn’t feel tiredness, so Sam’s impressed he’s leaning at all.

“You don’t think he can?” Ramiel asks. “Sure, not now, but at all?”

“You think I can?” Sam interrupts, hope causing his stomach to flip over. This whole thing is his idea, he remembers killing Lilith before, but Castiel has been so sure it wouldn’t work.

Ramiel looks him over, something in his eyes that he can’t quite place. “You remind me of him.”

Sam tenses.

“You must see it more clearly than I do,” Ramiel says to Castiel. “You knew him before the fall. I only met him after, obviously.”

“Lucifer and I were not well acquainted,” Castiel says stiffly.

“I’m nothing like him,” Sam snaps. He can’t be. He won’t be. Even in the memories from the future, when he’s drinking demon blood, he’s not the damn devil.

“That’s a shame,” Ramiel says. Sam stares. “He was the strongest angel in heaven, a general among kings, God’s most beloved son.”

Sam swallows. “Propaganda.”

Ramiel raises an eyebrow and looks over at the angel in the corner.

Castiel holds out for several long moments before saying, “No. Lucifer was that. Once.”

“God asked of Abraham to do to Isaac what he could not do to Lucifer,” Ramiel says. “He had no deity of his own to appease and so Lucifer was cast out rather than eliminated. He was brilliant, in the beginning, of course we followed him. He shone so brightly, so righteous in his certainty, so compelling in his grief.” His hand falls heavily on Sam’s shoulder. “I see him in you so clearly. It’s not a damnation. Until the moment he fell, Lucifer was the brightest star in the sky.”

He's silent for probably too long, trying to find some way to respond to that. Finally he says, “I won’t fall then.”

He can’t.

He won’t.

He’s going to ensure Lucifer stays in the cage forever and whatever it costs him will be worth it. But he won’t fall.

Sam is startled out of a dead sleep by his name.

SAM! Echoes through his head and he’s rolling out of bed, rolling upright and still half asleep when he shifts from one place to the other. The urgency in the call has him standing there still half asleep, barefoot in sweatpants and a grey t shirt just tight enough in the shoulders that he thinks it’s his brother’s.

He runs a hair through his hair, smoothing it back from standing every which way, and blinks at the crowd of people in front of him. “Uh. Hi?”

He’s in the Roadhouse in the middle of standoff, a couple dozen people blocking off the door while pretty much everyone else in the bar has their guns drawn and pointed. He notices his father among them and refuses to react, not daring to look at his dad’s face for long enough to read anything there besides shock.

Ellen has her rifle aimed, but Jo’s slumped against the bar, her arm around – “Dean!”

He’s out of it, eyes squeezed shut and curled half over. It’s only Jo that’s keeping him partially upright. He sees the blood dripping on the ground and is already moving towards them, grabbing Dean’s shoulders and pushing him upright enough to see the blood soaked across his torso, his stomach split open just like Jessica’s had been, just like their mother.

Sam sees red.

“Sam,” Jo says in relief.

“Sammy,” says someone else, and this time when he looks over, those people in front of the door all have black eyes. “Samuel. You killed Azazel.”

“Loyalists?” he snarks, shifting to stand in front of Dean and Jo. He’s going to fix his brother, but he has to take care of this first. Dean’s not dead, and he’s stronger than he was when he brought Jo back, but he doesn’t know what kind of shape healing him is going to leave him in. Better not to risk it.

“Yes,” says the man, eyes still black. “You have earned the throne, Samuel, but it remains not empty. You’re meant to lead us, Samuel, but you’ve been missing. We’ve been forced to go to extreme measure to get your attention.”

“I’m not mean to do shit,” he snarls. He’s so tired of this crap. His future self had that part right – taking the destiny Lucifer had wanted for him and making him choke on it, using that infinite power to send his memories to his younger self so Lucifer wouldn’t ever get a chance to taste fresh air this time around – good. He didn’t like it when it was his dad trying to dictate how he lived his life, and he has even less tolerance for it from Lucifer. These ass clowns? It should be a joke, would be, even, if he didn’t have his brother’s blood on him.

He raises a hand and all the demons choke on air, eyes going wide and feet glued in place. He doesn’t pay any attention to the hunters at his back, hoping that they won’t be stupid enough to try and kill him while he’s saving their asses. Even if they succeed, Castiel will bring him back.

He walks forward, eyes narrowed, wondering if they’re flashing gold and not caring. “Well, good job, hurting my brother does get my attention.” He leans in close to the man who had spoken, voice whisper soft and yet carrying easily in the near silent bar. “You don’t want my attention.”

Pulling the demons from their hosts is easy. Smothering them into nothing, turning black smoke into black dust as he kills them permanently isn’t much harder than that. The people start coughing and groaning, others limp and likely in need of a hospital if they’re still alive, but Sam ignores them to focus on one woman who’s still trembling and terrified, the one demon he’d left behind.

He moves her hair away from her face, hoping the woman inside of her isn’t aware of what’s happened to her. The demon looks at him in terror. “You tell everyone. You tell them what happens when they spill my brother’s blood.”

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, I will, please. Please. I’ll tell everyone. I will.”

Her fear isn’t satisfying. He has to remind himself that it’s not this girl looking at him like this, but the demon inside of her. It doesn’t help much. He’d never wanted to be anyone’s nightmare. “Go.” Her head snaps back and he adds, “Gently.”

She hesitates then her head drops forward, black smoke oozing out her mouth, nothing quick or violent about it as the demon does it’s best to leave without doing any damage. As soon as it’s out, it disappears, running form him as quickly as it can.

The woman sways in front of him and he grabs her elbow to steady her. She blinks at him, dazed. “What happened?”

“You’re okay,” he says, patting her shoulder and letting go. She stays on her feet, although she still looks confused, but Sam turns away from them.

The hunters are still all silent, all still watching him. Most haven’t lowered their weapons, although some have. Ellen’s gun is still raised, but it’s not towards him, which is both comforting and not. He wonders who she thinks is most likely to try and kill him.

Dean’s passed out, out cold on the ground with Jo holding him up and pressing a hand towel from the bar against his stomach. “Sam,” she says again, eyes huge, but she doesn’t look afraid of him. That’s good.

“Thanks for calling me, Jo,” he says. “I’ve got him.”

He pulls Dean back against him, his brother’s chest rising and falling too quickly. He’s gone cold with blood loss and this wound might have even been the thing that killed him if Sam wasn’t here.

That’s never going to happen. Dean isn’t going to die. Dean isn’t going to go to hell. Sam is doing all this for his brother and just because he won’t be able to keep him doesn’t mean he’s willing to lose him.

He hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulder and presses is hands against the wound on his stomach, feeling fresh hot blood spill over his fingers. He tilts his head just enough to graze his lips against Dean’s cheek, holding him steady as his body seizes under him.

Castiel heals with a touch, all if it happening too quickly for it to hurt. Sam’s not that good at it yet.

“Sorry,” he whispers, feeling Dean’s skin knit back together and his body go warm with new blood. Dean groans and coughs, body rebelling against being healed but not having much choice.

“John,” Ellen barks. “Don’t do anything stupid now.”

Sam looks over his shoulder to see that his father has stepped forward, the Colt directed at him. Dean got hurt by demons and Dad had the Colt and didn’t use it. Only two bullets left and more than two demons, sure, he gets it. But still.

“Don’t waste a bullet, Dad,” he says. He's still refusing to look at his father's face. He doesn't need to know.

Any gun will do. Although he wonders if being killed by the Colt would prevent Castiel from bringing him back. He’s not much interested in testing it.

He tips Dean back towards Jo, who braces him with an arm around his waist. “Take care of him for me.”

“I’m trying,” she says, honesty and dry and exasperated, which is how he knows she means it. He smiles, might have even laughed if things were different. He likes Jo. He’d thought he did, from his memories, but he hadn’t felt it. He feels it now.

“Sammy,” Dean says, eyes glassy and movements still weak as he reaches out to him. “Sam.”

He grabs Dean’s reaching hand, gives it a quick squeeze, and is gone as soon as he hears the sound of a gun being cocked.

Apocalypse Never

They help Dad into the cabin, more coherent than he was when they first broke him out, and Sam heads back to the car for their bags, for the Colt, and tries not to think about how everything has gone so quickly to shit. Mom and Jessica’s killer got away, again, but they’re all alive. That’s not nothing, that’s –

The pain hits him so completely and suddenly that he has no chance to brace himself for it. Usually it builds, first prickling pain then greater, but this is something else. It feels like nails are being shoved into his skull, images coming almost too fast for him to follow. He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until it stops, until he comes to with his head in his brother’s lap, Dean’s arms pinning him down and his face white and terrified above him. “Sammy? Sammy, you’re bleeding. What’s wrong?”

His throat is too raw and tight to speak even if he wanted to. He does want to, but he can’t, he can’t say a goddamn thing.

I saved the world for you, he thinks wildly, and I didn’t even get to keep you. How fucked up is that?

He doesn’t know if his future self couldn’t send it all back any further, or if he thought that this would give Sam less time to fuck things up.

For a couple terrifying minutes, Sam had taken control of Lucifer. For a couple exhilarating minutes, Sam had the power of an archangel.

That sending the knowledge of the future back four years in the past was the best thing he could think to do with it leaves Sam with a poor opinion of the man he became. Then again, he had saved the world, so. There’s that.

He doesn’t want to think of the him that had fallen into the pit with Lucifer and Michael. He hopes he can save him by making different choices, but maybe he can’t. Alternate universes, or parallel ones, or whatever. Maybe that Sam is damned for good and the best he could do was save a different version of himself, a different version of his brother.

There’s not much point in wondering about it. He’ll never know either way.

It’s memories with no emotions, thank fuck, because just the knowledge of it all is enough to drive him to his knees, to edge him to weeping and whimpering and slitting his wrists if he lets it.

He’s not going to. He has work to do. There will be time to fall apart after, when the world is safe. When Dean is safe.

Dean after Dad had died and given him that ultimatum had been bad enough. Dean after forty years in hell had been nearly unrecognizable.

He wipes the blood from his face, ushers Dean back inside, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do.

Dean figures out it’s Azazel in Dad’s body and they’re pinned to the wall and Sam waits until Azazel is hovering over him, hand next to his head as he tilts his head back and breathes over Sam’s lips. It’s a torture and a powerplay, to let the want in his eyes come out in his father’s face, to make it John’s body that’s pressed so nauseatingly close to his own.

Sam isn’t the same person he was four years ago, ten minutes ago.

Breaking out of Azazel’s hold is easy. He’s using the equivalent of a single finger to keep them down, like pinning down a butterfly, and it's only enough until it isn’t.

He grabs Azazel’s face and pulls him close, hears the beginning of his laughter before Sam seals their mouths together. He’s making a deal here, selling his soul sure as anything, just not with Azazel.

Azazel leans into it, just like Sam knew he would, shoving his tongue in Sam’s mouth and getting off at his instinctive flinch of disgust, of the way Dean’s screaming bloody murder behind him. Azazel hasn’t hurt Dean yet. Sam’s going to make sure he never will.

He bites down hard. Blood fills his mouth and he sucks on his tongue, drinking as much as he can. It doesn't tase like iron, not like it should, instead it's sweet and thick like honey. He thought Azazel would pull back now, but he’s still laughing into Sam’s mouth, even bites the inside of his cheek to add to the blood from his tongue, and he just lets Sam drink his fill. Of course, he doesn’t know what Sam knows. If Sam had done this the first time, the only thing the blood would have done would be to get him high and useless.

It means he gets more than a mouthful, that it’s long minutes of keeping his eyes closed and swallowing and trying not to think too hard about how it’s Dad’s hands on him and Dad’s hard on at his thigh and Dad’s tongue he’s sucking on. He’s already got four years’ worth of nightmares in his head. No need to add more than necessary.

His skin is buzzing, feeling stretched out over him like his body is too big for it suddenly, almost like the aches of growing pains but more electric. Azazel pulls back and licks up the side of his face, leaving blood and spit behind, and breathes into his ear, “If you missed me feeding you, boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Yeah, that’s enough of that.

He shoves Azazel back without moving his hands, hard enough that he stumbles, and he has to move fast, before he gets a smart idea like snapping Dad’s neck or bursting his heart. He raises his hand and he’d settle for an exorcism, but power is lying heavy and thick in his veins. Destroying Lilith nearly killed him and Azazel is more powerful than Lilith and the blood he drank shouldn’t be nearly enough.

But fear sparks in Azazel’s yellow eyes and he starts choking, black smoke leaking from his ears and out his mouth. “How-”

Sam doesn’t let him finish. He remembers killing Samhain, killing Alastair, killing Lilith. He knows what to do.

Azazel dies screaming. Mom and Jessica are avenged. It’s not as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

Dad is on his hands and knees, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Sam knows from experience that being possessed isn’t pleasant.

“Sammy?”

He forces himself to look over, sees his brother approaching him with hands outstretched. The fear hasn’t gone anywhere even with Azazel dead, even with Dad alive, even though he doesn’t have any of the devastating injuries he sustained last time.

He doesn’t have the emotions to go along with the memory of the first time Dean saw him drinking demon blood, but he imagines it was something like this. “I’m sorry.”

“Sammy,” Dean says again, but Dad’s getting to his feet, Dad’s looking at the Colt, and Sam can’t die yet. He still has work to do.

It’s not a conscious thought, not something he actively tries to do, it’s just one minute he’s there in a cabin with his father and brother and the next he’s in the middle of a field, the night air crisp and clear and a million stars shining above him.

He couldn’t do that before.

There’s something wrong, he thinks, because he doesn’t remember what drinking demon blood felt like, but he remembers describing it, and this isn’t right. He should be drained after that, should feel almost normal again, but instead it’s like there are bees pinging around inside him, like there’s molten lava in his veins, like he’s dying.

He’s dying, he realizes suddenly, the power threatening to eat him alive. He looks down at his arms, like he’s expecting to see them crisping up beneath moonlight, but they look normal, like skin. Of course it’s not killing him, no matter what it feels like. He’s Lucifer’s perfect vessel. There’s no power his body can’t contain, none except God’s, maybe, and it looks like he’s long past making house calls.

It won’t kill him, but it hurts like hell, and he can’t think, he needs to burn it off somehow. He’s never had this problem before, not even when he drank all that blood for Lucifer.

He’s standing in Bobby’s living room and he doesn’t understand why until he sees the body on his kitchen table wrapped in a white sheet. He doesn’t know how Bobby got rid of the paramedics, if he’s maybe holding the body for her family, but Sam thinks he knows how to get rid of some of the itching along his skin.

Sam died a lot, in those weeks he and Dean were apart. Lucifer was true to his word. Sam came back every time.

He pulls down the sheet, sees the ways Meg’s face has settled into death in the past day, how decay has started to take hold and left her blue and cold and her skin slack. He leans down, presses a kiss to her cheek, and thinks that this is the least he owes her, for what she endured because of him, for trying to help him even at the bitter end.

She gasps to life beneath him, warmth flooding her skin and air stuttering into her lungs. “Sam?” she asks, fear and confusion and a pain that’s not physical.

Maybe she won’t want to live, considering everything she’s been through, but at least now the choice is hers and not a demon’s. There are footsteps and he turns to see Bobby standing in the doorway, gun pointed to the ground and mouth open in shock. Sam doesn’t have time to worry about it, instead he’s gone, the same burning still clawing its way out of his bones.

Caleb lies slumped in the chair Meg had tied him to, throat slit and eyes empty. Sam puts his hands on his shoulders, presses his lips to his bald head, and feels the moment his heart starts beating again. He sends the ropes falling with barely a thought and he’s gone the moment he hears his first confused groan.

Pastor Jim is laid out in his home, church workers Sam vaguely recognize huddled around him in prayer, his final send off. He’s just glad he got here before they burned him. They start screaming when they see him but he leans down, internally wincing at how Jim’s going to explain his way out of this one, and kisses his forehead, a reversal of the paternal tenderness Jim had shown him as a child.

His chest rises and his eyes open and his eyebrows push together. “Sam, what-“

He doesn’t stick around to hear the end of that question, figures it’s not anything he can answer anyway.

It takes him a long moment of staring out at the snow covered peaks and too close sky and the brilliant sun hitting his face even though it was just the middle of the night for him to place himself, even though it shouldn’t be enough, but he knows where he is even though he shouldn’t.

The air’s too thin and he’s going to give himself altitude sickness if he lingers and he should probably be freezing to death but his blood is still running too hot. Not burning, not like it was before he brought three people back from the dead, but still far from comfortable.

Still. He can’t say he ever thought he’d ever get to see the view from Mt. Everest.

“Castiel,” he says. “It’s Sam Winchester. We need to talk.”

Nothing. Typical.

“I know about God’s plan, about Lucifer and Michael, about my role as his vessel. I know about you, Cas. You’re going to want to hear me out.”

There’s the rustle of wings behind him and he turns to see Cas, younger than he looked before. Jimmy Novak younger than he’d been before. He wonders about that for a moment. He’d half expected Cas to show up as a sherpa rather than nip to America for a vessel, but Cas had kept the shape of Jimmy Novak even after his physical body perished, so maybe there’s a deeper preference there than just convenience.

His face is as cold as their surroundings. “You have strayed from God’s light.”

“Yeah, well, what good has he ever done me?” he asks tiredly. He used to believe. He believed yesterday. He prayed this morning. Even when he met Cas the first time, he believed. “I can’t explain. Can you just read my mind? We don’t have time.”

His eyebrows push together, but Cas has to be curious, otherwise he wouldn’t have said anything. He steps forward and presses two fingers against Sam’s forehead. He doesn’t feel any different, but when Cas lowers his hand, he’s lost his stoicism. Shock, despair, and anger chase themselves across his feature and Sam can’t blame him.

He’s not the only who lost his faith in the future.

“You said there were thousands of seals,” he says. “How many exactly?”

His eyes snap to Sam’s. “What?”

“God loved Lucifer,” he says. “It’s why he imprisoned him rather than destroying him. It’s why he left him a way out. Maybe it’s why he set up the apocalypse in the first place. I don’t know, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not letting him out, ever. So we’re going to destroy every seal we can.”

Some can’t be undone, like the first one, a righteous man torturing an innocent soul in hell. But there are plenty that can, hopefully enough, hopefully most. If there are less than sixty six seals available, then Lucifer is never getting out of his cage.

“There were originally ten thousand seals,” Cas answers and Sam gets lightheaded for reasons that have nothing to do with thin air. “Only two thousand and thirty four seals are still viable.”

Okay, that’s better. Not great, but better. “Let’s get that number down to sixty five.”

“You are different,” Cas says.

Of course he’s different. His father’s alive. His brother never went to hell. Sam has never known the utter desolation of being completely alone, of grief and guilt so heavy he’s surprised it didn’t break his spine as surely as Jake’s knife in his back. He doesn’t actually remember feeling it, which is no small mercy, but he saw the effects of living with it, which is almost as bed. He'd thought what he’s feeling because of Jessica is as low as he could get. It’s not even close.

He wants to dig up her bones and breathe life into them, but at almost a year dead he thinks that’s beyond even this strange new power. Even like this, he’s failing Jessica one more time.

“Got any ideas?” he asks. “It wasn’t like this before. With the blood.”

He’d drank Ruby nearly dry more than once. It had been a high and then a crash and never did it give him access to this type of power.

“Azazel is – was a prince of hell,” Cas answers.

Sam frowns. “I thought he was king?”

“He was regent,” he corrects, “but to be a prince is separate from being ruler of hell. Lucifer created Lilith from bone, as Adam and Eve were made. The princes were created from his blood. Azazel’s blood is, in a way, Lucifer’s.”

Lucifer’s blood. Sam, his vessel, drinking down Lucifer’s blood, as a baby and now. Except as a baby he’d only had a few drops. He’d consumed a lot more than that back at the cabin.

Demon blood always wore off. The few drops of Azazel’s blood he’d gotten as a baby never had. He probably should have taken that into consideration, but there hadn’t been any time.

“Lucifer is evil but he is not a demon,” Cas continues.

Sam realizes suddenly that he did have power like this once. When he locked away Lucifer inside of him and took his power for his own. It’s not the same, not even close, but it’s similar. “This is what angel blood does?”

“No,” he says. “This is what Archangel Lucifer’s blood does to his perfect vessel. I believe. This has never happened before, so I cannot be certain. You are, as always, one of kind, Sam Winchester.”

It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s not as combative as he remembers Castiel being in the beginning. He’ll take it. “Guess we’ll figure it out together, then. If you’re sticking around to help prevent the apocalypse.”

If he’s not, this is going to be more than difficult. Tracking down all the seals without an angel on his side isn’t going to be impossible, but pretty damn close. And he doesn’t know how much time he has. Hell is going to be pissed about him killing Azazel. Heaven is probably going to take notice once he starts destroying seals so they can never be opened. Not to mention, he’s definitely going to be on hunters’ radar. Even if Dad can keep his mouth shut about him drinking demon blood, which he knows better than to rely on, him bringing back people from the dead is going to spread quickly. He’s going to be hunted at all sides, just like last time.

At least last time he had Dean, even broken, even when he was broken himself. He still had his brother.

But this is the price for saving him. For making sure that Dean is never in the position to kick off the apocalypse in the first place, to make it so Lucifer never again walks the earth even if heaven and hell reincarnate him and Dean and try and start this all over again.

He’s going to be killed for it, he knows, by demons or angels or hunters. But that doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

“Yes,” Cas says. “It is better for us all if the future you saw never comes to pass. I will help you.”

He grins, clapping Cas on the shoulder, and only laughs at the glare he receives in return. They have to get out of here before the altitude makes him loopy. Maybe it already has.

He’s going to save the world for his brother and he’s not even going to get to keep him.

How fucked up is that?

#i've done sam pov this whole time but also #what's going on in the hunter community is so fun #human meg is staying with bobby #jim's parish convinced sam is an angel #caleb having been the one to tell ellen exactly what happened #ellen and jo being staunchly pro sam for obvious reasons #jo having to use the 'i saw your brother and he told you to help me' to get dean to hunt with her #sam showing up in front of a roomful of hunters who've all heard the rumors in sweats and bed head #at once confirming and dispelling dozens of rumors at once #sam being oblivious like my actions can't possibly be having any long reaching consequences #no reason to look into that at all #meanwhile #supernatural

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daengtokki · 3 days ago

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part ten // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 12.1k

RATING: mature/mdni—contains: fluff, hospital/nicu settings, choking (mentioned), meds (mentioned), manipulation, hallucinations, things staring ominously from a distance switching povs

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

COMMENTS: 700 followers is crazyyyy, thank you so much for hanging out with me! My giveaway will be up within the next few days as a proper thank you to all of my readers, rebloggers, and those who leave me lovely comments and messages!

[ ML— DEITY MASTERLIST AND TAGLIST]

@kkamismom12/ @r0tt1n/ @heluvschibi / @feckinbecky / @missystay / @seungluvr / @babrieeee / @curiouscocoabean / @feelikecinderella / @carpioassists / @soulsbbg / @san-axa0 / @vixensss / @keiizzx / @xyliskz / @reignessance / @velvetmoonlght / @ghostedgameplays / @pochaccochacco / @lashaemorow / @eastjonowhere / @fackeraccount / @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna / @maddycline / @smilefordongil

Seungmin is terrified at the idea of picking them up and holding them, and his soft touches are still making him nervous regardless of them becoming more receptive to it. They know he’s here, and they know you’re here, and you think being held, together, is exactly what they want and need, but he looks at them and sees the same paper butterflies he just folded.

“When the nurse comes back, maybe she can show us how to pick them up without upsetting them.”

He beams and nods, “I do want to hold them. You should be holding them…are you able to feed them?”

The call button plays a cute melody when you push it. “Oh, no…I wish I could, but—“ you look down at yourself and cup your breasts in your hands. They have grown, and they are sore, but you haven’t noticed anything significant happening. You might need some help.

“That’s okay. That’s why we have special formula for them until you can. And if you can’t…oh, please don’t cry.” You watch him move through bleary eyes, and he carefully lifts himself onto the bed. “You’ve worked so hard today, and you’re tired.”

“What if it never comes, and I can’t feed them?”

Before he can continue his attempts at comforting you, the nurse returns. “Is everything alright?”

“She’s upset that she can’t feed them”

“Don’t worry yourself too much. They’ll be tube fed for a while before we try a bottle, or breastfeeding. But we have nurses to help with that, and I’ll have one visit sometime today to put your mind at ease.”

The top being taken off the incubator makes Seungmin nervous all over again; seeing them exposed, breathing and feeling the same air as him. But he needs to hold them, so he watches the nurse pick Haesung up with soft, open palms. She bends and brings him closer, rubs his back with two fingers, and hands him to you.

“Just like that—good. Skin touching skin, just what he needs.”

She does the same with Haneul, but this time, it’s Seungmin’s turn. He places one hand carefully on his back; the other cups his tiny diapered butt and holds him close. He’s perfectly still, but you can see the rise and fall of his chest, and Haneul moving along with it. His eyes open, just barely, and close again—when you look down, Haesung is doing the same, and from here you see the dark of his eyes each time they flutter open.

“They’re much cuter than they were on the ultrasound.” Seungmin laughs and gives moving a try. He sits back in his chair, and his fingers glide across the nape of Haneul’s neck. “His eyes are lighter than I expected.”

“Yeah, Haesung’s look kind of hazel, but they’ll probably get darker over the next few months.”

The sound of Seungmin’s phone startles you. It’s Heecheol, you assume, but he’s not paying it any mind. Every bit of his attention is on Haneul, and you don’t expect that to change until he’s safe in the incubator again. It’s another few minutes before the nurse returns, and when she does, Seungmin reluctantly gives him up so he can join his brother on your chest.

“Was that him?”

“Who?”

“Your phone”

He leans forward and taps his screen, “yes, it’s him. Uhm, he said he’s going to head back to the apartment, but he would love to see a photo of the babies.”

You drape your arm over their backs, and they gradually shift closer. It’s fascinating to watch them gravitate toward each other like two little magnets. “Yeah, we should probably take some photos while we have them here with us.”

Seungmin starts getting them from every angle he can, but it doesn’t take long before he’s distracted enough to stop and talk to them again. He moves to your other side and talks to Haesung, who seems to have fallen into a good sleep. “Okay, one more.”

Several hours later, Seungmin makes it home, and it’s only because you finally convinced him he needed to shower and eat. And you need to make me breakfast for tomorrow morning…please. He will, and maybe lunch, too. He’s almost completely forgotten about his antics before the labor started, and how much of a blur disposing and cleaning up became. It isn’t until he walks past the vacant apartment that he remembers leaving the body in there; well-wrapped, but still…it’s just sitting there, a few feet from the door. No smell, thank god, he thinks. At least not to him. Heecheol is still on the other side of this apartments wall, unless he left unannounced, and he might notice something Seungmin doesn’t.

He’s sitting in the living room—television on and playing one of the crime dramas you like so much. There’s one crib together next to him, and the other is halfway there. Seungmin wonders what else he did while he was here all alone.

“Hey dad, welcome back”

The smell of grilled beef, and something a little spicy hits his nose. “Cheoli, you didn’t have to do all this by yourself.” But his stomach grumbles at the thought of dinner, and he knows after he eats, he’s going to crash again.

“It wasn’t much. Besides, I helped myself to a few beers and the snack stash in the cupboard.”

“And made dinner”

“Your boys look good for twenty-five weeks. I think they’ll be okay, and you’ll have them home in no time.”

Seungmin watches him curiously as he heads for the finished crib. “You think?”

“Five…six weeks, maybe. But it could be as long as her original due date.”

“June 1st…I wasn’t even thinking about what day it was. Their birthday is June 1st.”

“Gemini,” Heecheol laughs. “You have Gemini snakes.” He’s uneasy as he sits here looking up at Seungmin, but not enough to leave, and not enough to keep himself from being happy for his friend. “Did you take any other photos?”

His phone is out before Heecheol even finishes the question, and suddenly, Seungmin is one of those annoying parents who can’t wait to show off their kids. “I did.” He pulls the last one up, and hands his phone over as he makes himself comfortable on the floor.

“They already look like you. Which one is this?”

“That’s Haesung…the youngest”

“Ocean, or sun?”

“Sun”

Heecheol nods. “And the oldest?”

“Haneul”

“Just like you. And I’m sensing a pattern with this family. Sky, moon, sun, sky again.”

He isn’t sure how that happened, but it worked out perfectly, and everything about it feels right. “What was your name when you lived in the states?”

“Hale”

“Hail? Like ice, like a hailstorm?”

“Yeah, just spelled differently. I wanted to keep the H sound, but I didn’t like most of the names suggested to me.”

“I like it. You kinda fit.”

He fits? Heecheol isn’t entirely sure how he fits, but if Seungmin says he does, then he must. The more he thinks about it, the less strange it seems. He is still here, after all. Why? What the hell has gotten into him?

***

One more gentle push, and the crib is just where it needs to be. The bed is still in the way, of course, but it’ll have to be in the way until he finally leaves. When the hell is he going to leave? If I leave now, I might never come back, he thinks. Any little excuse will easily keep him away, as it should, but first Heecheol has to disconnect himself from something he’s needed for so long. But it’s not a need for friendship keeping him here. No. It’s something else.

“They look great, thank you.” Seungmin peeks in and smiles in a way reserved only for you and him. It’s still hesitant, but enough to half-close his big brown eyes, and enough to make Heecheol’s stomach do a somersault.

“No big deal. I like putting things together, so if there’s anything else…”

“Let’s eat first.”

The question gets closer and closer to the tip of his tongue as he watches Seungmin eat, and he’s eating well. He’s enjoying himself, and it’s the calmest he’s seen him since he was a few beers in at the baseball game Friday night. But it’s been nagging at him since you mentioned it. “I don’t wanna pry too much, even though seeing your meds might be as personal as things get…”

“You can pry.” Seungmin means it, even if his heart does race a little at the thought of a personal question, especially after what happened last night.

“Tokki mentioned something to me before we went to the hospital, and I was curious about it.”

Seungmin just nods—relieved it’s not about last night.

“Something about you wandering into the woods back home…if you’d ever done that when we were kids. And something about an incident with your stepfather.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, maybe it’s too much.” He waves it away and tries to think of a new subject, but nothing comes to him. The mood of the room has already shifted, and everything is now the pine forest. It’s all he can see in the back of his eyes—the silhouette of the trees against a cloudy night sky; the silence; the heavyness and the feeling of something clinging to your back as you weaved through the trees. “We don’t have to…”

“She told you I went into the woods that night?”

It seems like he might get more information than he intended. “Not…no, not exactly. She asked if you’d done it when you were a kid. And she asked if I’d ever seen anything strange in there.” He lied right to your face and told you no. “Why did she ask, and why do I suddenly remember what we saw? I pushed it so far down, and now I can’t get it out of my head.”

“We didn’t see anything, Cheoli. Just a shadow. Just heard some sounds.”

“And smells. The feeling of something crawling under my skin.”

Seungmin closes his eyes and sees the scratches his nine year old self clawed up his arms. The itch that his nails couldn’t fix; the garden shears couldn’t fix it, either, but he never knows for sure until he tries. Only one thing stops it. “I’m sorry that you remember.”

“So you went back in there, alone?”

“I don’t have an answer for you, just like I don’t have one for her. But yes. I went in, and she had to come find me, and I don’t remember what I did when I was in there.”

Heecheol nods firmly, hoping it signals a change in the conversation. Bringing it up did not make him feel any better.

“My stepdad drove me a mile in that winter. He dropped me off and left me there, and I cried and screamed for hours until she found me.”

The cruelness of his stepfather had no limits. Heecheol knew that before he learned about this—he didn’t think it could get worse than being pushed down the stairs, or locked in the shed all night. “I’m sorry, Mo. I wish I would have been there for you.” Killing his mother still takes the prize, though.

“I needed medicated before that happened. I needed it even more after. But…it’s still there.”

Heecheol knows he’s getting much more than he intended. He’s getting answers for the question he asked, and the one still sitting in his head, too. The professional part of him knows schizophrenia more frequently manifests in self-harm than it does murder, but it does happen. He finds himself staring at the thin scar on Seungmin’s forearm as more pieces fit together. “Did something happen when he left you there?”

Seungmin remembers it in pieces, and it comes to him like most of his dreams; disjointed and confusing. The memory returned to him slowly, over several nights in Daegu. Not even you know the details of this particular nightmare. “It was late afternoon when we went in, so most of my time there was at dusk…and dusk may as well have been night in those woods. But when night came, well—”

“What did you see?”

“It saw me more than I saw it, but I did see what it wanted me to see. It peeked from behind the trees, and it whispered…I think. I could hear something in my head…noises, vibrations…”

scratch scratch

“No…” Seungmin mutters. “Not now.”

“What?”

scratch scratch

The prickle of goosebumps moves down his arms; his stomach lurches. “Did you hear that?” He asks Heecheol, already knowing the answer. “The scratching?”

He waits a moment and listens before shaking his head. “I didn’t hear any scratching.”

Not now, he thinks, and his head falls into his hands. A few deep breaths might help, so he peeks through his fingers and focuses on the movements of his feet. One deep breath, and Heecheol’s hand moves gently over his back. It does the opposite of what Seungmin thinks it will—it calms him, just like yours does. The warmth is a welcome change to the cold sweat washing over him. “It’s not there…” he whispers.

“No, probably not.”

scratch scratch

“Fuck…last night didn’t matter.”

Heecheol chooses to ignore that comment for the moment. “Where is it coming from? The front door?”

Seungmin nods, and Heecheol’s hand is gone. The lock clicks, the door opens slowly, and there’s silence as he imagines him standing there looking out at the empty hallway. He returns, and his hand lands on Seungmin’s back again. “Look at me.”

Just like he listens to you, he listens to his friend. A soft voice with a hint of demand, as if he has no choice. Heecheol might have made him if he hadn’t immediately lifted his head, but the look is just as soothing as his touch.

“Let’s talk about something else, yeah? We have better memories to dwell on, I’m sure. How’d you do in school?”

“School? Oh, that feels like so long ago. I did well until high school, but I managed to graduate thanks to my aunts. Almost went to junior college, but I was too…uhm, I guess it wasn’t a good time.”

Heecheol nods in understanding. He doesn’t need Seungmin to explain that his illness held him back, if that’s what it was. Maybe college didn’t feel necessary after the inheritance he received from his father. Looking around the apartment gives him all of the information he needs to know in regard to that—Seungmin and you want for nothing. “I don’t want this to sound insensitive, because it’s just curiosity…”

“Yes?” Seungmin doesn’t care what it is, as long as it keeps him distracted from the noises in his head.

“The two of you aren’t married, even though I recall the nurse addressing you as her husband. And she doesn’t work, I take it?“

“We’re not, and no…she quit her job when she thought she was leaving for good.”

He wants to ask more about that—considering what he witnessed, the dynamic of their relationship is far more interesting than it was two months ago. “She’s here illegally.”

It’s been the least of his worries lately, which may have been a stupid mistake. The wrong person finding out could have upheaved everything just as badly as Seungmin messing up a kill. Now his mind wanders to the body down the hall—all the two of you ever do is play with fire. He can’t be so reckless. He can’t risk anything happening to you or the babies. “Yeah, I guess we should work on that. Marriage would be a good start.”

“The sooner the better. Put a ring on your to-do list.”

“What is it, Min?”

His gaze is fixed on the incubator in front of him; on the two of them cuddled together, sleeping soundly. Seungmin is still feeling a little bit of disconnect between him, father, and them, his sons. It doesn’t feel real yet, and he knows that’s partially because the three of you are still stuck in this hospital.

“Hey…are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m sorry.” He is. He really is.

Heecheol visited briefly before heading back home, and Seungmin does still feel a little guilty for not taking him to the station. Heecheol assured him it was fine, and him spending time with you was much more important. You made it a point not to stare at him as if at any moment you would have to defend Seungmin, and you did pretty well.

“I’ll finish cleaning everything up when I get home, now that I’ll have time by myself.”

You squint your eyes at him, as if it’ll clear up any possible misunderstandings between you. “Okay.” Since coming into the room, he’s been distant.

“I have something for you.” Seungmin’s hand fidgets in his pocket, but he doesn’t let you see what he has yet. “I’ve never asked you what kind of jewelry you like, but since you don’t wear much, and the things you do wear are very simple…I went with that.”

“Jewelry?”

He nods, and red starts to creep up his neck. “But if you don’t like it, we can pick something else.”

“No, no I want whatever you picked.”

Finally, he pulls his hand out and reveals a small wooden box, but he doesn’t know what to do as you stare excitedly at it. Should he hand it to you? Open it and ask how he assumes you’d expect a proposal to happen? Yes, he should probably make this that type of moment for you. “Okay.” He slides the lid open, and he doesn’t think he can get more nervous until he sees the ring again. Maybe it was a bad choice. He really should have asked what you liked. “I…” he stops when he feels himself starting to stutter.

“Yeah?” You take his hands in yours and hold them steady.

“I…was thinking we should get married. Pretending seems silly now that the babies are here, and I want you to feel safe and secure with me in every way. I should have asked you months ago.”

“We should, you’re right.”

“Yeah?”

You pull the ring out of the box and examine it carefully. “I was waiting.” The color is a soft blue, and on each side is what you assume are tiny moonstones.

“I’m not sure what kind of gems you like, but I figured their birthstones would be a safe choice.”

“Birthstones? Oh, is that what they are?” You look again, watching the middle gem change to purple under the harsh light of the room.

“Moonstone. And I forget the name of bigger one, but it’s pretty…right?”

Every angle gives you a new color; blue, purple, and even a hint of green. The June birthstone is one thing, and it was a safe choice—it was also a good choice, but it changing between yours and his favorite color is another; it feels like it was made just for you. Seungmin takes the ring back and slides it until it’s snug against his mother’s silver wedding band. “It’s perfect. You are very good at this.”

“At what?”

“All the little things you do for me. And the things you say.”

His fingers tap nervously on the bed. “I mean everything, all of it. Everything I say and do.”

“I know, Minnie. You’re a natural.”

He smiles, but not before trying to hold it back. “As soon as you’re able to come home, we’ll make it official.”

Three days in this bed has been more than enough, and you’ve been waiting not so patiently to be discharged. Going home without the boys will be difficult, though. “They said today, probably.”

“Heecheol said they could be here the rest of the time you should have been pregnant. Is that true…they’ll be here for months?”

Before you can answer, the nurse knocks softly and lets herself in. In her hands is a clipboard full of the discharge papers you’ve been waiting all morning to sign.

“How long will they have to stay here?” Seungmin asks, and his concern seems to be coming from the fact that you’re going home. You assume he felt content knowing you were always close by, even if he missed you, but that won’t be the case soon.

She smiles sweetly at him, obviously honing in on his anxiety. This is the same nurse that made you feel better about being here, and about how well the twins were being cared for. “It’s always hard to say for certain. They came very early, but they’re both healthy, so our main concern for them is weight gain.”

“We can visit them every day, Minnie”

“You can.” The nurse looks in at them sleeping comfortably. In each of their mouths is a pacifier, and both of them seem to already mastered their sucking reflex. “It’s very important you see them as often as possible. They could be home as early as six or seven weeks from now if we can hit our goal weight…two kilograms at the very least would be ideal.”

“See? Your boys are healthy and strong, and we’ll have them home with us soon.”

The apartment feels different, even though it’s only been a few days. It’s not just the sight of a nearly finished nursery (the twin bed is gone, in the apartment next door, you assume), and it’s not the cots pushed neatly against the bedroom wall. The difference is coming from inside of you, and from the missing pieces that you couldn’t bring home. You never imagined missing the comfort and discomfort of them being safe inside of your stomach, but you do. And now it’s just…you. Your hand moves from your chest, still sore for the exertion, down the still noticeable bump. Everything is sore. Between the labor, and the uncomfortable bed, you can’t remember the last time your body held onto so much pain.

“Do you feel okay?” Seungmin sneaks up to place a kiss on your shoulder, and his hand lands next to yours.

He knows you’re not, and he only asks to lead into the next question. “I’m good.” You’re not exactly hiding it very well, and Seungmin saw every moment of pain as you pushed. “Just sore.”

“I can help you shower. Or if you just want to get into bed, I put clean sheets on. There’s a heating pad in there, and the air conditioner if you get too warm.” You turn and face him, and he smiles. “Or…early dinner. I prepped stuff for galbijjim.”

“Can I have all three?”

***

“So, he left without asking any questions?”

“Questions? Oh, Heecheol. No, he didn’t bring anything up except what you asked him.”

“Me? What did I…” What did you ask him? Everything from before all the pain is a blur. “I can’t remember.”

“You asked him if I wandered into the woods when we were kids. And the answer is no.”

Theres nothing stern or harsh about his voice, but you feel it in your gut regardless. Tears start welling in your eyes, but you manage to keep them at bay. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been worried. I wasn’t trying to go behind your back for answers.”

“Oh I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not angry, love, I promise.”

“I thought he might remember something you couldn’t, that’s all.”

Seungmin pulls you to your feet, but you’re suddenly feeling self conscious about dropping your robe. “I know. He hasn’t seen the things that I have, fortunately.” His hands tuck beneath the tie, and you grab them before he pulls it loose—the response is a confused look, a lick of his lips, and an arm around your waist. “No?”

“I do, I’m just not used to this body. And it’s been a while since we’ve had sex, or touched…or anything.” A few weeks, but it feels so much longer.

“Not because I didn’t want to.” Both of his arms slide around you and rub the sore muscles. “I’ve been afraid of doing something to hurt you, or them.”

“What happened that night, Seungmin? Why did you kill? Was it just a kill?”

The questions take a moment to sink in—not just remembering what exactly happened that night, but what you’re asking him, too. It was just a kill, he thinks…that he can remember. So much of it disappeared the moment you called him. “Yes, I think so; I used my knife, slit his throat, made a fucking mess. Luckily not so much that I couldn’t keep Heecheol in the dark if he looked for me in the bedroom.”

“His throat. It was a man?”

His hold on you tightens. “Yeah, I remember that much. It didn’t help anything, though. I can already feel it coming back.” The feeling, the itch—it starts moving in on him even more as he stands here with you. He held it back with the help of you and the babies, but now he can’t deny what the quiet is bringing. Maybe he can hold it off a little bit longer. “He was expecting sex, but nothing happened this time.”

“You’ve been so stressed, that has to be part of it. But we can relax a little now. They’re okay, and they’re safe.”

“And so are you. I can sit out here while you go in, if you want. But I’m not leaving you alone.”

Your hormones are going crazy. One moment, you feel ecstatic at the thought of seeing and holding them again, and the next you come crashing down because everything feels out of your control. You’ve gone through your entire adult life in the same body—one that Seungmin seemed to enjoy—and now you feel like somebody else. What hasn’t changed is the way he looks at you.

“I got you some new shampoo and body wash to try. It’s supposed to be good for after, so…”

“You did?” The overwhelming urge to cry returns, but the tears are different this time. You let them come and it scares him for a moment. “Thank you.”

“Why are you crying, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong,” you wipe at your cheeks and blink away the tears. “I’m just…uhm, everything feels so intense. Sorry, I’m alright. And I’m hungry, I guess."

“Oh, I think I understand. Are you feeling down?”

The tie is pulled loose, and the robe slides down your shoulders. “I was, but I'm okay.”

Seungmin’s eyes follow as it falls, but he catches himself and lowers his gaze as you walk by. You don’t look much different to him, but still, he finds you more attractive now than he ever has. It’s not how you’ve filled out, and it’s not the roundness of your face, or the blush across your cheeks…it’s just another version of what you were before—the one who loves him and his children. He told you months ago he would kill anyone who touched you, and that hasn’t changed, Seungmin feels that more intensely now than he ever has. He knows you feel it, too.

Eighteen days of care in the hospital is showing on the twins. Holding them is different already, and they feel less and less like butterflies with each visit. Seungmin sets his fingertips on Haesung’s back, and the rise and fall of his breathing calms the thoughts that continue to break through. The noises are quieter when he holds them.

“Have they put on weight this week?” You ask the nurse. “Are they doing okay?”

“According to their chart, Baby Haesung has gained a total of 500 grams since June 1st. Haneul has gained 492 grams. Another good week.”

“So they’re doing well?”

“Very well.”

Every morning, the two of you spend three, sometimes four hours here, holding them and talking to them. Every evening, you return for at least an hour for more skin to skin, and sometimes a song. Leaving is difficult. The two of you are here the most of any of our parents. Please remember to take care of yourselves and get plenty of rest. The nurse was looking at you when she said that yesterday. You have been sleeping well, though, and you were finally able to produce your own milk for the first time last week. Maybe that will bring them home even sooner.

Seungmin does the math on the walk home. “They might be there another two or three weeks before they reach two kilograms.”

“Maybe. But I’ll make sure I’m eating well and pumping enough for both of them every day.”

“Sounds exhausting…I’m sure it is.”

“According to my nurse, I should be eating an extra thousand calories a day to keep up.”

He stops and looks around, and then back at you. “A thousand? We should grab something extra for lunch then.”

There’s a little bit of guilt in him as he jogs down the steps and away from his mother, but not enough to stop him. And he’s not a complete liar, because he is going to work today…just not for another few hours. The trip to Seoul is a few weeks behind him, and it’s only plagued his mind more with each passing day. Now he’s finally doing what he thinks might help him sleep more soundly at night. Even the act of texting Seungmin seems forced, and he hates that, because Heecheol knows that deep down inside he feels the same about Seungmin as he did right before everything happened…and two months ago, when he laid eyes on him again after so many years. His friend grew into something he didn’t expect. From awkward and small; terrible eyesight; quiet and timid until he was on the pitcher’s mound, to what he is now. Seungmin is something else entirely—quiet, but charming and handsome. He carries himself well, whether he’s aware of it or not. The biggest difference, though, is that he’s now capable of the same violence that lived inside of his step father.

Still, as conflicted as he is about what he witnessed (it’s still sitting in a weird place in his head, like it hasn’t truly settled in yet...as if he dreamed the whole thing), part of him wonders what could have been, had the two of them found each other before you crossed his path. Even if Seungmin had no romantic feelings for Heecheol, it still could have been just the two of them…and god, how how badly he wants that. It’s painful to think about.

The bus takes him past the hospital and continues north for another few miles before the scenery starts to become familiar. Not a good familiar. He wasn’t sure how he’d feel once he got this close, but now it’s here—a cold, heavy rock sitting in the pit of his stomach. But visions of his childhood come through much clearer now. Warm summer nights in the greenhouse, looking at the stars; staying up too late and laughing too loudly, risking the wrath of his step father; testing their courage by seeing who could stand at the edge of the woods the longest, backs to the trees. Seungmin somehow won every time.

The bus driver eyes him curiously as he exits, and the loneliness sinks in as he drives off. It’s already unnaturally quiet, and he hasn’t even reached the edge of the forest yet. Now he has to walk two miles through it, and he’s beginning to have second thoughts.

The backyard looks the same. The greenhouse, the hanok…everything is exactly as he remembers it. It was summer when he left all those years ago, so even the wildflowers are nearly identical; the chipped paint, overgrown grass, and rotting wood is the only giveaway that so much time has passed. Heecheol half expects them—Seungmin and him—to come ripping around a corner laughing. But it’s quiet. More quiet than he remembers it ever being.

The first place he heads for is the greenhouse.

Inside, everything is in full bloom, and it’s more crowded with flowers than he’s ever seen it. He doesn’t know the names of them like Seungmin and his umma did, but he recalls seeing the purple ones (dried up and withering away) in Seungmin’s bedroom.

He walks up the messy path past the shed, and when he gets to the front door of the house, he’s not surprised to find it locked. As abandoned as it seems to be on the outside, the inside must be relatively well-kept if the two of you were staying here. Breaking in crosses his mind, and why not? Would one little broken pane of glass seem suspicious? It doesn’t take much to convince himself. Heecheol finds a rock, then changes his mind and looks around for something with a little more weight. A dragon statue catches his eye, and he remembers Seungmin finding and spending all of his allowance on it for his umma. He had to, he said, because they were both dragons, so technically it was for both of them. Heecheol picks it up, and the corner is sent into the bottom right panel of the window. It takes two tries, but he succeeds, and finding the latch and opening it is too easy. Climbing through the small window is a little more difficult at six feet tall, but he manages it gracefully.

He was right. The inside looks dated, but lived in. The first aid kit sits on the kitchen table, and blood seeping from that self-inflicted (he has to assume) wound runs through his head. Heecheol isn’t sure why he’s here, or what he’s looking for, but he wanders through each room anyway. Maybe he’s hoping he’ll learn more about his friend just by being in this space and breathing this air again. He needs to know what turned him into a killer.

***

Both of you slept in this morning, and after your two bowls of bibimbap are finished, (Seungmin tried to push a third on you) it’s finally time to see the six week old twins. The last two weeks were better than the others, so you’re hoping to hear at least one of them has finally reached the two kilogram mark.

You watch carefully as the nurse fills a bottle with your breastmilk, and she hands it to Seungmin. “Haneul has one more test to pass. Dad will feed Haesung, since the two of you have been successful…” She waits as Seungmin reaches in for him, and by now, he scoops him up easily and confidently before taking the bottle. “And we’ll see how well big brother latches onto mom.”

They took to pacifiers and bottles quickly, but actually feeding from you has been a challenge, and you can’t figure out why. You cradle Haneul and sit, and when he opens his eyes, his recognition of you feels stronger than it ever has. Daengmo made the trip with you this time—a desperate attempt, but the dog feels a little otherworldly sometimes.

“Go ahead and try…just like you have been.” The nurse tells you. She hasn’t lost any faith in your ability to do this with him, but you she must sense your nerves.

“Okay, sweetheart...” you adjust yourself and bring him closer. “Just like we talked about, right?” This time you relax, because every other time, your overthinking didn’t help at all. Seungmin watches quietly, and the sounds of Haesung feeding relax you even more. “Oh, I think he did it.” His fists clench, and as soon as his fingers find Daengmo’s soft ear, they open and close around it.

“Yeah, he did.” Seungmin whispers. “You two ready to go home?” He looks down at Haesung happily eating, and he stares right back up with wide open eyes. Seungmin gently pulls back on the bottle until it’s free. “I’m sorry buddy, you need to catch your breath.” He swallows and sighs, and when it seems like he takes in enough air, he starts to fuss.

***

The sun is low in the sky when he gets to Seungmin’s bedroom. He didn’t expect to stay so long, but it was easy getting lost in the things that were left behind. In here, it’s easy to see how abruptly things stopped that night. It doesn’t seem like Seungmin has taken much, or even moved things since he left for his grandmothers house. Heecheol needs to keep things as neat as possible, or he’ll know someone was going through his room.

But he quickly realizes that nothing in here will give him any answers. Everything about this space is him before all of the bad things happened. Enough time has been wasted, and he needs to walk through the woods again to get out of here—he has no intention of doing that after sunset. Heecheol cleans up the mess of glass and pulls the curtain tight, and he looks back at the house one more time as he heads down the pathway. He ignored it the first time, but as he walks past the shed, he stops. What could be in there except for the memories of stories he was told about the long, cold nights locked inside? It makes him nauseous just thinking about the mental anguish Seungmin endured in there. Just him, the cold silence, and the smell of—

“What is that?” He says to himself and looks around. It’s just him here, he knows that, so why is he suddenly catching the familiar scent of a fresh cigarette? The smell turns his stomach even more, but it must be in his head. “Is someone here?” His heart pounds as he waits for an answer from nobody. Silence. Just the wind, and the slow creak of the shed door. “Fuck, I need to get out of here.” He tries. Heecheol’s next step lands wrong, and he barely catches himself as he falls forward into the patchy grass. His wrists give out, and he ends up flat on the ground—uninjured, at least. But he can’t even laugh at his clumsiness. Heecheol jumps up and looks around again, still expecting to see someone. Or something. The smell seems to have disappeared, so he shakes it off—he shakes everything off and starts his walk toward the pine trees.

With any luck, he’ll make it out before dusk hits and darkness takes over, but he’ll have to walk fast.

“There’s nothing in there. We were stupid kids just making stuff up and seeing things that weren’t there, and Seungmin is fucking schizophrenic…of course he saw things.” Telling himself that does nothing to quell his nerves, and he feels a pang of guilt for what he says about his friend. Seungmin was tortured and ridiculed for seven years, and the same hands that did it took his mother. Of course something inside of him needs to take that power back, that control, and kill. Maybe he did find some answers.

The woods seem to take every last sound as he enters, and Heecheol moves quickly down the middle of the narrow dirt road. Two twisty miles. He could cut right through and make it a little more than a mile, but he wouldn’t risk it, not with night so close. The trees are disorienting and everything in here looks the same, so another misstep could be disastrous. Just walk, don’t listen, don’t look around.

***

Seungmin can’t take his eyes off of them as they cling together at his bedside. You told him they had to sleep in their own cots, but keeping them together was fine as long as one of you were awake to watch them. And that’s what he does—he watches, and he still can’t believe how natural it is for them to hold each other the way they do. They are the same now; almost the same size, same dark eyes, same head full of hair just like he had as a baby. The nose, the ears…his ears. Truly identical.

“Hey…” Seungmin looks behind him where you’re starting to doze off on your side of the bed.

“Yeah?”

“What if I mix them up?” He’s serious. You’ve never seen him look so serious. “Is that possible?”

“Do you know who is who right now?”

He stands and looks down at them. “Uhm…yes. This is Haneul,” Seungmin adjusts the mitten on his left hand, “and this is Haesung.”

“Mhm. How can you tell?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe I just know?” He looks to you for more reassurance, and you crawl across the bed to give it to him.

Your first few weeks home after giving birth were difficult, and Seungmin knew to give you all the space you needed, for as long as necessary. Eventually, you felt yourself returning to the way you were before you found out you were pregnant, and before you thought he was growing less attracted to you. You couldn’t have been more wrong about that, but the two of you are still working on getting back to the way things were.

A shiver runs through him when you squeeze his shoulders. “And if it helps, Haneul has a little mole…” you place a kiss on top of Seungmin’s left ear, “right there. Haesung doesn’t.”

“It does.” He turns and gives you a look—a look that says please kiss me, touch me. Anything. All he’s gotten in weeks is a sleepy handjob. He’s been so patient.

“Lay down with me.” You pull him until he follows you under the blanket. “You’re gonna kiss me until my alarm goes off. We have eight minutes.”

***

The sun is setting a lot faster than it should be. Either that, or he’s walking slower than he realizes. It’s not like this isn’t familiar. As monotonous as the walk through these trees tends to be, he remembers landmarks, and most of those landmarks are still here. But still, he’s losing light, and the end of the road is nowhere in sight. Heecheol checks the time—6:55. The tops of the trees swallow up the sun, and whatever signal he had back at the house. Some sound returns, though...a rustle of dry leaves, as if an animal is scittering through them; a very distant bird song.

Almost there, he says, almost…can’t be more than a kilometer left, right? He should have checked his steps before he started. Maybe he should have just stayed home, or went in to work early for the night. And suddenly, as if the forest can feel his nerves starting to boil over, just like the smell of cigarette smoke hit him by the shed, another familiar scent starts to fill his nose. He wants the smoke back. He would trade this for any other smell. It has to be in his head, though—it has to be his fear going into overdrive and making him think he’s smelling the rotting corpse of a deer. Maybe that’s what it is. There aren’t many, but he’s seen deer running from these woods and through the yard plenty of times. It only makes sense that one would wind up dead not far from the road at some point.

Cheoli?

He cups his ears and closes his eyes. How stupid of him to come here, alone. Alone! Walking through this horrible fucking forest by himself so late in the day. And for what? He found nothing useful here.

Heecheol. Is that better?

Why does it sound so sweet and light and feminine?

“Stop, please. I just want to leave.”

Maybe you’re still accustomed to Hale

The voice sounds like you. It sounds shaken and full of curiosity, just like you did when you asked about this place. It even has your accent down. Why is he hearing your voice in his head?

I’m not in your head

“Yes you are.” Heecheol walks faster and starts humming loudly to himself. If someone were to stumble across him, they would assume he was out of his mind. He feels out of his mind.

okay, I am…but I’m also right here

The forest floor hurts much more when he hits it, and this time, there’s no catching himself. He tastes blood on his lips, and a moment later, the unbearable throb of his wrist hits. If it wasn’t a twig he landed on, it was definitely his bone snapping. Where? He blinks the dirt from his eyes and looks around, but there’s nothing. And then there is something…the sound of footsteps. Heecheol scrambles to his feet, injured arm tucked against his chest, and stumbles as he tries to find some balance. He fails and lands hard on his side, and everything in front of him goes fuzzy and dull, like an old vhs recording. It doesn’t go away when he shakes his head.

stop moving so much

The voice changes. It’s stuck somewhere between yours, and the raspy smokers voice of Seungmin’s step father. It’s a horrible sound and it makes his wince.

that’s better, let me look at you

it slowly loses the sweetness of yours, and now it’s somewhere between his and something inhuman. “Where are you?”

you remind me of him

“Who?” He needs to stop talking to it.

but you’re weaker than him

Seungmin? Is the voice talking about Seungmin? He doesn’t ask. Heecheol keeps his mouth shut, but his mind is racing. If the static in his vision would go away, he could get up and run, but it’s getting worse. The only thing he can think to do is reach for his phone, and when he finds it, he pulls up anything he can. He can’t see, and only one hand is functioning properly, but whatever he does works. A ring. So he has a signal now. Two, three rings…four.

“Hello? Cheoli?”

“Seungmin, can you hear me?”

“Yeah…the connections bad, but…are you okay?”

“N-no. I don’t know.”

“No? It’s getting worse, I’m losing you.”

The call drops. He’s alone again.

***

Seungmin’s furrowed brow would be cute if he didn’t look so serious. It’s not just confusion on his face, it’s worry. A lot of it. You heard his phone ring, but everything else was lost in your post-nap fog. “What’s wrong?” He doesn’t answer right away, so you turn and check the cot on your side. Haneul is still sound asleep after his first time eating at home. Next you crawl over Seungmin, still quiet and staring at his phone, and check on Haesung. He’s just coming out of his nap, and a soft cry is starting. Before he can get too far, you reach in and run your thumb across is slowly fattening cheek.

“Uhm…not sure.” Seungmin tries calling one more time, and when it doesn’t connect, he starts typing. “It was Heecheol, but he sounded weird. The call dropped and I can’t get him now.”

“Do you have his mother’s number?”

He shakes his head and drops the phone in defeat, but he’ll worry until he hears back. “Hopefully the text gets through.”

“What did he say?”

“I asked if he was okay…he said I don’t know.”

“It’s hard not to worry, but I’m sure you’ll hear back soon.”

Seungmin needs and appreciates your positivity, but everything about the short phone call, even the static as it struggled to connect, felt strange. He checks the message he sent, but it’s just an error message now. Not delivered. “Yeah. I’ll try to keep my mind off of it.” Haesung is starting to cry a little louder now, so Seungmin pockets his phone. “Are you hungry again, buddy? Maybe you need changed.” He looks to you, because he’s only had the chance to do that a few times during hospital visits.

Every new experience with them is exciting for him, no matter what it is, even a diaper change. He insists you just watch while he works on Haesung, who’s still softly crying from whatever is bothering him. And as sweet as Seungmin finds the sound, at least for now, he hates not knowing exactly what’s wrong.

Before he can unsnap his onesie, his phone vibrates in his pocket.

“Heecheol?”

The static is loud enough to hear from a few feet away, and you don’t hear a voice behind it.

“Cheoli, I don’t know if you can hear me…I can’t hear you.” Seungmin’s voice is strained, as if he’s holding back the urge to scream into the phone. “I can’t hear you.” He stays on the line for a few more seconds before giving up and ending the call.

What can you say to him to put his mind at ease? This isn’t how you want his first day at home with the twins to be—plagued by worry and helplessness. You know he would benefit from a Xanax if you can convince him to take one. “Let’s get them changed and I’ll make you some tea. And maybe you should take something.”

“Take something?” Haesung squirms and kicks when Seungmin sets his palm on his stomach. “Oh, right…maybe. Tea would be good.” He looks at you every few seconds as he works, but you don’t know if it’s nerves about the job he’s doing, or if he’s trying to read something else on your face.

“I want you to enjoy your first day here with them, and I know that’s gonna be hard now, but they want all of you.”

Seungmin looks at Haneul, comfortable in your arms, and then back to his hands as they finish fastening the new diaper. The sound Haesung makes as he kisses his forehead finally gets a smile out of him.

The worst headache he’s ever had in his life is pulses behind his eyes, and the tiny line of sunlight coming in is excruciating. He can’t move. He doesn’t want to move, but he needs water and pain killers. Heecheol knows only one thing, and that’s that he is currently lying in his own bed. He doesn’t even know what day it is, or how he got here, because the last thing he does remember is falling in the woods and…his wrist. The pain in his head is masking the pain of his fractured, swollen wrist until he moves it. “Fuck. Umma!”

A few seconds later, the soft sound of her slippered feet hit the hardwood floor. “I’m coming Cheoli. You must have had a rough night, there’s fresh coffee out here for you.”

“Umma, please bring me some water and Tylenol. And ibuprofen. Please, I’m sorry.” Asking his sick mother to fetch him things is his new low. Past Heecheol would roll his eyes at him. She doesn’t mind, though. She’s back a minute later with a bottle and a handful of pills.

“That bad? Oh, Cheoli, your wrist!”

He looks at it again and realizes just how bad it looks. It’s nearly twice the size of his right one. “Yeah, I know. I’m fine, umma, I just need to get this headache under control and I’ll get to the hospital.”

“Weren’t you just there a few hours ago?”

“What time did I get home?”

She sits on the edge of the bed and thinks. “Oh, it must have been around 6 am, when I took my medicine.”

“I got home at 6am?” He throws four pills in his mouth and downs the entire bottle as she nods at him.

So he can’t remember anything between 7 pm yesterday and waking up at noon. That’s a lot of missing time. His phone doesn’t give him much, but he does see several calls between him and Seungmin. One he made that lasted about eight seconds, and then two from Seungmin that he definitely doesn’t remember getting. There’s also an unread text message that delivered around the same time he got himself home.

Hey, my calls aren’t getting through. What’s going on, are you okay? This might not get through, either. Please call me when you can.

The signal isn’t strong in the outer parts of Uljin, so the bad connection isn’t surprising. He just can’t remember a single fucking thing after that fall…and now the eight second phone call. Heecheol decides he’ll call Seungmin, but not until after some x-rays and a splint.

***

“It’s just a sprain, surprisingly.” The doctor squints at the x-ray, but she doesn’t have to explain it further for him. He’s seen plenty of broken wrists on this light box. “I was sure with that swelling it was going to be much worse, but that’s because you let it go for so long.”

“Yeah, I had a weird night.”

“I’ll stabilize it for you, but you know we can’t do much else. Keep up with the Tylenol, and expect light duty for a while. Or just use some of your time off for a change.”

Time off. Right, he does have some saved up, but using it while he’s injured seems silly. He keeps telling himself he can use that time for an actual vacation, but he never plans anything, and he rarely leaves home. But another trip to Seoul is always a possibility. No…I can’t do that again. What if I see more of something I don’t wanna see? Maybe he should see more, because Heecheol still feels like he dreamed the whole thing.

The phone rings a few times, and eventually, he gets the generic voicemail message. He doesn’t leave one.

Hey, I’m sorry if I made you worry. Hope you’re well. How are the twins?

Seungmin calls as soon as the text delivers.

Cheoli! You’re alright? What the hell was going on last night?

He hears him, but it’s through that same static. A little bit more of last night returns to him.

Cheoli, say something

Sorry, hey. His head starts to throb again. “I’m good, everything is okay. I had a little too much to drink last night, and it’s finally starting to wear off.” There is a small chance he’ll actually believe that.

“I was wondering if you were ever gonna get in touch again, considering what happened last time”

Oh god, he knows. No, you idiot. The babies. “How are they?”

We brought them home yesterday! They both reached their goal weight and passed all the tests.” His voice quiets. “It’s scary, though. They’re still so small and fragile.

They’ll grow fast, and I’m sure they’ll seem fragile to you for a long time. But I don’t wanna keep you. Go be with them, and maybe we can just forget about the weird drunk call.

Already forgotten

The static in his head dissipates along with the call.

***

The buzz of his phone wakes him immediately, probably because he’s quickly become accustomed to jumping at the smallest sound, but he ignores it until he looks in on both of them. Haneul is on his side of the bed tonight, sound asleep—you’re finally in a deep sleep, too, so he’s careful about leaning over and looking into the cot on your side.

Seungmin is the only one awake, and his text message is, not surprisingly, from Heecheol. He must be at work, and bored, to be texting at 5:30 in the morning.

I’ll be in Seoul tomorrow! Maybe tonight. I won’t impose on you, I can get a hotel. Just wanted to let you know.

He doesn’t say why he’ll be here, but it doesn’t matter. Seungmin doesn’t mind his friend visiting, especially since he clearly didn’t witness anything too damning last time. He doesn’t act like he did, at least. Good enough for him; maybe not good enough for you.

“Why are you up, Minnie?” You mumble into your pillow.

Seungmin smiles and brushes the hair away from your face. “Just checking on them.”

It’s almost time for your alarm to go off anyway, so you sit up and start the process of waking yourself up.

“Did you get enough sleep? I can bottle feed both of them if you’re too tired.” He gives you his best puppy eyes, because he genuinely means it. Tired or not, Seungmin always tries to get you back into bed, and he has yet to say no to a feeding or a diaper change.

“I could never do this without you.” His eyes drop to your chest when you lay back again, and they stay there as you adjust and feel yourself to gauge the tenderness. He moves your way, shifting over until he’s snug against your side, and he very carefully wraps his arm around you. “I’m starting to think you were made for this whole parenting thing.”

That feeling of inadequacy keeps fading for you as the days pass with them, but it’s nonexistent in Seungmin’s mind. There never seemed to be any doubt in him about your ability to be a mother, and if he ever doubted himself, he hid it well.

He squeezes tighter and smiles, but his eyes don’t leave your breasts. “You think so?”

“Mhm. And I always took you for a thighs and ass guy, but maybe that’s because these weren’t there.”

A warm hand moves beneath the blanket, down your hip, and then slowly back up to your side. “No, I like your…everything. I always have.” But his need to touch the soft skin spilling out of your sports bra overtakes him, and he kisses and bites until you start to laugh. “Everything.”

“No favorite parts?”

“Favorite, hmmm…” He leans back a little and looks you over, and now you’re feeling shy under his intense gaze. “Yes.”

Seungmin’s smile makes your stomach flip, and you’re struck with a strange sadness—a looming feeling that he’s going to be ripped away from you, and you don’t know why, or where it’s coming from. Pregnancy hormones are still running wild through you, and nothing makes much sense right now. Just him, and them, and it’s all so much. You’ve never felt overwhelmed with love for so many things at once.

“This.” The pad of his thumb runs across your temple and tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear. “Because…it helps keep mine together. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do I? I don’t…I don’t know either.”

The silence is interrupted by Haesung crying out. It’s the loudest you’ve heard from either of them, and it sends a wave of panic through you. He swings his fists through the air and toward his face until you carefully lift him and hold him against your chest. “He’s warm.” You carefully remove the mittens from his hands. “How does Haneul feel?”

Seungmin reaches in and touches his forehead, his chest, and his legs. “Seems okay.” His eyes pop open and his fingers go right to his mouth. “Just hungry, I think.”

You stand with him and head toward the kitchen, hoping the motion will calm Haesung and quiet his cries. It may just be hunger, but it doesn’t sound like a hungry cry. You don’t get far. “Seungmin!” It slips out. Shouting is the last thing you want to do, but you can’t help it. The noise brings out another cry.

“What’s wrong?”

“There…right there, don’t you see it?” It’s been so long, you almost forgot about them. “It’s sitting there, by the stool.”

He looks, but there’s no reaction or jump or surprised gasp. “I don’t see anything. Let me get the light.”

“The dog. It’s the white dog. It’s staring right at me.”

Clearly he sees nothing, because you watch as he walks right by the two blue eyes to switch on the kitchen light. It’s there, tall and still, head down and eyes pointed at you, and then at Seungmin as he makes his way back to you.

“Close your eyes.” He blocks your view and sets a hand on Haesung, who’s tiny back is still heaving from his steady crying. “It’ll be gone when we look again.”

Maybe, if you count backwards from ten. Nine…eight…seven…your eyes pop open when Haesung starts to calm down. His face finally relaxes, and when he looks at you, the feeling of dread seems to pass. “Did you feel it , sweetheart? Is it gone?” You peek around Seungmin’s shoulder and look. It is gone.

The rest of the morning, Seungmin seems to look around hesitantly when one of the boys cry, and his eyes linger in every dark corner as he walks around the apartment. After mentioning it and pulling out the black wallet from the cafe several times, you manage to convince him you’ll be fine by yourself for an hour or two. Still, he’s reluctant to leave after the dog sighting.

“I was hopeful for a while that it was just…nothing. Stress. And then I wondered if they were pregnancy dreams.” Even though you were both having them. The shared delusions don’t really faze you much anymore. “Now they feel like bad omens.”

“Omens of what?”

“I dunno. But if you’re feeling itchy, go, I want you to. But please be careful.”

Seungmin goes, but he regrets it as soon as he hits the sidewalk and starts his trip south. The only thing on his mind is the three of you, all alone for the first time since coming home a few weeks ago. And even though they’re almost always quiet and happy (he was starting to wonder why babies are so stressful for some parents, but he’s guessing you and him have been lucky so far), and even with two of them, easy enough for one of you to handle solo for a few hours.

Still, he feels guilty. He tries to shake it off and focus on the task at hand—casing the creep that harassed you last month. Seungmin hasn’t forgotten, and he’s no less angry than he was the moment he witnessed him mouthing off and grabbing you. He still sees your distressed face, so close to tears—breaking his nose wasn’t enough, he’s looking forward to this one.

But he’s just gathering information today. Seungmin doesn’t want this guy anywhere near the apartment, even if he isn’t getting out alive.

He finds a bench across the street from the address on his business card—a life insurance salesman. Seungmin still finds it funny all these weeks later, but 5 pm comes and goes, and he starts getting antsy. A late worker, of course. Or maybe he just has a family he doesn’t want to go home to. Seungmin is hoping for no family to make his job much simpler. He decides to pull out his phone to give you an update, but there’s already a text waiting for him…

I think they miss you

Oh, are they upset? I can head back, just say the word

no no we’re fine sweetie…just wanted you to know how much we looove you

A warm blush creeps up his neck and face as he types. He knows you don’t want him distracted, just to be extra cautious.

더 사랑해

He catches him in his peripheral vision, taking his time, digging in his bag as he heads for the crosswalk. Seungmin follows. The man seems distracted, so keeping up is no problem, and the streets are just busy enough to keep him hidden. The walk isn’t going to be far, though. The address on his license is only a few blocks away, but Seungmin starts to feel uneasy halfway into the tail, and he can’t figure out why. Maybe it’s just him. Just worry. Stress. Less sleep. Thinking of your last words to him before leaving gives him the extra push he needs.

Go, you’ll feel better when it’s done. And I’ll feel better when I get to hear all the details.

You haven’t been shy about asking for details lately. Seungmin has told you stories about almost all of his kills now, most of them in the last two weeks. Yesterday you asked, very sweetly, for him to wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze just a little. He resisted for a while, but giving in was inevitable. You felt far too fragile beneath his touch, and he didn’t ask if you got flashbacks the way he did as his thumbs caressed your throat. Flashbacks, and all of his blood rushing to his cock as you pulled and scratched to get him closer. Seungmin was relieved that you initiated. He was afraid to admit how badly he needed you if you weren’t ready yet, but you needed him just as much.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. No more distractions. The man takes a left, and he’s gone, but not for long—the building he disappears into is the one.

“Seungmin!”

Not him. Some other Seungmin. There must be at least one other Seungmin on this street right now. Focus.

“Mo!”

There’s only one Seungmo. Despite his racing heart—racing from the chase, and now racing double because Heecheol is in the city already, in this district, on this street. How is that possible? The sound of his friend’s soft voice is good to hear, though, he’ll admit. Maybe today wasn’t the day. Seungmin turns to look, but it takes a moment to find Heecheol’s face in the crowd. “Cheoli?” But even after the crowd dissipates, there’s no sign of him. Heecheol isn’t here, and he’s not on the other side of the street, either. “Heecheol?” The buzz in his pocket brings him back, barely, but the text message does the rest of the work.

This is where I’m staying. Just got here, earlier than I was expecting. Hope to see you!

The newest message is a room number.

Heecheol is miles away, so why did he hear his voice so clearly?

“Hi”

“Hi, you okay?”

“Mm, yeah, but I think today might be a bust. I’m gonna head home.”

It’s not a complete lie—he would never lie to you, but before Seungmin starts home, he decides to take a short detour. A quick subway ride to Heecheol’s hotel, and he’ll pick up dinner on the way back. It works out, because he very obviously chose somewhere as close as possible to the apartment. He wonders if he should let him know he’s on the way, or if the surprise visit would be nice. He did say hope to see you, and he sent his room number, as well. Sounds like an invitation.

A pang of guilt hits him on the way up the elevator. His mind remains on you, of course, and how you’re doing at home all by yourself. But he knows you’re fine, because you’d call or text if you needed him immediately. Seungmin won’t be long here, and he’ll pick up all of your favorites on the way home.

He knocks, and he listens to the soft sounds on the other side of the door. Footsteps, maybe a look through the peephole, the click of the locks. The door swings open, and he sees him. Just sees him. It’s his friend, he knows, but the static filling up his head makes his knees buckle and his eyes water. Seungmin doesn’t think he’s ever fainted in his life, but this must be what it feels like.

“Mo…hey, you good?”

Hands grip his shoulders and shake him a little, and he comes to. It’s no longer pitch black, but his vision is fuzzy, and the static turns to a low hum that slowly quiets as Heecheol comes into view.

“Seungmin, say something.”

“H-hey, Cheoli.” He stumbles in with the help of Heecheol steadying him, and suddenly, he’s fine. Like nothing happened. Uhm, yeah I’m good. Sorry.”

“If you say so. You look good.” He closes the door, and sweeps his arm across Seungmin’s shoulders as he faces him again. “You must have been doing something important.”

“Important?”

Heecheol lifts Seungmin’s hand and examines the rings on his fingers. Seungmin lets him—he’s still trying to get his brain to catch up. “Yeah. Are these really Loewe?”

“Yeah, sorry…I don’t wear them much.”

“Sorry?”

He spins them nervously, “they’re flashy, I don’t like being flashy,” and finally looks at his friend. His hair is messy and damp from the shower, and he looks comfortable in his sweatpants and t-shirt. “I should have told you I was coming.” There’s a black splint on one wrist. “What ha—“

“No, you didn’t have to. Surprise is nicer.”

The hum returns. It feels like his brain is bouncing off the sides of his skull. If only Heecheol would reach out and squeeze it like a vice—that might make it better. “Cheoli.” He breaths. The faint feeling is coming back, and he isn’t sure he can stop it. Seungmin reaches for him, and his forearm is grasped tight by Heecheol’s good hand.

“Seungmin.” He replies matter-of-factly, face blank, but his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Come here.”

“Okay…” he takes a step closer, and Heecheol pulls him until they’re almost nose to nose. But he doesn’t step back. He does nothing but examine his face; his sharp eyes, his parted lips. “O-okay.”

It’s not really a shock when their lips press together. No, not at all, because you’ve already told him this—that his best friend is in love with him. You told him it’s okay, it isn’t strange or uncomfortable for you. It’s understandable, you said, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Seungmin laughed when you said that. There’s a laugh rising his chest right now, but he keeps it down as Heecheol pulls away to get a better grip on his mouth.

Seungmin wonders if you knew this would happen, and if this is okay. The guilt he felt about not being home with you doubles…triples as he opens his mouth to let Heecheol’s tongue in. It stopped though, the humming, that horrible feeling in his brain. All that’s left is a shiver running up his thighs, and the undeniable throbbing between them.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, but he ignores it.

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angstywaifu · 2 days ago

Text

Black Dahlia - 39. A Familiar Face

Summary: Dahlia's second year is officially underway with Conscription Day finally here. A new year, new cadets, and a familiar face she wasn't expecting to see amongst the new first years. Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links

Another year, another Conscription Day. It was crazy to think one year ago that was me. How different my life was this time last year. Though some things were still the same. I was still a disappointment, if not a bigger one to my family. Especially with the company I now kept. And especially after Garrick’s very public show of affection towards me. The one upside to that was Dain now avoided me completely.

”Ready for your first duties as Squad Leader?” Garrick teases as we walk across the courtyard to the Parapet.

”That sounds so…. weird. Not sure who thought it was a good idea to give me Squad Leader.” I say with a grimace.

I had been so sure any leadership opportunities were off the cards for me due to my father overseeing Basgiath. But clearly he had no say on the matter. My name had been clearly marked as Xaden’s replacement for the year as he stood up to Wingleader.

”Same person who decided to make Bodhi an Executive Officer.” He points out.

Bodhi deserved it though. He had stood up massively in War Games. Xaden had split the Squad into attacking and defending and sadly had lost our squads executive officer in an attack. Bodhi had taken over instantly, defending our outpost with ease. He had more than earned his spot.

”Clearly whoever is making these choices needs to be evaluated. Somehow you got section leader.” I tease back.

”Ouch. Good to see you’re still as ruthless as before.”

One of the things that was vastly different to last year. Last year when I had crossed the parapet and given my name, Garrick had hated me for it. Wanted nothing to do with me. And I had wanted nothing to do with him. If I could tell my past self they’d be walking across the courtyard with his hand on their lower back and be in a relationship with him, they’d laugh at me.

“You knew what you were getting yourself into.” Bodhi adds as we get into ear shot.

“And you are relieved of your duties.” I say, cutting Garrick off as I walk up to Bodhi. “I’ll find you two later.”

Garrick goes to object, but Bodhi pushes his shoulder, ushering him back into the crowd of cadets. Ever since graduation Bodhi had been pushing Garrick’s buttons more than normal. The whole day after he’d been boasting about winning the bet against Imogen. He had bet we’d be together before the end of my first year. Which he’d technically won by just a few hours. But Garrick had also been doing it back to him, especially after he found out Bodhi had accompanied me to Chantara to get the new tattoo that adorned my right forearm. To be fair, Bodhi had no idea what I’d been planning to do. He was just along for the ride. And in my defence, Garrick had been out doing something with Xaden. So the only logical choice to take with me was Bodhi. Bodhi was convinced Garrick thought it was partly his idea with how he was acting, but honestly Garrick didn’t care I’d gotten the tattoo. He just enjoyed watching Bodhi squirm.

Cadet after cadet crosses the parapet. All of them ready to take on the Quadrant. Though most of them wouldn’t make it to the end. Even once you bond a dragon you aren’t guaranteed to stay alive. We’d lost a lot of second and even third years in War Games. Due to it Garrick had been moved to Flame Section for his Section Leader role along with many other moves within the Wing’s.

A cadet practically jumps off the parapet, turning around quickly as they draw a dagger. My eyes go wide as I take in the familiar brown and silver hair, styled into a braided crown. Holy shit. Violet Sorrengail. What the hell was she doing here? Dain is going to lose it when he realises she’s here. Seconds later a far larger cadet halts on the parapet as her dagger pushes into his breaches, dangerously close to his balls. Never thought I’d see the day where Violet would hold a guy three times her size at knife point.

”I think. I’ll be safe. For right. Now.” She gets out between ragged breaths.

”Will you?” The blonde haired cadet seethes as he looks down at her with piercing eyes. He was going to be an issue.

Violet starts reciting the codex with ease. Of course she would know that thing off by heart.

”I don’t give a shit!” He roars, stepping forward as Violet’s dagger slices into his breeches.

”Name?” The girl keeping roll asks, sounding completely unphased by the altercation happening in front of us. “You’re pretty small for a rider, but it looks like you made it.”

”Violet Sorrengail. And before you ask, yes, I’m that Sorrengail.” She says with slight irritation. Clearly she’d been asked that question multiple times before.

”Not surprised with that manoeuvre,” She says as she notes down her name. “And what’s your name?” Directing her question to the cadet Violet still holds at knife point.

”Jack. Barlow.” He growls out, his attention still fully on Violet.

”Well, Jack,” I start as I push off the wall, Violet turning her head towards me, her eyes going wide as she realises who I am. Her eyes trailing over my uniform and noting the patches on my jacket. “Cadet Sorrengail has you by the actual balls here, in more ways than one. She’s right. Regs state that there’s nothing but respect among riders at formation. You want to kill her, you’ll have to do it in the sparring ring or on your own time. That is, if she decides to let you off the parapet. Because technically, you’re not on the grounds yet, so you are not a cadet. She is.”

Jack turns his piercing blue eyes to me, his eyes flicking down to where my name is sewn onto my uniform. “And if I decide to snap her neck the second I step down?” He growls, the look in his eyes telling me he would definitely do it.

”Then you get to meet the dragons early,” The other girls answers, her tone bland. “We don’t wait for trials around here. We just execute.”

I take a step towards Violet, putting myself behind her right shoulder. “What’s it going to be, Sorrengail? You going to have Jack here start as a eunuch?”

No one else would notice it, but I see her falter. See her question what she’s actually doing. She was trained to be a scribe. Not a rider. I doubt she’d even picked up a blade till a few months ago. What the hell happened in the year Dain and I were gone?

”Are you going to follow the rules?” She asks Jack, tightening her grip on the dagger.

”Guess I don’t have a choice.” He sneers at her, before raising his hands in defeat.

She steps back, lowering her dagger to let him by. Jack steps down into the courtyard, making him an official cadet of the riders quadrant. “You’re dead, Sorrengail, and I’m going to be the one to kill you.”

”Not today.” She says with confidence, before he scoffs and walks off.

”Damn Sorrengail, not even a day in and already making enemies.” I tease, pulling her attention to me.

She just looks at me and nods meekly before turning and walking into the courtyard, heading towards the girl who had crossed before her. And as if magnetised to her, Dain starts walking right towards her. Oh this was going to be fun.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601 @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus @ohlookitsasinglepoeceofpopcorn

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the fourth wing #garrick tavis #fourth wing imagine #the empyrean #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing x reader #garrick tavis x oc #garrick tavis x dahlia aetos #dahlia aetos #black dahlia #violet sorrengail #bodhi durran #bodhi fourth wing #dain aetos

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ttrevelyan · 2 days ago

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/63465307

Rook broached the subject of her House one day at dinner, her own curiosity getting the better of her judgement. Teia, Viago, Lucanis and herself were gathered for their weekly dinner at the Dellamorte Estate. Rook had been living with Lucanis for almost a month. In that time, she had much to think about - but one question nagged at her. She hadn’t taken on any jobs since her initial contract on Solas, well over a year ago.

“Am I still a de Riva?” she said, using her fork to stab at her dinner. Lucanis and Viago both seemed to choke on their food, and a late warning sounded off in her mind. But it was too late to stop herself. The implications of her question had not been a consideration: she was only thinking of her work as a Crow. Was she meant to take contracts under House Dellamorte?

Lucanis pounded on his chest for a second, then stared at her. “Rook-” he coughed.

“It’s fine, actually,” she said quickly, embarrassed by their reactions. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I imagine you would be a de Riva until Lucanis marries you,” Teia said, seemingly pleased by the turn in conversation. She pushed her plate forward and leaned on the table, beaming at Lucanis. Rook vaguely remembered that they all have knives.

“Teia!” Viago snapped. Rook winced, realizing the mess she had started.

“It’s uncommon to change it before marriage,” Teia said, ignoring Viago’s angry sputtering. “But he is the First Talon. Switching Houses is not unheard of. Think of Jacobus.”

“I said nothing of marriage,” Rook muttered under her breath, regretting speaking at all. Her hand twitched at her side. A small fire at the table could end this.

“Rook is a de Riva,” Viago announced, perhaps unnecessarily, his voice rising. “Rook is a de Riva until I say otherwise, and that day-”

“So you’re saying you’d give her away at the wedding,” Teia interrupted, her grin stupidly large. The Seventh Talon leaned back in her chair. Viago choked again. “That’s very kind of you, Vi.”

Rook covered her face with her hands. “This was a bad idea,” she said, her voice muffled.

“I didn’t realize we were discussing marriage, Teia,” Lucanis said, and Rook was gratified that he sounded relatively calm. She, on the other hand, felt like her body was going to erupt into flames. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying to be anywhere else.

“You are lucky Caterina hasn’t started on you about babies,” Teia said, and at that, Rook dropped her hands and stared at the other woman, betrayed.

“Teia!” Lucanis cried out. “Enough!” There goes him being calm, Rook thought absently.

Rook wondered if she had ever blushed so much in her entire life. She certainly couldn’t remember another incident where she felt so mortified - and this was an incident of her own doing. She wished, rather desperately, that she could crawl underneath the table, or that the whole room would just go dark. I could use magic to put out all the candles?

Teia held her hands up in the air, a mockery of a surrender. “A blind man could see that these two are going to get married,” she said. “It’s a matter of when, not if, she becomes a Dellamorte.”

After that, there was no way to wrestle control of the situation. Viago was standing, chest puffed, spouting at all of them about the work it took to make Rook a de Riva, let alone the headaches she had caused him. He rattled off the various incidents - almost a lifetime of them - wherein she had made his life difficult. Lucanis seemed aghast at Viago’s outburst, listening with a horrified look on his face. Teia was laughing so hard that Rook was sure she was going to pass out.

Rook stared down at her plate and did her best impression of a statue. Viago’s tirade was sure to end soon - she had, after all, done some good things in her time as a de Riva. And of course she wanted to marry Lucanis. That went without saying. But she had been very, very careful about not showing any indication of that to him. Rumours could spiral; Crows loved to talk. She has heard what they say about her - the things they insinuated, the way they spoke about her relationship with Lucanis.

Crows wished for complicated intentions: for drama. She remembered what her fellow fledglings used to say about Teia and Viago; about Teia and Dante. The Crows, though famous for their work, operated a spinning wheel of rumours and gossip throughout Antiva.

Lucanis stood, and walked behind her chair, smiling down at her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. Her anxiety melted away at his touch, as it always did.

“I would like it to be clear,” Lucanis said, composed again, “that I would marry Rook tomorrow.” Rook’s cheeks flared. “But she is still a de Riva.”

“Not for long,” Viago grumbled. Rook wanted to strangle him. “Teia is trying to strong-arm you into a proposal.” Viago crossed his arms and stared at Teia. “Not very subtly.”

Teia, the woman of the hour, only shrugged. “I’m sure he’s already bought a ring. I bet you it’s in his pockets, right now.”

Right - under the table I go. Rook sunk deeper into her chair and groaned when Lucanis’ grip on her shoulder stopped her from ducking her head below the table. “Rook,” he said, still laughing. “Relax. I am not going to propose to you in front of Teia and Viago.”

“I wish I believed you,” she muttered. “I really do."

Viago and Teia stood at Teia’s insistence, her arm tugging at Viago’s until he groaned and got up from his seat. “A lovely dinner,” Teia said, “as always, Lucanis.” Viago just nodded his head. Teia pushed him forward; Rook could almost see the smoke coming from Viago’s ears. She cringed as they walked out the door - she was going to get an earful from Viago when she saw him next.

Lucanis let loose a long, large breath. The tension in her body melted as he slowly massaged her shoulders; she leaned into his touch.

“That was a lot,” Rook said, sighing.

Lucanis murmured a low agreement. “Let’s go to bed,” he urged, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Rook groaned, but stood. She followed him back to their room, stomach churning as her mind worked through the dinner. Viago had been livid; Teia had said some things she didn't know how to think about. He noticed how quiet she was, but he didn't press her.

She stayed quiet as they slowly readied themselves for bed. He kissed both of her eyelids when her face was washed; he helped braid her hair in silence. It wasn't until she was in his arms, in their bed, her leg thrown over his own, that she finally said, “I would like to marry you.”

She was rewarded with a delighted, hungry kiss. He kissed her like their first night; he kissed her like he was drowning and she was air. The weight of his love felt undeserved; it was too much for her. She said as much, letting her insecurities tumble out of her mouth.

He was outraged - not at her, but himself - that she would ever doubt her place at his side. He spent the rest of the night murmuring sweet nothings, his voice thick and heavy with veneration. He promised her the rest of his life - Rook responded that he would never be able to get rid of her, not now, not ever.

It turned quickly into frantic and desperate hands on skin - Rook straddling him, Lucanis guiding her with his hands on her hips - and ended with silent, reverent cries; a kiss on her neck; her hands tangled in his hair.

Lucanis whispered, right before she fell asleep, “I meant what I said. I would marry you tomorrow.”

Rook barely managed to reply, her eyes closed, bliss morphing rapidly into sleep. “Then let's get married tomorrow,” she murmured, and promptly fell asleep.

#HEHEHE ONESHOT!!!!! ONE SHOT #rookanis #rook x lucanis #lucanis dellamorte #rook de riva #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age #datv #dragon age: the veilguard #had this puttering around so sharing it <33333 #i wuv them #ttrevelyan writes

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bellesdreamyprofile · 3 days ago

Text

Jealousy Rings - Major Gale Cleven

summary: not everyone at Thorpe Abbotts knew you were taken and one of them was Major Rosenthal ; 2k words

Planes crashed, planes disappeared, planes returned. That was everything you knew - they wouldn’t tell nurses more than that - not that you necessarily needed additional information to seeing injured pilots, anyways.

But you always felt a sense of relief when you were told that some pilots managed to jump off a burning plane or that despite mechanical issues they were all able to return to base safe and sound.

“This is going to sting, Major.”, you warned Rosie as you started disinfecting one of his wounds. The pilot didn’t wince, the disinfectant doing its job within seconds. It was the second time you had encountered Major Rosenthal in the sickbay - fortunately only to take care of his wounds and nothing too concerning.

You felt his heavy gaze on you, those blue eyes burning holes on your skin. Having Major Rosenthal in the sickbay was seen as a treat for all the nurses who worked there - you noticed the withheld giggles and the exchange of looks. His presence didn’t distract you too much, after all you were there to do your job. And your job was to help others.

“Alright, you’re all set.”, you pulled away and looked at the bandage. “I would leave it there for today. Please come by tomorrow so I can take a look at the wound again.”, the words left your lips swiftly. Major Rosenthal nodded and cleared his throat, before he stood up from the bed.

“Thank you.”, he said, his eyes meeting yours. You smiled, not hearing a lot of gratitude these days. “I, uh… Are you going to the party for the 25th tonight?”, his tone didn’t waver despite his hesitation at the beginning. Silence followed after his question and you swore you could hear a pin drop. You looked around and noticed that even the other nurses were expecting your response.

“Uhm…”, you hesitatingly locked eyes with him. “Yeah, I think so.”, a nod was all you could muster.

Rosie smiled, the sigh of relief unseen by you. “Good, good.”, he nodded, smiling. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”, after his final words, he left the sickbay and in an instant, all nurses gathered around you.

“Oh my god, Y/N!”, one of them exclaimed. “You broke up with Cleven?”, you frowned at her question and immediately shook your head.

“No, of course not. Why would you say that?”, you looked at her questioningly. The nurses exchanged a look and scoffed.

“You said yes to going to the party with Rosenthal.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “No, no, he just asked if I was going to be there. I’m going with Buck tonight.”, you explained and suddenly felt embarrassment flooding over you. He meant it in a friendly way, right?

“Ah, one of the men is going to be toast.”, Julia said and Greta found herself agreeing with her. Your lips parted and before you could say anything, another chipped in.

“My money is on Cleven punching Rosie.”, more nurses agreed and you simply stood there, petrified. You knew your Buck would never lay a hand on anybody, because you wouldn’t be seen with anyone other than him in the first place - the whole debate was absolutely nuts.

You didn’t want to encourage them anymore, so you wordlessly left the sickbay and walked down the corridor, trying to forget about it all.

“Bucky.”, Buck greeted his friend and sat down. “Have you seen Y/N?”, his friend shook his head and took a sip of his drink.

“I thought you’d pick her up.”, he raised an eyebrow and Buck sighed, shaking his head.

“I thought so too, but she said she was gonna come here with her friends.”, at Buck’s words, Bucky straightened up in his seat.

“Is Julie coming as well?”, he asked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Another sigh left the Major. “That’s the thing. I don’t know.”, Buck wasn’t all too worried, but he hadn’t seen you all day. With him handling some documents and preparations all day and you at the sickbay, your paths had yet to cross today.

Maybe tonight was the night he’d gather his courage and pop the question. There was serenity lingering in the air as one of the pilots was going to celebrate the infamous milestone of the 25th. He wanted to share that experience with you, let you absorb all the positivity of the party and then take you out.

But it seemed like someone else already had plans for you.

“Gale.”, at the sound of his actual name, Buck’s eyes darted on Bucky´s, immediately noticing the serious look on his friend. “Six o’clock.”

Buck turned around and noticed you by the bar - you weren’t alone though.

“I’m going to kill him.”, his face was stoic, but the emotion in his words told another story.

Bucky clicked his tongue, also keeping his eyes on you and the flirty Major. “Teach him a lesson, but don’t kill him, though. He’s a good pilot.”, Gale turned around to face his friend, his face void of emotion. “What?”

Buck abruptly pushed his chair back and stood up swiftly. Major John Egan leaned back in his chair, eager to see the situation unfold before him. His eyes darted on your figure, your expression visibly uncomfortable at the attention Major Rosenthal was giving you. Bucky knew he was a good man, but he was flirting with the wrong woman.

Your eyes softened at the sight of Buck approaching you, but Rosie still kept talking about one of his missions.

“Major.”, your Buck said and Rosenthal turned around, almost startled by the firmness in the man’s voice. “I hope you’re not bothering my wife, Major.”

Just like in the sickbay, everybody seemed to be listening to your conversation. You had a feeling your heart stopped at the way he referred to you. Your cheeks started staining red, the same shade as your lipstick.

Major Rosenthal´s eyes widened at his words, his gaze darting between you and Buck, who instinctively inched closer to you. His arm curled around your waist as he waited on the pilot’s response.

“I, uhm, I am so sorry Major. I had no idea.”, the brunette stammered, his eyes disappearing from the both of you. He looked down for a moment and then raised his gaze again, your eyes locking.

You felt unspoken words locked up in your throat, but you couldn’t say anything. “I’m very sorry Mrs Cleven.”, Rosie apologized and then looked over to Buck. “It won’t happen again, Major. Have a good evening.”, his blue eyes lowered once more and then he left, leaving the 25th mission celebrations.

All the eyes that were locked on the scene moved away and that was when you could finally breathe out.

“You okay?”, Buck’s caring tone brought you back to reality. You wordlessly nodded, but having known you for a long time, he knew exactly what to do. Gale found your hand with ease and pulled you away from the crowd and music, until you found yourselves outside in the fresh air.

You found a quiet place and sat down, your eyes low as you still couldn’t wrap your head around what had just happened. Discomfort still lingered in the air.

“Has he been bothering you for a long time?”, the Major’s voice and tone drastically changed now that he was with you. There was no firmness, no jealousy and no confrontation. Just his soft, loving side bared before you.

You found yourself shaking your head. “No, he’s just been at the sickbay and I looked at his wounds.”, you explained, still feeling uneasy.

Buck’s eyes didn’t leave your face, waiting for more.

A sigh left your lips. “He did ask me if I was gonna go tonight and I said yes.”, Gale hummed, the ring box feeling heavy in his pocket. He couldn’t do it tonight - that wouldn’t be their story, no.

“I´m sorry.”, your voice made him snap out of his thoughts. His expression turned confused to your apologies. “I probably led him on—“

Gale cut you off immediately, his hands finding yours in comfort. “No, no, darling. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just doing your job, weren’t you?”, his finger grazed your cheek in a loving way, his blue eyes finding yours with ease.

But you suddenly remembered something. “Buck… Earlier, you called me your wife.”, the familiar blush was back on your cheeks, but fortunately he couldn’t tell due to the darkness outside. Now it was Gale’s turn to feel a little warm in his face, the actions from earlier biting back at him.

“I did?”, you nodded quickly at his unfazed tone.

“Major Rosenthal called me Mrs Cleven and all…”, and there was that shyness in your tone again, almost overwhelming you. His lips formed a small grin, his eyes darting at your joined hands.

“Yeah, he did, that Major…”, he trailed off, brushing your finger. You glanced at his pocket and bit your lip, not knowing whether or not you should tell him that you knew.

“I wouldn’t mind being Mrs Cleven.”, his heart skipped a beat at your impulsive words. “I just need a ring or people won’t know I’m taken.”

Gale´s eyes widened, his heart in his throat. At the moment of weakness, your eyes wandered on his face, taking in his clenched jaw and his stormy eyes. A gentle smile made its way on your face, absolutely in awe of this man and his soft side.

“How’d you know?”, he scratched the back of his neck, his gaze hesitating to meet yours. Your smile turned into a teasing one as your hand reached out to pat the pocket in his jacket. The Major’s cheeks seemed to be permanently stained by a soft, cherry blush as you felt the box under your touch.

“I can pretend I don’t know. That way you can proceed with your plan.”, your hand slid to his as you gave it a comforting squeeze. You knew that Gale had an elaborate strategy to anything in life, so your proposal wasn’t going to be counted out of it.

A sigh fell from his lips. “I wanted to take you to the party and then I would’ve danced with you and—“

You looked at him dreamily, for your Buck never danced.

“—then I would’ve taken you outside, muster up the courage— first tell you how pretty you look under the moonlight, of course.”

“Of course.”, you repeated, catching the glimpse of his beautiful smile.

He fiddled with his pocket and pulled out the box, a small gasp escaping your lips at the sight of the pretty ring. “Then I would’ve said, Y/N you’re the most incredible woman I´ve ever met and you’re the reason I wanna come home every time I’m in the air. I love you and I hope you can give me the honor of being your husband.”, he concluded and then slowly found your eyes.

“Ideally, you would say—“

“YES!”, you jumped on him with a squeal, Gale laughed and kissed your temple.

You pulled back and felt tears brimming in your eyes, making you look up.

“Aw, baby.”, he cooed, his finger brushing a tear away. “C´mere, let me slide this ring on your finger.”, you nodded, still unable to speak due to the overwhelming emotion.

Comfortable silence engulfed you for a moment, his hand found your chin and tilted it up, placing his soft lips on yours. It was a magical moment, even if it had started in a slightly tragic way.

“My honey.”, he murmured softly against your lips. “I mean it. You’re the reason I come home, baby.”, your heart burst right then and there. Your eyes slowly drifted to his and the sight amazed you — you could only find love and adoration there. You were truly at loss of words. But something he had mentioned earlier gnawed at you.

“Gale.”, your voice almost as sweet as honey with those tears still running down your cheeks. He hummed, his eyes couldn’t tear away from you. “Can you still dance with me?”

The Major chuckled, but he nodded nonetheless. He stood up and offered you his hand with a smile. Without giving it a second thought, you grabbed his hand and stood up, immediately engulfed by his strong frame.

You swayed in the dark, your ears to his beating heart — that being the soundtrack of the night. The ring glistened under the moonlight, almost outshining your eyes.

“I love you.”, he murmured against your hair, an automatic smile finding its way on your face. You instantly looked up and placed a kiss on his lips.

“I love you, Major Cleven.”

A/N: I´m so in love with Buck - also writing this because Mr Austin Butler has gone into hiding 😩🥺🤍

MASTERLIST buck cleven masterlist

austin 2025 digital calendar 🎀 austin phone case💋

#fanfiction #imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler #buck x reader #buck cleven x reader #major cleven x reader #mastersoftheair #mota #gale cleven x reader

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ssentimentals · 18 hours ago

Note

Hiii!! It is been a long time since i got here 🤧, I hope you are doing good. I saw the new request prompts and the number 47. Sickfic/caretaking has attracted my attention, so I was going to ask you if you could write a woozi x reader who has bad migraines and maybe it is mixed this time with back pain.

You can change it if it is too specific or do not do it if you don't feel like it!!

hiii angel, you should come here more often 💜 i am good, hope you're well too! i definitely can, thank you for requesting!

prompt: sickfic/caretaking

woozi could see it. you tried your best to hide it and he gotta give it to you - it took him few days to catch up. he hates how you go all out to help and support others, but don't let others do the same for you, always ignoring your problems because they are not 'big enough'. he knows that probability of you admitting you're in pain is as low as snow during summer, but he still tries: 'how are you feeling, babe?'

you look up from your laptop, your face illluminated by blue screen. you were grimacing few seconds earlier but now you're trying to smile at him: 'all good, just a bit tired.'

your lie falls flat. woozi is always careful, always tries not to voerstep and make you start lecturing him on whole 'i am independent and strong woman, i can take care of myself' thing but his patience snaps. without saying anything he comes closer and points at your laptop: 'save your work. save your work and close your laptop.'

you blink at him. 'what-'

'do it yourself before i take that laptop away and just turn it off without saving shit,' he bites, not caring that his tone is off. 'you work can wait, we need to stop your migraine first.' at this your eyes widen and woozi quirks an eyebrow at you: 'you hid those pills well, baby, but not well enough.'

you have nothing to say. those migraines started few days ago and yesterday they got so bad that your eyes dtarted watering against your will. add back pain on top of that and you turned into a one big exposed nerve and you knew that your boyfriend saw right through you and your attempts to hide it. lie that you're fine is on your tongue but you swallow it, following woozi to the bedroom. you don't like admitting but it feels nice to be taken care of, to have someone else fret over you. woozi is not very expressive, but you can feel all of his feelings even when he doesn't say much. right now you know that he's worried and annoyed at your for not saying anything, for example.

'we can try cold and hot packs on your neck, which one do you prefer?' he asks in a business tone. when you get under the covers, his hands instantly smooth the blanket and he fluffs the other pillow, making sure you're comfortable. 'i'll turn off the light, do you want lavender oil? i'm not giving you another pill, i'm sure you've taken plenty already.'

'cold pack,' you answer, grimacing when back echoes in pain once you fully lie down. 'and no oil for now, i think.'

woozi nods and quickly gets to work. in few minutes you have cold pack pressed to your neck, light turned off and window open. he places cup with a herbal tea nearby and gingerly lies down. woozi is not used to seeing you like this - his usually strong girl never looks this fragile. it pains and angers him; he reaches out to take your hand in his. 'never hide this from me,' he asks quietly with a slight tremor in his voice. 'i don't want you to suffer alone. i'm always here to help you.'

'it's just a migraine,' you whisper and a sudden pain that shoots from your neck straight to your head makes you gasp. 'oh god.'

'nothing is 'just' when it comes to you,' he mutters and leans closer, worried. 'is cold pack not helping? if it's very bad-'

'give it time,' you interrupt. 'ten minutes or so. we can change it to hot pack if this one won't work.' you open your eyes, squinting at him. 'i am sorry for not telling you sooner. i thought it'd go away. didn't want to bother you.'

'you never bother me,' he instantly says, scowling. 'stop thinking that. nothing about you is ever a bother. let me take care of you.'

you sigh and close your eyes. a bit later you feel cold lips pressed on your forehead. woozi kisses your forehead, tip of your nose, both of your cheeks. you smile and lips press on yours in a light kiss. 'try to sleep,' woozi whispers. 'i will change packs. rest, baby.'

'i love you,' you whisper back without opening your eyes. cold pack helps with the tension, easing the pain. 'thank you.'

'i love you more, my strong girl.' woozi kisses your forehead once more. 'now rest. i'll be right here when you wake up.'

putting his phone on 'do not disturb' woozi lies down next to you and carefully wraps one arm around you. he'll be right here for you even if you can't ask that out loud. he'll still be here.

a/n: hopefully you liked it!! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

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sunsbaby · 2 days ago

Text

❝ de. i think i'm stuck... ❞

❝ sam will you help me! gosh... ❞

⋆ dean w. & sam w. x photographer .ᐟ reader

ever since you began hunting with the boys, their life went in a new direction. they found themselves appreciating the little things a bit more—such as taking photos, just on their phones and not a huge camera. sam had taken more of an interest than dean, following you around and secretly 'learning' from you. dean, however, he didn't care for it, but somehow he always took the best photos. albeit some are rather embarrassing, like you with pie all over your face, but they were fond memories and a way for him to relive the moment again.

"biride, hurry up. we don't have all day." dean groaned, his head falling back as he dramatically rolled his eyes.

sam stood on the side-lines, too busy in whatever lore he was reading to focus on the important matter at hand—important in your words. there was a beautiful bird high up in a tree, one that you had to climb in order to get close enough; that's how you ended up perched on a branch, camera held tightly in your grasp as you shot a look down towards dean.

"de, do not distract me or so help me god i will break this camera on your head!" you threatened in a hushed whisper as to not scare away the creature in front of you. "and you will buy me a new one."

"yea right, birdie. you won't do anything, and i'm not buying you anything." dean teased, sam let out a sigh—he gave dean 'the look.'

somehow sam thought this was the perfect moment to take a picture of, their birdie trying to take a photo of a bird. he let out a chuckle as his finger pressed the button on his phone, a snapping sound echoed through the trees when you both clicked a button at the same time. the bird flew away, but you were successful. celebrating your victory with a little dance—to which dean face-palmed at.

when you attempted to get down, you realized something was off. you quite literally could not climb down. your lips pursed and you tried to come up with a plan inside your head—which was filled with song lyrics and what else you could take a picture of. not helpful, so you resorted to your only other option. sam and dean!

"de. i think i'm stuck..." your voice was almost quiet, which dean took as an opening to tease you.

"huh? what was that birdie? i can't hear your chirping from down here." he said, that dumb grin etched onto his face—a face you couldn't wait to smack.

"sam, will you help me!" you almost yelled as a pout formed on your glossy lips—no dry lips around here! "gosh..."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

after that stressful part of the day, you settled into the backseat of baby while the boys sat in the front. people might think that you're being forced to sit in the back—no, it's actually the opposite. who wants to sit between two men, especially ones who spread their legs like they're the only ones sitting there. at least in the back you can lay down, and not think about the sexual activities that have gone down. it makes for a great way to take pictures of them with out their knowledge.

"can we stop at a gas station, i want snacks." you asked as you poked your head into the front, turning up the music in the process.

"i could go for some too." sam joked, his eyes focusing in on yours.

a soft smile played at his lips—he couldn't imagine life without you. you'd just walst into it and changed them for the better. no matter how far you went, your wings always brought you back.

"i guess, birdie..." dean grumbled, he knew good and well that he couldn't say no to you. neither could sam. "shut up, bitch." dean joked with sam, a genuine smile forming on deans stubbled face.

"jerk."

the sun faded in the background as you sang out into the sky, the wind tangling in your hair. another day spent with your boys and memories made. that was what a good day is to you.

sunny yaps! HIII EVERYONEE! 👯‍♀️ photographer!readers first little story/drabble! i hope you guys like her and pls share your thoughts and opinions! I LOVE HEARING THEM!

special tags! @bluemerakis @figthoughts @dulcescorderitas @sunsettsam @h8aaz @deansbeer

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

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lostinlovingrevery · 2 days ago

Note

Logan idea: him being married and starting a family with his wife 😍

OMG UGH The way I'm so in love with that man

I actually have two fics related to this in my drafts! One is reading finding out she's pregnant, the other is just a peak into family life with reader and logan. it's gonna be teeth rotting fluff. I hope you'll enjoy them <3

implications of sex below the cut, also pregnancy mentions!

Marriage with Logan:

I mean not to be cheesy but...

it's bliss

you all saw him in origins with kayla (gag)

that man is a total lover boy

hes on his knees for you

he will do anything for you

He didn't think he'd get to do something like this. to experience the whole joy of getting engaged, planning a wedding, getting married

just finding his other half....He considers himself the luckiest man in the world

He takes on the role of a hubby proudly

He'll laugh and pretend the wifey and hubby mugs you got him were cliche but he uses the hubby mug every single day proudly and ignores any comments regarding it

He'll proudly introduce you as his wife (or hubby, or partner, whichever term you prefer!)

everyone sees how so in love you both are

holding hands, your arms around each other

he'll admire the ring he put on your finger all the time.

"this is a nice look for you baby"

if you going through with having a wedding wedding, logan is going to be so damn nervous

he fights all sorts of bad guys. standing in front of family and friends, being vulnerable? thats a different kind of fight

but he finds when he sees you, all prettied up walking down that aisle

well, maybe this isn't so bad

but if you end up having a something small and simple, hes just as happy

either way, he's grinning ear to ear by your side. no ones seen the wolverine happier than when he married you

theres a comfort that settles between you both after marriage. a trust that the other is going to be there. you don't have to worry about a thing with him.

If you're getting or already have your own place, your engagement/marriage kicks off nesting in him. Hes' gotta make sure that his baby is taken care of...

Speaking of babies...

Starting a family!

Oh boy

or girl?

However the conception happens, planned or accident

logan will be thrilled (after he gets over the nerves)

he'll be so supportive to you. he may take a moment and go vomit out in the bins outside but he's happy, truly

hes so supportive

i mean i talked about pregnancy headcanons before but imma go into it again

he hates seeing his love in pain, suffering, etc etc. will hold your hand the entire way.

Hold your hair back during those morning sickness events uggh

will make you tea, slice apples, whatever the hell helps you

will rub your back, feet, shoulders. whatever

he thinks your mood swings are adorable (he won't say that to your face though. he knows you'll just tear him apart)

very handsy. can't help it. you looked good pregnant w his kid

every doctor appointment. hes there.

hes strong for you, god knows you're doing the heavy lifting but he's definitely going to be anxious. worried about every little groan and huff you let out. worried about labor. your safety. the babys safety.

hes so happy to be here but he's also terrified of losing it

yes, if you wake him up at 2 in the morning, he'll go get you those weird things you're craving. he'll do it happily. no you're not bothering him.

loves when you get a burst of hormones and become feral over him. he literally wants to bang you all the time but you're pregnant and not in the mood usually

you give him small kisses at first that end up getting intense and becoming more bc you're both just so happy and your hormones is making everything so intense and he's the only thing you want and need

anyhoo...

When you're big, big, like 8-9 months. He's all over you. You could bite his head off over his clingyness but the most he's gonna do is sit across the room with his tail between his legs

his instinct screams to stay close and to protect. he's not going anywhere

designing the babies room together

SHOPPING

bad bad wolverine is holding up lil jammies with sheep on it. "This is cute" he mumbles.

you can't even bring yourself to tease him over it because he's so damn cute like this. also hes' right. those are cute jammies. put em in the cart

Logan really doesn't care about the babys sex. he's just happy to even.. have all of this. and with you.

he'd be a great boy or girl dad honestly.

they're both gonna have him wrapped around their finger

you buy a plush wolverine animal for the babys crib and logan gets emotional over it

"yknow sweetheart these things are pretty mean in real life." he says as he holds back tears. "don't know if we should..."

he's gonna go into slight shock when they baby comes. like. woah, this is happening? really? actually happening?

Of course when you start reacting to your contractions, hubby mode is going to kick in. He's all over you, talking you through everything as you go the hospital

hes scared, terrified, but hes not gonna worry about himself when you need him more than ever

WILL cry when he meets yalls baby for the first time.

Going to feel like he'd been waiting his whole life to meet them.

He's going to be an amazing dad. hes got all sorts of life experience to share with them

your kid(s) will adore their dad (and you!)

they may have their teenage phase where everyone annoys them

but Logan having memories of how his family/parents were broken apart. he doesn't want that to happen

no ones a perfect person/partner/parent. logan tries pretty damn hard

movie nights

waking up to the kids running into yalls bed

him literally trying to steal ONE private moment with you, but your child is in a "i only want this parent phase!" for one of you and won't leave you alone.

your kid(s) gagging whenever you kiss or get affectionate. it happens often.

"mom and dad are really gross"

Im gonna add adoption in here too

he's gonna be really nervous because he doesn't want to scare whoever you adopt with his mutation, and just his general self. hes big and scary.

but you meet the child you two are meant to raise and he's in love

he adores the kid just as if it was his biological because to him it doesn't matter

thats you and hims child and he's going to do his damn best to take care of you and any child you may raise together

I just love him and I want me and him to build a lil life together on a farm or a cabin and have little ones that look like him running around and just *sobs*

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #vans daydreams #van rambles #sidkneeeee #pregnancy

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urrmomzfavorite · 5 hours ago

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PAC: HOW POSSESSIVE/JEALOUS IS YOUR PERSON?

PILE ONE

This person is really sure of themselves, attractive, and knows how to contain themselves. But when it comes to you? Baby, this is another person. I'm hearing about a situation happening on your honeymoon? They do not play.I see them being really protective of you. They feel like you trust strangers too easily and offer a helping hand without thinking. This sense of community is honorable, but it tends to burn *you*, Pile One, and your person notices this. They want you to put a lot of your responsibilities on them—take the weight off your shoulders. (They have nice shoulders, btw.)

They have a good nose for smelling bullshit. This person could work in finance or have well-placed investments? Bro, I don’t know anything about this type of stuff. Guys, also, this is your FS. You could be different ethnicities, countries, cultures. You’ll spend your honeymoon in their country; they have a home there. They get mad when someone tries to sell you something overpriced 😂 They like to stand by your side. Not gonna lie, you’re arm candy—you have this glow that draws people in. They feel proud standing next to you. They *love* when people say you’re a beautiful couple. They’re tall; I’ve been getting huge vibes of a tall man obsessed with hiking in my readings lately. They love staying active—and hey, it never hurts to have good stamina 👀

They’re thirsty for you. This person wants to show you how strong they are. Some of you wonder about them lifting and pinning you against the wall. It’s more than possible 😏

So Pile One: They aren’t jealous or possessive, but you’re really important to them. They don’t want your kindness taken advantage of.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

PILE TWO

**YESSSS**. Just thinking about it makes them sick. This is the type of person who gets low-key mad when you talk about your kindergarten crush. They’re competitive—they need to be the *only* one in your eyes. And they’ll make sure they are, crushing the competition to pieces.

Pile Two, you’re a rare commodity, and they know it. This person is obsessed with you. I know you like it, but listen: You’ll get annoyed by this energy eventually. They’re controlling. Might tell you not to wear certain outfits. This person gets insecure…

The way they see it? They wouldn’t hesitate a second to steal you if you were someone else’s. That’s why they’re paranoid—they know for some people, “I have a bf/gf” means *nyet*. So they need to make sure you’re all theirs. They’d rather spend time alone with you just to guarantee your full attention. You make them feel so mellow.

Pile Two, I’m gonna be honest: Obsession can be flattering, but there’s a healthy limit. When insecurity infringes on your freedom, speak up. They can either step up and change their behavior, or someone else will happily do it.

If this gets too much, talk to them. They love you enough to work on this—it’s a win-win. A relationship needs both people to feel secure. But yes, they’re obsessive, jealous, and controlling. Still, they don’t have ill intentions. The only alarming thing is how far they’ll go to keep your heart theirs.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

PILE THREE

This person wants me to preface by saying they’re logical and understand the stakes… *but* (there’s always a *but*):

IT’S FUCKING DISRESPECTFUL WHEN THEY’RE RIGHT THERE!

They’ll mean-mug, tell them to fuck off, scare off, or fight anyone disrespecting you, them, or your relationship. They’ll start *all* the wars for you, Pile Three. They aren’t scared of a challenge.

If they can handle you, they can handle anything 😅

This person does boxing or martial arts—they can actually fight. They’ve got Aries energy; they’ll keep you up all night.

OMG, after losing their shit at whoever talked to you that day, it’s *your* turn, Pile Three. Your turn to be reminded who you belong to (and where—which is on their… *yup!*). They can’t wait for an intimate moment to hear you moan their name, tell them you’re theirs, and get wet/hard under their touch. Then, and only then, the rage they couldn’t release by punching the latest guy fades. When they’re on top of you, and you’re begging to feel them inside, there’s one thing they need first: **hearing that you’re theirs**.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

#tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarotblr #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #astrology #spiritual journey #18+ tarot #divination #masterlist #daily tarot #tarot readings #tarot reader #tarot witch #tarot wisdom

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superbat-lmao · 2 days ago

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How fucking funny would it be if Damian was one of Dr. House’s fellows.

Like, there’s Chase, Cameron, Foreman, and also Damian.

I think House would have immediately taken Damian, he’s smart, quick, good in a crisis, and also rude. Kid’s got a chip on his shoulder that House would have fun picking at and needling.

If this is the House Universe, look, the early 2000s was rife with a lot of jokes that were not acceptable. The specific brand of unacceptable House would go with would be the same kind of racism he leveled at Foreman. But oddly, also the same type of criticism he leveled at Cameron for caring, because the kid never wants to operate on animals and is staunchly against animal testing. He’s also got a complicated relationship with his family, who I think would constantly drop by to see him, get hurt and need medical attention, or could even serve as one of their cases, so he covers some of Chase’s narrative too because of family complications. Also both Damian and House are well traveled from missions and being moved around respectively.

I think Wilson and Dick would somehow meet and trade tips and tricks over expressing emotions in healthy ways, it’s okay to be vulnerable/empathetic, that kind of thing.

I think House would take one look at Bruce and decide even if it’s Daddy’s money, if it’s getting him away from whatever other plans the guy has for him, it’s enough. Either he’s an absolute airhead or House actually catches the guy during his stoic/silent routine. I also think Bruce is the type of overprotective that would buy the hospital (if he doesn’t already own it) and instead of acting like Vogler, wouldn’t care if House didn’t comply with a lot of standards/policies. Or if he figured out the guy was an addict like Tritter/before Tritter, Bruce would sit his ass down and have a talk* about House’s options.

I think it would be difficult to fully capture the feel of House M.D. without the problematic parts of the show, but that Damian would oddly fit right into the chaos.

*More like loose threats about things House is going to pick from that involve him getting clean in some capacity and almost any caveats House would agree to because this is all for Damian and Bruce would do anything for his kids.

(Even if it is letting their new mentor have in-home rehab that’s run by a different doctor whose specialty is cancer and a couple of hookers Jason knows from Crime Alley.)

#batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #batfam #nightwing #batfamily #house md #let damian be a doctor please please please #don’t force him back into the role of vigilante #let him actually train with leslie or something in canon #but not it canon? fuck it ‘sic him on house and make them each others problems #i feel like tim should be their case because he doesn’t have a spleen #wilson and dick would tag team annoy the shit out of house and damian though #look ik house md tried to show you could care about people’s problems in a non-pc way but i dont want to watch an hour of damian being #called names/slurs that i’m not writing here. we know what would be said it’s not creative

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splinterofpandora · 7 hours ago

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Batman is dead.

I know it sounds vulgar.

Oh, you didn't like one comic book and now the character doesn't exist for you. Come on, we go through this every day! Stop clowning, you're not Joker!

But they actually did it in 2023. A year later, I realized exactly what happened. And I think I know how to change it. Hold on, because I'm going to tell you who Bruce Wayne was, and why death was good for him.

Chapter one. This is where the story begins.

Ok, we all know that. The alley. The boy next to his parents' bodies. No one hears his tears. A promise by the bedside. The training. Criminals are a superstitious cowardly lot. The Bat.

We rarely talk about Thomas and Martha because it was never their story. It was the story of a boy who found the meaning of life...no, at this stage, of existence...in fighting Evil. It was 1940s. The early years of The Dark Knight, in terms of plot, emphasized the common person's ability to overcome challenges and help those who cannot defend themselves. At first, the reader saw a “cool and intimidating” costume. The vigilante in action.

However, diving into the text we find that this Frightening Guardian is very...soft. He stays and tends to the victims of crime. Doesn't let people get discouraged. He is feared by criminals. He doesn't mind much that the police can do it either. But he's not an enemy of the society.

Later, Robin shows up. Alfred. Batwoman. Batgirl. The League...

But Batman remains their friend too. And so does Bruce Wayne, who...started life in the 1950s.

Chapter Two. Creating Identity.

Until about the early 70's(I'm using decades for simplicity, the actual timeline is a bit different) Batman's adventures explored the big issues people care about - corruption, war, crime. The wrapping of this was removed from reality. Took the form of evil clowns, spies in funny costumes, even aliens. Comics didn't want to pour complex things over our heads in their purest form.

But the important thoughts, the problems themselves and their possible solutions, along with the dreams of Mankind (flying cars, new discoveries in medicine, exploring the world), have always been the theme of the issue. For this reason, most of the dialog was directed at external things. The characters showed themselves through their actions.

We saw that Bruce can truly doubt, worry, and do crazy things. But he always cares about his young partner and wants to give him the best of what he himself has. Often in his interactions with Dick, Wayne shows pride in his son, his support. Many times he even risked Batman's life to save Grayson. And yes, the idea of separating man and suit, outside of formalities, didn't exist back then.

The idea of a billionaire wasn't a big deal yet, and 99% of the problems were solved by the masked vigilante, while the rich guy was a good cover for gathering information, which he did in the first issues.

Comics and media(audio, animated series, books) that recall this period especially emphasize the moment of complete father-son trust. As the point of supreme discovery of Bruce Wayne's mind. He wants to see a world where people are friends with each other. Openness. Sincerity. Idealism without drifting into absurdity. This is the Bruce Wayne of DC's first 30 years.

Chapter Three. Flowers are better than batarangs.

It's ironic, but with the visual darkness (relative to earlier works), 1970's Knight was the perfect middle ground between Bruce and Batman. The conflict of concepts was not yet seen from the angle of falling into darkness, but made many, not always consciously, afraid of their own protector.

My words should not be taken too literally. Gotham loved him. He openly cooperated with the police. Easily walked through the door of people's homes if invited. However, he could also be tough on crime and move like a shadow. That was troubling. But Batman doesn't cross the line. He's too kind. Everyone knows that.

Bruce is finally the man we know. Playful and frivolous, but the rich who loves beneficial initiatives for the city and its residents by day. And caped crusader by night.

He adores his children, starts many foundations and even a detective agency to help those in need and make police work easier. At the same time, Bruce's personal life is also going well. The authors are constantly looking for the man to be the love of his life, and the idea of retirement with the possibility of helping the world in some other way, without the cape, is increasingly glimpsed in stories about a possible future.

Unfortunately, the picture limit does not allow the narrator to continue his never ending battle, and so he will continue in the next post!

P.S. That and other themed post can be found under BrightKnightUpcoming tag.

#BrightKnightUpcoming #Batman #Dark Knight #Bruce Wayne #DC comics #DC history #Long Live the Bat #Bat family #Batfamily #Batfam

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currentlysleepingus · 2 days ago

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Part 2? Of my previous post

The G.I.W.'s influence in Amity Park is almost.....cult like. They teach them to think a certain way and make those who object disappear. What of this started in full force when jazz was in elementary school. She has seen teenagers who objected and spoke up leave the town in body bags if they were lucky. Movements and advancements stopped because of what they G.I.W might do to them if they were found out. The teens leave for college and get taken to facilities for testing while the ones who were more public were turned into crazy people who were in kahoots with the ghosts.

Amity is the most haunted town in the US are you telling me that ghosts didn't exist before the portal. No, they existed just to a lesser scale. Curses and beings lurked everywhere, and the people were fine with that. They lived in content and almost harmony with that. I want to imagine that the town used to produce non humans, and witches and wizards back in the like 1600s or something. I want to imagine that magic is outlawed in Amity. That talk of people like that and to think positively of ghosts and the undead is forbidden. What if Sam's parents don't want her to be goth because some of the Salem witch trails happened there. Because the G.I.W treats those who seem to be connected to witch's and the like far worse, but they couldn't say because the town was under constant servailance.

Anyway, jazz was determined to actually leave the town and start a life, ahead just needed to fake her death and hide her body because the G.I.W are not above keeping amities corpses. The cemetery is empty. She could get a false one, but that'll take too much time. She needs to get in contact with someone from the outside and get a good relationship so they'll notice when she goes missing. That way, she can come back with people and bring Danny.

Anyway Amity park is backwards with ideals out of date so a lot of amities youth think things that are perfectly normal and there is absolutely nothing wrong with are horrible because they were indoctrinated into thinking so. They were raised on it when they were younger because the G.I.W is basically a cult. The town is unter its influence

I'm not bringing religion into it but just make it close to it.

I want danny to feel bad about liking tim. I want tim to reassure him and show him that it is fine. I want gothamites hearing stories about Amity from the kids and immediately getting to work undoing all of the bad stuff that they were taught and making them feel accepted. I want them to show them movements and history, and basically, the teens are discovering themselves while being free for the first time. They aren't being constantly watched and are safe(r) during the siege on Gotham.

I want hurt with comfort. I want tim being furious and calling Wally. I want Wally telling YJ, I want clockwork to drop ghosts and ellie and Dan in Gotham.

I want Dan reformed because that man had been through enough already. He is grieving and in a town like that and spiraling until he ripped out his humanity, tell me he doesn't deserve redemption. Anyway elle meets konnor and they are now best friends slash siblings because danny sees him gets a sticker, writes his logo on it, walks over to him, and puts it over his chest and says" your a Fenton or nightingale now"

Point is everyone is aware of Amity and the anit-ecto acts and does their best to help. The gothamites don't need help with the siege, though, nor do they allow it. It's personal now.

I want Dan to befriend waylon( killer croc) and help him. I want him to go ballistic on the G.I.W. agents who dares enter. I want temporary mayham, I want chaos. I want the villians to help purely because they are the only ones who are allowed to destroy and torture Gotham and her people. The joker and that pig guy stay in arkum, though. So do the other ones like them.

I want jazz changing her plan when she realizes that the youngsters are actually planning on leaving during one of her visits. She left that town as soon as possible but didn't want to leave Danny. Danny thought she was abandoning him, so he didn't talk to her at graduation. He knows that people who leave town don't come back. Tucker, however, does not and made her a private phone as a gift so she can talk to Danny and them. He makes Danny one as well.

Jazz speaks to Danny almost every day when he starts returning her calls. So when danny started to tell her their plan, she was all for it. She came back and acted like she was visiting before pursuing a different degree.

#danny phantom au #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #tim drake #wally west #deadtired #gotham #batman #G.I.W #tucker foley #dpxdc #these are my old prompts

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youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal · 2 days ago

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It's Been a Long Time Coming

AO3

Summary: "I’ll let Soren and Terry know to start getting packed.”

Ezran gave him a funny look. “Corvus… Soren isn’t going with you.”

Corvus slowly turned back towards Ezran, head tilted in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“There’s… well, there’s no reason for him to tag along. You’re the tracker. Terry is the Xadian nature specialist. Soren… well, he wouldn’t have a role.”

Note: One day I was thinking about how Corvus could really just go search for Harrow on his own since pre-season 3 he seems to be a bit of a loner. But he doesn't!

Sure, Terry could come in handy due to his connection with nature. But why is Soren there?

Because Corvus wants him there. Duh.

So, then I thought about Corvus asking Soren to go with him "Changing of the Guard" style. So I pulled up the short story and got to work.

And thus, a fic was born. And maybe even my favorite fic I've written so far.

...

Corvus and Ezran were in the meeting room of the Banther Lodge figuring out the final details of his search for Harrow.

“You’ll leave by the end of the week.”

Corvus nodded and turned away, getting ready to walk out of the room. “Of course. I’ll let Soren and Terry know to start getting packed.”

Ezran gave him a funny look. “Corvus… Soren isn’t going with you.”

Corvus slowly turned back towards Ezran, head tilted in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“There’s… well, there’s no reason for him to tag along. You’re the tracker. Terry is the Xadian nature specialist. Soren… well, he wouldn’t have a role.”

Corvus stood there, processing this information.

Wouldn’t have a role? What couldn’t Soren do, was the real question.

“And he’s… aware of this?”

Ezran nodded.

No wonder Soren had been clingier than usual, then. Corvus hadn’t even considered Soren not going with him. It just hadn’t even seemed like a possibility. He could barely remember the last time they’d worked separately since before the momentary defeat of Aaravos.

Corvus thought of the quiet, lonely tracking of his youth. He’d enjoyed it at the time, and still needed his alone time. Things were just… different now.

Not that he’d be alone, he reminded himself. He’d have Terry, who was great and a close friend now.

But he wasn’t Soren.

Ezran noted the disappointed look on Corvus��s face.

“While I can’t send him officially as a Crownguard on the mission… he does have plenty of vacation days he’s never taken. I couldn’t stop him from taking that time off and tagging along as an individual,” Ezran suggested.

Corvus shook his head. “He’d never do that.”

“Maybe if you just asked him. If you told him about how much you want him to go with you…”

“But, Your Majesty, what about you?”

Ezran raised an eyebrow. Corvus thought it looked suspiciously like one of his own facial expressions. He couldn’t help but remember the time the young king had come to him near tears when he wasn’t sure how to style his hair in a “kingly manner,” asking for help. Corvus had assured him that regardless of hairstyle, he was a king, and therefore his hair was inherently kingly. Corvus had also shown Ezran how to take care of his hair and put it up so that it wouldn’t get in his way as he hunched over paperwork and decrees.

Ezran had grown so much since then.

Ezran looked around the room, making sure they were alone. “You can’t tell anyone I said this, but you and Soren are my favorites,” he said in a stage whisper. “Yes, I’ll miss you both while you’re gone. But it’s not for good. I know you’ll both return to me. You’ll keep each other just as safe as you keep me. Why do I think I’m always sending you on missions together?” Ezran attempted to end his statement with a wink. Not a very successful one, but an attempt nonetheless.

Ezran eventually gave him a knowing smirk. Corvus chuckled and shook his head. “You’re too kind, my King. Fine, I will ask him.”

…

Corvus was nervous. He was rarely nervous, so he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. It was just a talk with Soren. He talked to him all the time. He’d talked to Soren mere hours ago, before his meeting with Ezran.

Then why did this feel so monumental?

It wasn’t like they were together together, but it wasn’t like they weren’t together, either. They hadn’t exactly had time to label anything, what with the almost end of the world and all, but they knew how they felt about each other. “Love” was a normal word between them, even before the connotation shifted. They’d exchanged their fair share of stolen kisses in hidden hallways between council meetings and during shift changes.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door to Soren’s room in the Banther Lodge, begging the moon moths fluttering in his stomach to settle down.

Soren opened the door, appearing distracted, but his whole demeanor changed when he saw it was Corvus. His face lit up, and he pulled Corvus into a hug, as flush against him as they could be in armor.

“Hey,” Soren finally said, head on Corvus’s shoulder. “Why’d you knock?”

Corvus cleared his throat and stepped out of the hug. Soren looked dejected, but brightened again when Corvus put a hand on his shoulder.

“Soren, it’s time.”

Soren raised an eyebrow.

“Time for…?”

“A challenge. Just like old times.”

“You act like I didn’t challenge you at pushups the other day.”

“Hush, let me finish.” Corvus dramatically cleared his throat. “First one to the bridge wins. Go!”

…

Corvus tore off, leaving Soren standing in the doorway, gobsmacked. Corvus had never been the one to initiate a challenge. Soren couldn’t help but grin and follow after him. This would be fun.

Soren thought Corvus had an unfair advantage because he was able to jump into the rafters of the Lodge, therefore avoiding all the people, and escape out the upper windows. Inside was a bit of an obstacle course for Soren, trying not to run into any of the other people going about their days.

Luckily, it was Soren. Nobody really thought twice about seeing him barreling through the hallways. They instinctively moved out of the way.

Soren burst through the front doors. Corvus was right in front of him, nearing the bridge. Soren urged his legs to go faster, and he just barely made it to the center of the bridge before Corvus.

“Haha! Beat you!” Soren said, pumping a fist in triumph. He leaned back against the railing of the bridge, not even winded. “Still, your time has to be better now than the last time we did that. And your leg must be nicely healed now, thanks to the Sunfire elves and Mukho’s salves!”

Corvus rolled his eyes but smiled. Soren was always overly concerned about his legs ever since the Great Bookery and having to carry him through the mushroom forest. “That’s what I get for hanging out with you for years now,” he said, mirroring Soren’s position and bumping their shoulders together.

Soren leaned his head on Corvus’s shoulder, looking out at the water.

“So, why’d you race me out here?”

Corvus avoided the question. “Have I mentioned this is my favorite spot at the Lodge?”

Soren shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Corvus cleared his throat. “I love the fresh air. Looking out at the water. And the, uh, trees and stuff.”

Corvus wrung his hands. That was odd, Soren thought. Corvus wasn’t usually one to fidget. Something was bothering him. Something was bothering him very badly.

“Is… everything okay? Corvus, what’s going on?”

Was it something that happened at his meeting with Ezran? Had something happened to Callum? Rayla? Claudia?

Or was it something Soren himself had done?

Corvus nodded. “Yeah, uhm. Everything’s… well, not exactly fine. It’s just…” He let out a sigh. “I just found out from Ezran that you won’t be coming with me to search for Harrow.”

Soren lifted his head, anxious thoughts settling down at the admission. “Wait. You just figured that out?”

Corvus groaned and buried his head in his hands. “I didn’t figure it out. I didn’t even realize it was an option; I’m so used to having you by my side. Ezran had to break the news to me, the man who prides himself on noticing every little thing.”

Soren’s heart melted at the muffled words. They had become a bit like a package deal over the years.

“I really like you. Heck, I love you. I trust you,” Corvus started, removing his hands from his face. “And I… I’d really like it if you came with me. And Terry. On our mission. To Xadia and the Pentarchy. For Harrow.”

He sounded like he’d been rehearsing.

Soren’s eyes widened and he positioned himself in front of Corvus so they could look at each other. “Really?”

“Ugh, I’m messing this up. That wasn’t the speech I’d planned to give.”

Soren grabbed Corvus’s hands in his and gave them a squeeze. “Then keep going.”

Corvus nodded.

“I know I could do this on my own. With Terry. I will, if I have to. But I don’t want that. I’m trying to get better about asking for the things that I want. And I want you.” Soren couldn’t help his blush at the words. “I want you to stick with me, even though you’re more at home here and probably feel obligated to stay with Ezran since I’ll be gone. After everything that’s happened… I just hate the thought of being apart. You matter a lot to me.”

“You matter a lot to me, too,” Soren responded quietly, bringing their joined hands up to his chest. “But what would Ezran think?”

…

“Ezran actually suggested I ask you to come with me, once he saw how confused and sad I was,” Corvus admitted. He should probably be embarrassed that his king and young friend knew the details of his romantic life and the fact that he had fallen for not just a coworker, but his captain. However, he couldn’t find it in himself to care with Soren looking at him like that. Like he was a revelation. “He said that you’ve got a lot of vacation days you’ve never taken.”

Soren nodded, thoughtful. “He’s not wrong. There was never much of a reason for me to take any days off, what with all of my family being here,” he said, gesturing at their surroundings with their joined hands. Corvus knew Soren didn’t just mean his birth family, but also the family he’d chosen.

“I mean, you don’t have to come with me -”

“Corvus.”

“I get it if you don’t want to, I know changing schedules this last minute would be a pain -”

“Corvus.”

“And just because I want you with me all the time doesn’t mean that you want to be with me all the time -”

The rest of Corvus’s words were swallowed by the press of lips against his, forcing him to stop his nervous rambling. Corvus closed his eyes and let out a low groan, sinking into the kiss. Soren released their hands and Corvus wrapped his arms around Soren’s waist. Soren’s breath hitched as his hands gripped Corvus’s scarf, pushing Corvus into the railing.

Once they broke apart, Corvus felt his face flush. That was the first time they’d kissed out in the open. Partially because Corvus wasn’t usually a fan of public displays of affection, and partially because what they had was still so new. His feelings about public displays of affection might be changing, though, if it made Soren keep looking as bright as the sun itself, radiating with happiness.

…

“Who knew I’d be the one kissing you to make you be quiet,” Soren chuckled, leaning his head on Corvus’s chest. When Corvus had his boots on, the little heel on them made him juuust a bit taller than Soren, and Soren liked to take advantage of that when he could. Like jumping into Corvus’s arms a little bit when they hugged. He also liked when Corvus took advantage of that extra bit of height.

Corvus chuckled. “Yeah, it feels like a bit of a reversal of our usual roles.”

Soren laughed and straightened, placing his hands flat on Corvus’s chest. He spread his fingers over the leather, enjoying the warmth. If he focused hard enough, he imagined he could feel Corvus’s heart beating nervously. As plainly as he could, Soren said, “Alright.”

“Alright…?”

“I’ll go with you.”

Corvus’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

Corvus let out a giddy laugh, picking up Soren by the waist and spinning him around. “Yes!”

Soren felt dizzy from joy (not being spun around, he swears). He didn’t even realize Corvus could pick him up. It was ridiculously hot. Soren didn’t think he could find Corvus any more attractive, and then he did things like that. They’d have to talk about it later.

As soon as Corvus set him down, Soren pulled Corvus against him and gave him another kiss. “I love you too, ya know.”

Corvus nodded, closing his eyes and leaning their foreheads together. “I know.”

They enjoyed the closeness for a moment, both thinking of their adventures to come.

“Well, I guess I should go put in my leave and start packing…” Soren said, pulling away, starting to pace the bridge and counting the things he’d need to get done on his hands. He’d need to make an actual list when he got back inside. “I’ll have to fix the schedule, too, and ask Opeli to take it over while I’m gone…”

Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, Corvus broke through.

“Soren?”

His head shot up, stopping mid-step. “Yeah?”

“I’ve got one more question for you.”

…

Corvus knew there was one more thing he had to do before they left. Might as well rip the bandage off now.

He already felt happier than he’d been in a long while, and only one thing could make it even better. And it had been a long time coming, if he was being honest with himself. This time, Corvus crowded Soren against the railing, hands resting on either side of him.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” he asked breathlessly, before he could lose his nerve.

Soren gave him a confused look, cocking his head. “Weren’t we already…?

Corvus’s thoughts froze to a halt. His jaw dropped and he took a step back. Soren grabbed at his hands to keep him from going too far. “What?”

“I mean, I guess we never talked about it, but since you sleep in my room more than yours, I just assumed -”

Corvus burst into laughter. Of course it was just that simple. The way Soren’s mind worked fascinated him. Corvus had been obsessing over their relationship status, stressed about talking to Soren, for nothing. He brought their joined hands to his mouth to lay an appreciative kiss on Soren’s knuckles, before releasing him. Soren promptly turned red at the sweet gesture as Corvus proceeded to rest his hands on Soren’s hips. “Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point.”

“But that doesn’t mean I mind making it officially official. Even though I’ve definitely already told people we’re dating. And introduced you to people as my boyfriend. Or partner.”

Corvus’s eyes widened. “That’s what you meant when you’ve been telling people we’re partners?!”

“Yes…?”

“I thought you meant professionally,” Corvus groaned, burying his face in Soren’s neck.

This time it was Soren’s turn to laugh. He brought a hand up to the back of Corvus’s neck, stroking the strip of skin between his hair and his scarf. “Well, I guess that’s not wrong. But, no, not the way I meant it.”

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“Forgive you…? For what?”

Soren sounded genuinely perplexed. Corvus wasn’t sure how he could love the man in his arms any more than he did right now.

“I’m supposed to be the observant one! That’s my whole job. You thought we’ve been dating for months, while I was still thinking that we were friends in an oddly serious situationship.”

“Well, if you’re going around kissing other friends like that, I think we need to have a talk.”

Corvus blushed and rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean! If I’d known you were my boyfriend, I’d… I don’t know, make you breakfast in bed. Spend every night with you. Bring you flowers. Things like that.”

“Corvus, I’m pretty sure Ezran gave your bed to somebody else because you haven’t slept there in so long. Did you not notice that all of your things are in my room now? And you literally brought me flowers last week. You told me they reminded you of my eyes. It was the most romantic thing I’ve ever been given.”

“Well, yeah, but -”

“Nope! No ‘buts.’ I will not have anyone talking poorly about my amazing boyfriend,” Soren said, briefly placing a finger to Corvus’s lips. “And if this has been you thinking we were just friends, then I am very excited for what’s to come.” A moment of silence. “Also, you should be so proud of me for not laughing because you said ‘butt.’”

Corvus pulled away, crossing his arms and shaking his head in mock aggravation. When he reacted so over the top, Soren knew he was joking. “And there we go, you wrecked the romantic moment. My big romantic gesture. And to think, I’d been about to kiss you.”

“No, no, come back!” Soren said with a laugh, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back to him.

Soren brought their lips together giddily. Corvus thought it barely counted as a kiss because they were both smiling so wide, but he knew it would be one of his favorites.

“Well then. I guess it’s time to go get ready for our next adventure.”

Soren sighed. “Yeah. I do have a lot to get done before we leave. At least it’ll be easy for us to get packed, since you’ve been living with me and somehow never noticed.”

Corvus nodded seriously. “Yes, there is that.”

“I can’t wait to tell Ezran.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Oh yeah. He’s gonna find this hilarious. I can’t wait to tell this story at parties in the future. Its place will be right after the story about that surprise party I threw you and you punched me.”

“You just love embarrassing me, don’t you.”

“I do! Love you, that is. And I don’t think these stories are embarrassing. I think they’re cute. You so often project this air of being so serious. You’re good at everything. It can be a little intimidating. It’s nice to be reminded that you’re human, too.”

Corvus felt his face go warm. He was turning into such a sap around Soren and they’d only been officially dating for five minutes. He gave Soren one more lingering kiss.

“Okay then. Come on, let’s go tell Ez the good news.”

—

Author's Note: Did I reference my own fic in my own fic? Yes, yes I did. Welcome to the TDP Fanfic Cinematic Universe (Victoria’s Version).

I'm obsessed with the idea that Corvus can be SO SMART and always good at his job, yet somehow when Soren is around he loses all rational train of thought about anything else.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed <3

#sorvus #soren #corvus #the dragon prince #tdp #ezran #fanfic #my writing #my fanfic #personal

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